After hours of mingling, smiling and bearing the painful congratulations of strangers, Brittney grabbed a glass of wine and found a quiet corner of the patio where she could recuperate.
She spotted Vanessa and Nicolas sneaking back toward the party from the formal gardens. There were spots throughout the gardens where an amorous couple could seize a few moments alone. It looked as though maybe Vanessa and Nicolas had done just that. Brittney had suspected they might be involved again several weeks ago, but his recent declaration at the polo match left no one in doubt of their relationship. The normally cool and reserved Nicolas had ridden up to Vanessa on his favorite horse, Maximo, and announced before God and everyone that he loved her. The act was all the more romantic because he was normally so cool and reserved. His grand gesture had melted the heart of every female there.
Until that moment, Brittney had doubted that the vivacious Vanessa could find happiness with such a man, but his actions that day had removed all of Brittney’s doubts. And Vanessa’s too, it seemed.
Brittney was thrilled for Vanessa’s obvious contentment. But a little jealous, as well. It seemed as though everyone was destined to find love this summer, except Brittney.
Though, if she were honest with herself, that was not entirely true. She had found love. It just hadn’t found her.
As Vanessa and Nicolas approached her hiding place, they paused. Nicolas bent down as Vanessa rose onto her toes. At first Brittney feared she’d caught them about to kiss. But after a moment, she realized they were whispering. Nicolas reached up to twirl a lock of Vanessa’s hair around his finger. Somehow the gesture was even more intimate than a kiss would have been.
Her cheeks burning, Brittney turned away and crept back to the house. They were too involved in one another to notice.
She snuck back into the party, painfully aware of her heated cheeks and thundering heart. The intimacy between Vanessa and Nicolas had unnerved her. It was true intimacy, of spirit and heart, not just body. The whispered moment between them was packed with more emotion than any passionate embrace.
Pressing the back of her hand to her cheek, she scanned the perimeter of the room for a tray where she could drop her empty glass. She barely noticed the man in front of her before she nearly walked into him.
“Hey, if it isn’t the lucky lady herself.” The man gave her arm a jovial, “’atta-girl” slap.
Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress her cringe. He didn’t notice anyway. Giving her arm a quick rub to take the sting out, she appraised him. Mid-thirties, manufactured smile, designer suit, hair meticulously styled to disguise the fact that it was thinning. He looked familiar, but if she had to guess, it was because he looked like half the men in New York, not because she actually knew him.
“Excuse me for asking, but have we met?” she asked as politely as she could.
“No,” he slurred. “But I know you. In fact, I take credit for all of this.” He waved a hand at the party taking place.
“Oh, then you must be John from the catering company.” She extended her hand.
As the man shook her hand, he leaned in close. “No, I’m not a caterer.” He laughed like the idea was hysterical. Then, still holding her hand, he winked and gave her a little toast with his glass. “For you and Connor.”
“I’m sorry.” She tugged at her hand, trying to get him to release it. “I don’t understand.”
“That night at the bar. You two never would have met if I hadn’t bet Connor he couldn’t get you into bed.”
Connor watched from across a sea of people as Tim struck up a conversation with Brittney. Even from this distance, he could tell Tim had been drinking too much. Tim always got chummy when he was soused, slapping people on the arm and laughing with glee. His mouth sometimes got him into trouble when he was sober. Put a couple of drinks in him, and it was a disaster.
This was not a guy Connor wanted talking to Brittney.
He quickly excused himself from the conversation on trade restrictions he’d gotten suckered into with a colleague of Brittney’s father. As he wended his way through the crowd, he kept an eye on her. Her expression drifted from confused to offended. She had the grace and good breeding to hide her feelings generally—Tim must have said something bad for offense to register on her face.
Connor picked up the pace as he elbowed past a giggling socialite. He walked up behind Brittney just in time to hear Tim saying, “You two never would have met if I hadn’t bet Connor he couldn’t get you into bed.”
Before Tim even finished the sentence, Connor put his hand on Brittney’s back. She flinched at his touch, jerking back to look up him. Her brow was furrowed as she looked from Connor to Tim and back again.
“Is he…” she began, but seemed unable to finish the sentence.
Connor managed a smile and said, “Tim, what kind of lies are you telling my fiancée about me?”
He reached out to shake Tim’s hand in greeting while keeping his other hand firmly and possessively on Brittney’s back, hoping that she’d read his sincerity in his touch.
“No, man,” Tim said, giving Connor’s hand an overly firm shake. “No lies. That was what, six or seven weeks ago, right? We were all at that jazz bar. You hit on Brittney.”
Tim’s voice started to rise with his insistence, and people nearby were turning to look as they couldn’t help but overhear his drunken words. Connor could feel the tension growing in Brittney. Under his hand, her muscles had turned to rock and her posture was stick straight.
“She shot you down,” Tim continued. “I tried to tell you she was out of your league, but you were determined to try again. Remember? I told you about the profile in that magazine. What’s the name of that thing? The Profiler or something, right? That’s when you bet me you’d get her into bed before the end of summer.”
Tim paused to smile lewdly at Brittney. “So see, if it weren’t for me, you two never would have gotten engaged.” Tim gave Connor a whack on the arm. “Who knew this hound dog would ever settle down. Am I right?”
Connor forced another smile. “You’re mistaken, buddy,” he said to Tim in a voice just loud enough for others to overhear. He pulled Brittney tight against his side and dropped a kiss onto her forehead. “Six weeks ago, Brittney and I had already been dating for a couple of months. But we were still keeping our relationship a secret. I pretended to hit on her to have an excuse to say hello.” Connor looked down at Brittney. Her expression was fixed, like she was trying to process too much information too quickly. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
He gave her arm another squeeze, and after a second she nodded and smiled like the experienced navigator of social gaffes that she was. “Absolutely.”
Tim looked first at Connor and then at Brittney. He was far too slow to keep up. He looked like he wanted to argue, but Connor didn’t give him a chance. Instead he gently steered the conversation around to Tim’s work before making their excuses and maneuvering Brittney away.
Connor may have talked his way around Tim’s confusion, but Brittney wouldn’t be nearly so easy to manage. He could practically hear her thinking, figuring her way through the nonsense of Tim’s rambling to the truth of that fateful conversation back at the beginning of the summer.
You wouldn’t know it to look at her, though. As they moved through the crowd, she smiled with the ease that seemed second nature to her. And that made Connor very nervous.
She had the ability to conceal her distress so thoroughly that you could barely see any sign of it. But it was the defense mechanism she used when she was the most upset.
He’d rarely seen her this poised and smooth.
When he spotted the door to the butler’s pantry, he steered her toward it. He didn’t want her to have time to let Tim’s words sink in and simmer.
The second the door closed behind them and they were alone, she shrugged off his touch.
“Brittney—” he began, but she held up a hand warding off his entreaty.
The butler’s
pantry was a long and narrow room connecting the main room to the kitchen. Glass-front cabinets lined both walls. Bottles of wine and empty glasses littered the soapstone countertops. Obviously the staff had been using the butler’s pantry for its intended purpose, as a staging ground for the waiters distributing drinks and appetizers to the crowd. Which meant he wouldn’t have long to explain before they were interrupted. He’d have to talk fast.
“I don’t want to hear any more lies.” She shivered, as if she was shedding something unpleasant. When she turned to face him, she had her arms wrapped around her waist.
“It’s not how Tim made it sound.”
“What, it’s not like you saw me in a bar and decided to pick me up? It’s not like you followed me out to the Hamptons to seduce me?” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. “Because, actually, it is like that. And I even knew it.”
“Brittney,” he reached a hand out to her, but even in the tight quarters, she managed to dodge his touch. “Tim made it sound like it was all just a bet. It wasn’t.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like you made it sound either. Like he was the ignorant rube in our little lover’s game.” She rolled her eyes. “God, you’re so good at that.”
“At what?”
“At making people believe what you want them to.” Finally she met his gaze. “That’s what makes you so dangerous.”
The resolve he saw in her eyes sent a splash of icy dread over him. “You can’t let what Tim said upset you. He’s drunk and, well, kind of an idiot under the best of circumstances. And he’s not remembering the way things really happened.”
She let loose a bark of laughter. “Whatever gaps there may be in his memory, I can guarantee his version of that night is closer to the truth than the lies you just spun. That charming story about how we were keeping our relationship a secret? The way you only pretended to hit on me just to say hello?” She nodded in mock appreciation. “That’s good stuff. Let’s be sure to save that story for our grandchildren.”
“Brittney—”
“Oh, wait. We’re not going to have grandchildren. Because we’re not really engaged. Nor are we really in love.”
Connor heard a waiter reaching for the door behind him. With one hand, he grabbed the doorknob, holding the door shut. He reached for her again and caught her hand in his. Her fingers felt unnaturally cold, as if she were going into shock.
“Let’s talk about this,” he said. “Let me explain.”
“What is there to explain? I know what happened. Don’t get me wrong, I like the fairy tale, but I don’t believe in it.”
She gave her hand a tug, but he wouldn’t let her go. Behind him, he could feel the waiter on the other side of the door struggling, but Connor kept his hand firmly on the knob, unwilling to have their conversation interrupted.
“You’re upset. I’m not letting you leave like this.”
She met his gaze again, slowly shaking her head. “It’s okay. Really, it is.” Again she tugged on her hand. Again he didn’t loosen his hold on her. “The thing is, Connor, I—” Her voice broke and she swallowed back tears before continuing. “I think I really was starting to fall in love with you. I’d gotten so caught up in playing the role, I forgot it wasn’t real. But the truth is, I hardly know you. All I know is this fantasy you’ve created, this persona of the perfect fiancé you’ve been playing for the past six weeks. Tim didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know. He just reminded me of reality.”
Her gaze was so raw and pained, Connor could hardly stand to look her in the eyes. But he made himself. He’d done this to her. As proud as she was, as strong, as resilient—after all the things he’d done to try to protect her this summer—here he was, the one to break her.
“I know we agreed to break things off once we returned to the city, but I don’t think I can wait that long. I can’t pretend anymore. And I don’t want to risk forgetting again.”
Behind him, the waiter called out, “Hey, is there someone in there? I don’t think anyone’s supposed to be back there.”
“Give us a minute,” Connor ordered.
“No, it’s okay,” Brittney said quietly. “We’re done here.”
The waiter gave the knob one last violent turn, wrenching the door open. Brittney pulled her hand free and left through the door on the far side of the pantry.
She'd slipped right through his fingers.
Eight
Brittney received an unprecedented number of calls and e-mails during the days following her return to the city. Most were from people she hadn’t had a chance to talk to during the party, wishing her congratulations. Some were from people who had noticed her early disappearance and who wanted to make sure she was all right—or to cash in on the gossip if she wasn’t. A few were from people who seemed to be genuinely concerned. The only call she returned was Vanessa’s. But she didn’t have the heart to tell her friend what had happened, finding she couldn’t put into words how quickly her well-ordered life had fallen apart.
The one person whom she hoped might call was Connor. For six weeks he’d been constantly by her side, defending her any time someone so much as spoke to her in a suggestive tone. But now, when she could use a shoulder to cry on, he was gone. Of course, he couldn’t protect her from himself.
She stayed at home, working long hours on her father’s Web site, catching up on the work that hadn’t gotten done over the summer. Almost an entire week went by without her seeing anyone other than the delivery guy from Topaz Thai. Finally, the Monday after she returned to the city, Vanessa came by and dragged her out for a lunch. While it was good to be in the company of another person, she hated how careful Vanessa seemed.
Brittney never thought of herself as a frail person. She didn’t need coddling. Maybe it was being in the company of Vanessa—or maybe she simply felt more vulnerable than normal—but she found herself opening up and telling her the truth.
The two women sat across from each other in a little café just down the street from Brittney’s condo, drinking coffee. Brittney poked morosely at the bright pink topping of her raspberry yogurt parfait.
“I should look on the bright side,” she finally said. “I only fell a little bit in love with him.”
Brittney nibbled on the tip of the spoon. She looked across the table at Vanessa only when she realized Vanessa had said nothing in response. She had an odd expression on her face—half wince, half cringe.
“What?” Brittney asked.
“Nothing,” Vanessa said too quickly.
“No, it’s not nothing. You looked like you wanted to say something.”
“It’s just—” Vanessa set down her spoon and leaned forward “—I don’t think you can fall only a little bit in love.”
“Of course you can fall only a little bit in love. My roommate in college did it all the time.”
“Yes, of course people can. I meant I’m not sure you can.”
“What are you saying? You think I’m defective?”
“No.” Vanessa patted Brittney on the back of the hand. “I just think maybe you’re an all-or-nothing kind of girl.” Then she paused and tilted her head to the side, considering. “What you said, about Connor doing all of this just because he felt guilty about that stupid bet? I don’t buy it.”
“Vanessa, he—”
“Because I swear, the way he looks at you sometimes, it reminds me of…” Vanessa shook her head, her expression pensive.
“Of what?”
“Well, of the way Nicolas looks at me.”
Brittney nearly snorted with disbelief. “I’ve seen the way Nicolas looks at you. It’s steamy, with intense possessiveness.”
“Exactly!” Vanessa pointed her spoon at Brittney emphatically.
“I think new love is coloring your perspective. What you’re imagining is love on Connor’s part is merely…I don’t know, indigestion or something.” She smiled at the look on Vanessa’s face. “But thank you for imagining he could be in love with me. You’re a good friend.”
Vanessa gave Brittney a wink. “I am, aren’t I?”
Brittney couldn’t help but laugh. She left their lunch feeling better.
On her way home, she thought about what Vanessa had said about her not being able to fall in love only a little bit. What if Vanessa were right? What if she’d fallen in love with a man who could never love her back? Being with Connor had unleashed a passionate side she’d always kept under tight control. What would happen to that part of her now that Connor wasn’t in her life? Would she ever find another man with whom she felt so comfortable? And who stirred her emotions and her senses?
Later that night, she was contemplating that very depressing possibility while she waited for her takeout to be delivered. Her bell rang and she buzzed the delivery guy in, ready for another night of Topaz Thai. But when she opened her door, she didn’t find a guy with coconut soup.
Instead, she found Connor.
His appearance startled her. He’d never been less than impeccably dressed, even when dressed casually for the matches. Today he wore faded jeans and a plain white oxford shirt left untucked. He stood with his shoulder propped against the wall and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His hair was messy, his face lined with exhaustion. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. In short, he looked as exhausted as she felt.
He didn’t greet her, pushing his way into her apartment before she could protest. “I’m not giving you up,” he announced.
She blinked. “You’re what?”
“Not giving you up.” With each word, he stalked a step closer to her. It wasn’t long before he’d closed the distance between them. He wrapped a hand around her upper arm, keeping her from retreating. “I know this started out as just a ruse, but we’re good together.” His thumb circled the skin on the inside of her arm.
He did that kind of thing all the time, touching her so casually. It drove her to distraction, and she’d always assumed that was his intention. Now, watching him, she wondered if perhaps instead of a calculated enticement, the habit was more of a compulsion, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her, just as he’d told the reporters.
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