by Anna DePalo
It wasn’t until a few hours later that he was able to make good on his offer. He noted that Pia still managed to look as edible as dessert by the end of the evening, even though she also seemed drained.
They drove back to Manhattan mostly in silence, content to observe the darkened world whizzing by after a long day—and comfortable enough in each other’s company not to make forced conversation.
When Hawk pulled up in front of Pia’s building, however, he glanced over, only to notice that she had fallen asleep.
Her head was leaning back against the headrest, her lips parted.
He turned off the ignition and then stopped, taking a moment to study her face. For once, she looked unguarded.
Her blond hair had a fine, wispy quality, and he knew from experience that it was as soft as a baby’s. Her eyebrows were delicately arched over eyes that he knew were large and expressive and a fascinating, changeable mix of amber hues.
Hawk let his gaze roam down to her lips. They held the sheen of a shimmery pink lipstick, but they needed no embellishment for their natural charm as far as he was concerned. He’d tasted them earlier in the day, because the temptation had been too great.
He debated for a moment, and then, unable to help himself, leaned over, tilted her chin toward him with a light touch and pressed his lips to hers.
He rubbed his lips against hers, feeling the tingle of sensation, and then gently worked her lower lip with a small suck.
Dessert hadn’t been nearly as good.
Pia’s eyelashes fluttered. She opened her eyes and lifted her head.
Hawk pulled back, and then gave her a lopsided smile.
“Wh-what?”
“I was awakening Sleeping Beauty with a kiss,” he responded in a low voice. “Isn’t that the fairy-tale heroine that you are today?”
She blinked, coming further awake. “Unintentionally. This isn’t a good idea.”
He glanced past her and then back down again, keeping his expression innocent. “Did you prefer not to be awakened when we arrived at your apartment? Should I have driven straight on to my place instead?”
“Absolutely not,” she said, though in a halfhearted tone.
He smiled for a moment before turning to open the driver-side door.
He reached her side of the car in time to help her alight, though she hesitated for a second before placing her hand in his.
By now, he was used to the sizzle of any physical contact between them.
“Good night, Your Grace,” she said when she’d gotten out of his car, her eyes meeting his.
He let his lips drift upward. “Good night, Pia.”
He watched as she made her way into her building, the doorman looking up from his television set to acknowledge her.
Only after she’d disappeared from view did he get back into his car.
As he pulled into traffic, Hawk acknowledged that he was pushing the boundaries with Pia. But, he told himself, he knew what the limits were.
Or so he hoped.
Seven
“Ducal Gofer. Gazillionaire bridal assistant, the Duke of Hawkshire…”
Pia gritted her teeth as she read Mrs. Jane Hollings’s gossip column in The New York Intelligencer.
“What’s wrong?” Belinda asked.
Pia had just sat down at a table in Contadini, where she, Belinda Wentworth and Tamara Langsford—née Kincaid—were having one of their Sunday brunch dates.
“Mrs. Hollings has written about me and Hawk in her gossip column,” Pia said as she scrolled down the article on her smartphone. “Apparently she received notice that Hawk helped me handle some wedding escapades last night.”
“That was fast,” Belinda commented.
“Well, it’s in her online column,” Pia responded, looking up. “Her regular print one will appear in Monday’s paper, where no doubt I will be able to savor the joy of having my name appear in print with—” her lips pulled down “—the Duke of Hawkshire’s.”
Belinda looked at Tamara. “Doesn’t your husband own this paper? Can’t you do something about this awful woman?”
Tamara cleared her throat. “I have news.”
“You already told us, remember?” Belinda quipped. “We know you’re knocked up, and Sawyer is the daddy.”
“Old news.” Tamara looked from Pia to Belinda. “The new news is that Sawyer and I plan to stay together.”
“For the sake of the baby?” Belinda shook her head. “Honey…”
Tamara shook her head. “No, because we love each other.”
Belinda stared at her blankly for a moment. Then she waved to a passing waiter. “Another Bloody Mary, please.”
Pia knew this was a sore point for Belinda, since her friend still needed to get an annulment from the Marquess of Easterbridge.
“I suppose I should be addressing you both as My Lady,” Pia mused. “Sawyer is an earl, making Tamara a countess, and since Colin is a marquess, you’re entitled to be called—”
“Don’t you dare,” Belinda retorted. “I’m planning to shed the title as soon as possible.”
Pia sighed. “Oh, well.”
Belinda turned to Tamara. “I can’t believe you’re abandoning our trio of girlfriends for the aristocratic cadre.”
“I’m not. It’s just…”
“What?” Belinda asked, her expression sardonic. “You moved in with Sawyer and made a marriage of convenience. And then—” she snapped her fingers “—next thing you know, you’re pregnant with his child and declaring yourself in love.”
Tamara smiled and shrugged. “It’s the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” she admitted. “I wasn’t looking to fall in love, and if you’d asked me months ago, I’d have said Sawyer was the last man…”
Tamara got a faraway look as her words drifted off. “I realized Sawyer was the one I wanted all along,” she eventually continued. “And the best part is he feels the same way about me.”
Belinda accepted the Bloody Mary that the waiter was about to set down in front of her, and took a healthy swig. “Well, I’m happy for you, Tam. One of us deserves to find happiness.”
Tamara gave a faint smile. “Thanks. I know you and Pia don’t like Sawyer’s friends—”
“You mean my husband?” Belinda asked archly.
“You mean Hawk?” Pia said at the same time.
“—but Sawyer and I are hoping you all will make nice enough to be in the same room together. In fact, we’re hoping to have all of you over next Saturday night for a small postwedding celebration.”
“A we’re-staying-married party?” Belinda queried.
“Sort of,” Tamara acknowledged before looking across at Pia, who’d taken the seat to Belinda’s right. “Please come. You love anything having to do with weddings.”
Pia sighed again. She did. And she hated to disappoint Tamara, though it wasn’t wise for her to spend too much time in Hawk’s company.
“How are you getting along with Hawk these days, Pia?” Tamara asked suddenly, as if reading her mind. “I know you’re planning his sister’s wedding. And you just noted that Mrs. Hollings is gossiping about how he helped you last night.”
Pia hesitated. How much should she reveal? Certainly not the stolen kisses—and the fact that she’d enjoyed them.
He’d said he was trying to make amends. And so far, she’d let him. More than let him.
The kisses came back to her. The tingle of excitement, the remembered feeling of delicious passion—just like the first time, and just like in her dreams—and the sensation of melding with a kindred spirit.
Pia shook her head slightly as if to clear it. No.
She was playing with fire, and she’d be foolhardy to go down that road again.
And yet…
She’d felt an acute sadness for Hawk when she’d discovered what had precipitated his abrupt departure from her apartment after they’d slept together. Her parents were alive and well back in Pennsylvania, and while she didn’t have any
siblings, she imagined that Hawk had been understandably devastated by the unexpected loss of his brother.
None of this is intended as an excuse.
Hawk had still acted toward her as if he felt he was at fault and was feeling guilty. Of course, his brother’s untimely death didn’t explain why he hadn’t sought her out after their night together. Had the abrupt severing of ties made it easy for him to forget her? The thought hurt. And yet what other explanation could there be? She hadn’t meant enough to him.
And yet…
She knew even if she softened toward him, let their explosive chemistry play out to its natural conclusion, this time she would no longer be the naive virgin who was new in town. She could show Hawk that she could play in more sophisticated circles, too, these days.
He was flirting with her, and she could enjoy it and not become besotted.
Why couldn’t she be one of those women who enjoyed a fling or a casual hookup? She’d already had a one-night stand. With him.
These thoughts and more flitted through her mind.
Pia became aware of Belinda and Tamara staring at her.
She cleared her throat. “Hawk has been…helpful,” she hedged, and then shrugged. “I—I suppose I’m feeling ambivalent at best.”
“Ambivalent?” Belinda questioned, and then rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that one step away from infatuated these days? Pia, please tell me you’re not falling for the guy again.”
“Of course not!”
“Because you have a soft heart, and I’d hate to—”
“D-don’t worry. Once burned, twice shy.” She shrugged. “But I am planning his sister’s wedding, and I do need to be on cordial terms with him.”
“Great,” Tamara commented. “I’m so glad you won’t have any trouble being in Hawk’s company next weekend.”
Belinda frowned. “It’s not Hawk I’m worried about.”
Pia refused to admit that Hawk was the one she was worried about.
Hawk took another sip of his wine and his senses came fully alert.
Pia.
He spotted her immediately when she came into the parlor of the Earl and Countess of Melton’s Upper East Side town house. But it was as if he’d been able to sense her presence even before seeing her.
She looked spectacular. Her high-waist sheath dress with its black bodice and white skirt flattered her curves, making her seem taller than she was and showing off her great legs in black patent peep-toe pumps.
He glimpsed the deep pink color of the nail polish on her toes, and his gut tightened.
Heaven help him, but she packed a wallop in a small package. It was almost as if she’d been sent to entice him—to test his best resolutions.
He started toward her, but was suddenly stopped by a staying hand on his arm.
He turned his head to look inquiringly at Colin, Marquess of Easterbridge.
Colin gave him a careless smile. “Careful there. Your lady-killer ways are showing.”
Hawk let the side of his mouth quirk up. “The opposite is more likely the case. She looks harmless but—”
Colin laughed shortly. “They all do.”
Hawk had no doubt the marquess was also referencing his own wife, Belinda Wentworth, who legally remained the Marchioness of Easterbridge. Hawk was curious about the exact state of affairs between Colin and Belinda these days, but he didn’t want to pry. Colin was an enigma even to his friends at times.
“I have it covered,” Hawk responded. “I’m proceeding only with the best reconnaissance.”
Colin gave another knowing laugh. “I’ll wager you are.”
Hawk shrugged, and then started toward Pia again, leaving Colin standing where he was.
So what if the look he’d given Pia made it clear that he found her desirable, and everyone knew it?
Pia was looking at him expectantly right now, though there was also puzzlement in her eyes—as if she wondered about his brief exchange with Colin.
“I won’t offer you a drink,” he quipped as he reached her. “You look fabulous, by the way.”
There was no by the way about it, he thought. Everything else was tangential.
Pia flushed. “Th-thank you. I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine.”
He snagged a couple from a waiter who happened by, and handed one to her.
“Cheers,” he said as he clinked his glass to hers. “How is the wedding planning going? I understand from my sister that she’s been to your apartment twice this week.”
Pia took a sip of her drink. “Yes, we were discussing invitations and décor. Fortunately, she already had a dress picked out.” She smiled as if sharing a joke. “Everything with this wedding is going smoothly, so far.”
“I’ve only been to your apartment once. Can I express envy?”
Pia raised her eyebrows for a moment, and then laughed. She tapped him on the wrist. “Only if you play your cards right.”
Hawk hesitated. If he’d heard her correctly, she’d just met his flirtation with a bit of her own. He was used to banter between them, but it wasn’t usually so…receptive.
“How is Mr. Darcy?” he tried, testing. “Perhaps he’s in need of a male role model?”
“If he is, would you be one?”
Ah. “I am more than willing to try.”
Pia gave an exaggerated sigh. “Are you ever serious?”
In response, he banked his amusement.
“Would it matter if I said yes?”
Though he could lapse into well-practiced flirtation—he remembered his old self well—he felt the weight of his responsibilities too much these days to be anything other than what was expected of him. A duke.
Pia searched his eyes, and he held her amber ones solemnly.
“That comment was rather unfair of me,” she said. “I’ve seen how you feel a responsibility to your sister as the head of the family. A-and you’ve certainly helped me.”
“Lucy has been talking?” he queried, not answering her directly.
She nodded.
“Burnishing my image, that’s my girl.”
Over Pia’s shoulder, Hawk glimpsed Colin approach Belinda before Pia’s friend turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. Colin followed at a more leisurely pace, drink in hand.
Realizing that she no longer held his attention, Pia turned in the direction of his gaze. “Oh, dear,” she said in a low voice as she swung back to face him. “Was that a confrontation I just missed?”
Hawk looked down at her. “A near-miss. Belinda walked away before Easterbridge could approach her.”
“In contrast to you and me.”
He shot her a surprised look, and then gave her a game smile. “Some of us are lucky.”
Pia sighed. “Easterbridge should give Belinda the annulment that she’s looking for, and let her move on with her life. Instead, he seems to enjoy tormenting her.”
“My friends are not unlikable, despite what you may believe.”
“In a way, it’s hard to believe that you and Easterbridge are friends. He can’t get unmarried, while you—”
Hawk quirked a brow. “Yes?”
“—have never been married,” she finished lamely.
He could tell from the look in Pia’s eyes, however, that she had intended to label him a commitment-shy player. The fact that she hadn’t said something, at least.
Had Lucy’s words had a salutary effect on Pia’s opinion of him? There was only one way to find out.
Hawk took a sip of his wine. “Let’s turn back to a more soothing subject for my ego. Lucy has been singing my praises.”
A small smile rose to Pia’s lips, and she nodded. “Lucy mentioned that you’ve been working nonstop these past three years as you’ve moved into your role as duke, learned the running of the estates and started Sunhill Investments.”
“Are you surprised?”
Pia hesitated, and then shook her head. “No. You’ve acted…differently than you did three years ago.” She paused. “It must have been
very hard for you after your father and brother died.”
He didn’t recollect stories about his father and his brother every day anymore—not like three years ago—but their joint passing had set his life on a new trajectory. “William and I were two years apart. We grew up as friends and playmates as well as brothers, though I always knew I got a free pass as the younger son while William had his life and responsibilities mapped out for him.”
It was more personal information than he was accustomed to divulging.
Pia didn’t look as if she was sitting in judgment, however. “And then one day the free pass disappeared…”
He nodded. “As fate would have it.”
“You had a reputation as a player,” she stated without inflection. “The stories—”
“Old news, but reports will hang around the internet forever.” His mouth twisted. “I do have two jobs that often take up more time than one person can handle, believe it or not. I do need to be serious for those.”
“I’ve hardly had an opportunity to see it,” she protested.
He’d meant to tweak her nose about her earlier query about his lack of seriousness, and he could tell she understood it.
“Maybe you just bring out the devilish side of me.” He tilted his head. “Perhaps with you, I can relax and tease.”
She flushed. “I’m such an easy target.”
“You hold your own,” he offered, taken in by her blush.
She moistened her lips, and he watched longingly.
“Would you like to see a more intense and focused side of me?” he asked, suddenly going with an idea. “I’m going rock climbing at a gym in Brooklyn tomorrow. The gym keeps me in shape for the real thing.”
Pia’s eyes glinted. “Who ever heard of a duke rock climbing?”
He assumed a suitable hauteur. “I’m a modern-day duke. This is an outlet for all those go-forth-and-conquer genes that my ancestors bequeathed to me.”
“All right.”
Accepting her response, he didn’t add that rock climbing was also a good pressure-release valve.
Because right now, he was feeling an ungodly urge to conquer and possess her.
Eight