One Night with Prince Charming (5 page)

Pia placed her hands on her hips, contemplating him and his vague response. It
couldn't be
that he was feeling guilty about his behavior toward her in the past. He was a seasoned player who had forgotten her easily. That much was clear from the
three years
it had taken for their paths to cross again.

There was only one other possibility, then, for his motivation in linking her to Lucy.

“I suppose you feel some sense of responsibility since it was your friend who torpedoed my professional standing by ruining Belinda's wedding?” she asked.

Hawk hesitated, and then inclined his head. “I suppose
responsibility
is as good a term as any.”

Pia eyed him. He was holding out a lifeline to her business, and it was hard not to grasp hold of the opportunity that he was offering. What better way to signal to society that all was well than to be hired to organize the wedding of the sister of the man whom she'd bearded with baba ghanoush?

She was being foolhardy.

“Lucy isn't part of New York society, but her future husband's family is,” Hawk cajoled, as if sensing her weakness. “This wedding could help establish you. And Lucy has many
ties to the theater world. I'm betting you've never planned a wedding for an actress before?”

Pia shook her head.

“Then Lucy's wedding will let you tap into a whole new market for your services.”

“Wh-who would be employing me?”

She hated herself for asking—and hated herself more for stammering—but the question came out of its own volition. Rather than appear satisfied, however, Hawk's expression turned into a study of harmlessness.

“I'd be employing you, but only as a minor, technical detail.”

“Minor to you.”

“I'm the head of the family, and Lucy is young—only twenty-four.” Hawk's lips twitched. “It seems only fair that I support her bid to remove herself from under the imposing family umbrella. Lucy was an unexpected bonus for my parents more than a decade after my mother delivered the heir and the spare.”

Pia noted that Hawk had deftly turned an act that might be viewed as generous and loving on his part into a statement of sardonic self-deprecation.

She started to waver. She
had
liked Hawk's sister even on the basis of a very brief acquaintance. She felt a natural affinity for Lucy. It had deepened on learning that Hawk's sister was only three years younger than she was. Lucy was, in fact, the same age that Pia had been when she'd first met Hawk.

If her own tale with Hawk wasn't destined to have a happy ending, then at least she could see to it that one Carsdale…

No,
she wouldn't let herself think of matters in that vein.

“You'll be dealing with Lucy mostly, obviously,” Hawk continued, his expression open and unmasked. “I'll try to make myself as unobtrusive as possible.”

“H-how?” Pia asked. “Are you planning to sequester yourself at your country estate in England?”

“Nothing so drastic,” Hawk replied with amusement, “but, rest assured, I have no interest in weddings.”

“Obviously—judging from your past behavior.”

“Ouch.” He had the grace to look abashed. “I stepped right into that comment, and I suppose I deserved it.”

She raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

“The town house belongs to me,” Hawk went on unperturbed, “but Lucy has had the run of it since I haven't been in regular residence until recently. And though I'm based in New York, rather than London, for business at the moment, I expect that my corporate dealings will still mean I'm not much at home.”

Pia knew all about Hawk's hedge fund, of course. She'd read about it online. The success of his company over the past three years had raised his reputation to that of a first-class financier.

Darn.
He must have women throwing themselves at him.

Not that she was interested, of course.

Pia wondered why Hawk was at home now, actually. The thought had occurred to her earlier, too—the minute he'd walked into the parlor. It could only be that he'd chosen to come into her meeting with Lucy, possibly betting that once she said yes to his sister, it would be best to reveal his connection to Lucy sooner rather than later.

Hawk arched an eyebrow. “And so…?”

Pia regarded him.

“I make you nervous, don't I?”

“N-naturally. I have a fear of snakes.”

He grinned, unabashed.

“The endearing hiccup in your speech tells me everything I need to know about how much I affect you,” he said, his voice smooth as silk and doubly seductive.

Pia felt a shiver of awareness chase down her spine for a
moment, but then Hawk's face changed to one as innocuous as a Boy Scout's.

“Of course,” he went on solemnly, “we'll say no more on that topic. I plan to be on my best behavior from now on.”

“Promise? Really?” she parried.

Before Hawk could reply, the library door opened. Lucy stuck her head inside, and then walked in when it was clear that she'd found them.

“Ah, there you are,” Lucy said. “I was wondering if you'd run off, Pia.”

“Nothing so drastic,” Hawk responded mildly. “Pia and I were just discussing the terms of her employment.”

Lucy looked at Pia with some surprise, and then clasped her hands together in delight. “You've agreed? Splendid!”

“I—”

“The hot water has gotten cold, but I'll order another pot for tea,” Lucy said. “Shall we all return to the parlor?”

“Yes, let's,” Hawk responded, his lips twitching.

As Pia followed Lucy from the room, and Hawk fell into step behind her, she was left to wonder if all the Carsdales had the gift of polite and subtle railroading.

For despite everything, she was finding herself agreeing to be Lucy's bridal consultant.

 

When Hawk emerged from the elevator, he had no trouble locating Pia's place. She'd opened her front door and was standing in the entrance to her apartment.

She looked fresh as a daisy in a yellow-print knit dress that displayed her lithe, compact body to perfection. The cleavage visible at the V-neck was just enough to give a man interesting thoughts.

He wondered whether he would always experience a quick jolt of sexual awareness when he saw her.

“How did you find me?” she asked without preamble.

He gave a careless shrug. “A little digging on Pia Lumley Wedding Productions. It wasn't hard.”

Pia, he'd discovered, now lived on the fifth floor of a modest white-brick doorman building. The older man downstairs—more guard than doorman—had glanced up from his small television set long enough to ring Pia and announce Hawk's arrival. Even though Hawk had been privy only to a brief one-sided conversation—and from the guard's end at that—he'd sensed Pia's hesitancy when she'd been informed of his unexpected arrival. Still, moments later, he'd been directed to the elevator, and then the guard had gone back to viewing his talk show.

“Naturally,” Pia responded now with a touch of sarcasm. “I should have expected you'd do some digging of your own. With a business, I'm easy to find, whether I like it or not.”

Despite her words, she stepped aside to let him into the apartment, and then shut the door once he'd entered.

“In a way, I'm glad you're here,” she said as he turned back to face her. “It makes matters easier.”

He quirked a brow. “Only
in a way?
” he queried with dry amusement. “I suppose I should be happy there is at least one way.”

“I've been having second thoughts.”

“Of course you have.” He let his mouth tilt upward. “And that's why
I'm
glad I'm here.”

Hawk watched as Pia sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“I'm afraid it wouldn't be wise for me to accept the job as Lucy's wedding planner.”

“She'll be devastated.”

“I'll find a suitable replacement.”

“A rival?” he questioned sardonically. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I have contacts—friends.”

“And I'm not one of them, presumably.”

Hawk glanced around. The apartment wasn't big, but nevertheless bigger than he expected.

The living room was dressed in a pastel theme, from the peach-colored couch to the rose-print armchair.
Wedding colors.

Binders of various wedding vendors—for invitations, decorations, flowers and more—stood out on the cream-colored bookshelves.

He glanced down as a cat sauntered in from an adjoining room.

The animal stopped, returned his stare, still as a statue, and then blinked.

“Mr. Darcy,” Pia announced.

But of course,
Hawk thought. A wedding planner with a cat named after Jane Austen's most renowned hero.

Hawk's lips twisted. Pia had wound up with Mr. Darcy, so all should be right with the world. Except Mr. Darcy was a damn cat, and Hawk surmised that
he'd
been cast as the villainous Mr. Wickham in this drama.

Still, he bent and rubbed the cat behind the ears. The feline allowed the contact and then moved to rub himself against Hawk's leg, leaving behind a trail of stray animal hairs on Hawk's pants.

When Hawk straightened, he caught Pia's look of surprise.

“What?” he asked. “You look astonished that I'd cozy up to your cat.”

“I thought you would be a dog person,” Pia responded. “Aren't all of you aristocrats fond of canines? Fox hunting and such?”

Hawk smiled. “Afraid I'd feed Puss 'n Boots here to the dogs?”

“The possibility wouldn't bear thinking about except that you've already proven yourself to be a wolf in sheep's clothing,” Pia retorted.

He gave a feral grin and then, just to annoy her, allowed his gaze to travel over her. “And are you Little Red Riding Hood? Is that the fairy tale you prefer these days?”

“I don't prefer any fairy tales,” she shot back. “N-not anymore.”

Hawk's smile faded. She didn't believe in fairy tales anymore, and he felt responsible for robbing her of her innocence in more ways than one.

Of course, all that made it even more imperative that he change her mind and get her to accept his help. He intended to make restitution of sorts.

He pulled some papers from the inside pocket of his blazer. “I suspected that you might have a change of heart once you had a chance to think about what you were getting into with Lucy.”

“You were the one who wanted time to review the contract!” she accused. “I'm within my rights to change my mind, and if you don't have any recourse, you have only yourself to blame.”

It was true that when Pia had handed Lucy her standard written wedding services contract on Monday, before she'd left Hawk's house, he'd taken the contract in hand and had asked to review it. But only because he'd thought it would give him another opportunity to interact with her when he brought it back to her.

He'd come here this afternoon directly from work, and was still wearing a navy business suit.

The discussion of the contract, he told himself, would afford him a chance to change her low opinion of him. Maybe he could begin to demonstrate that he wasn't quite the reprobate she thought he was. Not anymore.

“I did do as I said,” he acknowledged, unfolding the paper in his hand. “I did review it.”

Pia arched a brow. “One wonders why you don't bring
the same thoroughness and discrimination to your choice of dates.”

Hawk stifled the dry chuckle that rose unbidden. “You've done some research on me, I take it.”

Pia nodded. “The internet is a wonderful thing. I believe you were referred to on at least one occasion as Jolly Lord James, his Rollicking Rowdy Ruffianness?”

“Ruffian?” Hawk rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger. “Ah, yes, I believe I had my nose broken at least once in a brawl. A useful thing once I became Hawkshire, as I was able to live up to the profile implied.”

“Charming.”

“And did your research also reveal how I succeeded to the title of Duke of Hawkshire?” he asked with deceptive casualness.

Pia shook her head. “I believe the tabloids were already fully occupied with your ne'er-do-well travails.”

“So I've heard,” he deadpanned. “Much to my regret, however, my sojourn as the rollicking younger son of the previous Duke of Hawkshire was cut short when my older brother died from injuries sustained in a boating accident.”

He saw Pia hesitate.

“An early morning phone call awakened me from a pleasant slumber, as I recall,” he went on, searching her gaze. “I still remember the view from your apartment window as the news reached me.”

Pia looked momentarily bewildered. He knew he'd flummoxed her.

“So you departed without a word?”

He nodded. “On the first flight back to London.”

The unexpected news about his brother had changed the trajectory of his life. He'd left Pia's apartment quietly, while she'd still slept. Then he'd rushed back to London for a bedside vigil that had ended days later when William had taken his last breath.

With the tumult in his life that had followed the tragedy, he'd been able to push Pia to the back of his mind. Then with the space of days and miles, and the weight of his newfound responsibilities as a ducal heir, he convinced himself that it would be better if he didn't get in touch with her again—if he let matters end as they were.

It had all been convenient, too, he admitted to himself now. Because the truth was that after sleeping with Pia and discovering that she'd been a virgin, he'd had the feeling of being in too deep. It had been a novel and uncomfortable sensation for him. His younger, inconsiderate self had simply been looking for a steamy fling. But he'd been spared the need to figure out how to handle it all by the news of his brother's tragic accident.