Second Chance Girl--A Modern Fairy Tale Romance

by Susan Mallery

  “Let’s take this down the hall and let them get back to their meeting,” she said.

  “As you wish.”

  Her body tightened as she recognized the line from the classic old movie The Princess Bride. Only Ulrich wouldn’t know anything about that. He was simply being polite to annoy her—she was sure of it.

  She carefully closed the door before moving a few feet toward the stairs. She crossed her arms and glared at Ulrich.

  “Yes?”

  “I would like to apologize for what I said to you the other day. I was wrong to assume the worst about you. Upon further investigation, I have discovered you are exactly who you claimed to be. The mistake is mine and I take complete responsibility for it.”

  Violet was careful to keep her mouth from dropping open. As apologies went, it was pretty good. Quick, to the point, with no waffling. If only the man delivering it weren’t so annoying. Or handsome.

  “Great. Apology accepted. Now if that’s all...”

  “It’s not.” His steady gaze locked with hers. “I’m not just saying the words, Violet. I mean it.”

  When had she gone from Miss Lund to Violet? Miss Lund was safer. Miss Lund was stern and strong. Violet was more likely to be overwhelmed by a combination of English accent and sexy smile.

  “I believe you. Thank you for the message.” She looked pointedly at the closed door. “I have to get back in there.”

  “Of course. There’s just one more thing.”

  “There always is,” she muttered.

  He ignored that. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me tonight? If you won’t accept for my sake, then please do so for the sake of my grandmother who speaks very highly of you.”

  Another nicely delivered little speech. He must have taken a class. And while she was tempted, she wasn’t foolish. Or forgiving of the fact that he’d spoiled a perfectly good memory of a fourteen-year-old girl being swept off her feet by a handsome almost-duke.

  “Thank you. You’re very kind, but I’m busy tonight.” A lie, but one she was willing to live with. “I would suggest tomorrow, but I’m sure you have to get back to whatever airport you flew in to. Your estate awaits.”

  His gaze remained steady. “It does,” he said slowly. “However, this dinner is important to me. I’ll still be in town tomorrow. Shall we say six at the Mountain Top Grill?”

  Drat and double drat. She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself—still, who would have thought he would be willing to stay in Happily Inc to have dinner with her? Or not—the man could have business somewhere nearby. Or simply be handling things via email and conference calls. He wasn’t staying just for her. If she thought anything else, she was foolish. Or if he was, he was because of his grandmother. Not her.

  “Six,” she agreed reluctantly.

  “Of course. I’ll see you then.”

  He turned and walked away. Violet watched him go and did her best to quell a sudden sense of foreboding. It was dinner. Just dinner. Whatever crush she’d maintained all these years had been on a different man. Or so she hoped.

  * * *

  CAROL STRADDLED MATHIAS, her thighs nestled against his hips. They were both naked and it was all he could do to keep from touching her full breasts as she raised her arms, locking her hands behind her head. As she moved, her breasts shifted and bounced, making his erection harder and more painful. She smiled at him.

  “Take me,” she whispered as she leaned close. “Take me hard and fast until we’re both—”

  What? Both what?

  “Carol? Carol?”

  Instead of answering she laughed and licked her lips, as if taunting him. Mathias reached for her, only to come awake—drenched in sweat and sporting the world’s hardest, most painful boner.

  “Dammit all to hell,” he muttered as he threw off the covers. He continued swearing for several more seconds, then had to push Sophie away as she rolled over to investigate the cause of his bad mood.

  “Not your problem,” he muttered as he stood. He was aroused and uncomfortable. The sex dreams with Carol were getting worse, he thought grimly. More detailed and not the least bit satisfying. Those damned images would stay with him all day. There was only one solution to the problem.

  He left Sophie snoring gently in his bed, and walked into the bathroom. Five minutes later he was in the shower, the hot water pounding his body. Talk about humiliating, he thought as he grasped his erection and began to move his hand up and down his shaft.

  It didn’t take long. The relief was medicinal at best, but at least the immediate problem was solved. As for what to do about Carol—there was an issue that had no resolution.

  By the time he was showered, shaved and dressed, it was nearly daylight. Sophie reluctantly got up and he took her for an early walk. They had breakfast before driving to the studio.

  Mathias had an order for custom light pendants. He began by matching the colors his client had sent him, then began the slow process of creating a perfectly formed pendant to their exact measurements.

  Ronan strolled in about three in the afternoon. They hadn’t seen each other since Elaine’s visit, but having Ronan disappear was hardly news. Mathias had just finished the second pendant and left it to cool. His brother wandered over to study the two pieces.

  While each pendant contained the same colors and had the same pattern, they weren’t identical. Mathias had reversed the swirl so they were more of a mirror image. He planned to create the third one to match the first so there would be added vertical interest when they were hanging next to each other.

  “Nice,” Ronan said. “You were precise. I like the details.”

  Mathias gauged his brother’s mood, based on the handful of words. For once Ronan wasn’t being a jerk, which was a pleasant change.

  Ever since their father had blurted out the truth and screwed up their lives five years ago, Ronan had been distant. Before that, they’d been a team. They’d grown up as twins—or so they’d thought. Not anymore. Now Ronan was the half brother. Ceallach’s son, but not Elaine’s child.

  After their father’s mild heart attack, he’d been hospitalized for observation. Ceallach had requested the “twins” come see him. When they’d arrived, he told them about his affair and how Ronan was only half brother with the rest of his sons.

  Mathias hadn’t been able to take it in—he’d been devastated and had started to lash out at their bastard of a father. But Ronan had only listened in silence. Partway through Mathias’s rant, Ronan had walked out without saying a word. Mathias had followed. When Ronan had said he had to leave their home in Fool’s Gold, Mathias had gone with him. He’d known things would be different for a while, but he’d never thought all this time would pass and Ronan would still think of himself as anything other than a member of the family.

  There were moments when Mathias wanted to remind Ronan that he’d had to deal, as well. He’d always thought they would return to being a team—if not twins, then at least close brothers. But Ronan had stayed distant to the point of doing much of his work at his own studio up in the mountains.

  Whenever Mathias was asked why he didn’t want to fall in love and settle down, he used his father as an excuse. Ceallach was a jerk and what if Mathias was one, too? But the truth was far different. His inability to trust in love had little to do with his father and everything to do with his brother.

  He and Ronan had been a team. They’d been a unit that had faced the world together. It was always supposed to be like that—only Ronan had changed the rules. Mathias knew in his gut that if he hadn’t gone with his brother, Ronan would have simply disappeared. All this time later Mathias couldn’t let go enough not to give a damn but he also couldn’t forgive.

  Ronan crossed to his desk. On the way he passed the large recycling container filled with broken bits of glass. He picked
up a piece easily identifiable as the head and neck of a giraffe. On that one, Mathias had been close.

  Ronan looked from the glass to him and back. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”

  Mathias shrugged. “It has to be perfect.”

  “Now you sound like him.”

  “Dad being an egomaniac and an asshole doesn’t mean he’s always wrong.”

  “What about those?” His brother pointed to the stack of imperfect dishes, bowls and mugs on shelves.

  “They don’t matter,” Mathias admitted.

  Ronan didn’t look convinced. “People line up in the street on the day those pieces go on sale.”

  “Nobody’s life is changed by a plate.”

  “Nobody’s life is changed by much of anything we can make in this studio.”

  Before Mathias could respond, his brother walked away. Something Ronan had been doing a lot these days. No—he’d been doing it since their encounter with their father. Everything had changed and Mathias didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they’d been.

  He checked on his two pendants, then ripped off his protective goggles. There was no way he would get more work done today, he thought grimly. Not with how he was feeling now. He went into Natalie’s office. Sophie jumped to her feet, her tail wagging.

  “Come on,” he told her. “I’ll take you for a walk. That will make us both feel better.”

  And if it didn’t, at least he’d taken the moral high ground—walking a dog rather than destroying more innocent glass.

  * * *

  ULRICH HAD NO idea if Violet would show for dinner or not. He told himself that regardless of the outcome, he’d done what he could and would be able to look his grandmother in the eye with a clear conscience. He’d apologized and had attempted to make amends. How Violet responded to that was beyond his control. Although as the time ticked closer to six, he found himself hoping she would show up. For his grandmother’s sake, he added hastily. Because it would be easier on him if he was able to give a few details about their dinner. Not because he was looking forward to spending time in Violet’s company.

  If only he hadn’t been wrong, he thought grimly. If only his grandmother’s secretary hadn’t mentioned the outgoing packages. If only the inventory hadn’t turned up so many discrepancies. Whatever circumstances had conspired, he’d ended up here—at a restaurant in Happily Inc, California, waiting on a woman who might or might not show up for their...appointment.

  Not date. Never a date. This was practically a business meeting. They were here to clear the air, nothing more. Which all sounded great but didn’t explain the sudden rush of anticipation that kicked him in the gut when he saw a tall redhead walk into the foyer.

  Had she been beautiful two days ago and had he just not noticed, or had she done whatever it was women did to make themselves alluring? She still had thick, glossy curls that tumbled down her back. Her eyes had always been wide and green. But her skin seemed more luminous and her dress—a simple black number that emphasized her curves—was pure magic.

  He moved toward her and held out his hand. In part to be polite but mostly to feel her skin against his own. He wanted to know if there would be a reaction when they touched. If the attraction would die as quickly as it had formed or if it would explode into—

  “Ulrich,” she said, putting her hand in his.

  The heat was immediate, as was a sinking sense of having been played by fate. His relationship with his ex-wife had been based on their being a sensible match. Since the divorce, he’d avoided entanglements of any kind, so it had been years since he’d experienced the dark, sensual, visceral burn of desperately wanting any one woman.

  “Miss Lund.”

  She raised her eyebrows as she released his hand. “Come now, Ulrich. We’re not auditioning for a drawing room comedy. You can call me Violet. It’s so much nicer than the other names you’ve been using in your mind.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I only thought gracious, lovely things about you.”

  She stepped close and lowered her voice. “You go to hell for lying, same as stealing.”

  Her tone was teasing, her breath warm on his neck.

  “I have every confidence the good Lord wants me with him when I die.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

  The hostess appeared and told them their table was ready. They were shown to a quiet booth against the far wall. The restaurant was more crowded than he would have expected for a weeknight and he was pleased he’d thought to make a reservation.

  Violet sat across from him. She ignored the menu, instead focusing her considerable attention on him.

  “This is awkward.”

  “A little,” he conceded. “I appreciate you joining me. It seemed the least I could do.”

  “Plus, your grandmother made you.”

  “She wanted me to make sure we repaired our relationship. The decision to invite you to dinner was mine.” He cleared his throat. “I do want to apologize again for what I said.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. You were wrong. I personally get to revel in your wrongness and now you’re buying me a nice dinner. It’s fine. You can stop apologizing.”

  “You’re very straightforward.”

  “No more than most women I know.” She flashed him a smile. “I suspect it’s an American thing. We’re not really into subtle.”

  “I admire your sensibilities.” And other things about her, he thought, doing his best not to let his gaze stray to the edge of her breasts exposed by the vee of her dress. “And your graciousness, under the circumstances.”

  “So what happened?” she asked. “How did I get to be the bad guy?”

  He explained about the household inventory and the mysterious packages, carefully leaving out any mention of his grandmother’s secretary. While he doubted the other woman had been trying to trap him into falling in love with her, she’d acted against his grandmother’s best wishes and that was unforgivable.

  When he’d finished, Violet opened her mouth, then closed it. “You take an inventory?” She held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Of course you have to. The house is like a million years old and there are beautiful things everywhere. It’s just so different from anything I’ve experienced. My bonding story is I check to see if I need paper towels before I go to the grocery store. Other than that, I live my personal life inventory free. I do inventory my buttons, but that’s different.”

  “I check for paper towels, as well. We have so much in common.”

  She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. The clear, happy sound tugged at something deep inside of him. A dark, lonely place that had avoided the light of day for too long.

  “Your grandmother is lucky to have you,” she said.

  “I’m lucky, as well. She’s my entire family. I would do anything for her.”

  Their server came to take their drink orders. Violet ordered a cosmopolitan while he chose a single malt Scotch.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Violet said when their server had left. “Your grandmother told me she was devastated by the loss. You must have been, as well.”

  “I was. He’d been ill for a while, but one never expects the end when it happens. I’d been training for the job for years, but still found it difficult to be half as excellent as he had been.”

  “I doubt that.” She smiled at him. “You’re very good at what you do.”

  If only they were talking about sex, but they weren’t. At least she wasn’t. “You have no way of knowing that.”

  “Your grandmother tells me things in her letters. She worried that the responsibility was too much for you.” She hesitated. “She was afraid it was impacting your marriage.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not prying or asking, I’m just sharing.”

 
; “My father’s death was hard on everyone, but not the reason for my divorce.” If only it had been—the blame would have been easier to deal with. As it was, he’d never been sure what he was supposed to say.

  She reached for her small handbag and pulled out a thick piece of paper. “I want to show you something, although now that I think about it, I should probably have waited for you to have your cocktail first.” She smiled. “You know, to dull the edges.”

  “Now I’m curious.”

  She turned over the paper and he saw it was a photograph of a young woman standing in front of Battenberg Park. She had frizzy red hair, blotchy skin and the gawky, awkward stance of someone not comfortable in her own skin. Braces showed through her tentative smile. She was, by all definitions, not pretty, and he had absolutely no recollection of her.

  “This is you?”

  She nodded. “During my unfortunate phase. I was fourteen.”

  “You were lovely.”

  “More lies. Shame on you.” She took back the picture. “My mother and I attended a summer party at your house. To my mind, it was nearly a ball. You danced with me and kissed me on the cheek, then whispered that one day I would be a beauty.” She glanced at him, then away. “You were very charming and that night I fell madly in love with you...in a very shallow, young teen sort of way.”

  He was torn between being pleased he’d acted in a way that would have made his father proud of him and regret that even her words couldn’t produce a memory. There had been many parties in the summer, many young ladies with whom he’d danced.

  “I was right,” he said instead. “About you growing into a beauty. I’m nearly always right.”

  She laughed. Their server returned with their drinks and they touched them together in a toast.

  “Where are you staying?” she asked when she’d taken a sip of her cosmopolitan.

  “The Sweet Dreams Inn.” He did his best not to shudder. “I’m in the Drive-in Room. My bed is an old Cadillac and my television is the size of a drive-in screen.”