out on his own, finding success at a very early age, even in the era of twenty-something multi-millionaires. His predilection for beautiful and famous women had placed him solidly in the gossip columns, even though he’d once told Chloe that he’d long since moved beyond that fascination.
Still, a man with his looks, his money and his access to the most exclusive social circles was bound to stir the imaginations of a celebrity-obsessed society, and Bryan hadn’t been able to take himself out of the public eye once he’d moved into it. Rather than running from the attention and becoming a privacy-obsessed hermit, he had learned, instead, to manipulate it—as he was doing now with Grace. There were still drawbacks to the fame, of course—the constant awareness of security among the worst, in her opinion, but he seemed to be comfortable enough with his life as far as Grace could determine.
She wondered if he’d given up on finding a suitable mate to share that life with, or if he was only waiting until after Chloe and Donovan’s wedding to resume his carefully calculated search.
Not that she was particularly interested in Bryan Falcon’s future private life, she assured herself, even as he asked for the benefit of a hovering waiter, “Would you like dessert, darling? The strawberry cheesecake is excellent here.”
The one thing she looked forward to when this farce was over was shoving his “darlings” right back in his pretty face. Grace made sure no hint of that rather ferocious fantasy was evident when she smiled and murmured sweetly, “No, I’m fine, thank you.”
She could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he’d guessed at least the essence of her thoughts. They’d been spending entirely too much time together if they were starting to read each other’s thoughts, she promptly decided.
Chloe was watching them again, and for some reason that made Grace uncomfortable. Though they’d never had that eerie psychic bond some identical twins claimed, there were times Grace had to make a real effort to keep Chloe from reading her too closely. There were aspects of Grace that even Chloe didn’t know, and Grace kept it that way deliberately. She had always disliked feeling stifled. As much as she loved her sister, there were times when she felt smothered by being half of an identical pair. She had her ways of rebelling, of breaking loose at times, but she kept that part of her life completely separate.
“Don’t forget about your fitting tomorrow afternoon,” Chloe reminded her as the two couples prepared to part after the meal.
Grace wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why I need to be measured and pinned and fussed over. Just try my dress on while you’re being fitted for yours. If it fits you, we know it will fit me.”
Chloe sighed. “I know you hate fittings, but it won’t take long. You really do need to try the dress on yourself—just in case. Besides, you haven’t even seen it. What if you don’t like it?”
“It doesn’t matter if I like it. It’s your wedding. That gives you the right to choose the maid of honor’s dress.”
“You see how difficult she is?” Chloe complained to the men.
Grace watched as Bryan and Donovan exchanged a quizzical look. “Difficult?” Bryan asked tentatively. “She’s letting you make all the decisions. That sounds pretty cooperative to me.”
“Now you’re being difficult,” Chloe accused him with a shake of her head.
Bryan turned a questioning glance at Grace, who shrugged and mouthed, “Bridal jitters.”
He seemed satisfied by that explanation.
Chapter Three
T he long, busy day had left Grace tired, so that she was very quiet when Bryan took her home. He drove her in a car that had somehow become available to him at the restaurant. She no longer questioned how everything he needed seemed to simply materialize at his fingertips.
He lingered in the hallway outside her converted-loft apartment until she unlocked the door. She suspected courtesy suggested that she invite him in for a drink, but she really just wanted to be alone for now.
He seemed to sense her feelings. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded and turned her doorknob. That might have been the end of the evening had the door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway not opened at that moment, accompanied by a burst of voices and laughter. Bryan seemed to react on sheer instinct, reaching out to pull her into his arms without any warning of his intentions. His mouth was on hers before she could ask what the heck he thought he was doing.
Maybe it was the element of surprise that kept her from resisting. Or maybe it was the awareness of those onlookers and the role she had agreed to play for the next few weeks. Telling herself this was only an act and Bryan was merely playing to their audience, she forced herself to relax and appear cooperative.
The problem was that it was all too easy to forget this was only an act. Whatever other problems she might have with him, Bryan Falcon certainly had a talent for clearing an otherwise intelligent woman’s mind of all coherent thought.
The sounds of voices faded away as Bryan’s mouth moved on hers.
Grace couldn’t have said whether it was because the newcomers had stopped talking or her ears had simply stopped working. It seemed all she could concentrate on was the way his lips felt against hers, the strength of his arms around her, the warmth of his lean body as it pressed against hers. She found herself clutching his shirt, the expensive fabric gathered tightly in her fingers as she steadied herself. For some annoying reason, her legs were proving a bit unreliable at the moment.
She must be more tired than she had thought.
She pushed her heavy eyelids upward as Bryan slowly drew his lips away from hers. His gleaming midnight-blue eyes were very close to hers, their expression intense but impossible to interpret. Blinking to clear her vision, she glanced around the hallway to find that it was empty now, her neighbors having discreetly entered their own apartment.
Bryan’s arms were still around her. She took a half-step backward, bumping against her apartment door. “Well…” she murmured, irked when her voice came out a croak. She cleared it quickly. “I guess that capped the performance for today.”
Just a hint of a smile touched his lips. He dipped his head toward hers again. “How about an encore?”
Groping behind her with one hand, she quickly turned the doorknob, pushed the door open and moved another step backward. “Sorry. Final curtain.”
With a good-natured smile, he straightened. “Good night, Grace.”
She let herself into her apartment and closed the door behind her. And then she sagged against it, listening until Bryan’s footsteps had faded away and the rumble of the elevator indicated he was gone.
“Elvis has left the building,” she muttered, trying to find humor in a situation that had grown entirely too disconcerting.
Her lips were still tingling from his kiss, her stomach still fluttering like crazy. It had been a long time since she’d been involved with anyone—not since her engagement had ended a year ago, actually. Maybe, when this was all over, she should consider getting out more.
“Stand still, Grace. You’re making it very difficult for Mrs. O’Neill to fit you.”
