How To Romance A Runaway Bride

“Circumstantial evidence,” she said, sounding like the lawyer’s daughter she’d been. Then she shrugged, and those glittering crystals dazzled beneath the soft light of the chandelier. “You’re going to have to do better than that. Who says what I’m wearing has anything to do with you?”

“We did. You and me. Fourteen years ago.”

He waited for her expression to betray her resistance, for a hint of what had transpired between them so long ago to show on her porcelain face. They’d loved one another once. Not romantic love, but something quite different. Something deeper.

Or so he’d thought.

She blinked but kept on looking at him like he was the one who was acting nuts. “I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about.”

He had to give her credit. She was doing a good job of feigning innocence. A great job, actually.

Zander took a step closer. He didn’t want to humiliate her in front of Manhattan’s glittering elite. He just wanted to put a stop to things once and for all. If he was being honest, he also wanted her to leave. The sooner the better.

He’d grown accustomed to life without her. Things were simpler now. Rational. Predictable. Sure, it had been hard at first. There had been times when he’d closed his eyes and still seen her wild thicket of dark hair and those legs that seemed to go on forever as she struck a ballroom-dance pose. And maybe the warm vanilla scent of her perfume had lingered on his favorite sweatshirt for a time after she’d gone. But eventually it had faded away.

As had his questions.

Why had she left without saying goodbye? Why hadn’t she ever come back, even for a visit?

Had she missed him the way he’d missed her?

He didn’t want to ask those questions anymore, but if she stayed too long, he would. He knew he would. And he wasn’t altogether sure he’d like the answers.

After the accident, she’d gone to live with her aunt in Cambridge. That much he knew. But Boston was just a train ride away. He’d never for a moment suspected she’d gone away for good.

Zander lowered his voice. “You can stop pretending, Allegra. We both know the truth. You’re here because of our deal.”

She frowned. “What deal?”

If Zander hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she’d actually forgotten. But that wasn’t possible. Was it?

Of course not.

Still, her acting skills had improved since her disastrous audition for the eighth-grade play. She’d cried in Zander’s arms for hours after school that day.

He swallowed. “The deal we made to marry one another if we were still unattached by our thirtieth birthdays.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t remember that at all.”

Zander stared. If Guy Lombardo’s orchestra had appeared out of nowhere and begun to play “Happy Birthday to You,” he’d have been less surprised. She wasn’t here because of their deal. She didn’t even remember it.

Unbelievable.

“Are you sure you didn’t have that arrangement with somebody else? Gretchen Williams, maybe?” Allegra said.

“Gretchen Williams?” She couldn’t be serious. He’d gone out with Gretchen exactly three times, and that had been three times too many. Besides, the last he’d heard, Gretchen had moved to Connecticut and had five kids. She hadn’t needed a backup plan. “Absolutely not. It was you.”

It was always you.

Zander’s temples throbbed. He needed to get out of here.

But this was his place of business. He practically lived here. Disappearing wasn’t an option. Besides, wasn’t that Allegra’s specialty?

“I see.” Allegra’s voice went soft, and she looked at him for a long silent moment. And somehow the silence between them seemed more truthful than anything they’d yet to say to one another.

Zander had the sudden urge to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and greet her the way he should have the moment she’d walked through the door. When she’d gone away all those years ago, her absence had just about killed him. He’d missed her, damn it. He still did, even after all this time.

Then Zander’s cousin Ryan appeared at his side. The fact that Ryan was wearing his serious hotel-management face rather than his party-going-family-member face ensured that whatever sentimental moment Zander and Allegra might be on the verge of sharing was officially ruined.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Zander, I hate to interrupt. But we’ve got a problem. A big one.”

“Right.” Zander nodded. He couldn’t decide if he should curse the interruption or be grateful for it. He gave Allegra a tight smile. “It was good to see you again. My apologies for the misunderstanding.”

Then he turned his back on Allegra Clark without waiting for an explanation or even a goodbye. After all, parting words had never been their strong suit.

* * *

The sight of Zander’s retreating pinstripes jarred something loose inside Allegra. Something that almost made her knees buckle. Something that made her feel dangerously close to coming apart at the seams.

She took a deep breath and counted to ten as she watched him walk away. He murmured something to the man beside him, strode past the untouched cake and disappeared through the ballroom’s gilded double doors.

He’d walked right out of his own birthday party without so much as an apology. Or even an explanation.

Typical suit.

Allegra couldn’t remember any of her own birthday parties that hadn’t been interrupted in a similar fashion. Until she’d turned sixteen, obviously. On her sweet sixteen, she would have given anything to have her father there, kissing her cheek as he dashed off to some kind of work emergency.

Her throat grew tight. She squared her shoulders, slipped out of the ballroom and marched toward the registration desk. She’d managed to walk out on her own wedding today without shedding a tear. She would not let a brief encounter with Zander Wilde reduce her to a weepy mess.

Anyway, she was perfectly fine. She’d just been rattled to see him after so many years, which was totally normal. There was nothing to be emotional about at all as far as Zander was concerned.

Except that he thought you’d come back to marry him, of all things.

“Can I help you?” The young man behind the registration desk beamed at her. “Let me guess—you’re checking into the honeymoon suite?”

“Um, no.” She shuddered. “Definitely not.”

“Oh.” He glanced at her dress. Allegra couldn’t wait to take off the horrid thing. She just wanted to wrap herself up in one of the hotel’s thick terry-cloth robes, climb into bed and sleep for a while. A century, maybe. “Well, uh, how can I assist you, then?”

“I just need a room.” Before he could ask, she added, “A single, not a double.”

He frowned. “For just one person?”

Allegra sighed. Mightily. “Yes.”

He nodded but still managed to look utterly perplexed. Too bad. “May I ask the name on the reservation?”

“I don’t have one.”