One Night with Prince Charming (7 page)

He'd taken her across the final barrier to realizing herself sexually as a woman. Their joining and her first time couldn't have been more wonderful.

Pia closed her eyes, and of their own accord, exhaustion and sleep claimed her.

The next time she blinked up at her ceiling, he was gone.

 

In a moment, Pia was brought back to the present. She realized she wasn't staring at her ceiling, but at her apartment wall.

Different apartments, three years apart.

Same man, though.

Hawk.

His presence was palpable still, and her body was awakened and aware as if they'd made love moments, not years, ago.

Pia shook her head.
No.

She'd let him into her sanctuary—her apartment—again, but she resolved not to let him into her life one more time.

 

The night after Hawk signed the contract at her apartment, Pia discovered they had a couple of the best theater seats in the house—no doubt thanks to Hawk's personal connection.

Hawk had appeared at her apartment at seven and driven them so they could make the eight o'clock curtain call for Lucy's show, an off-Broadway production of the musical
Oklahoma,
in which Lucy had a supporting role.

Pia made a show of studying her program as they waited for the lights to dim. Tonight, she reminded herself, was all about business. She'd dressed in a short-sleeved, apricot-colored dress that she'd worn to work-related parties before and that she hoped sent the appropriate message. She'd avoided those items in her wardrobe that she considered purely off-hours attire.

She stole a quick sidelong glance at Hawk, who was looking at the stage. Even dressed casually in black pants and a light blue shirt, he managed to project an air of ducal self-possession.

She just wished she wasn't so aware of his thigh inches away from her own, and of his shoulder and arm within dangerously close brushing distance. If there was a petition right now for having individual armrests in places of public accommodations, she'd sign on the spot.

Determinedly, she pulled herself in, making it clear that she'd cede the shared armrest to him.

In the process, she absently tugged down the hem of her dress, and Hawk's gaze was drawn to her actions.

As Hawk surveyed her exposed thighs, his expression changing to one of alert but lazy amusement, Pia rued her involuntary action.

Hawk's eyes moved up to meet hers. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I-I'm not surprised,” she shot back, rallying and cursing her telltale stammer. “They do appear to be your forte.”

He had the indecency to grin. “You bring out the best—” he waited a beat as her eyes widened “—urges in me.”

She hated that he could bait her so successfully. “You give me too much credit. As far as I can tell, your urges don't need any help in being called forth. They appear of their own volition.”

Hawk chuckled. “Aren't you at least curious about what I have to offer?”

She frowned, but forced herself to adopt a saccharine-sweet voice. “You forget that I already know. Unless your offer involves business, I'm not interested.”

Was his facility with sexual innuendo boundless?

He shifted toward her, his leg brushing her own, and Pia tried to stifle her response of frozen awareness before he could discern it.

Hawk looked too knowing. “As it happens, it does. Involve business, that is.”

This time, Pia didn't try to hide her reaction. “It does?”

Hawk nodded. “A friend of mine, Victoria, needs help with a wedding.”

“A female friend? Ready to give up on you, is she, and move on?”

She couldn't stop herself from needling him, it seemed.

He flashed a grin. “We never dated. Her fiancé is an old classmate of mine. I introduced them to each other at a party last year.”

“You do seem to know quite a few people who are getting
married.” She raised her eyebrows. “Always the matchmaker, never the groom?”

“Not yet,” he replied cryptically.

She fell silent at his vague response.

Once upon a time,
he
might have featured in
her
wedding fantasies, but they were well past that point, weren't they? Instead of the well-trod path, they'd veered down a detour from which there was no turning back.

“When is the wedding?” she heard herself ask.

“Next week. Saturday.”

“Next week?”

She wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.

Hawk nodded. “The wedding planner is quarantined abroad.”

Pia raised her eyebrows.

Hawk quirked his lips. “I'm not joking. She went on safari with her boyfriend, and they were both exposed to tuberculosis. She can't get back to New York until after the wedding date.”

Pia shook her head in bemusement. “I suppose I should thank you…?”

“If you want to,” he teased. “It might be appropriate under the circumstances.”

Pia bit her lip, but Hawk looked down and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“Here's the bride's contact information,” he said. “Will you do it? Will you call her?”

Pia took the paper from him, her fingers brushing his in a contact that was anything but casual for the two of them.

She noted the name and phone number that he'd written.
Victoria Elgemere.

Just then the lights overhead blinked a few times, indicating that people should take their seats because the show was about to begin.

“I'll call her,” she said quickly.

“Good girl,” Hawk responded, and then mischievously patted her knee, his hand lingering. “I'll be a wedding guest, by the way.”

“Then it'll be déjà vu.”

He grinned. “I've developed a taste for baba ghanoush.”

She threw him a stern look, and then picked up and returned his hand to him. Her actions belied the emotional tumult that he so effortlessly engendered in her.

Facing forward as the lights dimmed, she was left to reflect that her company had again received a desperate transfusion of new business thanks to Hawk.

She'd acted quickly in accepting the job—or, at least, agreeing to call—forced into an impulsive decision by the imminent start of the show, but she didn't want her feelings toward him to get murky.

She could start feeling gratitude or worse.

H
awk emerged from an Aston Martin at the New York Botanical Garden—where Victoria's wedding would shortly be held at four o'clock on a Saturday afternoon—and looked up.

He saw nothing but clear blue skies. There was just the faint hint of a warm breeze.
Perfect.

As the valet approached for his car keys, Hawk heard his cell phone ring and smiled as the notes of “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole sounded. He'd assigned the ringtone to Pia's cell, whose number he'd acquired ostensibly for business reasons.

He'd thought of using the theme music from
Jaws
for her ringtone, but then he figured that while it might be appropriate, given the sparring nature of his relationship with her, she didn't need further encouragement, if she ever found out, to attempt to annihilate him.

With a grin, he took the call.

“Hawk, where are you?” Pia demanded without preamble.

“I'm about to hand my cars keys to the valet,” he responded. “Should I be anywhere else?”

“I'll be right there! The bride left her veil in the back of a Lincoln Town Car that departed minutes ago. I need your help.”

“What…?”

“You heard me.” Pia's voice held an edge of crisis. “Oh, I can't be associated with another wedding disaster!”

“You won't.”
Not if he could help it.
“What's the name of the car service?”

As Pia gave it to him, Hawk shook his head at the valet and jumped back into his car to start the ignition.

“Call the car company,” he told Pia, “and tell them to contact the driver.”

“I already have. They're trying to get in touch with him. He can't go too far. Otherwise, we'll never get the veil back in time for the ceremony.”

“Don't worry, I'm on it.” He started to steer back down the drive with one hand. “Do you think he's heading back to Manhattan?”

If he had some idea in which direction the car was heading, he'd know which way to go once he got out of the Botanical Garden. Then when contact was made with the driver, at least he'd be nearby and they could meet at a convenient exit or intersection.

“I think he is heading south, and I'm coming with you,” Pia replied.

“No, you're needed here.”

“Look to your left. I'm heading toward you. Stop and I'll hop in.”

Hawk turned to look out the driver's-side window. Sure enough, there was Pia, hurrying toward him across the grass, a phone pressed to her ear.

“Good grief, Pia.” He disconnected the call and stopped the car.

Moments later, she pulled open the passenger-side door and slid inside.

As he pulled away again, he observed with amusement, “I don't think I've ever seen a woman so anxious to get into a car with me.”

“It's an Aston Martin,” she said, breathing heavily from her jog. “You can really accelerate, and I'm desperate.”

“The first time I think I've been praised for my ability to go fast.”

“J-just drive.” She breathed in deep, then, pressing a button, put her phone to her ear once more.

Hawk assumed she was calling the car service again.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a short-sleeved caramel-color satin dress with a gently-flared skirt and matching tan kitten heels. He'd already identified the outfit as she was racing toward him as another of what he'd come to think of as her working-party dresses—festive but not so eye-catching that they'd detract attention from where it was meant to be.

Now he listened to her half of the conversation with the car service. It seemed as if she was getting good news.

In fact, when the call was over, Pia slumped with relief.

“They got through to the driver,” she said. “He's getting off the highway and meeting us three exits away at a gas station rest stop.”

“Great.”
On to more enchanting matters.
He nodded to her dress. “You look nice.”

She threw him a startled look, as if not expecting the compliment. “Thanks.”

He felt a smile pull at his lips as he tossed her a sidelong look. “Do you pick your wedding clothes with an eye toward being able to make a quick sprint? You made good time across the grass. Rather impressive in those shoes.”

“Weddings can be full of the unexpected,” she replied. “You should know that as well as anyone.”

He arched a brow. “Still, I'm curious. You phoned me to come to your rescue. Am I your modern-day knight riding to the rescue in a black sports car?”

“Hardly,” she replied tartly. “There are very few people I know at this wedding, and you got me into this mess—”

He laughed.

“—so the least you could do when you arrived at just the right moment was to lend a set of wheels.”

“Ah, of course.”

He let the discussion go at that, though he was tempted to tease her some more.

Moments later, he took the highway exit that she indicated and found the gas station.

The driver of the car service was waiting for them, a shopping bag in hand.

After Pia took the errant veil from the driver and thanked him quickly, she and Hawk hopped back into his car.

“The day has been saved,” Hawk remarked as he put the key back in the ignition.

“Not yet,” Pia responded. “The wedding isn't over. Trust me on this one. I've been to more weddings than there are lights in Times Square.”

“Yes, but isn't this the moment when you thank your hero with a kiss?”

She jerked to look at him, her eyes widening.

Not giving her a chance to think it over, he leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

Lord, he thought, her lips were as pillowy soft as they looked.
Just as he remembered.

Even though he knew he should stop, when he heard and felt Pia's breath hitch, he deepened the kiss, settling his lips more firmly on hers.

She didn't pull away, and he drew out the kiss, molding her lips with his. With his hand, he stroked the soft skin of her jaw and throat.

She relaxed and sighed, and leaned toward him. And it was all he could do not to draw her into an embrace and feed the desire between them.

He finally forced himself to pull back and look at her. “There…recompense received.”

“I—I—” Pia cleared her throat and frowned. “You're quite the expert at stealing kisses, aren't you?”

Solemnly, he placed his hand over his heart. “It's a rare occasion that I have the opportunity to act so gallantly.”

She hesitated, and then gave him a stern look and faced forward. “We need to get back.”

They made it back to the New York Botanical Garden in record time while Pia filled him in with desultory wedding details.

When he pulled up in front of the valet again, Pia rushed away to help the bride. As Hawk dealt with the car and the valet again, he reflected that he'd heard nothing but good things from Victoria and Timothy about Pia's eleventh-hour help with their wedding. He was impressed by how professionally Pia had handled herself with little time to prepare.

After leaving the valet, Hawk sauntered alone toward the other guests mingling on the grassy outdoor space where the ceremony was to take place, surrounded by the Botanical Garden's rich greenery. The bridal arch and bedecked chairs, arranged by the florist, stood at the ready.

He made idle chitchat with some fellow guests, but within twenty minutes, everyone was seated and the ceremony started.

The bride looked pretty and the groom beamed, but Hawk only had eyes for Pia, standing discreetly to one side, within a few feet of the seat he'd chosen for himself in one of the back rows.

Suddenly catching Pia's eye, he motioned for her to take the empty seat next to him.

She hesitated for a moment, but then slipped into the white folding chair next to him.

Hawk smiled to himself. But as he stared ahead, watching the bride and groom, more weighty thoughts eventually intruded.

He'd chosen long ago to attend this wedding alone. Victoria and her groom, Timothy, were longtime friends of his, and he'd found that for this occasion at least, he wanted to be free of expectations. At his age, society and the press were apt to view any date of his as a potential duchess.

Hawk reflected that Victoria and Timothy were going through a rite of passage that would soon be expected of him. Tim was an Old Etonian, like him, and Victoria was a baron's daughter who had attended all the right schools and now had a socially acceptable job as the assistant to an up-and-coming British designer.

Victoria, in fact, had precisely the pedigree and background that would be expected for the bride of a duke. She was the sort of woman of whom his mother would approve.

Hawk's mind went to his mother's attempt at matchmaking with Michelene Ward-Fombley in particular, but he pushed the thought aside.

He stole a look at Pia next to him. Her business had trained her in the etiquette of the elite, but that couldn't change her background or give her connections that she didn't possess. With the crowd here today, she'd always be the bridal consultant, never the bride.

At that moment, Pia's lips parted as she looked to the front, and her expression became rather emotional.

Pia cried at weddings.

The thought flashed through Hawk's mind like a news bulletin and was closely followed by the realization that Pia was doing what she loved to do. Weddings, he realized, were more than a job to her.

He'd meant to make things up to her, in a way, by arranging for her to coordinate this wedding and Lucy's. But he'd also, in the process, tested the limits of their relationship because he enjoyed teasing her.

It had been too tempting to spar with her and watch her eyes flash. He admitted to himself that any reaction from Pia was better than having her treat him with indifference. And her kiss…it was hard to imagine a better reaction than that.

But the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Pia again, he reminded himself. A relationship wouldn't be possible for them, and he shouldn't tease either of them with kisses that couldn't lead to anything more. She deserved to be able to get on with her life, and so did he.

A dog started barking, recalling him from his thoughts.

Beside him, Pia sat up straighter.

Hawk had noted before that the only surprising touch to the ceremony was the bride's King Charles Spaniel, who'd been dressed with an ivory collar and bow and had been led down the aisle by an attendant.

Now, he spotted the dog up front near the bridal arch, playing with—or rather, tearing at—a flower arrangement on the ground.

“Not the dog, please,” Pia said under her breath. “We haven't even taken photos with the bridal bouquet yet.”

Hawk glanced at her. At the beginning of the ceremony, he'd seen the bride place her flowers on a small pedestal. The pooch-cum-bridal attendant had somehow gotten hold of them.

Hawk couldn't remember the name of Victoria's canine. Finola? Feefee? In any case,
Trouble
seemed appropriate at the moment.

He watched as the bride knelt down, and then her dog sprinted away, bouquet in mouth.

So much for asking if anyone had any objections to this marriage…

“I have to do something,” Pia muttered as she started to rise.

Hawk wasn't sure if Pia was talking to herself or to him, and if it mattered. He rose, too, and laid a staying hand on Pia's wrist. “Forget it. In those heels, you'll never catch—”

“Finola.”

“Full of trouble.”

Hawk moved forward as the dog eluded a well-intentioned guest.

The wedding had truly been disrupted now. Everyone had turned to watch the wily four-legged perpetrator of chaos.

The dog headed toward the back of the gathering, as if sensing that with another few passes, she'd be home free, dashing away from the assembled guests.

Hawk shoved back his chair as he moved into the aisle. He knew he had one shot at catching Victoria's renegade pooch.

He tensed and then dove forward as the furry and furious fuzzball tried to whiz by.

In mid-lunge, he heard gasps, and someone called out a bit of encouragement. And in the next moment, he'd caught the excited Finola with his outstretched arms before landing hard on the ground.

The dog relinquished the bouquet as she was tackled and started yapping again.

A few guests began clapping, and a man called out, “Well done.”

Hawk held on firmly to the squirming animal as he straightened and then stood upright. He held Finola away from him.

Victoria rushed forward. “Here, Finola.”

Pia snatched the battered bouquet, her expression one of disbelief mixed with dismay.

Hawk watched her, and then murmured, “Just remember, bad luck comes in threes.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Please tell me this is number three.”

Before he could reassure Pia, Victoria reached to take Finola from him and then snuggled the dog close.

The bride started to laugh and some of the guests joined in. Others broke out into smiles.

Hawk watched Pia relax and smile herself. He could practically read her mind.
If the bride and everyone else could see the humor in the situation, then everything was going to be okay.

“Who's been the naughty pooch, hmm?” Victoria said.

Hawk resisted rolling his eyes.
Perhaps he did have a preference for women who owned cats rather than dogs.

With a wave of the arm, he acknowledged the scattered praise from the wedding guests and righted his fallen chair.

Victoria looked at him. “Thank you so much, Hawk. You saved the day.”

Hawk glanced at Pia, a smile pulling at his lips. “Not at all. I'm glad I was able to be of service.”

Pia lifted her eyebrows.

Victoria walked back up the aisle so the ceremony could resume, and Pia returned the bouquet to its position on the pedestal. Someone kept a firm hold on Finola.