One Night with Prince Charming (6 page)

“I'm sorry, however belatedly, for your loss,” Pia said, a look of openhearted feeling transforming her face.

“I'm not asking for your sympathy,” he responded.

He didn't deserve it. As much as Pia had claimed to have developed a more cynical shell since they'd been lovers, she still, he could tell, possessed a soft-hearted fragility about her that showed how easily she could be hurt.

He was thankful for that sign that he hadn't changed her too deeply, even though it made her all that more dangerous.
To him.

He was here to help, he reminded himself. He was going to make amends for past wrongs, however inadequately, and that's all.

“My father died months later,” he elaborated, forcing himself to stay on topic. “Some would say brokenhearted, though he'd already been in poor health. So by two quirks of fate within a year, I became the duke.”

“And then you started Sunhill Investments,” Pia observed without inflection. “You've had a busy few years.”

He inclined his head. “Again, some would say so. And yet it was all born of necessity, and nothing more so than the
need to find a new cash flow for the maintenance of the ducal estates.”

When his father had died, the full weight of the dukedom had been thrust upon his shoulders. He'd stepped up to take care of the family…become responsible…

He'd already started exploring his options for starting a hedge fund, but the costs associated with the ducal estates had added new urgency to matters.

And in the shuffle—in the crazy upheaval and burdensome work schedule that had been his life for the past three years—it had been easy to shut the door on his discomfort as far as Pia was concerned. He had, at many moments, been too busy to think about their one stupendous night, when he'd broken his vow and done what he said he'd never do, even in his careless playboy days—be remembered as a woman's first lover. And even in his younger days, he hadn't been the type to leave without a word—instead, he stuck around and made sure there were no hard feelings.

“You never got back in touch,” Pia stated, though without rancor.

He searched her eyes—so unusual in their warm amber tone that he'd been arrested by them on their first meeting.

Now, he sensed in them that her adamancy from when he'd walked in the door was weakening, exactly as he'd wanted. Still, what he said next was the truth. “None of this explanation was intended as an excuse.”

“Why go out of your way to arrange for me to be Lucy's wedding planner?” Pia asked. “To make amends?”

Hawk couldn't help but smile at her astute query. Pia might still be rather sweet and naive, despite her posturing to the contrary, but she was intelligent. He'd been drawn to her wit on the night they'd first met.

“If I said yes, would you let me?” he parried.

“I've found from past experience that letting you do anything is dangerous.”

He gave a low laugh. “Even if it's a favor?”

“With no strings attached?”

He could sense her weakening toward him, so he gave her his most innocent look. “Would you let me wipe some of the dirt off my conscience?”

“So this is an act of mercy on my part?”

“Of sorts.”

“So you're acting not only to make up for your friend Easterbridge's actions at Belinda's wedding but for yours in the past as well?”

“I don't believe I was ever motivated by Easterbridge's actions.”

Then, not giving her a chance to backtrack, he withdrew a pen from his inner jacket pocket and using the nearby wall as support, he inked her contract with his signature.

“There, it's signed,” he said, handing out the contract to her.

She looked at him with some wariness, but nevertheless took the contract from him and glanced at it.

“Hawkshire,” she read, and then looked up, a sudden glimmer in her eyes. “How grand. Sh-should I receive it as a benediction of sorts?”

He shrugged, willing for her to be amused at his expense. “Am I being permitted to try to make restitution, however inadequately? Then please view this contract as a grant of clemency from you to me.”

Deliberately, he held the pen out to her.

Pia seemed to understand his gesture for the meaning-laden act it was, and hesitated.

Hawk glanced down at Mr. Darcy for a moment, and then arched a brow. “Our one witness wants you to sign.”

And indeed, Mr. Darcy was looking up at them, unmoving and unblinking. Hawk was starting to realize that it was a customary pose for the cat, and he got the uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Darcy understood too much for a feline.

“I'm not in the business of reforming rakes,” Pia said as she reached for the pen.

Their fingers brushed, causing a sizzle of awareness to shoot through him.

Hawk schooled his expression. “Of course you are,” he contradicted her. “I assume you adopted Mr. Darcy from a shelter?”

“That was saving a soul, not reforming a rake.”

“Is there much difference?” he asked. “And anyway, who knows what dastardly deeds and reprobate behavior Mr. Darcy engaged in before you met him?”

“Better the devil you don't know,” she responded, turning a well-known saying on its head.

He placed his hand over his heart. “And yet one could say we encountered each other under blind circumstances not so different from your first meeting with Mr. Darcy. Surely, if you can find it in your heart to take him…?”

“I am not taking you in like…a-a stray,” she responded reprovingly.

“Much to my regret,” he murmured.

Giving him a lingering cautionary look, she turned her back and, using the wall for support in imitation of his earlier action, signed the contract.

She turned back to him and handed him a copy of the contract.

“Splendid,” he said with a grin. “I'd kiss you to seal the deal, but I'll venture to guess you wouldn't find it appropriate under the circumstances.”

“Certainly not!”

“A handshake then?”

Pia eyed him, and he returned her regard with a bland look of his own.

Slowly, she extended her hand, and he grasped it in his.

He let himself feel the vibrant current coursing between
them. It was the same as when they'd met three years ago. It was the same as it always was.

Her hand was small and fine-boned. The fingers, he'd noticed, tapered to well-manicured nails that nevertheless showed not a hint of polish—so like her, delicate but practical.

When she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold, drawing out the contact for reasons he didn't bother to examine.

She looked up at him questioningly, and he read the turbulent sexual awareness in her amber eyes.

In a courtly gesture, he bent and gave her a very proper kiss on the hand.

He heard Pia suck in a breath, and as he straightened, he released her hand.

She swallowed. “Why did you do that?”

“I'm a duke,” he said, the excuse falling easily from his lips. “It's a done thing.”

In fact, Hawk admitted to himself, the context wasn't fitting even if the gesture might have been. He wasn't greeting a woman—one of higher social status—who'd offered him her hand. But he brushed aside those niceties, not least because it had been tempting to touch her.

“Of course,” Pia acknowledged lightly, though a shadow crossed her face. “I know all about your world, even if I'm not part of it.”

“You've agreed to be part of it now,” he countered. “Attend the theater with me tomorrow night.”

“Wh-what?” she asked, looking startled. “Why?”

He smiled. “It's Lucy's off-Broadway show. Seeing my sister on the stage, in her element, might give you useful insight into her personality.”

Pia relaxed her shoulders.

He could tell she'd been wondering whether he was reneging on his promise even before the ink had dried on their contract. Was he trying to entice her back into his bed?

Yes—
no. No.
He corrected the response that had jumped unbidden into his head. Fortunately, he hadn't spoken aloud.

Nevertheless, Pia seemed ready to argue. “I don't think a show would be—”

“—the ticket?” he finished. “Don't worry about it. I've got two seats in the front orchestra.” He winked. “I worked the family connection.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Hardly. And that seems to be a recurring problem of mine.”

Pia looked as if she wanted to continue to protest.

“I'll see you tomorrow night. I'll come by at seven.” He glanced down at the cat. “I hope Mr. Darcy won't mind spending the evening at home alone.”

“Why?” she jabbed, but lightly. “Is he an uncomfortable reminder that the role left to you might be that of villain?”

He felt the side of his mouth tease upward. “How did you guess?”

Pia raised her eyebrows, but the look she gave him was open and unguarded.

“I'm not too concerned.”

“Oh?”

He glanced down at Mr. Darcy again. “I feel confident that only one of us can waltz.”

“Oh.”

Pia looked startled and then, for a moment, dreamy—as if the idea of a waltz had called to the romantic in her.

Mr. Darcy just continued to stare at them unblinkingly, and Hawk realized that now was as good a time as any for him to leave, before he gave in to too much temptation.

He let the side of his mouth quirk up again. “Since I appear to have exhausted my options for acceptable salutations and social niceties, I'm afraid my goodbye will have to be rather dull.”

“How reassuring,” Pia answered, recovering.

He touched his finger to the tip of her pert nose in humorous salute of her impertinence.

And then, unable to stop himself, he let his finger wander down and smooth over her pink and inviting lips.

They both quieted.

“Tomorrow night,” he repeated.

He turned away before he was tempted to touch her lips with his, and then let himself out the way he'd come in.

As he pulled shut the apartment door behind him, Hawk refused to let himself think about why he found it hard to leave Pia.

It was a vexing situation that could only mean no good for his best of intentions.

P
ia found herself staring at her apartment door after Hawk had left. Flooded with conflicting emotions, she hugged herself and sat down on her couch.

She touched her fingers to her lips, in imitation of Hawk's action moments ago. She could swear he'd wanted to kiss her. The last time he'd kissed her had been on the night that they'd first met.…

 

Pia turned away and picked up the remote to her MP3 player because music relaxed her. Within a few moments, the dulcet tones of an orchestral ensemble drifted through the apartment from her small speakers.

“W-would you like a drink?” she asked.

James laughed close behind her. “What a question to ask, considering we've just been to a bar.”

In truth, she felt light-headed herself. It must have been that last cocktail she'd had at the bar while trying to converse with the real estate office manager.

“Pia,” James said quietly, laying his hands on her shoulders.

She froze at the contact, her nipples tightening.

“Relax,” he murmured close to her ear.

Oh.

He removed his hands…but moments later, she felt his fingertips trail up her arms as he nuzzled the hair near her ear.

She shivered. “Really, I—”

He nipped her earlobe.

She gulped, and then forced herself to say, “D-don't you want to get to know each other better?”

“Much better,” he agreed on a soft laugh.

His body brushed hers from behind, sending delicious shivers through her.

Slowly, he turned her to face him, and then searched her eyes. “I've been wanting to do this—” he bent and tasted her lips “—ever since we left the bar.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

This was her fantasy.
He was here now.

He cupped her shoulders, his thumbs tracing a soothing circular pattern. “We won't do anything you don't want to do.”

“Th-that's what I'm afraid of.”

He smiled. “Ah, Pia. You really are special.” Then his expression turned more intent and amorous. “Let me show you how much.”

He cupped her cheek, laid his lips against hers and tasted her.

She sighed and gripped his shirt, fisting her hand into the material, as little shock waves of pleasure jolted her.

She felt his arousal grow between them as his mouth stroked hers. Within moments, they had fitted their bodies together, giving in to the desire that had been kindled in the bar and stoked on the cab ride to her apartment.

He cupped her face with both hands, his fingers delving into her hair as he sipped from her mouth.

She relaxed her grip on his shirt and flattened her hands against his chest, where she could feel the steady beat of his heart.

Around them, the sweet notes of string instruments sounded, the tune low and soulful.

Pia felt herself relax even as every inch of her skin tingled with awareness. She sighed against James's mouth, wanting the kiss to go on and on as his hunger matched her own.

Giving in to the urge to shed attire, she kicked off her sandals. In the next moment, she lowered a couple of inches, enough to break the contact of her lips with James's.

“My bed isn't very big.” They were the first words to pop out of her mouth, her tone apologetic, and she flushed.

James looked indulgent, and then dimpled as he nodded beside them. “You've never made love on a love seat before?”

She'd never made love
period.
But she was afraid if she told him, he'd flee out the door. She knew he must be used to more experienced women.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Why bother when a bed is available?”

“Mmm,” he said, and then bent and nuzzled her ear.

Oh.
She gripped his upper arms for support, her fingers digging into his biceps, as his action did funny things to her insides.

She felt his hand go to the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Would it be okay if I did this?” he murmured.

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

She heard the rasp of the zipper and felt her dress slither downward, exposing to his gaze that she wasn't wearing a bra.

James stepped back and looked at her with a hooded, rapt expression.

“Ah, Pia, you're so beautiful.” He raised his hands to cup
and caress her. “You're just as pretty as I thought when my imagination was running rampant in the bar.”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He sat on the arm of the love seat beside them and, pulling her toward him, fastened his mouth over one pert breast.

Pia was lost. Her heart beat wildly, and she tangled her fingers in his hair.

He pushed the rest of the dress off her, and then peeled her panties away without lifting his mouth from her.

Pia moaned.

He shifted his focus to her other breast, but then paused, his lips hovering over her taut flesh, his breath fanning her erect nipple.

“And would it be okay if I kissed you here?” he said hoarsely.

Pia had never been so close to begging and pleading.

But instead of answering, she guided his head to her breast, her eyes fluttering shut on a sigh as his lips closed over her.

He soothed and aroused her with his tongue, fanning the fire of their desire.

Before she knew it, she was on his lap on the love seat, and they were kissing passionately but yet like longtime lovers who had all the time in the world. His arousal pressed against her flesh, and his hand caressed up and down her thigh.

When they finally broke away, he groaned softly. “Have mercy, Pia.”

In response, she snuggled closer. He nuzzled her temple and his breath rasped in her ear. She shivered and rubbed against him.

She let her hand go to the buttons of his shirt, undoing one and then another. The strong, corded line of his neck came into view.

“Pia,” he said from somewhere above her head, “please say you don't want to stop.”

“Who said anything about stopping?” This was her
fantasy, and she found that she wanted to see it through to its conclusion. Her last drink at the bar had given her a delicious, unbound feeling, and James's seduction had lowered her inhibitions even more.

“Ah, Pia.” He slipped his hand between her thighs and pressed, giving her a heady sensation. “I just want to assure you that I'm clean.”

“I am, too,” she answered, understanding what he was alluding to. “I've never had unprotected sex.”

It was literally true, though it hid the truth—that she'd never had sex at all.

He kissed her neck. “Are you…? If not, I have something with me. Not that I walked in here with any expectations, of course, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you from the first moment I spotted you.”

“Mmm…when did you first notice me? Are you saying our encounter in the bar wasn't by chance?”

“I saw you minutes before you tried to order a drink,” he admitted. “When I spotted a damsel in distress, though, I saw my opening. I took a chance that Cinderella was looking for a Prince Charming to come rescue her, and that she'd mistake me for him if I tried to do her a favor.”

Pia's heart gave a little squeeze. It was as if he knew her well already. Did he suspect that she was a romantic at heart? Did he know that she'd thrilled to stories of true love, though a part of her knew better?

She pulled his head down for a kiss as the music reached a low crescendo around them.

They kissed deeply, their mouths clinging, unable to get enough of each other.

When he finally broke their kiss, he stood up with her in his arms. “What's your preference, Cinderella?”

She glanced down at the love seat—next time.

“Bed,” she said.

“My sentiments exactly,” he said, and then strode with her
around the partition to where the bed was. “See, we have a lot in common.”

“Besides riding and fishing?”

He paused in the act of placing her on the bed. “Oh, Pia, sweetheart,” he said huskily, a wicked glimmer in his eye, “isn't that what tonight is all about—fishing and riding?”

Pia felt a full-body flush sweep over her. As she came down on the mattress, she propped herself up on her elbows to stop from lying completely on her back.

She swallowed, unable to say anything.

Holding her eyes, James undid the remaining buttons on his shirt and cuffs, and then pulled fabric from his waistband, stripping off his shirt and undershirt.

Pia soaked up the sight of him. Taut muscle rippled underneath the planes of smooth and lightly tanned skin.

She hadn't been mistaken. He was fit and in top shape.

He made short work of the rest of his clothes, working methodically until he was naked.

His arousal stood in imposing relief against his toned frame.

Pia sucked in a breath. “You're very beautiful.”

James gave her a lopsided smile. “Isn't that my line?”

It occurred to her that while she'd viewed pictures of naked men, this was the first time she'd seen one in the flesh. And again, James was beyond her expectations. He was impressive—tall and built as well as fit. The flat planes of his abdomen tapered down to…a definite sign that he wanted to couple with her.
Right now.

A tingle went through her, a tightening of anticipation.

As if in response, he pulled her toward him on the bed and began kissing his way down her body.

Pia looked up at the white plaster ceiling, her hands tangling in his hair, and thought she'd die of pleasure.

James kissed the jut of her hip and then worked his way down the soft skin of her inner thigh to the sensitive spot
behind her knee. He lifted her other leg and turned his head to nip and brush the pliant flesh of her other thigh.

With one finger, he traced down the cleft at the juncture of her thighs, and she moaned, her head twisting until she pressed her face into the coverlet beside her.

James muttered sweet encouragement as he lowered her leg and caressed his hand down her thigh.

Then he bent, picked up his pants from the floor and fished out a packet of protection. He donned the sheath with economical moves. Stretching out beside her on the bed, he gathered her to him and soothed her with his lips and hands as he muttered soft endearments under his breath.

Pia was lost to the sensation and emotion sweeping her. She was petite and felt surrounded by him.

When James shifted over her, parting her thighs and settling against her, she worried about being able to accept him. But within seconds she was again consumed by the desire flaring between them.

“Touch me, Pia,” he said hoarsely.

He sipped and feasted on her lips, his hands readying her with a gentle kneading. Pia responded in kind, meeting his mouth and trailing her fingertips over the corded muscles of his back.

This was the moment she'd waited a lifetime for.
He
was the man she'd waited for.

James nudged her, and Pia concentrated on relaxing as he sucked on her lower lip.

Lifting his head, he muttered, “Wrap your legs around me.”

Oh, sweet heaven.
She'd never been plastered, open and exposed, to an aroused male before.

She concentrated on what she'd imagined countless times in her fantasies, where her partner's features had always been indistinct but he'd carried an aura so very much like James's.

She did as he instructed, and James grasped her hips in his hands.

He looked deeply into her eyes and then gave her a quick, gentle kiss.

“Let me take you, Pia,” he said throatily. “Let me bring you pleasure.”

She arched toward him, and in response, he buried his head in her neck and penetrated her.

Pia gasped, and then bit down hard on her lip.

James froze.

Moments passed and they held still. The thumping of his heart sounded against hers.

He lifted his head, his expression puzzled, and also shocked and doubtful.

“You're a virgin.”

He stated it with surprise.

She wet her lips. “W-was. I think past tense is appropriate.”

She felt full and stretched, almost to the point of the unbearable, where pleasure met pain. It was a strange sensation that she tried to get used to.

“Why?”

She swallowed, and then whispered, “I wanted you. Is that so bad?”

James closed his eyes, his muscles remaining full of tension as he rested his forehead against hers and then muttered a self-deprecation. “You're so unbelievably tight and hot. Sweet like I've never experienced… Pia, I can't—”

Afraid he'd pull out, she clamped her legs around him. “D-don't.”

After a moment, some of the tension eased out of him—almost as if he was reluctantly admitting defeat.

“I'll try to make it good for you from now on,” he muttered, as if the words were torn from him.

“Yes.”

He moved slowly then, his hands pressing the right spots and easing the tension in her body.

Pia focused on relaxing and concentrated on the sensation of his movements.

Slowly, slowly, she felt a small spark, and then a faint tingle. She was awakening, her body coming to life under his sure ministrations.

Eventually, as she relaxed further, tension built. She felt herself reaching for a release that she'd never experienced with a man before.

James stroked between their bodies, his fingers pressing on her most sensitive spot.

Within moments, she cried out with pleasure and then crested before she knew it. She was carried on a wave of sensation as feeling after feeling swamped her.

Her body undulated around James of its own accord, massaging him into his own frenzy of need.

“Have mercy, Pia,” he groaned.

It was too late, however. With a hoarse oath, he grasped her hips and pumped into her.

She came for him again. And then with a final thrust, he took his own release.

As James slumped against her, Pia hugged him and suddenly became aware of tears in her eyes.