How To Romance A Runaway Bride

Zander glared at her. “I’m very rational.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said, but he wasn’t buying the innocent act. Not for a minute. “Tell me, did you assume all of the other runaway brides wanted to marry you, too? Or just me?”

He clenched his fists to keep himself from scooping her into his arms, carrying her out the door and depositing her into the nearest snowdrift.

“Four runaway brides in the span of a few months does seem strange,” Emily said.

Great. If his own mom was buying into the Vows nonsense, what chance did he have?

“Until last night, no one seemed to care. Apparently, three runaway brides are acceptable. But not four.” He looked pointedly at Allegra. “The fourth one means it’s a curse.”

Allegra’s gaze narrowed, but Zander couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t quite looking him in the eye anymore. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s completely arbitrary.”

“The fact that your groom is rather high-profile wasn’t helpful. When a political candidate gets left at the altar, people tend to notice.”

Too far.

He knew he’d crossed a line the moment the words left his mouth. The article wasn’t Allegra’s fault. Not entirely, anyway. He had no right to taunt her about her almost marriage. No right whatsoever, especially given how close he’d once come to tying the knot.

He didn’t know why he was acting like such a jerk.

You know exactly why.

Allegra stared down at the newspaper.

Look at me, damn it. Look at me and tell me again that you don’t remember.

“I’m sure each and every one of those brides had a perfectly legitimate reason for walking away,” she said. Her voice had gone calm, but Zander could see the tremble in her fingertips as her hands twisted in her lap.

He hated himself just a little bit then. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to know. He needed to know. “I’d love to hear what those reasons were. Seriously, I’m all ears.”

It wasn’t the time or a place for a heart-to-heart. He was exhausted, her wedding gown was probably still lying in a heap somewhere and they weren’t even alone. But he couldn’t think straight when she was sitting there looking like that.

So beautiful. So tempting.

So lost.

“Enough.” His mother stood. “Zander, you need to get some sleep. You look like a train wreck. Besides, Allegra doesn’t have time for the third degree right now. We have to get to work.”

Allegra’s head snapped up. “Work? Emily, I’m not sure what you mean.”

His mother smiled. “The dance studio, dear. Surely you remember.”

Zander turned to go. He’d heard enough. Allegra was back in New York. Back in his life. It made sense she’d end up back at the Wilde School of Dance, as well.

It was where she belonged, even after all this time. Once upon a time Zander had belonged there, too. But those days were over.

* * *

Walking into the Wilde School of Dance was as close to going home as Allegra would ever get. It looked exactly the same as it had all those years ago. Same smooth wood floors, same mirrored walls, same old blue record player sitting on the shelf inside the studio where she’d spent the majority of her childhood.

The wave of nostalgia that hit her when she walked through the door nearly knocked her off her feet.

She’d never imagined coming back here again. Ever. But given the choice of either accompanying Emily to the studio or staying back at the brownstone with Zander had been a no-brainer. Still, she purposefully turned her back to the collection of recital photos that lined the wall of the entryway and took a deep breath.

“Why don’t you flip through the records and choose some barre music for the adult ballet class?” Emily slipped out of her coat and turned on the computer at the front desk. “You remember where they are, don’t you?”

“Sure.” Allegra couldn’t quite believe Emily’s dance school wasn’t streaming music for class, but she was happy to have something productive to do. Anything to keep her mind off the last time she’d been in this building.

The record albums were lined up on the shelves beneath the turntable, right where they’d always been. As she flipped through them, she spotted several of her favorites—music that made up the soundtrack to less complicated days, when her biggest concern had been whether or not she’d remember the steps to her competition dance numbers.

She would have given anything to be able to go back to those days.

That was impossible, obviously. She hadn’t realized just how impossible until she’d spotted Zander staring at her from across the Bennington ballroom.

Her throat grew tight. Why did she keep thinking about him?

Maybe because you’re wearing his coat.

Indeed she was. And it smelled magnificent, like cedar and sandalwood. Wholly masculine.

She wiggled her way out of it and tossed it as far as she could throw it. It landed on the chair situated at the front of the room and was now draped over the seat as if Zander himself had just slid it off his broad shoulders.

Allegra’s face grew hot. Again.

Enough thinking about Zander Wilde. She might have slept in his pajamas last night, but that didn’t mean he had any place in her thoughts. No man did. She was starting over. Alone.

She slid one of the albums from its sleeve, placed it on the turntable and gingerly lowered the needle. The familiar sound of the needle scratching against the record’s grooves filled the air. Without thinking about it, Allegra pointed her foot and began sliding it against the polished maple floor in a smooth rond de jambe.

“You always did have the best turnout,” Emily said.

Allegra moved back into a normal standing position and crossed her arms. “I didn’t hear you come in here. I was just messing around.”

“Messing around quite beautifully. You’ve kept up with your technique.” Emily winked. “It shows.”

Allegra laughed. “You can tell that from one rond de jambe?”

“I could tell before you set foot in the studio. I knew the moment I saw you. You carry yourself like a ballerina, dear.”