by Lisa Bingham
The car slid to a stop in front of the valet kiosk of the Regency, and Alex got out, opening the door for Dannette. After ushering her a few steps toward the main entrance, he finally noted that Riley had not joined them and returned to the car.
“You usually open your own doors,” he commented as he helped her alight.
“Only because you never offered any gentlemanly courtesies,” she responded under her breath.
“I offered,” he murmured just as softly. “But when you threatened to slug me for my efforts, I gave up the notion.”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Maybe I’m learning a thing or two about feminine wiles from Dannette.”
“Great,” he groused. “All I need is for you to grow more ‘wily’ than you already are.”
Riley scowled at him, then strode past Dannette and through the revolving door into the hotel.
As soon as she entered the lobby, she became the subject of several disapproving stares. The Regency catered to some of the most elite and influential clients in the world, and a strict dress code was enforced.
Glancing over her shoulder, Riley noted the satisfaction that sparkled from Dannette’s eyes, but the woman refrained from commenting.
Reaching the entrance to the dining room, Riley paused. In an instant, the maitre d’ of the establishment turned to face her, then broke into a stream of effusive chatter.
“Miss Page! I’d hoped that you were the one who made the reservation! How long have you been in the country?”
“A little over twenty-four hours.”
“So you’ve gone to Mr. Pok’s already, I take it?”
“You know I can’t resist spicy food.”
“Then you’ve joined us today for tea.”
“You know I have an even harder time resisting your establishment”
“Splendid. Splendid!” He took three menus from the rack built into the elegant brass podium. “Right this way. I’ve given you one of our best spots.”
The tea tables at the Regency were assigned according to the social rank of the persons who dined there. Banquettes lined the outer walls, and small, round tables were arranged in the center. A raised dais to one side held a string quartet, and a solarium filled with exotic flowers was behind it. Inside the solarium was a single table draped in snowy linen and graced with fine china and silver. As was their custom, the Regency had seen that the solarium was given to Riley.
“This is marvelous, Charles. Thank you.”
She took the chair he held for her, setting the rucksack she invariably used for her camera equipment on the floor beside her.
Alex helped Dannette to be seated, then sprawled in the gilt chair, dwarfing it with his potent masculinity.
When Charles began distributing menus, Riley said, “No need to go through the formalities, Charles. We would like the high tea you prepare for me whenever I’m in town.”
“Very good.”
Charles disappeared, leaving the three of them enclosed in a fairyland of exotic orchids, ferns and birds of paradise. Interspersed among the greenery were quaint Victorian cages filled with tiny birds—finches, parakeets and swallows.
“This is lovely,” Dannette sighed. “I’ve never been seated in the solarium before.”
“No, really?” Riley drawled. “I would have thought that Alex would have brought you here dozens of times. He’s the one who introduced me to the finer points of high tea.”
Dannette was clearly surprised—and perhaps even a little irritated at Alex. “I had no idea you were so eclectic in your tastes, dear,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing.
“I’m just a Renaissance man,” he quipped, but the gaze he threw Riley’s way was full of warning.
She lifted her brows in response, as if to say “I haven’t done anything wrong.” Then she began a systematic interrogation of the woman Alex meant to marry.
“So, Dannette. How do you feel about global warming?”
AN HOUR LATER, Alex ran his finger over the cool silver of his spoon, studying the two women through hooded eyes.
They were so different, such opposite sides of the spectrum. Riley was vivacious and passionate and headstrong. Dannette was elegant, warm and serene.
The afternoon tea had merely served to underscore their differences. In the time they’d been dining, Riley had eaten platefuls of tiny, crustless sandwiches and plump scones. She’d drained at least three pots of tea and taken nibbles from a half dozen varieties of pastries, never finishing a single one.
Dannette, on the other hand, had methodically eaten one sliver of a watercress sandwich, one of smoked salmon and one of cucumber. She’d drunk two cups of tea—no lemon, no sugar, no cream. She’d tasted her scone and allowed herself one small Napoleon.
Through it all, Riley had grilled Dannette on her childhood in Georgia, her beauty-queen background and her views on politics, war and religion.
Alex had known from the get-go what Riley was up to. By emphasizing the fact that Dannette and he came from totally different backgrounds, Riley was trying to dissuade him from marrying Dannette.
But the tactic backfired.
Alex was more than aware of Dannette’s upbringing. In her mode of dress, her makeup, her attitude, she was the epitome of perfection. In Alex’s opinion, such qualities made her the ideal wife.
He shifted in his seat, regarding the two women as they wrangled over the advisability of using natural herbs as cosmetic ingredients. Staring at them, he wondered what Riley would say if he told her the truth behind his alliance to Dannette.
For some time, Alex had been obsessed with the fact that he was fast approaching forty. The big four-O. He’d spent a better portion of his twenties and thirties working his butt off building his housingconstruction company. Now more than anything, he wanted a son or daughter to leave it to—a very old-fashioned aim for one considered to be so progressive in his ideas.
Months ago, he’d decided that if he meant to marry at all, it was time he treated such an alliance as he would a business merger. He would have to search out the possible prospects, choose the best candidate, then approach her.
It was cold-blooded, he knew. But his efforts had met with more success than he would have imagined. He’d met Dannette at a cocktail party hosted by his company, and from there it had been easy to woo her. In the process, he’d grown quite fond of her. He knew that their future together would be as serene and as beautiful as the woman he intended to marry.
Nevertheless, sometimes he couldn’t help wishing Dannette was a little more like Riley—more adventurous, more sensual.
However, Riley would never settle down long enough to have children. She would balk at the least sign of being tied down. That was her nature and she wouldn’t change.
Still, the whole situation was a pity. Riley should have roots of some kind. She deserved that much.
If she could only find a man who made her happy…
He pushed aside such thoughts. “I’m sorry, ladies, but it’s time I returned to work,” he said, then stood up.
An expression of terror flashed through Dannette’s eyes.
“Do you really have to go?”
She clutched his hand with such an unaccustomed ferocity that he nearly smiled.
Nearly.
Shooting Riley a look that said You’ve promised to be nice, he disengaged himself and leaned to kiss Dannette on the cheek. “Buy yourself something pretty,” he murmured, relishing the softness of her cheek, and the sweet scent of her perfume.
“All right,” she whispered, surrendering to the inevitable.
Straightening, he rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “And see to it that Riley buys something, too. She’s usually quite hesitant about shopping for herself. Make sure you find just the right thing for her. Even if it takes hours and hours and hours.”
With that, he turned on his heel, knowing that if he didn’t, Riley would sear him with a look. She hated to shop. Hated it with a passion. Her idea of bu
ying a wardrobe was more of a search-and-destroy process. She knew what she wanted, where to find it, then obtained what she needed with the least possible fuss.
It was too bad he didn’t have the time to join them. Alex would have loved to see how long it took for the fireworks to start.
AS SOON AS ALEX had disappeared, Riley scooped her camera bag from the floor, offered her farewells to Charles, the waiting staff and even the chef. Then, sighing in defeat, she followed Dannette outside, knowing she was about to embark on the shopping trip from hell.
Only after she and Dannette were ensconced in the back seat of the cab did Riley ask, “So what delicate items are we going to be choosing for your trousseau?”
Dannette withdrew a leather-bound appointment book from her purse and turned to a page that Riley could clearly see was filled with notes and lists.
“Alex and I still need a lamp for the foyer table, a blender, a cappuccino maker and table linens for thirty-six.”
“Thirty-six?”
“I’m very fond of entertaining.”
Obviously.
“Don’t you think that many of these items will come to you as wedding gifts?”
“I doubt it. I’m registered at several places, but I’ve left very specific selection choices. Once I’m married, I won’t have a great deal of time to return any inappropriate items.”
Such as a six-foot fertility statue brought all the way from Africa?
“Is that all you’ll be needing?”
Dannette perused her notes. “Yes, that should be all.”
“But what about your personal trousseau? What about lingerie for your wedding night? Have you purchased everything you need already?”
Normally, Riley wouldn’t have pushed the issue—after all, the last thing she wanted was to help Dannette purchase silky unmentionables. But when Dannette had grown patently embarrassed at the mere mention of such things, Riley had realized she’d hit on Dannette’s Achilles’ heel. Since it was one of the first shortcomings Dannette had displayed, Riley intended to milk the weakness to the max. Especially after Dannette’s cheeks reddened in an obvious blush.
“I have the necessary…foundations for my wedding gown, of course.”
“And the wedding night?”
Dannette’s cheeks grew even rosier.
“Yes, of course. I found a delightful cotton peignoir set with lace anglaise and French hand sewing. It has a beautiful collar piece that comes up here—” she pointed to a spot in the region of her neck “—and more of the same lace dripping from the wrists.”
Riley’s mouth gaped, then she gathered her wits enough to say, “It sounds very…Victorian.”
“Yes! That’s it exactly.” Dannette offered a shaky laugh. “I’ve never been the Victoria’s Secret lingerie type. I’ve always been rather…sensible in my choices, so 1 didn’t see the need to buy many new underthings.”
Riley stared at her with amazement. Then, realizing that Dannette was telling her the truth, she tapped the cabby on the shoulder and gave him a new address.
“Where are we going?” Dannette asked, puzzled.
“I had planned on finding something special to buy as a bridal shower present. I know now what you need more than anything else.”
“What?” Dannette breathed.
“Romance.”
THEY SPENT three hours in the exclusive boutique tucked into a niche on Michigan Avenue. At first, Dannette was clearly horrified at the prospect of buying lingerie—especially with a total stranger in tow.
But after Riley persuaded her to try on a silk peignoir, Dannette was so entranced by the luxurious concoction of lace and ribbons and diaphanous chiffon that it was easy to lure her into more exotic foundations—slips, merry widows, bustiers, garter belts and hosiery.
By the time they left, Dannette had chosen a camisole and tap pants set for Riley to give her at the shower, then had spent another five hundred dollars on an assortment of brassieres, panties and nightgowns.
Sporting her own bag of purchases, Riley stepped into the sunshine, sliding her sunglasses onto her nose.
“Dannette, I can’t believe that you, an exbeauty queen, have never indulged yourself with silk lingerie before.”
Dannette grinned. “My family hails from deep within the Bible Belt. My mother believed that a lady shouldn’t get too fancy—especially where underthings are concerned. She felt such practices gave a woman ideas.”
Riley nudged her. “But you’re about to be married. I think you’re supposed to get ideas.”
Dannette grinned. “Perhaps you’re right.”
From that moment, the day became a hectic flurry of shopping. Somehow, the new lingerie had melted Dannette’s usual reserve—as well as her preconceived notions on shopping for her honeymoon.
With Riley in tow, Dannette began looking for strappy sundresses and exotic evening wear for the honeymoon in the Caribbean. By the time she returned to Alex’s apartment, Riley was dog tired and wishing she’d never introduced Dannette to the finer points of dressing for a man.
It took all her strength to lift the security gate to the apartment—and thankfully, Alex was there to help.
“You’re home early,” she commented as she wilted on the couch and toed her shoes off.
“You’re home late.”
“Dannette just finished.” She cast him a cross look. “Thanks ever so much for volunteering my help.”
“I thought it would give the two of you a chance to get acquainted without my interference.”
Leaning her head back against the couch, she closed her eyes. “Trust me. I learned far more about Dannette than I ever wished to know.”
“Such as…”
She opened her mouth, reconsidered, then said instead, “I’ll leave you with a few surprises.”
“What did you buy for yourself?”
She gestured to a sack, and he lifted a pair of men’sstyle boxers from the tissue paper.
“An interesting choice.”
“I thought they would be comfortable for sleepwear—plus, they glow in the dark.”
He chuckled and tossed the bag onto the chair. The cushions sank under Alex’s weight as he sat beside her.
Riley tried her best to ignore him, but when he reached for her feet and swung them into his lap, she shifted, then sighed as he began to knead the muscles of her arches.
“I was hoping you’d do that.” She sighed.
“You abuse your feet too much.” He frowned at the tiny scratches crisscrossing her instep. “They look like hell, Riley.”
“One of the hazards of the job, I suppose.”
“What have you been doing? Hiking without your shoes?”
“The last village I photographed wanted to make me an honorary daughter of the tribe. The ceremony involved some rather interesting athletic demonstrations.”
“I don’t think I even want to ask what you mean.”
“Probably not. It also involved eating some incredibly large crickets. At least, I think they were crickets.”
“But you loved every minute, didn’t you?”
Her eyes opened, and she was startled by the depth of tenderness she saw in his gaze.
“Yes,” she admitted ruefully. “I suppose I did.”
The silence stretched between them, comfortable, sweet, unfathomable.
“We’ve both come a long way from where we started, haven’t we?” Alex commented softly.
She looked at the spot where his hands rested against the sensitive arches of her feet. “Not so very far.”
For several minutes, the room throbbed with an unknown tension. One that was sticky and warm and infinitely tricky to handle.
“It’s good to have you home, Riley.”
Her throat had grown unaccountably tight, but she was able to force the necessary words free. “It’s good to be home.”
“Should I be makin’ the two of y’some supper, or will y’be orderin’ take-out?” James inquired from the doorway to the kitc
hen.
In an instant, the mood was shattered. Swinging her feet to the floor, Riley grimaced.
“Take-out,” she said, just as Alex gave the same response.
James grinned. “I’m so glad y’both agree. I’ve already called an’ ordered a pizza.”
As he disappeared into the kitchen again, Alex muttered, “Cheeky cuss.”
Riley giggled. “But you love having him around all the same.”
She rose and was nearly to the hallway when Alex murmured, “I like having you around, too, Riley.”
A burst of warmth spread through her chest. Turning, she offered him a grin. “Why, Alex…I do believe that’s a compliment.”
5
“COME PLAY with me, Alex.”
Riley set her elbows on Alex’s mahogany desktop, then laid her chin in her hands, making her expression as pitiful as possible.
Alex knew that she was doing her best to persuade him to play hooky from work, but he didn’t dare let on that he was more than agreeable to joining her. For the most part, he’d cleared his calendar for the next eight weeks, knowing that the wedding preparations and the ceremony itself would keep him too busy to be of value at the office. Nevertheless, he did have one last loose end to handle before he could take his vacation.
“I can’t go anywhere today, Riley. I have a board meeting tomorrow morning.”
“So?”
“So, I need to get ready.”
“How?” She poked at the folders spread over the desk.
“I need to look over several documents.”
“Are these the reports?”
“Yes.”
“Are they finished?”
“Yes.”
“Have you reviewed them once already?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you need to do so again?”
He sighed. “I don’t want to forget any of the important points.”
She grimaced. “As if you could. We both know you have a near-photographic memory.”
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a seductive murmur, her shirt offering him a far too healthy view of the soft mounds of her breasts. “Come on, Alex. Just for an hour or two,” she coaxed.
