Sleeping with Beauty (23 page)

The song ended before she was ready, but thankfully segued into another slow song. He just kept on dancing. She didn’t stop him. Halfway through, she finally dared a glance at his face, and flashed what was probably a totally gawky smile at him when she discovered he was looking at her. Her cheeks heated and she looked away again. Perma-grin firmly in place.

By the time the second song came to an end, she knew she had to do something to break this spell she seemed to be under, or she’d never be able to live with herself after this night was over. But then the third song started. And it was, in all improbability, Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose.”

The song that was her song, that she’d been so sure on prom night was going to be Their Song. Finally really was. Not even Jana could say that wasn’t a huger-than-huge honkin’ sign.

She looked into his eyes again. Only this time she didn’t look away. And neither did he. For the duration of the song, she swore her feet never touched the ground. Nor did her heart stop pounding. And she couldn’t seem to care.

By the end she felt like she was glowing. Then belatedly realized the glistening sensation was actually from perspiration. Hers. And suddenly all she could think was
Please, God, let two-sided tape be waterproof!

Why hadn’t she asked Vivian the important questions?

No matter what song came on next, she knew she had to call a halt to this magical moment before she embarrassed herself. Or exposed herself. It had been too perfect up to that point to chance ruining it. And her fantasy bubble didn’t have to burst just because they’d stopped dancing, did it? Of course not. She just needed some air.

Wait! Maybe she could get him to take her for a romantic walk on the roof terrace! The invitation had clearly said they’d have full and exclusive access, complete with magnificent views of Washington under the stars.

Jana’s imaginary look of disgust chose that moment to surface in her mind. Yes, okay, she was supposed to be looking for the right moment to cut him to the quick. And she would. Really. But would it throw her plans off so much if she sort of enjoyed his company first? Just for a little while? I mean, wasn’t that a kind of revenge, too?

At the moment, what was important was to keep him from disappearing on her. To do that, she was actually going to have to speak.

The DJ announced a short break. Her perfect cue. Another sign. She swished her hair a little, mostly to get a slight breeze along the damp nape of her neck, then offered him what she hoped was a scintillating smile, and . . . said nothing. Even the soles of her feet felt sweaty now. Which, in four-inch spikes, was just begging for disaster.

Paranoia set in, and she quickly waved her hand in front of her face like a fan, then tilted her head in the vague direction of the doors. She tried not to be obvious about her huge sigh of relief when he smiled easily and said, “Would you like to get some air? I understand we have the use of the rooftop terrace.”

It was like their minds were one! All she had to do was nod and he understood. Then he put that wide, warm palm on her lower back and she had to use all of her concentration not to slide right out of her heels and her thong panties as they crossed the room. She couldn’t even say if anyone was paying attention to them. Her gaze was focused like a tractor beam on the doors, which they were taking an agonizingly long time to reach.

But surely the whispers were starting now that the music was over and everyone was just standing about. Jason Prescott was always the center of attention. Which meant she was now the center of attention. Because she, Lucy Harper, was officially
with
Jason Prescott.

She wobbled a little just then, and he moved up and slid his hand smoothly around her waist, pulling her lightly to his side. “Careful there.”

Oh, God! At this rate she was going to dissolve into a puddle of gooey, lust-filled mush before they ever reached the terrace. So freaking pathetic. But, damn, the man smelled good. And he felt even better. It had been forever since she’d been this turned-on.

Okay, okay, so she’d never been this turned-on. Not when she was actually
with
the man in question, anyway. She had to refrain from doing a little happy dance right there, sweat or not.

She was finally getting her
bam!
moment! And it was
exactly
how she thought it would be. Or hoped it would be. She’d take one look at Mr. The Right One, and,
bam!
, that would be all it would take.

And as Jason Prescott, aka Mr. The Right One—and really, hadn’t she always known?—moved in front of her to open the door, looking down—down!—long enough to grace her with that perfect smile, she finally admitted her original plan was toast.

Chapter
18
                                                                                                                                       

T
he autumn night air felt lovely, and as Jason guided her to the quiet, unpopulated end of the terrace, she worked hard to stay calm and collected.

Having given up formulating the ultimate put-down, she could focus on other, more important things.
Don’t blow it now. Say something clever. Do that sexy hair flip. Entice him with your perfectly modulated laugh.

She hadn’t exactly mastered that last one. Last two. Okay, so she couldn’t do any of them. But she couldn’t stop wishing she could. This was her moment. Finally, all the stars were lining up just right for Lucy Harper. And if she was really lucky, she was going to get kissed beneath every single one of them.

Every rule that Vivian had taught her rolled through her mind in a hopeless jumble. All she could think about was the way the palm of his hand had slid to that spot, right at the center of her lower back. So gentle, but so strong. His step was easy, but sure. Lucy swore she felt the tension spiking between them the farther they drifted away from the terrace tables to a quiet spot by the railing. Unable to stand the suspense a moment longer, she turned to tell him—something. Anything. Now that she was finally here, she couldn’t wait a second longer to reach the moment she’d waited for her entire life.

She was saved from whatever moment-ruining thing she might have said when, at the exact same moment, Jason pulled her into his arms. Again, their thoughts were as one! Her head tipped back, his bent down. Their eyes met for a split second, then hers drifted shut as his mouth descended to hers, ending in a kiss that could only be described as fairy-tale magical.

His lips were warm and firm. His kiss confident, if not exactly bold. She didn’t care. Jason Prescott was kissing her! And he’d initiated everything! She hadn’t had to flip her perfectly straightened hair, bat one lengthened and separated eyelash, or laugh at any of his jokes, in a well-modulated tone or not.

Her fingers slid up his chest, sinking into the delicious bunching of muscle at his shoulders. She tilted her head and was just debating on whether she should open her mouth—just a little, nothing too forward or desperate—to let him know she’d be okay with a deeper kiss, when he broke contact and lifted his head.

She blinked her eyes open, but nothing seemed to want to come into focus. Was the world spinning? Or was it just her?

“Wow.”

Had she blurted that out? She quickly tried to force her scattered thoughts and emotions into some semblance of normalcy. Ha. Fat chance. She’d just been kissed senseless by Jason Prescott. Surely she was allowed a kind of stunned “wow.”

Except she was pretty sure that “wow” had been uttered in a distinctly deeper voice. Which meant . . . She blinked again, and her heart pounded even more furiously. She finally brought Jason’s smiling face into focus, and though it was indulgently smug to even think it, she could swear he looked a little stunned. She smiled at him. Okay, so it might have been a full-out loopy grin. There might have even been a little drool. She couldn’t be sure. Nor could she seem to care. Not only had Jason Prescott kissed her, her kiss had rated a slightly stunned “wow”!

She’d done it! Well, she and Vivian and a staff of highly trained professionals. Which was when she had her first breath of reality.

He’d gone for the fantasy of Lucy Harper. Not the real Lucy Harper. What happened if—could she be that lucky!—he asked to see her again. Or, God forbid, offered to take her home?

Suddenly it was like the condoms in her purse were radioactive. She felt a distinct disturbance in the atmosphere by their mere proximity. She had made it through the kiss without incident, but that didn’t mean she was ready for anything that might require any kind of discussion regarding birth control. Much less the actual use thereof.

Okay, Lucy, plan, plan.
But Jason was staring at her with a look that had all the hallmarks of desire—hooded gaze, intent focus. Yes, this was a man contemplating another kiss. And she hadn’t had time to correctly analyze the first one. Moments like this didn’t come along every day for her. Or even every year. In fact, putting this into the once-in-a-lifetime category probably wasn’t overstating things. So she could hardly risk being spontaneous about it, now, could she?

She needed to buy a few moments to collect herself, to get her act together and reformulate her entire strategy. She did the first thing she could think of. She fanned her face a little—yes, it was lame, but it was all she had in her trick box at the moment. Besides, it had worked before! She could only hope he thought it was his kiss that had her overheating. When, in reality, it had been the mercifully brief vision she’d had of him taking off that tux . . . then patiently waiting for her to get out of this dress.

Was there a seductive way to peel off double-sided tape?

“I—I could use something to drink.” She recalled seeing a bar set up on the opposite end of the terrace.

“Certainly,” he said, his perfect White Knight teeth gleaming. “Wait right here.”

Her ploy worked a little too well, however, as she found herself altogether too quickly abandoned at the terrace railing. Maybe she should have attempted at least a moment or two of clever banter. “Right, because the witty bon mots were just waiting to trip off your tongue.” “Trip” being the key word, most likely.

But instead of bemoaning her suddenly single status, she would use these critical minutes to figure out how she wanted the evening to go. Then come up with a plan to make that happen. “Sure,” she muttered beneath her breath. “Right after I solve the world energy crisis and bring peace to the Middle East.” Once a nerd, always a nerd.

They had yet to actually have even the bare minimum of a conversation. Surely he planned to talk to her. In between more kisses, that is. She shivered a little at the thought of his mouth on hers again. She’d never dreamed that—

“Didn’t your fairy godmother tell you never to leave home without your cape?”

Lucy jerked her head around at the familiar voice. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Grady stood before her, wearing a retro 1980s tuxedo-print T-shirt and a loosely constructed black suit jacket, holding the beaded shawl she must have dropped somewhere between the ballroom and the terrace.

“Coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress?” he said, offering her the silk wrap.

He had that same wry twist of the lips of the Grady of old. And for a split second, her entire being seemed to settle down and relax. Except Grady hadn’t been her sanctuary lately. And as much as she wanted to hide in the shelter of his confident charm, she resisted. Wasn’t tonight all about learning to stand on her own two feet?

She took the shawl from him and smiled briefly. “Thanks.” She prayed he disappeared before Jason came back. He hadn’t recognized her yet, but he might remember Grady. She didn’t want him putting two and two together until she had a better handle on what was happening between the two of them. Seeing her together with Grady, he of the curly mop of hair that hadn’t changed much since his senior-year photo, which she noted he hadn’t pinned to his lapel, either, might trigger some latent memories. None of them good. She wanted to build a few more current ones before risking dredging up any ancient ones. If she ever did.

Plus, Grady wasn’t always known for observing a proper sense of decorum. If he thought action should be taken, he took it. If something needed to be said, he said it. And damn the consequences. So there was no telling what he’d do when he found out who she was with. Especially after her repeated insistences that she was here for herself, not to land Jason Prescott.

Which meant she had to get rid of him. The irony. After wanting him to be there for her these past couple of months, when he finally came through, she couldn’t wait for him to disappear. She told herself she’d make it up to him later, explain everything. That is, if she could. She just wanted this one fairy-tale night. Was that too much to ask?

“I, uh, I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead at a, how did you phrase it? ‘An event that glorifies the age-old coda of class distinction and the importance of being popular through the ages.’”

Grady shrugged, gave her his most endearing, puppy-dog look. What most people missed was the wry, twisty lip smile thing. Always a sign to never fall for the puppy-dog part. Women never seemed to get that about Grady. Of course, she wasn’t sure Grady cared all that much. The puppy-dog look had its bonuses, as well, apparently.

“Jana made me.”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “She did not!”

The twisty smile grew. “Well, no. But she lobbied awfully hard. She was actually planning to come. With Dave. As a surprise to you. And maybe a collective finger to our lovely graduating class.”

The three of them had discussed, early on when the invites had first arrived, the pros and cons of attendance. On the pro side was the fact that Jana was both a well-respected journalist now, and she happened to be married to an even more well-known local icon, the Capitals’ goalie. This would have given her instant entrée into the inner circle they’d so coveted in their stupid formative years.

They’d even debated on how, once Jana was firmly ensconced, she’d bring in Lucy and Grady, then make some scathingly grand social commentary on how shallow they all still were, to hold job titles and marital status higher than personal truths and real friendship.

Ultimately they’d discarded their plans for global reunion domination. Mostly because Jana didn’t need to make a scene that might be overheard, or, God forbid, photographed, and elevate their little-known event into the national eye. She didn’t need to be quoted in the gossip column of her very own paper.

Grady hadn’t wanted to go at all. Which left Lucy to make the decision on her own. So as much as she appreciated the Musketeerian show of support, she also kind of resented the idea that, in the end, her friends had thought she couldn’t handle it on her own.

“She’s still having a really hard time with her round-the-clock morning sickness. So she blackmailed me, instead.”

Lucy smiled despite her mild annoyance. “Oh? I didn’t realize she had ‘blackmail’ material on you. I see we’re going to have to have a little talk.”

Something flitted across Grady’s face, a brief expression of . . . well, she couldn’t really name it. But it hadn’t been positive. “She’d probably appreciate the visit,” he said.

What went unsaid, but was well heard, was the attendant, “when you can find time to squeeze her in.”

Lucy knew her obsession with tonight had caused her to exclude her friends more than she’d have liked to. But if they’d been more supportive, maybe she wouldn’t have felt like she had to. They didn’t want to know all about her plans. So she hadn’t felt inclined to share the details with them. She’d just have to defend them, and frankly, she was a little tired of it.

For a split second she thought that maybe it would be a good idea if Jason were to stroll back to her just then, after all. Show Grady, who would certainly tell Jana, that she could hold her own. That in fact, not only had she not embarrassed herself tonight, she’d landed the very available, much-talked-about former prom king as her dance partner and up-on-the-roof kissing partner. One she wanted to reclaim before any more of her perfect evening was wasted. Speaking of which, where was Jason, anyway?

She surreptitiously glanced beyond Grady’s shoulder. “Well, tell Jana I really appreciate her concern from afar. And her sending in the Black Knight to do her dirty work. But I’m holding my own just fine, thank you very much.” She’d meant to say that last part with a smiling sense of reassurance. Perhaps it had come out a bit more defensive than that.

Grady’s expression had faltered a bit at the Black Knight comment. He looked her up and down for the first time. And in that one look Lucy felt every bit the imposter they both knew she was tonight. Any charitable sense of kinsmanship she’d felt she owed him fled in that second. How dare he come here and try to ruin her night when he knew how much it meant to her? No matter whether he believed in it or not.

“You do look amazing, Cinderella,” he said. And she was momentarily caught off guard by the almost sincere-sounding note in his voice, the hint of what had sounded a lot like awe. She’d been prepared for acerbic. For dry. Maybe even sarcastic. His expression had telegraphed as much, after all.

So she didn’t answer right away. She fidgeted for a moment. Suddenly feeling like Lucy Harper, circa senior year. The tape was itchy. And these heels were killing her arches. Her calves were knotting up from the unbalanced gravitational pull she was placing on them. Plus her thong might need to be surgically removed at this point. Not one of these things had occurred to her the entire time she was with Jason. She’d been floating on air.

She wanted to float again, dammit.

“Thanks. I, uh, I need to go see what happened to my date,” she finally stammered, then tried not to look mortified that she’d given it away, so inelegantly, after all her worrying and to-and-fro-ing.