Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 40

FINN and Izzy’s at Thanksgiving was chaos. Finn’s nieces, Tansy and Pansy, were both there, along with Rip and Crash, Finn and Izzy’s sons, and a dozen or so other friends, several slightly giddy from having spent the night before over by the Museum of Natural History where all the gigantic balloon floats for the annual parade were being inflated.

Daisy had gone to the MacCauleys’ early and she’d stayed late. Friday she’d spent the entire day catching up on photo editing. More often than she’d liked, she’d been tempted to open the folder where Alex’s photos were.

Every time, she’d steeled herself against it and had resisted.

Saturday was harder. Her backlog of work was gone. The house was reasonably clean. The laundry was done, folded, put away. The rugs vacuumed, the furniture dusted. She supposed she could clean the oven, but that seemed like taking things too far.

Instead she took the dog Murphy for a long walk in the park, then decided to do some Christmas shopping. Closer to Christmas, stores would be jammed. Of course, they were on Saturday, too. But it wasn’t as lonely as being home by herself, wondering if Charlie and Cal were having a good time.

Wondering what Alex was doing.

It was a relief when Cal and Charlie got back late Sunday afternoon. Charlie was full of stories about hiking in the woods and stacking firewood.

“No, I didn’t let him chop it,” Cal said before she could ask.

“An’ we caught fish,” Charlie told her, hopping from one foot to the other. “We got pictures. Look.”

Daisy admired the pictures Cal had taken of Charlie and the fish. One of them, though, startled her as his expression in it was so much like Alex’s. She never thought he looked like Alex. She really didn’t know who he looked like, except that he had her color hair. But in that photo of him grinning up at his grandfather she could see that he had Alex’s profile. It made her catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

“Nothing,” she said, papering over her surprise. “I was just amazed at the size of the fish.”

“It was huuuuuge,” Charlie told her proudly. He spread his arms to their fullest extent.

“Well, maybe not quite that big,” Cal said.

But to Charlie it was the biggest fish in the world, and he’d had the best time in the world. And he proceeded to tell Daisy all about it after Cal went home and all through dinner and during his bath.

And Daisy nodded and smiled as she listened to her son’s nonstop commentary. He’d had a wonderful time. She was glad he had gone. Glad Cal and his parents had had the joy of him.

Mostly, though, she was glad he was home again.

And when she went to bed that night, she thought, I can do this. I’m going to be fine.

She and Cal could cope with trading Charlie back and forth. Charlie wasn’t a basket case. He was a normal happy little boy. Life was good.

She didn’t think about Alex—or his perfect woman.

At least she tried not to.

“How much longer till Christmas?” Charlie asked. He’d been asking for the past four days, ever since he’d got back from Cal’s parents’.

“Oh, a long time,” Daisy said, tucking him into bed. She’d been saying the same thing every day since, too, because a person who was Almost Five had no concept of time, and she’d quickly discovered that if she said “soon,” Charlie expected it to be “right after lunch.”

“And my birthday?”

“Not quite as long.”

Charlie made a face. “They should hurry up.”

“All in good time.” Even though she had caught up on things over Thanksgiving already, four days later, she felt her to-do lists getting longer by the minute. Lots of people suddenly remembered they wanted family photos for Christmas, and Daisy, understanding the desire, tried not to disappoint any of them.

She had other jobs, too. Most were from repeat customers who wanted her to do some editorial work, and a promo for a boutique in Soho. But one phone call the day after Thanksgiving had surprised her.

“This is Lauren Nicols,” the woman had said when Daisy answered. “You did the photos for my piece on Alexandros Antonides.”

“Oh! Yes, of course. I hope they were suitable,” Daisy said, her heart quickening.

“More than,” Lauren Nicols said warmly. “I was delighted. Alex told me you’d be good, but they were better than I’d hoped. The black and white surprised me, but it was perfect. You caught the man.”

“I hope so,” Daisy said honestly. “I tried.”

“Oh, you did,” the other woman assured her. “I wondered if you’d be willing to do some more for me.”

“Of Alex?” Daisy asked, startled.

“No, Alex’s article is in production. But I do other personality pieces for trade periodicals, usually three or four a month. Would you be interested in working with me on a couple of them at least?”

“I—” Daisy stopped herself before she could refuse, because really, why should she? She had enjoyed doing the photo shoot of Alex, and what better way to make sure her brain kept him in the “business” folder of her mind than to start filling it with other assignments, as well? “Yes,” she had said. “I’d like that.”

And so she had two shoots for Lauren to do before the holidays, as well.

“Go to sleep,” she told Charlie now. “It will get here sooner.”

“How much sooner?”

Daisy bent and kissed him good night. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charlie made a face. But eventually he screwed his eyes shut, and Daisy, knowing that was going to be his best attempt, smiled and turned out the light. “Night, Chaz,” she said softly. Then she pulled the door and went down the hall to her office where she’d be working until midnight at least.

First on the docket were the wedding photos she’d taken last night. Wednesday night weddings weren’t common, but this had been a small intimate affair to which Daisy had been thrilled to be invited—and eager to take the photos.

They were her wedding present to the couple because both the bride and the groom were “hers.”

Seeing Rafaela Cruz, a tech at Murphy’s veterinarian’s office, and Gino Martinelli, a cop who lived in Finn MacCauley’s building, standing at the altar together made Daisy’s heart sing for she had helped them find each other.

When she’d learned that besides being a photographer, Daisy was a matchmaker, Rafaela had said, “Huh. Not sure I believe in that.”

“Some people don’t,” Daisy had replied. She wasn’t in the market to twist anyone’s arm. But Rafaela had wanted to know more because, as she said, “I don’t believe there’s any good men left.” So Daisy had spent time talking to her, trying to discover who, beneath her bluster, Rafaela really was.

Even when she finally said she wanted to try it, Rafaela had had her doubts.

And she and Gino had definitely not been “love at first sight.”

Gino, who was Rip MacCauley’s soccer coach, had been badly burned in an earlier relationship. But somehow he was the one Daisy had thought of when Rafaela had challenged her to “prove there’s one good man.”

“Come watch him coach,” Daisy had suggested.

Rafaela had dismissed the idea. “I don’t want a coach. I want a husband.”

“You want a patient man,” Daisy said. “A man who works hard and values kids and will be there for you and your family no matter what.”

“Yes, but—” Rafaela had protested.

“Maybe Gino could be that man. Unless you’re afraid to try?” Daisy had challenged her right back. Then she’d turned around and challenged a reluctant Gino, too.

“She’s too pretty,” Gino had said. “She’ll want some hotshot stud.”

Daisy had just looked him up and down. “And you’re not a stud?”

Gino had laughed at that. “All right. Bring her on.”

They’d been cautious to the point that Daisy sometimes wanted to bang their heads together. But gradually Rafaela and Gino had faced their doubts, had given each other a shot. Had discovered in each other what Daisy had seen from early days. Over the summer they had fallen in love.

And now they were married.

Daisy’s gift to them was going to be a book of photos she’d taken throughout their courtship and at their wedding. She just needed to get it finished. The pages from the courtship were done. Now she picked up the wedding invitation and set it on the flatbed scanner. It was high rag content paper, heavy and elegant.

Daisy remembered when she’d plucked it out of the mailbox right before Thanksgiving. She had stared at it, feeling an odd sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach because she hadn’t thought it was Rafaela and Gino’s invitation at all.

She’d thought it was Alex’s.

She’d been shocked at the relief she’d felt upon opening it to discover Rafaela’s and Gino’s names inside.

Of course, she’d told herself logically, even if Alex had run right out and asked his perfect woman to marry him the minute he’d left her that night, they wouldn’t have been sending out invitations right away.

But logic had never had much to do with anything where her relationship with Alex was concerned.

Now, taking an expansive breath, Daisy smoothed the invitation flat and lowered the lid, then pushed the scanning button.

The phone rang as it was appearing on her screen. She picked it up absently. “Daisy Connolly.”

“Daisy.” The voice was gruff and instantly recognizable. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Alex,” she said as soon as she could breathe again. “What do you want?”

“A date.”

Once more Daisy’s breath caught in her throat. Then she realized what he was really asking for. “I am not matchmaking for you.”

“I don’t want you to fix me up with a date. I want you.”

I want you. She knew he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. She didn’t want him to mean it the way it sounded. But she didn’t know what he did mean, either. “What are you talking about?”

“I need a date for Saturday night.”

“Need a date?” That had to be a first.

“There’s a big charity fundraising dinner and dance at the Plaza. Remember I told you I designed a new wing for a hospital? Well, I’m on the guest list—and they’re giving me some plaque or something—so I have to show up. With a date.”

Daisy waited a beat. “What happened to Caroline?”

“Caroline had to fly out to Hong Kong this afternoon. Unexpected breakdown of some project she’d been overseeing. She won’t be back for a week. I can’t show up alone. I’ve already committed for two. They expect me to bring someone. Head table and all that.”

“Head table?”

He grunted. “So I need a replacement.” And apparently in his mind it was perfectly logical that she would drop everything and accompany him to some society event in another woman’s place.

Daisy focused on the wedding invitation on her screen. “Get your matchmaker to find you one.”

“Can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“No,” Alex said tersely. “I can’t. Thanks to you.”

That startled her. “Me? Why me?”

“Because, damn it, you’re the one who told me to take it slow. ‘Don’t ask her to marry you yet. Get to know her,’ you said. Make sure she’s ‘the one.’”

He’d listened?

“So I have been. It isn’t easy because half the time I’m out of town or she is. But we’ve gone out more.”

“As well you should,” Daisy said firmly, still surprised that he’d done it.

“So I can’t ask Amalie to find me a date, can I?” Alex said. “If I went out with someone else now—someone new—what would that say to Caroline? Not to mention that I’d be creating false expectations in whoever Amalie found.”

Daisy was somewhere between dazed and amazed. “You thought of that all by yourself?” Since when had Alex put thought into the repercussions of relationships?

“Can I help it if you put ideas in my head?”

“Good for me.” She grinned in spite of herself.

“So you see the problem. It has to be you.”

Daisy pressed back against the desk chair she sat in and asked, “Why won’t I upset Caroline?”

“She knows I need a date. I told her I was going to ask you. She’ll be glad I’ve found an old friend to go with.”

“Old friend?” Daisy echoed.

“You know what I mean. So,” he went on briskly, “Saturday night. Black tie. The equivalent for you. I’ll pick you up a little before eight. Where do you live?”

“What? No! Wait. I didn’t agree.”

“So you don’t stand behind your own advice?”

Daisy opened her mouth to object, and couldn’t find words to convince herself, let alone ones that would convince as stubborn a man as Alex.

“I can’t,” she said feebly.

“Why not?”

Because I don’t have a babysitter. She didn’t say that, even though it was certainly true. “I—My wardrobe doesn’t run to that sort of thing.”

“Get something suitable,” he directed. “I’ll pay for it.”

“You will not. I can’t—”

“Did you or did you not tell me to take my time, get to know Caroline?”

“Yes, but—” She stopped, waiting for him to cut her off, but he didn’t. He waited in silence for her next reason she couldn’t go. And she didn’t have one—other than self-protection.

Maybe she was protesting too much. Maybe going with him would be the best self-protection there could be.

Maybe spending an evening with Alexandros Antonides, going on a date with him, would actually force her to “move on” once and for all.

Last time she’d felt like Cinderella going to the ball—and she’d believed she’d found Prince Charming. If she went now, she would go with no illusions at all.

She could even dance with him—but know it ended there—know that her happy ending was waiting at home in her life with her son.

She would be in no danger of succumbing to airy-fairy fantasies. She would enjoy the evening and come home at midnight—unlike Cinderella—with both shoes on and her heart intact.

Daisy took a breath. “Yes, all right. I’ll do it.”

“Great.” He sounded pleased. “What’s your address?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Alex argued. Daisy was adamant. He said she was being silly. She said she didn’t care.

“I’m not your real date. I don’t need to act like one. I will see myself to the Plaza and I’ll see myself home afterward.”

“Daisy, that’s ridic—”

“Take it or leave it.”

There was a long silence, then an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Quarter to eight. Front steps of the Plaza. This Saturday. Don’t be late.”

She was out of her mind.

Absolutely insane.

She couldn’t go out with Alex! She didn’t have a babysitter. And even if she could find one, she didn’t have a dress. Nor did she have a fairy godmother and some talented singing mice who could whip one up in an afternoon.

She was in a complete dither the next afternoon when Izzy and the boys stopped by for a visit after Rip’s orthodontist appointment.

Izzy took one look at Daisy pacing around the kitchen and demanded, “What’s the matter with you?” Her boys went running out back to play with Charlie, but Izzy stood right where she was and studied Daisy with concern.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Really?” Izzy’s tone dripped disbelief. “You’re pacing the floor. You’re tearing your hair.”

True, but Daisy stopped long enough to put the kettle on. “I have to go out tomorrow night. To the Plaza.”

Izzy’s eyes widened. “A date? At last!” She beamed and rubbed her hands together.

“Not a date! Nothing like that,” Daisy said quickly. “It’s business. Well, sort of business.” She couldn’t quite explain.

“Who with?” Izzy demanded.

“A cousin of Lukas’s. An old … friend.” Which was the truth, wasn’t it? Alex had even called her “an old friend.” “I knew him years ago. He’s interested in getting married. Wanted me to matchmake for him. I said no. Now he’s got a serious girlfriend, but she’s out of town. So he asked me to go in her place.”

It sounded quite believable to Daisy.

Izzy immediately caught the snag. “Why wouldn’t you matchmake for him? I thought you loved matching people with their soul mates.”

“Yes, but—” She wasn’t going into what Alex thought about soul mates. “I didn’t feel I knew him well enough.” Daisy turned away and started rearranging the forks in her silverware drawer. A Tarzan-like yodel from the backyard turned her around in time to see Izzy’s oldest son, Rip, hurtle out of the tree at the end of the garden. He and his younger brother, Crash, were Charlie’s heroes.

“Mountain goats,” Izzy muttered. “I can make them stop if you want.”

Daisy shook her head, grateful the conversation had veered away from Alex. “It’s all right. Charlie loves trying to keep up with them. And it’s good for him to have them. He needs older brothers.”

“Not these two.” Izzy winced as Crash followed his brother’s leap with one of his own. “What’s he like? This cousin of Lukas’s,” Izzy elaborated at Daisy’s blank stare. “Your ‘old friend’? One of the dark handsome Antonides men, is he?”

Daisy did her best at a negligent shrug. “I guess.”

“Not a wild man like Lukas, I hope.”

“No. He’s not like Lukas,” she said. “He’s very … driven.”

“Is that why you’re chewing your nails?”

“I’m chewing my nails because I can’t find a babysitter. I already called your girls.”

“Tansy and Pansy are hopeless now they’re in college,” Izzy agreed cheerfully. “They have lives.” She sighed. “But no worries. I’ll keep him.”

Daisy blinked. “You will? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t mind me having him at our place.” Izzy picked up the kettle and began pouring boiling water because Daisy wasn’t doing it. “He can even spend the night. In case you don’t want to turn into a pumpkin right after the Plaza.” She grinned.

Daisy flushed and shook her head. “Not a chance. I am a pumpkin. Home before midnight. This is not a date. But Charlie would love to go to your place, if you’re sure.”

Izzy waved a hand airily. “I’ll never notice he’s there.” She zeroed back in. “What are you wearing?”

“That’s my other problem,” Daisy admitted. Nothing in her wardrobe lent itself to upscale fundraisers at the Plaza. And despite his brusque “Get something. I’ll pay for it,” she had no intention of allowing herself to feel beholden to Alex.

Izzy was thoughtfully silent for a long moment. Then, “I might have something,” she said, looking Daisy up and down assessingly. “Ichiro Sorrento,” she said.

“What?”

“That new designer whose collection Finn shot last year. Japanese-Italian. You remember him?”

Daisy did. But she shook her head. “No way I can afford anything with his label.”

“You don’t have to. You can wear mine. Remember that gorgeous dress and jacket I wore to Finn’s opening last spring?”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “That dress?” The dress had been a deep-sapphire-blue silk, spare and elegant, with an exquisitely embroidered jacket in the same deep blues, emerald-green and hints of violet. “You don’t want me wearing your gorgeous dress. I’d spill something on it.”

“I already have. It doesn’t show,” Izzy said cheerfully.

“I’m taller than you are.”

“Everyone is taller than I am,” Izzy countered. “So what? You’ll just show more leg. I doubt anyone will mind. Especially—” she grinned “—not a male Antonides.”

“Not. A. Date,” Daisy reiterated firmly. “I’m not trying to show off my legs.”

“Of course not. But you’re not a nun, either. You need to knock Mr. Driven Antonides’s socks off. Make him forget all about his serious girlfriend and run off to Vegas with you!”

It was as if a little devil called Izzy was sitting on her shoulder tempting her. “Dream on,” Daisy scoffed.

“A little dreaming never hurt anyone,” Izzy retorted.

Daisy let her have the last word.

But in her heart she begged to differ.

Where the hell was she?

Dozens of hired cars and limos and taxis slid up to the Plaza’s entrance Saturday evening while Alex stood on the steps, shifting from one foot to the other, watching and waiting. There were snowflakes in the air. Alex could see his breath, and his shoulders were getting damp as the snow melted, but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside and wait and pace.

There were scores of black-tie-clad men and elegantly dressed women getting out of taxis and limos—and not one of them was Daisy.

He’d told her quarter to eight. It was almost ten after. He’d got here early, to be sure he was here when she arrived, and she was nowhere to be seen.

He should never have given in to her demand that she come on her own, that he neither pick her up nor take her home after. He’d agreed only because she would have refused to come otherwise. The sweet and malleable Daisy he had known five years ago might still be somewhere inside this Daisy Connolly, but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of her in a long, long time.

Was this her revenge? Was standing him up payback for his having said he wasn’t interested in marriage all those years ago?

He shouldn’t have asked her to come. It was a damn fool idea. When Caroline had said she couldn’t make it, but suggested he invite his friend Daisy, he’d been surprised.

“My friend Daisy?” he’d echoed, puzzled.

Caroline had shrugged. “I assume she’s your friend. You talk about her all the time.”

Did he? Surely not. But he could hardly deny their friendship if it came across that way to Caroline because how could he justify talking about her if she wasn’t a friend? What would Caroline think if he said she wasn’t a friend at all, she was … a thorn in his side, an itch he never quite managed to get rid of. Like poison ivy, perhaps.

So he’d shrugged and told Caroline he’d ask. And, hell, why not? He could prove to Daisy that he’d listened, that he hadn’t gone straight home and asked Caroline to marry him. He’d done what Daisy suggested and got to know her.

He hadn’t fallen in love with her. That wasn’t going to happen. He knew it. Caroline knew it.

They had seen each other as often as their schedules allowed. They always had a good time. Relationship-wise they were on the same page—and perfectly happy to be there. And if they still hadn’t managed to make it to bed together, well, the time had never been right.

She’d had an early meeting or he was flying off to Paris. She was in Rio or he was in Vancouver. It had nothing to do with memories of Daisy in his bed. She hadn’t been in this bed.

Only in his bedroom. And the fact that he couldn’t forget that was still driving him nuts.

“Alex!” A hearty booming voice from the doorway startled him back to the present—back to the lack of Daisy anywhere in sight. He turned to see Tom Holcomb, the hospital’s vice president in charge of building development.

Tom was grinning broadly, holding out a hand to shake. “Good to see you. Big night for you.” He pumped Alex’s hand, then looked around. “Where’s your date?”

Alex opened his mouth, hoping that a suitable polite reply would come out when, all of a sudden, from behind a hand caught his.

“Sorry,” Daisy said, catching her breath.

Alex turned his head, saw her smiling up at him, and felt his heart do some sort of triple axel in his chest. There was a glow to her cheeks, as if she’d been running, but she was smiling.

And so was he. His heart which, after the triple axel, had seemed to stop all together as he looked at her, began beating again. “About time,” he said gruffly, swallowing his relief. She was gorgeous. She wore a long black wool dress coat and he could barely get a glimpse of the dress beneath it, but what he could see seemed to sparkle—just as Daisy did. Her eyes were alight, electric almost, taking in everything. She’d pinned her hair up in some sort of intricate knot which reminded him of the way she’d worn it at the wedding when he’d met her. He remembered taking it down, running his fingers through it. Felt a quickening in his body at the temptation to do it again now. It was, after all, already slightly askew, as if she had been running.

“My cab got stuck in traffic. Think I stood you up?” She laughed.

“No.” He wiped damp palms down the sides of his trousers. He wasn’t admitting anything.

“Your date, I presume?”

Alex was suddenly conscious of Tom Holcomb still standing beside him, looking with interest at Daisy.

Alex nodded and drew her forward. “This is Daisy Connolly. Daisy, Tom Holcomb. He is the VP in charge of building development, the man I worked with on the hospital design.”

“The man who rubber-stamped his terrific ideas,” Tom corrected, shaking the hand Daisy offered. “I’m delighted to meet you. Are you an architect, too?”

“No. A photographer,” Daisy said, shaking the hand he held out. “I recently did a photo shoot of Alex at a building he restored in Brooklyn.”

“A man of many talents,” Tom agreed. He drew Daisy with him into the hotel, asking questions about her own work which she answered, still smiling. And Daisy, with a glance back at Alex, went with him.

Alex stood watching, bemused, and somehow a little dazed.

Dazed by Daisy. Dazzling Daisy, he thought, smiling wryly at his own foolishness. But it was true. And he didn’t mind following, it gave him a chance to admire her from another angle.

From any angle tonight she was elegant, sophisticated, tailored, stylish. She would never be the stunning classical beauty that Caroline was. Daisy’s nose still had a spattering of freckles, her cheekbones were not quite as sharply pronounced. Her mouth was less sculpted than impish. And you could never say that Daisy had every hair in place.

But everything about her was alive—from her unruly hair to her lively sparkling eyes to her kissable lips.

Alex tried not to think about her kissable lips. It wasn’t as if he was going to be tasting them again this evening. Furthermore, he reminded himself, he shouldn’t even want to. He was this close to buying Caroline an engagement ring.

But Caroline’s kisses had never intoxicated him. They’d never made him hot and hard and hungry in a matter of an instant. He’d lost every bit of his common sense that weekend with Daisy—and she hadn’t had any at all.

There had never been anything cool, calm and collected about her. She was a lead-with-her-heart, damn-the-torpedoes, full-speed-ahead sort of woman.

Basically the anti-Caroline. And Caroline was what he wanted.

Wasn’t she?

“Are you coming?”

Alex jerked his brain back into gear to see that Tom had disappeared into the hotel, but that Daisy was still standing at the top of the stairs by the revolving door, waiting.

“Got distracted. Sorry.” He bounded up the steps, feeling awkward, caught out. And feeling that way, he challenged her. “Been running?” he asked her gruffly.

“I told you,” she said with some asperity. “The cab was caught in traffic. I left it in the middle of Columbus Circle.”

“You walked from Columbus Circle?” Wide-eyed he stared at her high pointy-toed heels.

“No,” she said flatly. “I ran.”

Definitely the anti-Caroline. Alex shook his head, dazed and amazed, and unable to keep from grinning. “Of course you did.”

Daisy glared, her eyes flashing. “You said not to be late!”

“So I did.” His grin widened briefly, then he met her gaze. “Thank you.”

Their eyes locked. And Alex felt the electricity arc between them exactly the way it always did. It didn’t seem to matter that she was all wrong for him. He jerked his gaze away from hers, but it only went as far as her lips. Nervously she licked them.

Alex’s body went on full alert.

Daisy tore her gaze away. “It sounded like the sort of occasion where it wouldn’t do to waltz in late,” she said, a little ragged edge to her voice. “Not if you’re at the head table.”

She was right, of course. He was being a fool—again.

Impatient with his own weakness, Alex gestured her brusquely into the revolving door. “Well, let’s not waste your sacrifice, then. We’ll go in.”

Daisy was in complete control.

She might as well have had a squadron of singing mice and a fairy godmother the way everything had fallen into place. Izzy was keeping Charlie, the glitzy shimmery dress fit perfectly, the sophisticated black dress coat her mother had given her for her birthday was beautifully appropriate. Other than the stupid traffic jam and having to run quarter of a mile and that she could feel her hair slipping from its knot, she didn’t have a care in the world.

Granted her first glimpse of Alex in formal attire, complete with black tie, pristine white shirt, checking his watch impatiently as he waited for her, had made her mouth dry and her heart gallop. But, Daisy assured herself, that was because she’d just been running, not because of the man himself.

Still, once in the hotel, on the arm of the handsomest man in the room, it was hard not to believe she was channeling Cinderella.

Daisy had been to the Plaza before. But she’d never been to An Event.

This was An Event—in a cavernous room that despite its immensity, managed somehow to seem warm and appealing and elegant with matte gold walls, burgundy drapes, glimmering sconces and crystal chandeliers. The dozens of tables wore pristine white damask linens, sported napkins folded by origami experts, and had settings of gleaming china and rows of delicate stemware.

Not a bowl of mac and cheese in sight.

When she worked for Finn, Daisy had gone to plenty of glitz-and-glamour events. In the fashion industry they’d been brasher and flashier, not to mention, thousands of decibels louder than this one. A girl from small town Colorado had been very much out of her league. But after the first half dozen or so, she had become blasé and soon she began waltzing through them without batting an eyelash.

Of course those rarely required her to look suave and elegant and remember which fork to use. Tonight there looked to be a surfeit of forks. But it wasn’t the number of forks that was making her blood race. It was Alex.

“Can I get you something to drink? Wine? A cocktail?”

“I’ll have a glass of wine,” Daisy decided. “Red.”

They’d drunk a smooth dark burgundy when they’d first met. If she was going to rewrite the ending of their encounter, she would begin tonight the way they’d begun before. But this time she wouldn’t let herself embroider the circumstances with airy-fairy fantasies of happily ever afters.

“Burgundy,” Alex said, surprising her. Did he remember? But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—ask.

“I’ll be right back.” He headed toward the bar.

When he returned, drinks in hand, Daisy was standing near the wall right where Alex had left her. She drew his eye clear across the room. The dress he’d glimpsed before she’d shed her coat definitely lived up to its promise. Its blue-green iridescence sparkled like northern lights as it molded her every curve. The short embroidered jacket covered more than he wished, hinting at bare shoulders beneath, smooth shoulders he remembered kissing all too well.

But it was more than the dress that drew his gaze, more than the dress that made the woman. There was a warmth and a vibrant energy in Daisy—as if she were the only person there in three dimensions. Everyone else seemed flat by comparison.

She had been alone when he’d left her, but now she was chatting with hospital CEO Douglas Standish and his wife. Daisy’s expression was animated, interested. He remembered her that way from the moment he’d first seen her. She engaged with people, drew them out. She had drawn him.

Never particularly social, Alex had attended the wedding with the intent of leaving as soon as it was reasonable to do so. He’d drifted around the periphery of the room, keeping his eye on the exit—until he’d seen Daisy.

Then he’d only had eyes for her. It was still that way.

Now he wound his way through the crowds of people, heading toward her as determinedly as he had that long-ago day.

“Here you go.” He handed the drink to Daisy, then turned to Standish’s wife. “May I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you, dear. Douglas will do that. I just wanted to meet your lovely lady—and tell her how lovely you are—” her eyes twinkled merrily when Alex opened his mouth to protest “—and what an amazing gift you’ve given us with the design for the hospital wing.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

She patted him on the sleeve. “Have a wonderful evening. You deserve it. So nice to meet you, dear,” she said to Daisy, before taking her husband’s arm and guiding them into the crowd.

“So,” Daisy said, looking him in the eye when the other woman had left, “you’re the guest of honor. And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me?”

Alex shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Daisy’s eyes glittered. “It’s a huge deal,” she contradicted him. “Huge. Apparently your hospital wing has broken new ground in patient services. It’s celebrated worldwide.” She had gone beyond glitter to glare now. “They’re giving you an award.”

“I told you that when you did the photos for the article.”

“An award, you said. You didn’t tell me anything about it. It might have been for perfect attendance at meetings for all I knew! This is wonderful!” And now her wonderful eyes sparkled with warmth and delight, and in spite of himself, Alex felt a rush of pleasure. “Did you tell Caroline?”

“No,” he said, surprised.

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing to do with her.”

“Of course it is!”

Baffled, he shook his head. “Why?” She hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t even known her when he’d done it himself.

“Because you did it! Because you’re her man.”

But he wasn’t Caroline’s man. He wasn’t anyone’s man. But he wasn’t going to have that argument with Daisy now. Fortunately people were beginning to head to their seats. So he just said, “Come on. We need to go sit down.” He took her arm, more aware of touching her than he was whenever he touched Caroline. He led her to the table where they would be sitting, then pulled out her chair.

Daisy flounced down into it, but she still wasn’t done. She looked up at him, her expression annoyed. “She’d be thrilled,” she told him. “And proud. I am—proud,” she said, “and it’s nothing at all to do with me.”

Alex felt a warm flush of pleasure at her admitting that. What he didn’t do was tell her that it wasn’t entirely true.

He would never have taken the commission at all if something she’d said to him hadn’t stuck with him for the past five years. Initially he’d said no. He had no interest in hospital design. He didn’t like hospitals. Hated them, in fact.

After his brother had got leukemia, Alex had spent far too much time in hospitals watching his brother suffer and become more and more remote. It had devastated him. Even now Alex associated hospitals with the most painful period of his life.

After Vass’s death, Alex had never set foot in one again. Even when he broke his arm playing lacrosse in college, he’d insisted on having it set at a doctor’s office. “No hospital,” he’d said firmly. It was the last place he wanted to be.

He didn’t talk about hospitals, either. Didn’t talk about Vass. Never had to anyone. Except that weekend when Daisy had got under his skin.

He supposed it was because she was just getting her equilibrium back after losing her father. Barely fifty, he’d been born with a heart defect that had grown worse over time. He’d been in and out of the hospital often, she’d said. And the sad wistful look on her face had prompted Alex to confide that he, too, hated hospitals.

“They take away your life,” he’d said harshly, remembering how remote and sterile they had seemed, how they’d isolated his brother, how Vass had wanted to come home so badly, to be out, to be anywhere but there. “They don’t save it.”

He’d expected her to agree.

Instead she’d shaken her head. “It wasn’t the hospital’s fault. Without the care my dad got there, we’d have lost him sooner. But it was hard for him to feel connected. He felt so isolated, like he wasn’t really a part of things anymore.”

Vass had said the same thing.

“There was only one window,” she’d gone on. “But he couldn’t see outside from his bed. So we used to pretend. We’d close our eyes and pretend he was home or we were going fishing in the San Juan or even doing chores, chopping wood for the fireplace. He loved that fireplace …” Daisy had swallowed then, and her eyes had glistened with unshed tears. She’d blinked them back rapidly. “It wasn’t the hospital’s fault,” she repeated. “But it could have been better. It could have been more.”

Her words had made Alex think.

What if Vass had had a chance to spend time in a hospital that had allowed him to feel connected. What if he’d been able to do, at least virtually, the things he wanted to do—like go back to the beach near their island home, or drive a race car, or sail over the Alps in a hot-air balloon?

Once Alex opened the floodgates, the ideas wouldn’t stop coming. And what hadn’t been possible twenty-five to thirty years ago was within reach now.

Alex’s hospital wing was full of windows—floor-to-ceiling in many rooms. Even treatment rooms, wherever possible, brought the outside in. If a patient wanted to see the world beyond the walls, he could. The semirural setting just across the river north of the city provided views of the countryside as well as the city skyline. And it wasn’t just about the visuals. Alex worked in sound systems and even olfactory ones, connecting senses to the world beyond the hospital’s confines.

He had provided virtual worlds, as well. Patients in the wing he’d designed could close their eyes as Daisy’s father had, but they could also use modern electronics to create the sights, sounds and smells of the seashore, the woods, the inside of a race car or the ballroom of a fairy-tale palace.

He told her about it now, aware of the way she looked at him, as if he could hang the moon. The salads that had been in front of them when they’d sat down remained virtually untouched.

“It sounds like an amazing place.” Daisy smiled, a smile that went all the way to her eyes, that touched—as it always did—a place hidden somewhere deep inside him that no one ever reached but her.

He cleared his throat. “If you have to be in a hospital,” he agreed gruffly, “if you can’t have what the rest of the world takes for granted, I guess it will do.”

Their eyes met. And Alex knew that whether or not he mentioned his brother or her father, Daisy remembered. Daisy knew.

What surprised him, though, was her withdrawal. One minute she’d been gazing at him with warmth and admiration. The next some shadow seemed to settle over her, her expression shuttered.

“I’m sure that all the children will appreciate it.” Her tone was polite, but she seemed suddenly more remote. She turned to her salad and began to eat.

Alex was more nettled by her withdrawal than he would have liked. But really, what difference did it make? He hadn’t done it for her. He’d done it for people like her father, his brother. He dug into his own salad.

Neither of them spoke until the salads were taken away and the entree was set before them. Then Daisy turned toward him again. “What sort of building are you working on now?”

So they were going to be polite and proper and distant. Fine by him. Alex was glad to talk about the present so he told her about the office building he was designing on the edge of Paris.

Daisy had never been to Paris. And as he talked, he saw her eyes begin to sparkle again. Her remoteness vanished. Her questions came more quickly, and her enthusiasm was contagious. He wanted to make her smile, wanted to have her cock her head and listen eagerly. Alex found himself telling her not just about his work in Paris, but about the city itself, about places he liked, things he’d seen, galleries he visited, buildings he admired.

“You used to live there, didn’t you?” It was the first time she’d alluded to the past.

“Yes. And then I was here for a while. But I went back four or five years ago,” he said. He knew precisely when he’d gone—and why. After the disastrous end to his weekend with Daisy, New York had more memories than he wanted. Paris seemed like a far safer place to be.

It was only in the past six months or so—when he’d made up his mind to marry, in fact—that he’d returned to live more or less permanently in New York. Even now, though, he kept his small flat in the fifth arrondissement.

Their talk moved from Paris to the Riviera, to other places he’d been. Daisy asked about all of them. The women Amalie had set him up with had asked questions, too, but not like Daisy. Not as if they cared about the answers.

Daisy did. And her interest and enthusiasm drew him out. He would have liked to show her Paris, to walk the wide boulevards and narrow lanes with her, to sit at a tiny table in an outdoor café and drink strong dark coffee with her, to wander through the museums and the galleries hand in hand with her, to walk along the Seine with her and kiss her there, to run through a rainstorm with her.

To take her back to his little garret flat and make love with her. He could imagine Daisy there, letting him strip off her little embroidered jacket, then letting him find the zip at the back of her dress and lower it slowly. He’d kiss his way down—inch by luscious inch and—

“And what?” Daisy was looking at him, curious and impatient.

Hot. God, he was hot. And hard. And suddenly aware that he was in the middle of a crowded room with the object of his fantasy studying him worriedly. Her eyes were still bright and eager, but she was looking at him with puzzlement.

“What happened? You stopped talking,” Daisy said. “Did you just get distracted?”

Alex’s heart was still hammering, his body still feeling the effects of what he’d been thinking about—her. He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. “I did, yes.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “Sorry about that.”

He didn’t let it happen again, even though he was still intensely aware of her. It was almost a relief when dinner ended. Except then the speeches began, and Alex knew he would have to say something when the award was presented.

Public speaking wasn’t his forte. He preferred to speak with his work, with his design, with his buildings, not his words.

But when the time came, Daisy clapped madly and beamed at him encouragingly when Douglas Standish beckoned him to the podium to accept his award.

Alex made it brief. He gripped the podium and stared into the bright lights as he thanked the hospital board who had given him the opportunity to design the wing and the committee who had given him the award. It was what he had prepared, and it was all he had intended to say.

But before he could walk away, his gaze slid across the hundreds of people in the room and, looking down, he didn’t see the lights. He saw Daisy.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her upturned face, at her avid expression, her tantalizing smile. And he didn’t walk away. He looked at her, spoke to her.

His voice was less stilted and more ragged as he said, “I hope this wing makes a difference to the patients. I hope it gives them the safe haven they need to get well and—” he paused, his eyes still locked with hers “—the connections to the world outside to keep them strong.”

Like your father never had. Like my brother never had. And you ‘re the only one who knows why I did it.

He could see that in her eyes, the realization dawning, her lips parting in a silent O.

Alex jerked his gaze away and abruptly shut his mouth. Then, clutching the award in a sweaty hand, he said hoarsely, “Thank you all,” and strode back to his chair and sat down.

His heart was crashing in his chest. He didn’t look at Daisy. He didn’t have to. He could sense her eyes on him. The awareness, the emotion vibrated between them. So damn much emotion it felt like being swept off by a tidal wave. He kept his gaze resolutely on the platform where Douglas was coming back to speak.

With a few brief words he thanked Alex again, then thanked all the hospital’s staff and benefactors for their support. Then the doors opened to the adjoining ballroom and the small live orchestra just beyond those doors began to play.

People stood up, couples headed toward the dance floor. Alex breathed again.

Abruptly he stood and held out a hand. “Let’s dance.”