Twice a Princess

by Susan Meier

  When Lissa was out of sight of Merry's villa, she stopped for a deep drink of air. Even when put to the ultimate test—the failure of one of her matches and the reinstitution of the curse—Merry hadn't thrown a temper tantrum. She hadn't pouted. She hadn't hurled a vase, candlestick or centerpiece across the room. She wouldn't even take the easy way out by trying to talk the Phipps-Stovers into staying together.

  The curse had worked! Her goddaughter had changed completely.

  The only problem was, Merry really did only have two weeks to make another match. Remembering that, Lissa's chest tightened. Two weeks wasn't a lot of time.

  She hoped Merry knew what she was doing.

  If there was one thing Merry had learned about being cursed, it was that when your luck shifted from good to bad it pulled out all the stops. Two of her staff members got into a fight. One of the hotel laundry dryers caught fire and ruined half the linens, and just when Merry thought she would shoot the next person who interrupted her, Alexander Rochelle called and invited her to dinner. She didn't have time to coddle La Torchere's owner, but she couldn't afford to lose the job that was her only venue for matchmaking. So when he explained that he needed to discuss changes for the upcoming ball, she agreed.

  But not happily; she was becoming a crone! The only obvious alterations to her physical appearance might be a few streaks of gray hair, a few wrinkles around her eyes and sagging, ugly hands, but Merry worried that things could change in a split second. She could be standing right under Alexander's nose when she zapped back into Merry Montrose! No woman wanted to look hideous in front of the man she loved, and Merry planned to avoid having Alexander see her as a crone, no matter what it took. But if it did happen, at least he would believe her curse.

  Preparing for the worst, she dressed in white silk pants and a long-sleeved white silk shirt. The outfit was somewhat sophisticated, until she added the gloves. But she didn't think Alexander would notice her gloves. considering that she was sure his attention would be focused on the big floppy hat she wore to shade her face and camouflage the wrinkles that might pop out in the course of the evening.

  Walking to Alexander's villa with a big hat, sunglasses, gloves and long-sleeved shirt and pants covering ninety-nine-nine percent of her body, Merry got a few stares. But nothing was more priceless than the expression on Alexander's face when he opened his door to her.

  "Halloween early this year?"

  "I'm trying a new moisturizer."

  "And it can't be exposed to what? Air?"

  She nodded. People would swallow a ridiculous lie faster than a little one. "Something like that."

  He stared at her for a second, then said, "I'm not so stupid that I don't understand that you've covered yourself because you don't want me to accidentally touch you. Which really makes me feel wonderful. Am I so repulsive that you couldn't let an inch uncovered?"

  Horrified, Merry gasped. "Oh. no! Alexander! it isn't you. It's me."

  "Right."

  "No! I mean it. You don't repulse me. I like you!"

  "Then maybe tonight I want you to prove it. I want you to stay with me tonight. All night."

  Merry knew her first thought should have been her betrothed, instead, all she could think about was Alexander and how blatantly male he was when he looked at her as if he couldn't live one more night without tasting her, touching her.

  Her insides turned to Jell-O and she nearly collapsed against him. until she remembered that she was becoming a crone. She couldn't be naked in this man's arms. She couldn't let him see her, let alone touch her. If they decided to make love and her body suddenly changed, she would be mortified.

  She swallowed. "I can't."

  "Why not?" he asked, inching closer.

  Merry felt a shiver that was half fear, half longing. If Alexander knew how much she wanted him, he'd take her in a second, and that would be the last time. He worried that she was repulsed by him, but if her body suddenly became a crone's, he was the one who would be repulsed. She took a step back. He countered with three toward her.

  "I don't like games. Merry," he said, getting nearer still, so close he could almost touch her. "And we've been playing games since the first day you got here. I'm no! letting you walk away tonight."

  Panic officially set in and all Merry could think about was running. Then she remembered his reaction when she told him about her curse. He all but threw her out. She didn't want him to dislike her. to think she lied, or to believe the worst about her and kick her out. But if she mentioned her curse and he got angry and asked her to leave, at least she could preserve the memory of how much Alexander had wanted her tonight. And if she didn't try this ploy, he would seduce her. Then there was a high probability he would see her as a crone, and she would live with his look of repulsion forever.

  She drew a long breath. "Alexander, you didn't believe me when I told you the story of my curse. So you're not going to like it when I tell you that the curse has returned."

  "You know. Merry, that's a good one. but it's getting old."

  He took another step toward her and laid his palm on her cheek. Warmth seeped from his hand into her skin and Merry nearly leaned into his touch. She'd been alone for seven long years. And she'd never wanted anybody the way she wanted Alexander. Never. Maybe if she kept the drapes closed and the lights off, he wouldn't see? Maybe she could have this one night?

  And maybe she would fall asleep and he would wake up with Merry Montrose tomorrow morning.

  She swallowed hard and backed completely away from him. She could tell him a million lies for why she wouldn't stay the night, but she knew they wouldn't deter him. He would find a way around each one. Plus, he was right. They'd been playing games since she arrived. It was time for the truth and nothing but the truth.

  If he didn't believe her, that was his choice.

  "I don't care if you don't want to hear this, Alexander, but I really was cursed." She slipped off her gloves. "Look. My hands are like the hands of an eighty-year-old. And see that little brown spot there on the back of my wrist? That's an age spot. Next week it will probably have fifty friends. The curse has renewed itself because one of my matches dissolved yesterday. Though the physical changes seem to be happening slowly, there's no denying that I am turning back into a crone."

  Alexander nearly sighed with frustration. It was true her knuckles looked aged and there was a brown spot on the back of her wrist, but as a former handyman, he knew a harsh cleanser could make a person's hands wrinkled and rough-looking.

  "Why are you lying to me?"

  Clearly angry that he didn't believe her, Merry whipped off her hat and revealed the streaks of gray in her once-perfect auburn hair. But Alexander knew she could have gotten those streaks from a bottle. Or, better yet, since Merry seemed genuinely convinced she had been cursed, Lissa could have paid the salon to put something on her goddaughter's hair that wouldn't be seen at her appointment, but would cause gray streaks after repeated exposure to the sun. If Lissa had orchestrated this ruse, then Merry really could believe it and Alexander knew he wasn't going to argue her out of her belief or get her to listen to reason. He might be better to play along.

  "Anyone who's made twenty successful matches shouldn't have trouble finding another couple to put together."

  "But I will! Don't you see? I'm smarter now than I was in the beginning and I can't just match any two people willy-nilly! The Phipps-Stovers are divorcing because they are wrong for each other. I can't even imagine how painful this must be for them. And it's my fault! I have to be careful to match the right people."

  Dumbfounded by what she said, Alexander couldn't speak. She would only make a match that she believed was a good match. She wouldn't make a shoddy one even to save herself. The woman who, seven years ago, only thought of herself now thought of others first. And strangers. She didn't personally know any of La Torchere's guests, yet those were the people she apparently planned to match. She cared about these strangers more than she cared about herself
.

  He frowned. That couldn't be correct. Plus, it seemed rather convenient that she was doing all this right under his nose. With Merry so convinced of this curse and so determined to break it, Alexander couldn't help wondering if Lissa had "resurrected" it so Merry would look for her match at La Torchere, where he would see her, and—at the very least—stop thinking his betrothed was a liar.

  "How will you know you are matching the right people?" Alexander asked, sitting on his sofa, looking for a way he could show Merry this curse was nothing but one of Lissa's tricks.

  "I have to get the feeling that in the end the two people will care about each other more than they care about themselves."

  Alexander couldn't help it. He laughed. If Merry believed that, then Lissa had really done a number on her poor unsuspecting goddaughter. "Please. In the end, everybody puts his or her own interests first."

  "You have a very sad view of life, Alexander."

  And didn't those words sound familiar? Like they had come from the mouth of a certain godmother/concierge. "And maybe yours is too flighty. You accept love and curses and happily-ever-after as if they're normal. It's a wonder you've survived!"

  Merry smiled sadly, as if disappointed in him. "Alexander, you told me this afternoon that you wanted to make changes to your ball. Can we get started with that?"

  Equally disappointed in her, Alexander nodded. "Sure. Dinner's in the dining room. I dismissed Oliver. I thought we'd serve ourselves."

  "I don't know if I have time…"

  "You don't have time to what? Do the job I pay you to do? I would think that would take precedence over a 'curse' since you need your job at La Torchere to find the couple to break the damned thing."

  Merry took a long breath. For a guy who didn't believe anything she said, he certainly remembered details and drew conclusions about it well enough to use everything to his own benefit. Still, what he remembered and what he believed didn't matter. She had accomplished her purpose. He was no longer asking her to sleep with him. She was a disappointment to him. And he was right. She did have a job to do. If she annoyed him enough that he fired her, she would have no pool of people from which to make her match.

  "Okay."

  Alexander began walking to the dining room. "Well, thanks for being so darned happy about it."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Can't you just give me a couple of hours of your company?"

  Because it didn't look as if she had much choice and because he was talking about spending time together, not sleeping together, Merry nodded. She would eat, talk about the upcoming ball and leave as unloved as she'd been as Merry Montrose.

  But Alexander surprised her. As sweetly as if she were still the young beautiful woman he'd been pursuing for the past week, he seated her. They discussed unimportant things like the weather, then he suddenly switched topics and explained how his business concerns demanded that he live in the United States. Though confused by his choice of subjects. Merry let him talk. She needed her job. He wanted this night. In some ways she wanted this night, too. Though she had gray hair and sagging hands, and she could feel a bunion growing on her foot, she was still enough of a princess that she could pretend he loved her. She could pretend they were a couple, enjoying the intimacy of talking about their lives.

  But when dinner was over, Alexander suggested they sit on the sofa and Merry knew she shouldn't stay.

  "I'm sorry, Alexander, we should really talk about your changes for the ball so I can get going."

  "You won't sit?"

  "No. I'm getting nervous now. I need to get moving."

  "Okay," he said, then activated a CD with a press of a button on a remote. "Since you need to move, we'll dance."

  She almost said no. But the tiny part of her that knew how lonely she would be as a crone couldn't say no to an offer that might not ever come along again in her lifetime. Alexander opened his arms and she stepped into them.

  When he pulled her close and pressed his cheek to her hair, she nearly wept. Because they had danced before, she was attuned to his style and they glided effortlessly along the ceramic-tile floor behind his sofa and in front of the sliding glass door. The blinds were open, displaying his pool. The blue water shimmered with light from a full moon. She couldn't imagine anything more perfect, more romantic, than this moment. She closed her eyes to savor every single nuance.

  Music floated around her. She could feel the movement of his body as he shifted to the slow rhythm. His arms were solid and sure. But she no longer liked him simply because he was handsome or sexy, the things that had initially attracted her. Now that she'd had a chance to know him, Merry knew she liked him because he was smart, savvy, and maybe even because he was a tad pushy. He was funny and sweet. Dear to her. When she thought of laughing, she thought of Alexander on the golf course. When she thought of baring her soul, she thought of Alexander, because technically he was the first person she'd told of her curse. When she thought of kissing, she thought of how sweet his lips were, how good his kisses tasted, how he made her feel desired just by the way his mouth made love to hers.

  Lately, when she thought of anything sweet, dear, frustrating, emotional, wonderful, she thought of Alexander and she couldn't imagine what her life would be like without him.

  As she realized the last, Merry's eyes popped open, then she squeezed them shut in agony. She didn't just like Alexander Rochelle. She loved him.

  Oh, dear God! She loved him.

  And the curse wasn't the only thing keeping them apart. Even if she broke the curse by finding a couple to match, she couldn't spend her life with him because she belonged to someone else.

  But as quickly as Merry thought that, she had another, more important thought. How could she marry someone else when she couldn't imagine spending her entire life with anyone but Alexander?

  He twirled them around the floor and nuzzled her closer. Her heart thudded in her chest, her body tingled with need and tears filled her eyes. She couldn't imagine spending her life with anybody but Alexander, and that meant she couldn't marry Prince Alec.

  She knew it with such a fierceness that she suddenly wondered if that wasn't actually the real point of the curse. Matching twenty-one couples, and accumulating at least twice that many failed couples, she herself had changed, but she had also learned many things. The most important was how difficult it was for two people who didn't click to make the sacrifices and do the work required to stay together. If she were honest, she had to admit she'd never clicked with Prince Alec. Though she was willing to make the sacrifices, she had forgotten something very important. He deserved someone to love him. And she would never love him. Not completely. Not romantically. Not the way she loved Alexander.

  That, she was sure, was the real purpose of surviving her curse. To realize she needed to terminate her betrothal. Not for herself, but for Prince Alec.

  She slid out of Alexander's arms. Turning away, she walked toward the curio cabinet where she'd left her pad and pencil. "Do you want to talk about the ball or not?"

  He caught her wrist and spun her to face him. When he tilted his head in question, Merry knew he saw the telltale signs of her silent weeping. "Merry?"

  Her crying might confuse him, but Merry easily realized why her eyes had filled with the tears that spilled over and now rolled down her cheeks.

  The real bottom line to her curse, her time at La Torchere and even meeting Alexander Rochelle, was to force her to see that she didn't love Prince Alec and shouldn't marry someone she didn't love. Not for herself, but in fairness to him. So she would do the right thing by Prince Alec. She would not let him commit to a woman who didn't love him, but this fairy tale didn't have a happy ending. The man for whom she was willing to give up her Prince didn't love her. She had fallen head over heels for him in only a little over a week. But he hadn't fallen for her. Not because he wasn't attracted. He was. She knew he was.

  Alexander Rochelle couldn't love her because he couldn't love anybody. Just from the things h
e'd said tonight it was clear he didn't know how to love. That was why he was so attracted to romance. It was a cheap substitute for the lasting, permanent emotion he refused to acknowledge.

  Chapter Eight

  "I have to go."

  Alexander blinked. "Go?"

  "Leave." She shook off the hand Alexander had on her forearm and grabbed her purse from the curio cabinet beneath the minor.

  But he captured her elbow and stopped her again. "I know. You can't stay because you're promised to somebody else."

  Merry smiled sadly. "I wish I could say that was the reason, but I've decided not to marry Prince Alec. I really like you, Alexander, and that makes me see that it wouldn't be fair for me to commit to him. He has a right to be happy. He has a right to know real love. And I'll never love him," she said, and her eyes filled with tears again. "Because I love you."

  With that she turned and ran out of the door. Alexander couldn't have followed her if his life depended on it. His feet seemed to be frozen to the floor.

  She loved him?

  Loved him?

  He ignored the warmth that expanded in his middle at her confession and decided Lissa had pushed her so far with this fake curse that she was confused. Really confused. So confused she not only thought she loved a man she hardly knew, but also she intended to call off their betrothal.

  Knowing he couldn't let her do that, he strode to his bedroom where he still kept the keys from his stint as maintenance man and rummaged for the set for the utility room. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Since he didn't think Princess Meredith would give him a chance to talk to her again that night, he would simply shut off the phone lines. Then she wouldn't be telling anybody anything for at least the next twelve hours.