How To Romance A Runaway Bride

He blinked. Hard.

But it didn’t do any good. When he opened his eyes, Allegra was still sitting at the kitchen table—in his chair—with her hair piled on top of her head, staring right back at him. The Princeton coffee mug in her hand—also his—had paused en route to her pillowy lips.

The longer she gawked at him, the looser her grip on the mug became. Zander sighed and reached for it before she spilled coffee all down the front of the pajamas she was wearing, because yes, those were his, too.

The brush of his fingertips against hers as he plucked the mug out of her hand seemed to pull her out of her trance. Wide-eyed, she swiveled her gaze to his mother. “Um, Emily. You did indeed forget to tell me that Zander lives here.”

Zander wholeheartedly doubted it had been an innocent omission, mainly because his mother was avoiding looking him in the eye.

As if he didn’t already have enough going on in his life without Emily Wilde playing matchmaker. Marvelous.

He took a gulp of coffee, forgetting it was actually Allegra’s until her head snapped back in his direction. Her eyes widened, and he took another, more deliberate sip.

His house, his pajamas, his cup, his coffee.

Allegra arched a single eyebrow. “You still live with your mother?”

Technically, it was the other way around. He’d purchased the brownstone from his mother three years ago when the dance school first began to have financial troubles. But Allegra could believe whatever she wanted to believe. He didn’t want to share personal family matters with her any more than he wanted to share his pajamas.

He shrugged. “It looks that way, doesn’t it?”

Then he drained her coffee cup and set it down on the kitchen counter with a thud.

Allegra’s gaze flitted to the mug, then back to him. Her cheeks flared pink. “So what’s with last night’s suit? Is this some of kind of CEO walk of shame?”

Quite the opposite. He’d been working all night, trying to figure out a way to get ahead of the Vows column. But again, Allegra could believe whatever she wanted. Especially since he could have sworn her deepening flush had a distinctly jealous edge.

He didn’t want Allegra to be attracted to him. But he didn’t particularly hate the idea either, especially since he’d made such an idiot out of himself the night before.

He crossed his arms, giving her a clear, unobstructed view of the unfastened French cuffs of his dress shirt. “I can’t help but wonder why you find that idea so unpleasant.”

She rolled her eyes, but Zander wasn’t buying it. Not this time. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Especially since you seemed so preoccupied with marrying me the last time I saw you.”

Emily stifled a laugh.

Zander loved his mother. He really did. But at the moment, she was trying his patience about as much as the reporter from the Vows column.

He narrowed his gaze at her.

Emily cleared her throat. “Allegra, dear. You’ve got things wrong. Actually—”

“Actually, I sleep at the hotel more often than I do here,” Zander said. He didn’t need his mother to be any more involved with this situation than she already was. He had bigger problems than whatever assumptions Allegra wanted to make about either his living situation or his sex life. And he certainly didn’t want to discuss the latter in front of Emily. That would have been about the only way to make this conversation more awkward than it already was.

He cleared his throat. “The Bennington is full at the moment.”

“So I heard,” Allegra muttered.

“She had nowhere else to go, Zander.” Emily looked up at him.

He knew better than to argue, and a part of him didn’t want to. He cared too much about Allegra to turn her out on the street.

But how had she ended up so alone?

Not your problem. You have enough on your plate, remember?

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Read anything interesting this morning?”

Emily followed his gaze until she, too, was staring at the folded copy of the New York Times on the kitchen table. “So you’ve seen it.”

“Seen what?” Allegra asked.

Emily shook her head. “It’s nothing, dear.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Zander said, choosing not to examine why his mother seemed to have chosen sides in the matter.

He flipped through the newspaper until he landed on the Weddings page. His throat went dry as he looked at the headline. He’d already seen it, of course. He and Ryan had stayed up until the early-morning edition was released so they could get a full assessment of the damage.

It was extensive.

Familiar or not, looking at the words splashed below the Vows header still made his gut churn.

Is the Bennington Hotel Cursed?

He spread the paper open beside Allegra’s place mat.

“Your hotel is cursed?” She blinked up at him, and for the first time since he’d stumbled upon her sitting at his kitchen table and making herself at home, Zander allowed himself to look at her. Really look.

She was gorgeous in ways that were both foreign and familiar. How many times had she sat in that same spot? More than he could count. But never like this. Never with years of silence stretching between them. Even in his sleep-deprived state, there was a very real part of him that wanted to pull up a chair and just talk. Talk the way they used to.

He wasn’t altogether sure why that wasn’t possible. Maybe because her sudden appearance had just thrown a major wrench in his life, businesswise. Or maybe it had something to do with the way he couldn’t quite keep his gaze from straying to the enticing swell of her curves beneath his pajamas. Either way, they couldn’t just take up where they’d left off. They weren’t kids anymore.

He clenched his jaw. “My hotel is not cursed.”

“Of course it’s not.” Emily waved a dismissive hand. “We know that, dear. I don’t understand how the New York Times could say such a thing.”

“I suggest you read the first paragraph.” Zander turned toward the coffee maker and refilled the mug in his hand. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world for him to deal with the mess he had on his hands.

But when he turned back around and saw the color draining from Allegra’s face as she read the article, guilt got the better of him. He set the full cup onto the table in front of her.

She glanced up at him, blue eyes shining bright.

Don’t read too much into it, sweetheart. It’s just coffee, not an invitation to stay.

Their gazes held until Emily broke the loaded silence. “I hadn’t realized there’d been so many runaway brides at the Bennington lately. Zander, why haven’t you said anything?”

“It seemed slightly odd, but calling it a curse never crossed my mind. Probably because I’m a rational person.”

Allegra cleared her throat.