The Duchess Diaries: The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride / Her Unforgettable Royal Lover / The Texan's Royal M.D.

“Jack Mason.”

“Jack Mason.” Tremayne tapped her chin with a nail shellacked the same red as her ankle boots. “Why do I know that name?”

Gina didn’t mention that TTG had coordinated Jack’s wedding. For reasons she would have to sort out later, that cut too close to the bone.

“Who is he,” Tremayne asked, “and why would he call me?”

“He’s a friend.” That was the best she could come up with. “I told him about our interview and...and thought he might have called to weigh in.”

“Well, it certainly never hurts to have an ambassador in your corner, but no, he didn’t call me. So what’s the deal here? Do you want the job or not?”

There were probably a dozen different questions she should ask before jumping into the fray. Like how much the job paid, for one. And what her hours would be. And whether the position came with benefits. At the moment, though, Gina was too jazzed to voice any of the questions buzzing around in her head.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“Good. Have my assistant direct you to the woman who handles our personnel matters. You can fill out all the necessary forms there. And call me Nikki,” she added as her new employee sprang out of her chair to shake on the deal.

* * *

Gina left the Tremayne Group’s personnel office thirty or forty forms later. The salary was less than she’d hoped for but the description of her duties made her grin. As assistant events coordinator she would be involved in all phases of operation for TTG’s midtown venue. Scheduling parties and banquets and trade shows. Devising themes to fit the clients’ desires. Creating menus. Contracting with vendors to supply food and decorations and bar stock. Arranging for limos, for security, for parking.

Even better, the personnel officer had stressed that there was plenty of room for advancement within TTG. The tantalizing prospect of a promotion danced before Gina’s eyes as she exited the high-rise housing the company’s headquarters. When she hit the still glorious May sunshine, she had to tell someone her news. Her first, almost instinctive, impulse was to call Jack. She actually had her iPhone in hand before she stopped to wonder why.

Simple answer. She wanted to crow a little.

Not so simple answer. She wanted to prove she wasn’t all fun and fluff.

With a wry grimace, she acknowledged that she should probably wait until she’d actually performed in her new position for a few weeks or months before she made that claim. She decided to text Sarah instead. The message was short and sweet.

I’m now a working mom-to-be. Call when you and Dev come up for air.

She took a cab back to the Upper West Side and popped out at a deli a few blocks from the Dakota. Osterman’s had occupied the same choice corner location since the Great Depression. Gina and Sarah had developed their passion for corned beef at the deli’s tiny, six-table eating area. The sisters still indulged whenever they were in the city, but Gina’s target tonight was the case displaying Osterman’s world famous cheesecakes. With unerring accuracy, she went for a selection that included her own, her grandmother’s and Maria’s favorites.

“One slice each of the white chocolate raspberry truffle, the key lime and the Dutch apple caramel, please. And one pineapple upside down,” she added on an afterthought.

The boxed cheesecake wedges in hand, she plucked a bottle of chilled champagne from the cooler in the wine corner. She had to search for a nonalcoholic counterpart but finally found it in with the fruit juices. Driven by the urge to celebrate, she added a wedge of aged brie and a loaf of crusty bread to her basket. On her way to check out she passed a shelf containing the deli’s selection of caviars.

The sticker price of a four-ounce jar of Caspian Sea Osetra made her gasp. Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself it was Grandmama’s caviar of choice. The duchess considered Beluga too salty and Sevruga too fishy. Gina made a quick calculation and decided her credit card would cover the cost of one jar. Maybe.

“Oh, what the hell.”

To her relief, she got out of Osterman’s without having the credit card confiscated. A block and a half later she approached the Dakota with all her purchases.

“Let me help you with those!”

The doorman who’d held his post for as long as she could remember leaped forward. Although she would never say so to his face, Gina suspected Jerome assumed his present duties about the same time Osterman’s opened its doors.

“You should have called a cab, Lady Eugenia.”

Sarah and Gina had spent most of their adult years trying to get Jerome to drop their empty titles. They’d finally agreed it was a wasted effort.

“I’m okay,” Gina protested as he tried to relieve her of her burdens. “Except for this.”

She sorted through her purchases and fished out a wedge-shaped box. Jerome peeked inside and broke into a grin.

“Pineapple upside down! Trust you to remember my favorite.”

Gina’s emotions jumped on the roller coaster again as she thought about his devoted loyalty to her and Grandmama over the years.

“How could I forget?” she said with a suspicious catch to her voice. “You slipped me an extra few dollars every time I said I was going to Osterman’s.”

For a moment she thought the embarrassed doorman would pat her on the head as he’d done so many times when she was a child. He controlled the impulse and commented instead on the bottles poking out of her bag.

“Still celebrating Lady Sarah’s wedding?”

“Nope. This celebration is in my honor.”

Riding her emotional roller coaster to its gravity-defying apex, she poured out her news.

“I’m moving back to New York, Jerome.”

“Lady Eugenia! That’s wonderful news. I admit I was a bit worried about the duchess.”

“There’s more. I’ve got a job.”

“Good for you.”

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder as she made for the lobby. “I’m also pregnant.”

Four (#uf787832a-bba3-5d25-8934-389f8b91f761)

Gina walked into the Tremayne Group’s midtown venue at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. She didn’t drag out again until well past midnight.

Her first impression was wow! What had once been a crumbling brick warehouse overlooking the East River was now a glass-fronted, ultra-high-rent complex of offices, restaurants and entertainment venues. TTG occupied a slightly recessed four-story suite smack in the center of the complex. The primo location allowed into a private ground-floor courtyard with bubbling fountains and a top-floor terrace that had to offer magnificent views of the river.

A young woman with wings of blue in her otherwise lipstick-red hair sat at a curved glass reception desk and fielded phone calls. Gina waited until she finished with one caller and put two others on hold to introduce herself.

“I’m Gina St. Sebastian. I’m the new...”

“Assistant coordinator. Thank God you’re here! I’m Kallie. Samuel’s in the banquet hall. He said to send you right up. Third floor. The elevators are to your right.”

Gina used the ride to do a quick check in mirrored panels. She’d left her hair down today but confined the silky curls behind a wide fuchsia headband studded with crystals. A belt in the same hot pink circled the waist of her apple-green J. Crew tunic. Since this was her first day on the job she’d gone with sedate black tights instead of the colorful prints she preferred. She made a quick swipe with her lip gloss and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Then the elevator door glided open and she stepped out into a vortex of sound and fury.

What looked like a small army of workers in blue overalls was yanking folded chairs from metal-sided carrier racks, popping them open and thumping them around a room full of circluar tables. Another crew, this one in black pants and white shirts, scurried after the first. They draped each chair in shimmering green, the tables in cloth of gold. Right behind them came yet another crew rattling down place settings of china and crystal. The rat-tat-tat of staple guns fired by intent set designers erecting a fantastic Emerald City added to the barrage of noise, while the heady scent of magnolias wafted from dozens of tall topiaries stacked on carts waiting to be rolled to the tables.

Soaking up the energy like a sponge, Gina wove her way through the tables to a wild-haired broomstick with a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other and a Bluetooth headset hooked over one ear. “Not The Wizard of Oz,” he was shouting into the headset. “Christ, who does Judy Garland anymore? This is the new movie. Oz the... Oz the...”

Scowling, he snapped his fingers at Gina.