back a laugh. No, she wasn’t the elegant type, no matter
what
fantasy she’d played out this weekend. She was plain Halley Finnegan, librarian. That’s who she’d always be. But no matter, the weekend
had
been lovely. Nick the Baron had been a handsome prince who wouldn’t be soon forgotten. She thought about what he’d said, about wanting to see her again, and shook her head gently. No, Baron, that is not to be … The thought caused a pain of regret deeper than Halley cared to admit, and she forced herself to concentrate on Leo’s discourse.
“So, my fine friends, until next month, let’s call it a day and get on with the business of life.”
Halley lifted her head and smiled at Leo’s solemn words, the same words he used to end every meeting she had ever attended. She scooped up her papers and notes, dumped them into her huge purse, and walked across the room to where Leo stood chatting with a small group.
He winked at her over the head of several people,but it was when the group parted that she realized the reason for the wink.
Standing next to Leo, looking every bit as elegant as he had in her dreams, stood her Baron.
Her heart thudded uncontrollably. “You!”
Nick grinned. “Me.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nick smiled.
“Well, now, this is one of the most fascinating conversations I’ve been privy to for some time!” Leo clapped Nick on the back familiarly.
“Leo … why is he here?” Halley pushed her glasses up until they nested comfortably in her hair. Little did Leo know that monosyllables and simple sentences were absolutely all she was capable of right now.
“Personal invitation, my dear.”
“So you know Nick, then.” It wasn’t a question, but somehow Halley felt a need to state the obvious. Then she’d know whether this was a part of the dreams that moved her in and out of sleep all night, or real, true life.
Nick stood quietly, his eyes carefully recording every inch of her, and suddenly Halley realized why. Although
he
still looked every inch the Baron—immaculately groomed, wearing an expensive three-piece suit, his thick hair carefully combed—
she
was Cinderella at her hearth.
“Leo is a good friend of my uncle’s.”
“Of course,” she murmured, remembering why she had been at the party in the first place. She pushed a wayward strand of hair back in place while she collected her thoughts.
“I told you I wanted to see you again, and you were about as difficult to find as the Statue of Liberty.”
“Find? I wasn’t lost, Nick.”
“You ran off.”
“Oh, no, really, I—”
“And you didn’t leave a slipper. But I had this and wondered if it fit.” He pulled the flowing emerald-green scarf from his pocket.
Halley looked at it and thought of sweet-smelling woods and a lovely, passionate kiss. Her laughter was soft as she fingered the silky material. “No, actually it
doesn’t
fit. It belonged to a contessa. But as you can plainly see, she’s not here.”
Her smile was warm and honest, and Nick wondered briefly what the hell was happening to him. He hadn’t slept much the night before. In half sleep, his arms had reached out for a beautiful, enchanting contessa, and his lips had yearned for the sweetness she held. She had haunted his thoughts for hours, like a beautiful, magical witch.
Now he was here, standing in front of her again. From a distance she had seemed plain compared to the ravishing, sexy beauty of the previous day’s contessa. He’d almost walked out for a moment, certain that he had made a mistake. But up close she was every bit as beautiful—even with those crazy horn-rimmed glasses that stuck out from her windblown hair like a visor. It was a different kind of beauty, and the sensuality was softer but definitely still there. Her freckles were more prominent without makeup, but the lovely curves he had traced with his hands were still the same, even with the layers of clothing she wore and the denim skirt that
what
fantasy she’d played out this weekend. She was plain Halley Finnegan, librarian. That’s who she’d always be. But no matter, the weekend
had
been lovely. Nick the Baron had been a handsome prince who wouldn’t be soon forgotten. She thought about what he’d said, about wanting to see her again, and shook her head gently. No, Baron, that is not to be … The thought caused a pain of regret deeper than Halley cared to admit, and she forced herself to concentrate on Leo’s discourse.
“So, my fine friends, until next month, let’s call it a day and get on with the business of life.”
Halley lifted her head and smiled at Leo’s solemn words, the same words he used to end every meeting she had ever attended. She scooped up her papers and notes, dumped them into her huge purse, and walked across the room to where Leo stood chatting with a small group.
He winked at her over the head of several people,but it was when the group parted that she realized the reason for the wink.
Standing next to Leo, looking every bit as elegant as he had in her dreams, stood her Baron.
Her heart thudded uncontrollably. “You!”
Nick grinned. “Me.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nick smiled.
“Well, now, this is one of the most fascinating conversations I’ve been privy to for some time!” Leo clapped Nick on the back familiarly.
“Leo … why is he here?” Halley pushed her glasses up until they nested comfortably in her hair. Little did Leo know that monosyllables and simple sentences were absolutely all she was capable of right now.
“Personal invitation, my dear.”
“So you know Nick, then.” It wasn’t a question, but somehow Halley felt a need to state the obvious. Then she’d know whether this was a part of the dreams that moved her in and out of sleep all night, or real, true life.
Nick stood quietly, his eyes carefully recording every inch of her, and suddenly Halley realized why. Although
he
still looked every inch the Baron—immaculately groomed, wearing an expensive three-piece suit, his thick hair carefully combed—
she
was Cinderella at her hearth.
“Leo is a good friend of my uncle’s.”
“Of course,” she murmured, remembering why she had been at the party in the first place. She pushed a wayward strand of hair back in place while she collected her thoughts.
“I told you I wanted to see you again, and you were about as difficult to find as the Statue of Liberty.”
“Find? I wasn’t lost, Nick.”
“You ran off.”
“Oh, no, really, I—”
“And you didn’t leave a slipper. But I had this and wondered if it fit.” He pulled the flowing emerald-green scarf from his pocket.
Halley looked at it and thought of sweet-smelling woods and a lovely, passionate kiss. Her laughter was soft as she fingered the silky material. “No, actually it
doesn’t
fit. It belonged to a contessa. But as you can plainly see, she’s not here.”
Her smile was warm and honest, and Nick wondered briefly what the hell was happening to him. He hadn’t slept much the night before. In half sleep, his arms had reached out for a beautiful, enchanting contessa, and his lips had yearned for the sweetness she held. She had haunted his thoughts for hours, like a beautiful, magical witch.
Now he was here, standing in front of her again. From a distance she had seemed plain compared to the ravishing, sexy beauty of the previous day’s contessa. He’d almost walked out for a moment, certain that he had made a mistake. But up close she was every bit as beautiful—even with those crazy horn-rimmed glasses that stuck out from her windblown hair like a visor. It was a different kind of beauty, and the sensuality was softer but definitely still there. Her freckles were more prominent without makeup, but the lovely curves he had traced with his hands were still the same, even with the layers of clothing she wore and the denim skirt that
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