by Cindy Gerard
After running a check to make sure that Ash was who he’d said he was and that he was damn successful at what he did, Daniel had turned over a small portion of the inheritance he’d received from his grandfather. Ash had parlayed it into a tidy profit. Over the past five years, Daniel had gradually turned his entire portfolio over to Ash to handle.
“So what brings you to the States?”
“A little of this. A little of that. Business for the most part. And it’s been some time since we’ve met, my friend.”
“Too damn long,” Daniel agreed.
“Are you free anytime this week?”
“Name the time and the place and I’ll be there.”
“Tomorrow, then. Lunch?”
After they decided on specifics, Ash rung off. Daniel thought about his friend on and off all day. At least he did when he wasn’t thinking about Phoebe.
How had he let things get so out of hand with her? How had he convinced himself that she hadn’t been looking at him with hunger in her eyes and a need that matched his growing need for her? And why hadn’t he recognized that every time he saw her, he was doing the equivalent of crawling into the engine of a freight train called Danger and heading straight toward a cliff?
Would it be so terrible, he rationalized under the shower spray the next morning as he got ready to meet Ash. Would it really be so terrible to indulge in a physical relationship with Phoebe? It wasn’t as if she wasn’t an adult. It wasn’t as if she wouldn’t understand going in that while what they could have together would be very special, it couldn’t be a relationship in the traditional sense of the word. Not a lasting relationship at any rate.
Couldn’t they both just enjoy it while it lasted?
He knew he could and would enjoy it to the fullest. Until it was time to walk away.
He twisted off the faucets. It was at the walking-away part that things got sticky. He could do it. No problem. Would he miss her? Absolutely. She was sweet and funny and sexy and kind. And gentle. And there were times when he looked into her eyes that he found himself wanting to look into them forever.
Snagging a towel, he dragged it over his hair then rubbed himself down. Forever. Now there was a word.
He tossed the towel on the bed and strode to the bureau. He pulled out clean boxers and stepped into them, then sat on the edge of the bed to drag on his socks.
Forever. It all boiled down to that word. She deserved it and he couldn’t give it to her. If he started something, something they both wanted, it would hurt her when he walked away.
And that led him back to square one. He could not have an affair with her, no matter how hot, how steamy, how off-the-charts incredible it would be. But how could he just walk away from her? How could he leave her at the mercy of Jason Collins?
He was still turning the thought over in his mind when he met Ash at the Ritz. As he watched the sheikh walk toward their table, turning every female head in the place, an idea started taking shape.
The last time he’d spoken with Ash, his friend had confided that he was in a settling-down mood. He wanted everything that Daniel didn’t. He wanted to get married. He wanted a family. He wanted a woman to look at him as if he was the most important thing in her world.
Phoebe looked at Daniel that way. It made his heart hurt to see that look in her eyes. Mainly because it was directed at the wrong man.
All through lunch as he and Ash caught up, talked a little business, slung a little bull, an idea floated around in the back of his mind. He couldn’t turn it off and by the time lunch was over, he’d decided what he had to do. He wasn’t the right man for Phoebe, but maybe Ash was. He was darkly handsome, charismatic, loaded, and he wanted a wife. Plus, Ash would meet every one of Phoebe’s romantic fantasies.
“So,” he said, crossing an ankle over his knee, “there’s this party Wednesday night at my parents’ brownstone.”
He filled Ash in on the sudden appearance of his long-lost cousin, Karen Rawlins, and the fact that it was a welcome-to-the-family party in her honor. “Why don’t you come? You know my parents and brother and sisters, but I’d really like for you to meet the rest of the family. And I have this friend I’d like you to meet.”
Ash lifted an eyebrow. “Friend?”
Daniel found that he had a bit of difficulty forcing a smile. “Phoebe,” he said, and now that the die was cast, he felt a hollow ache spread through his chest. “Phoebe Richards. She’ll be there.” He’d make sure she’d be there. “You’ll like her. You’ll like her a lot.”
And then he proceeded to tell him about Phoebe. About her smile and her quirky sense of humor. About her inability to recognize and accept how beautiful she was. How she was the perfect match for a man with marriage on his mind.
How her eyes shined when something tickled her. How she had the ability to listen, really listen and not make a man feel like a fool for unloading like a dump truck.
Ash’s contemplative silence seemed to tell the tale. He was interested. And that was great.
That was just great, Daniel thought with a dark scowl as he dialed Phoebe’s number the next day.
After their little “play date” on Friday night, Phoebe had spent a miserable weekend waiting by the phone for Daniel to call. She’d known it was foolish, hopeless even, but she’d done it just the same. Some lessons took a long time to learn.
She’d moped and moaned and taken out her frustration on a lot of hapless lumps of clay. There weren’t enough flowers in Boston to fill the vases she’d thrown. She knew that Leslie had noticed her dark mood at work on Monday, but she hadn’t asked, recognizing that if Phoebe wanted to talk about it, she would.
By the time her phone rang Monday night, she’d given up on the possibility of Daniel Barone being on the other end.
“Goes to show how much I know,” she murmured, pleased yet puzzled and a little bit panicked after Daniel said goodbye.
After she snapped out of her shock-induced mini-stroke, she dialed her friend Carol.
“Help,” she squeaked when Carol picked up.
“Phoebe?”
“Cinderella, actually,” Phoebe said a little breathlessly. “And I just got invited to the ball.”
“Gee,” Carol said after Phoebe filled her in on the fact that Daniel had just invited her to attend a family party in honor of his new cousin. “And me without my pumpkin.”
“I don’t need a pumpkin. I need something to wear.”
Somebody pinch me, Phoebe thought as she stood at Daniel’s side Wednesday night in the large, crowded living room of his parents’ home. She was drifting on a haze of disbelief that she was here as Daniel’s date, meeting his family. How had the fat, shy, ugly duckling twelve-year-old girl who’d grown up in the seedy side of Boston ended up rubbing elbows with Boston royalty?
She wasn’t exactly fat anymore, but she still battled her weight, and even if she dropped the ten pounds she was always struggling to lose, thin was not a word that would ever be used to describe her. She was still painfully shy when she was out of her element, as she was tonight. And she was as far from a princess as she’d been at twelve—in looks or bearing. Princesses generally wore white and diamonds and diaphanous smiles. Still, she was more than glad she’d listened to Carol’s advice and opted for the basic black sheath.
She’d found the dress in a frantic search through the racks at Elegant Repeats, a dress shop where the upscale Boston elite sent their once-worn clothing to die with dignity so they could make room in their closets for more designer originals that they would wear once and then start the cycle all over again. New, the sleeveless crepe that hit her just above the knee would have cost the better part of her weekly paycheck. Even “delicately worn” as the tag had indicated, it had made a major dent in her budget.
It had been worth every penny. At least on the surface, she appeared to fit in, as all around her the room was full to bursting with the famous and elegantly dressed Barone clan. All of them were beautiful and completely comfortable in
their element. All, perhaps, except Karen Rawlins, the guest of honor. Oh, she was definitely beautiful. But comfortable? Phoebe didn’t think so.
Daniel had introduced her to Karen shortly after they’d arrived. Phoebe had felt a tug of empathy for the pretty woman with the wide hazel eyes and wavy brown hair. She looked a little overwhelmed. She was glad to see that Karen and Daniel’s cousin Maria had hit it off so well. She’d even overheard Maria offer Karen the use of her old apartment and a job at the Baronessa gelateria.
Yes, the Barones were a boisterous lot, but Maria had proven that they were also warm and friendly, if unintentionally intimidating for their confidence and close camaraderie. At least they all seemed close, with the exception of Daniel’s twin brother, Derrick, who, to Daniel’s mother’s disappointment, hadn’t made an appearance.
At one time or another, Daniel had mentioned with affection both his sister Emily, whom she’d met a few minutes ago, and his sister Claudia, whom she hadn’t yet met. When his brother’s name came up, however, she’d sensed a lot of tension. Derrick was a topic that Daniel steered clear of.
Tonight, however, Derrick seemed to be at the top of everyone else’s list of topics. Phoebe hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but in such close quarters it was impossible not to hear snippets of conversation. There was a lot of speculation on why Derrick hadn’t shown up and about his behavior lately. It seemed he’d become more and more withdrawn and aloof.
She looked at the man at her side while a knot of Barones clustered around them, talking about children and business and fun. She’d been trying to ignore it, but Daniel seemed a little withdrawn and aloof tonight himself. He just wasn’t quite Daniel. He was quieter than usual, almost as if he was trying to erect a bit of distance between them.
“Did you say curse?” she asked abruptly, tuning in to something Daniel’s cousin Nicholas had said.
Even though they were cousins, not brothers, Daniel was a younger, mirror image of Nicholas.
“You mean Daniel hasn’t told you about the dreaded Valentine’s curse?” Gail Barone, Nicholas’s wife, asked with grin and a staged shiver of dread.
Phoebe had liked Gail Barone instantly when they’d been introduced. She was down-to-earth and friendly, her hazel eyes full of fun as she smiled from her husband to Phoebe.
“Now, Gail. You know it’s not nice to joke about the curse,” Nicholas said with a playful frown as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“What curse?” Phoebe asked, really curious now.
“It’s nothing. Just an old family legend,” Daniel said, shaking his head at his cousin who was urging him to flesh out the story.
“That goes something like…” Gail prompted Daniel as she wrapped her arm around Nicholas’s waist and snuggled closer.
Dutifully picking up his cue, Daniel explained, “When our grandfather Marco was a young man, he waited tables at Antonio Conti’s restaurant down on Prince Street. Apparently Antonio had always hoped that Marco would marry their daughter, Lucia.”
“But it didn’t quite work out that way,” Nicholas supplied.
Gail picked up the story from there. “Instead of marrying Lucia, Marco fell in love with Angelica Salvo, who was the ice cream maker at the restaurant and who just happened to be the girlfriend of the Contis’ son, Vincent.”
“Uh-oh,” Phoebe said. “I think I see where this is going.”
“Long story short,” Daniel put in, “Marco and Angelica eloped.”
“On Valentine’s Day,” Gail prompted.
“On Valentine’s Day,” Daniel restated with a nod to Gail. “It broke Lucia’s heart, and Vincent, who had looked upon Marco as a brother, felt betrayed.”
“The entire Conti family felt betrayed,” added Nicholas. “And Lucia, in her anger, placed a curse on Marco and Angelica. Gail, you want to take it from here?”
“Let’s see if I remember it right. ‘You got married on Valentine’s Day and may your anniversary day be cursed. A miserable Valentine’s Day to both of you from this day forward.’ Did I get it right?”
“Perfect, darling.” Nicholas kissed her when she lifted her face to his.
“And so, did anything bad happen to your grandfather and grandmother?” Phoebe asked, both unsettled and charmed by the story.
The two cousins exchanged a look. Daniel shrugged. “Well, they established Baronessa Gelati. I wouldn’t exactly call that bad.”
“But Angelina miscarried her first child on their first anniversary, and for that reason, they began to take the curse seriously,” Nicholas explained. “A number of minor things happened after that, nothing disastrous, until Daniel’s father was born.”
“Oh dear.” Phoebe said, suspecting she already knew the answer to her question. “Your father’s twin brother, Luke. Was he…”
“Abducted on Valentine’s Day? Yes.”
“How sad.”
“What’s even sadder is that there’s been a rift between the Contis and the Barones ever since. All because of that silly curse.”
“What happened to Lucia and to Vincent?”
Nicholas filled in that blank. “Vincent eventually married and took over the Conti restaurant. Lucia never married. I can’t remember who told me this, but they said that the last time they saw her, she looked like a bitter old crone.”
“I’m so sorry to interrupt this,” Gail said, smiling apologetically, “but I just spotted someone I must say hello to. Excuse us, will you, Daniel? Phoebe, it was so nice meeting you. Daniel will have to bring you for dinner sometime so we can get to know each other better.”
“I—I’d like that,” Phoebe said with a smile that faded when an unsmiling Daniel stiffened beside her.
“You’re out of champagne,” he said. “Let me see if I can find another glass for you.”
Well, Phoebe thought as she watched him go. Okay. So he was uncomfortable with the idea of thinking past tonight. Maybe he was having second thoughts about bringing her home to meet his family. And maybe she had been a little quick on the trigger when she’d thought she was here as anything other than Daniel’s buddy.
But surely being here meant something, didn’t it? Surely it said something? Like maybe he wasn’t content for them to just be friends any longer?
She wanted so much to believe that as she watched him work his way back to her, carrying two flutes of champagne. He looked incredibly handsome in black tie and tux.
“Sorry I took so long.” He relieved her of her empty glass, set it on the mantel behind her and placed the fresh glass in her hand.
“There’s someone I want you to meet. Phoebe, this is Sheikh Ashraf Saalem, prince of Zhamyr. Ash, this is the friend I told you about, Phoebe Richards.”
Phoebe looked up and into a face right out of the Arabian Nights. Sheikh Ashraf Saalem was one of the most exotically handsome men she’d ever seen.
His eyes were so brown they were almost as black as his hair; his smile was warm and interested. He was taller than Daniel’s five-eleven frame, but not by much, and even in his formal attire, it was apparent that every inch of his body was sleekly muscled and sinfully elegant.
“Ms. Richards,” the prince said, and taking her hand in his, brought her fingers to his mouth. “It is my extreme pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she assured him, proud as heck that she’d managed the response without a single um, ah or duh. Her speech impairment seemed to be limited to her response to Daniel.
“Well. I’ll just let you two get to know each other,” Daniel said with a tight smile. Then he turned and walked away.
Phoebe blinked, opened her mouth to stop him, and realized she didn’t know what to say. With a sickening roll of her stomach, she did, however, realize what had just happened.
Daniel had arranged for her to be alone with the sheikh. The implication was obvious. He was setting them up.
Her face flamed red. Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze to the floor and held it there. Anything to keep from watchi
ng Daniel leave. Anything to keep the sheikh from seeing the bewilderment and hurt that must be painted across her face like a banner.
Oh, how rich. Daniel hadn’t brought her here to meet his family. He’d never intended that she think she was his date. He’d brought her here to set her up with his friend. Because, after all, she thought bitterly as hurt transitioned to humiliation, she was nothing more to Daniel than a buddy.
The sudden pain of that undeniable truth clenched tightly in her chest and twisted.
She had to get out of here.
She had to get out of here now.
Eight
“Phoebe? Ms. Richards?”
Phoebe heard Ashraf’s voice through a haze of painful longing that quickly transitioned to anger—at herself as much as at Daniel. The anger finally drew out her pride.
“Are you all right?” the sheikh asked, touching a hand to her arm.
Drawing a bracing breath, she lifted her head, smiled her brightest smile. “I’m fine. I’m simply overwhelmed by the idea that I’m actually standing here talking to a real live prince. How do I address you?”
“Just Ash, please,” he insisted. “And I assure you, it is I who am overwhelmed. Daniel told me you were beautiful, but his description did not do you justice.”
She was not beautiful. She had never been beautiful. And she didn’t need a psychology degree to know that Ashraf Saalem knew how to spread honey as thick as the asphalt in a parking lot. Or that she had just been dumped on a date that was never really a date.
“You’re very kind,” she said with a forced smile.
“And you are very much in love with my friend Daniel.”
If he’d whipped out a magic carpet then sailed it across the room, he couldn’t have shocked her more.
So it showed that much. Phoebe sighed, too defeated to deny it—even though she was still fighting it for all she was worth.
“And he is very much in love with you as well, I think.”