Life Shocks Romances Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Jade Kerrion

  “He’s a stranger?”

  “I don’t know him,” Maggie responded truthfully and rather absentmindedly as she crafted a polite refusal in her mind.

  Drew’s steady silence was like a slap in the face.

  Maggie blinked hard, her gaze refocusing on him. “You think I had him set it up? Why would I do that?”

  “For five million pairs of eyes on you in under five hours? That’s publicity money can’t buy.”

  “It’s publicity I don’t want.” Did he even realize how much time she spent each day trying to evade the paparazzi?

  “You’re a model.”

  Maggie flinched. Drew’s matter-of-fact statement, delivered in that tone—he might as well have called her a slut. How was he any different from Leon Kinrath and all the other men she dated?

  He wasn’t.

  Something in her, in the vicinity of her heart, cracked, but pride kept her chin up. As soon as she was done with this ridiculous farce of a date with Drew, she would contact Tyler and ensure he scored an evening with the girl of his dreams.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A month later, Marguerite Ferrara—elegant and sophisticated in the $4,499 turquoise dress that Drew had scarcely noticed—opened the door to admit a handsome man in a tuxedo. Her lips tugged into a practiced smile. “Mr. Lamarck.”

  “Tyler, please. I certainly intend to call you Marguerite. May I say, you look absolutely splendid.” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “You have so much more presence in person than I expected.”

  Maggie kept her smile in place as he reached for her hand and fastened a corsage around her wrist. Periwinkle-colored babies breath, pearls, and a chiffon ribbon accented a spray of white mini roses. “I hope it brings back happy prom memories,” he said.

  “Thank you for the flowers.” She raised the arrangement to her wrist. The delicate scent of roses filled her nostrils. “They’re lovely. And I never went to prom.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I was homeschooled in Milan. We didn’t have proms there.”

  “So I’m going down in history as your prom date? Even better. It’s more than I bargained for, but I’m certainly up to the challenge.” His eyes wide and curious, Tyler spared a quick glance over her shoulder at her condominium, and then offered her his arm. “Your carriage is waiting, my lady.”

  The black stretch limousine whisked them towardthe Algonquin Hotel on Times Square. The soft purr of the car engine faded into a white noise beneath the light blues music flowing through the speakers. Maggie relaxed against the butter-soft leather seat and extended her legs in front of her. “What can I expect at your reunion, Tyler?”

  He grinned. “The craziest class ever to graduate from Stuyvesant High School.” His eyes lingered on the length of her thighs exposed by the hem of her dress. “The organizers told me that there was a host of last-minute registrations, no doubt inspired by you.”

  Maggie laughed. “I’m happy to help get the party going.”

  “You’re going to love this one. No expense spared. Fabulous band, and the food is catered from one of my classmate’s restaurants. Reed Dupriest owns a French bistro in Greenwich Village. You may have heard of it. Le Crêperie.”

  Maggie perked up. “I have, actually. It’s close to Parsons. Their Crêpe Suzette with Grand Marnier is fabulous.”

  “Is it? I’ll have to give it a try sometime. I’ve never been there; I always thought it a bit pretentious the way they talked down to you in French.”

  Oh, really? A pity Tyler’s experience differed from her own. Maggie had enjoyed Le Crêperie, in part because it was an unapologetic American twist on the European experience. The attractive dark-haired hostess, Marie Antoinette—an alias, no doubt—greeted every customer with the most horrendously American-accented bonjour and a sheepish grin. Bonjour was the extent of the French spoken at Le Crêperie.

  Tyler prattled on. “I’ll introduce you to Reed. He’s going to be so stoked that you’ve actually been to his restaurant. I hope you’re not opposed to photographs or autographs. I suspect a ton of my friends will want to be seen with you this evening.”

  Yes, I mind. “No, I’d be happy to.”

  “Wonderful. My best friend, Will, married his high school sweetheart, Michelle, and they’ll both be at the reunion. He fancies himself a photographer. No one has the heart to tell him he doesn’t have an eye for picture composition, but he’s appointed himself the official photographer for the evening. He’ll probably follow us around all evening.” Tyler placed his hand over hers. “It’s just the price of fame, isn’t it?”

  “I’d rather share the spotlight.” Or give it away entirely.

  Tyler thumped his chest with a fist. “I’m happy to share the spotlight with you, Marguerite. Wow, even your name is beautiful. It just rolls off the tongue. There’s a girl in my class; her name is Constanza, and she’s part-Catalan Spanish, part-Indian. Feather, not dot. Cheyenne or Cherokee, I don’t remember which. We dated our senior year; she was my prom date. Prettiest girl in the school back then. She got a bit chubby after that though.”

  Maggie arched an eyebrow. She did not appreciate Tyler’s critical assessment of a woman’s body. Women, including her, wrestled enough with self-image issues. Male opinions were not welcome, unless they were both complimentary and sincere.

  “I wonder if she’ll be there tonight,” Tyler continued without missing a beat or allowing Maggie to get a word in edgewise. “Last I heard, she was in hiding after her fiancé left her at the altar.”

  Maggie immediately felt a twinge of sympathy for the other woman. Tyler’s nonchalance grated on her, not in a good way. “I’m surprised you didn’t choose to attend with her,” Maggie said. “She was your senior prom date, wasn’t she?”

  Tyler winked at her. “I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.” He stroked a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. “And tonight, all eyes are going to be on us.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to get so many likes so quickly.”

  “The power of social media. Did you know I have 1.7 million followers on my YouTube channel and 2.3 million on Twitter? I can mobilize them with a snap of my finger. Within a half hour of posting, your video was shared tens of thousands of times on Facebook. It went viral from there. I guess a normal guy asking a model out to his high school reunion hit a chord with folks.”

  “I suppose so,” Maggie said. If Tyler pegged himself as a normal guy, perhaps he was exactly what she needed to prove to Drew that she was not a celebrity-dating snob.

  The limousine pulled up in front of the Algonquin Hotel. Maggie pasted a smile on her face and braced for a migraine under the flashing lights. The food smelled great, though she only sipped on a white wine spritzer. The music was loud; the ponderous beat of the bass guitar kept time with the beat of her heart. Every way she turned, someone stopped her for a photograph or an autograph.

  For every person who told her she looked better in person, two others made snide comments behind her back. Neither situation fazed her. She had been a professional model since the age of fourteen; she had developed a thick skin except where it mattered most—Drew alone could wreck her with a frown.

  Damn it. She had to get her mind off him. She did not need a disapproving “big” brother spoiling her fun.

  Tyler stayed by her side all evening and amused her with a rapid commentary of his high school classmates. His remarks were biting, but she did not sense real malice. To him, it was entertainment, and apparently, everyone around him understood it and accepted it as such. Tyler held his smartphone through the evening—it might as well have been grafted to his hand—and he checked it frequently, though Maggie could not imagine why.

  The highlight of the evening, surprisingly, was meeting Constanza. The other woman was petite, scarcely over five two, and she was slightly plump, though not enough so to be worth notice, let alone deserving of Tyler’s critical comments. Her smile, however, was brilliant, and her green eyes we
re arresting. She was not conventionally pretty, though Maggie was certain she would photograph well.

  “Hello.” Constanza extended her hand. “I’m Constanza Principe.”

  “Marguerite Ferrara. It’s good to meet you. Tyler told me that you were his senior prom date.”

  “Ah, yes. Things have changed since then, haven’t they, Tyler?” Constanza looked at Tyler. Something raw and painful flashed through her eyes, but vanished so quickly that Maggie wasn’t certain what to make of it.

  “Yeah, of course,” Tyler said. He gestured dismissively, but his tone was defensive. “There’s someone else I want you to meet, Marguerite.” He slipped an arm into the crook of her elbow and guided her away.

  “What was that about?” Maggie asked.

  “She’s got it into her head that I had something to do with her wedding fiasco.”

  “When her fiancé left her at the altar?”

  “Yeah, but I’m as clueless as the next person.” Tyler’s brow furrowed. After a moment, his troubled expression passed, and he shrugged. “Whatever it is, it’s between Connie and me. No need to bother you with it.” His smile brightened, and he raised his voice. “And here, this is Reed Dupriest. Reed, the prettiest girl in the room, Marguerite Ferrara.”

  The rest of the evening passed in a blur of names and blinding camera flashes. It was past midnight when Tyler finally escorted her from the hotel. As the limousine drew up in front of Maggie’s condominium complex, she pushed away from the leather seat and turned to Tyler with a smile. “Thank you, Tyler. I had a good time.”

  “Did you really?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “So, if I asked you out again, just the two of us, you’d say yes?”

  No. Wait. He’s a normal guy…

  Tyler’s face was shadowed in the darkness of the car. In that moment, he looked much younger than twenty-eight.

  In Maggie’s mind, she could see Drew standing over Tyler’s shoulder, his face set in unsmiling lines. Oh, God. That watchful expression on Drew’s face was enough to turn her off every other man. “I don’t know, Tyler.”

  “At least you’ll give me a chance to say goodnight?” Tyler leaned forward, his hand set gently against her cheek to steady her. His lips brushed against hers, as light as a whisper. Ah, what the heck. She banished Drew’s image, closed her eyes, and sank into the kiss.

  Her body went through the motions as her mind continued its unemotional assessment of Tyler. As a kisser, he was not too bad. A seven, maybe even a seven and a half on a ten-point scale. What would Drew’s lips feel like, she wondered? Would his hand on her waist grip harder and draw her closer? Would the heat start in the pit of her stomach and turn into those long, liquid pulls she read about in all those romance novels?

  Would Drew’s kiss turn off the analytical, calculating part of her mind?

  Somehow, she had the sneaking suspicion it would.

  Tyler pulled back, breathing hard. His eyes shone in the dim light of the limousine. “Wow, that was awesome.”

  Slightly above average, at best. Suddenly, Maggie felt tired. All she wanted was to go home, kick off her heels, and soak in a bubble bath while thinking up the scathing things she could say to Drew now that she had gone out with a normal person.

  I’m not a snob. So there, Drew Jackson.

  Darn. She could not even say those words in the privacy of her own mind without sounding like a thirteen-year-old.

  She mustered a smile. “Good night, Tyler.”

  He grasped her hand before she could step out of the limousine. “One more date, Marguerite, please. A real date. This one didn’t count. It was too public. I was surrounded by too many people for me to relax and just be me.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows arched. Those words could have come from Drew’s mouth. Could the real Tyler be as compelling as the real Drew? More importantly, did she care? Maggie drew in a deep breath, but the word “no” caught on her lips before she tossed out the rejection. Instead, she smiled. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

  ~*~

  Drew woke the next morning to a headache pulsing through his skull. He had drunk too much wine at dinner the night before, stayed up too late analyzing Maggie’s investments, and then slept horribly despite swallowing two Benadryl before heading to bed.

  He squinted against the shafts of sunlight piercing the cracks in his curtains to pool upon the hardwood floors. He suspected the real reason he felt like crap was because he had spent too much mental energy trying not to think about Maggie’s date with Tyler Lamarck.

  Careful not to jostle Felicity, who lay asleep beside him, he got out of bed and headed to the shower. He adjusted the intensity of the spray to target the knotted muscles in his shoulders and back, then closed his eyes and let the water do its work. What had Maggie worn last night? He hoped not the turquoise dress that made her look like a sea goddess, with her long blond hair spread like a silk curtain over her back. Without effort, he summoned her scent—the heady, inviting, luxurious fragrance that wafted around her whether she wore jeans and a T-shirt or a dazzling ball gown.

  Damn it. He flipped the water to cold and turned around to cool his raging hard-on. Frustration gnawed at him. With a low grunt, he touched his forehead to the shower wall tiles. If he wasn’t going to make his move on Maggie, how could he begrudge others who did?

  Of course he could. And he did.

  Drew’s hands clenched into fists. The promise he had made ten years ago was like a choke collar around his neck. He swore under his breath. His word, easily given, should have cost him nothing to keep, until, like a fool, he realized he had fallen in love with Maggie.

  Then it had become hell.

  Under his breath, he cursed the man who had extracted the promise from him. Just for the hell of it, he cursed Maggie too, and then himself, to round out the sorry bunch.

  “That was almost poetic.” Felicity’s voice, low and amused, cut through his muttered swear words.

  Drew glanced over his shoulder. Felicity stood by the bathroom door, wearing a T-shirt she had borrowed from his closet. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. Your phone did with its nasty buzz.” She waved the smartphone she held in her hand and set it down on the bathroom countertop. “I’ll get the coffee going. You sound like you could use caffeine and sugar.”

  Drew stepped out of the shower, dried off, and picked up his phone. Google had kicked back its daily search results for “Marguerite Ferrara.” Multiple links led to several dozen photographs of Maggie in that turquoise dress—damn it—posing with Tyler Lamarck and a host of partygoers.

  His phone buzzed again with an incoming text message from Maggie. Dated a NORMAL person. Hah!

  Several possible replies immediately came to mind, some snide, others crude, but in the end, the message he sent back simply said: Hope you had a good time. He tossed his phone aside and dressed before joining Felicity in the dining room for breakfast.

  Felicity looked up from the tablet she had been browsing. Remnants of scrambled egg lay on her empty plate. “Do you want something other than coffee?”

  “Not for a while.” He sat across from her and reached for his mug. He, too, opened his tablet and pulled up the latest electronic copy of the Financial Times.

  Felicity’s calm voice interrupted his thoughts. “How long have you been in love with Marguerite Ferrara?”

  Drew didn’t look up. “Nothing will come of it.”

  Felicity chuckled. “Not if you’re going to keep behaving like a surly bear. Come now, Drew. You’re not going to insult me by confessing that you love someone else. We knew when we tumbled into bed together a year ago that we wouldn’t be anything more than good friends with benefits—great benefits, actually—but in the end, just friends.”

  Drew released his breath in a sigh. He looked up and met Felicity’s gaze across the table. “Why couldn’t we ever get beyond friendship? I wanted to.”

  “In your head you wanted to, but
your heart was never available. There was always a part of you I couldn’t reach. How long have you loved her?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Ten…” Felicity’s eyes widened. “God, you move slower than a glacier.”

  Drew ground his teeth. “First, she was too young and dating my brother, then she went away to Italy. She came back a high-flying model, with celebrities lining up around the block to date her.”

  “But that’s only part of the reason you haven’t made the move on her, isn’t it?”

  Drew sighed. He did not elaborate. What was the point? What was done was done, and in the final count, he acknowledged that her father was right. Drew had a stable job, a solid income, and great career prospects, but ultimately, it was still only a job in corporate America. He had no right to stand in the way of Maggie’s dazzling career as a model and, if she chose, as a trophy wife.

  Felicity studied him as if he were an interesting specimen beneath a microscope. “When did you fall in love with her?”

  “After my car accident.”

  “The one that wrecked your knee?”

  And ended his football career. “Maggie spent hours visiting me each day. She got me out of my depression. She even attended physical therapy with me. I don’t think I could have done it without her.”

  “I’m sure you would have, just not as quickly or as gracefully. Does she know the impact she had on you?”

  Drew shook his head. “We never talk about the accident.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t go there.” The sense of loss had subsided to a dull ache, but it still ached each time he received a Google search report of Maggie’s celebrity dates. If not for the accident, he might have gone on to the NFL after college. He might have been a celebrity, too, and had an honest chance of winning Maggie’s affections. Her father would have approved.

  Instead, he was stuck at a desk job earning a fraction of what he might have earned as a NFL player, and unable to walk without pain and a limp. He could not marry Maggie, not when he posed a financial and physical burden to her. And if he could not marry her, he had no right dating her. It would be too cruel to win her love only to break her heart. It left him with no choice other than to do what he had always done—watching from afar as Maggie flitted from one man to another.