Breaking the Greek's Rules

by Anne McAllister

  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 Luka
s’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, swallowi
ng 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.