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Barb grinned. “Like a dog with a bone, that’s me. Look, one last try at finding Prince Charming can’t hurt.”
“There are no princes, there are only toads.”
“You’re a tough woman, Madison Whitney.”
“No, I’m a sucker for an old friend.”
“You’ll go?”
Madison nodded. She’d go, but only because it meant a lot to Barb. Come Monday, she’d put all this nonsense behind her.
The procedure would take.
She would get pregnant.
She’d have a baby, raise it alone and give it all the love in her heart.
CHAPTER TWO
BY THE time Tariq’s taxi pulled up in front of the town house in the Sixties, he was having second thoughts.
Second thoughts? The truth was, he was on thirds and fourths.
What on earth had made him come here? He was looking for a wife, and were the chances of that happening at a summer party in Manhattan?
The cabbie looked at him. “Mister? You getting out or not?”
Not, he thought, but he was here. He might as well go inside.
The cab pulled away and Tariq looked around him. The street, bounded at either end by wide, busy, heavily trafficked thoroughfares, was tree-lined and quiet like many others in this part of the city but by the time he got to the front door, he could hear the beat of overamped music.
Finger poised above the bell, he hesitated.
It was not too late to change his mind. Strike three, he thought with a mixture of amusement and irritation, but not an important one. He’d go home, change into his running gear and head out again. A couple of miles through Central Park, perhaps he’d clear his head enough to stop thinking about obligation and duty and—
The door swung open.
One hundred and twenty decibels of guitar riff inundated him. A brunette with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other tilted her head back and flashed him a delighted smile.
“Well, well, well,” she said, “such a nice package to find on the doorstep!”
She was a nice package, too, especially in a translucent dress that would have been bedroom lingerie meant only for a husband’s eyes in his country but was the latest fashion in these circles.
“Isn’t it lucky for both of us I decided to step outside for a cigarette right this second?”
Her smile, her voice… This was the opening gambit of a game he’d played dozens of times. A few drinks, some conversation and he’d take her home. To her bed, not his, because it was less complicated that way, whether what began tonight lasted for a few weeks or even a couple of months. And then, inevitably, he’d lose interest and she would demand to know why…
The woman moved closer. “Aren’t you coming in?”
She lay her hand on his arm. He looked down at her crimson-tipped fingers, then at her face. She was beautiful but the truth was, there’d be a dozen more just like her inside. Beautiful women who’d throw themselves at him because of his looks—there was no point in being modest about what was, basically, a gift of nature that had nothing to do with him.
And when they found out who he was, that he had a title and more money than even he could comprehend…
No, he thought, he was not in the mood for that tonight.
“Sorry,” he said politely, “but I seem to have come to the wrong address.”
“Silly,” she said, moving closer, letting her breasts brush against his arm. “You’ve come to exactly the right address—but if you’d prefer, we can go someplace quiet.”
Suddenly everything about the situation was distasteful. Tariq’s expression hardened; he shook her hand away and stepped back.
“I’m not interested,” he said coldly. Her face filled with color and he told himself he was being a son of a bitch, but—
“Your highness!”
Tariq jerked his head up. One of his attorney’s younger partners was hurrying toward him. Hell, he thought grimly. He was trapped.
The brunette made a quick recovery. “Your highness?” she said in a breathy voice. “You mean, you’re a king?”
“It’s an old joke,” Tariq said sharply, “and not a very good one. Isn’t that right, Edward?”
The lawyer looked puzzled. Then, to Tariq’s relief, he grinned.
“A joke. Oh, yeah, absolutely.” He reached out, as if to clap Tariq on the shoulder, thought better of it and, instead, made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Come on—sir. Let me get you a drink.”
“Hey,” the brunette said.
Tariq ignored her and followed the lawyer into the house. It wasn’t easy; the place was packed with people but, finally, they found a small patch of empty space.
“Tariq. Your highness—”
“No, please. Call me by my name. Did I get your name right? It is Edward, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Well, Edward, this has been a very long week for me. The last thing I need tonight is to have anyone treat me with formality.”
“Of course, sir.” The young lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Strickland—John—will be delighted to see you. Let me just find him and—”
“That’s not necessary. I’d just as soon wander around a bit on my own. You know, unwind.”
“Ah. I get it. You want to spend the evening under the radar. Sure. Whatever you like, your highness.”
Tariq thought of correcting the man again, but what for? Five minutes and he’d be out of here. Monday, he’d have his P.A. send flowers to John Strickland and his wife, along with a card thanking them for their hospitality and wishing them well in their new home.
So he smiled, exchanged a handshake with Edward and watched him melt into the crowd.
A waiter came by with a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Tariq shook his head. Another waiter, another tray. The third time, just to avoid having another tray thrust at him, he accepted something that looked like it might have flown away if a frilled red toothpick hadn’t kept it anchored to a sliver of toast. He held on to it for a while, then inched toward a table and surreptitiously deposited it on a half-filled plate…
“Are you alone?”
The voice was soft and came from just behind him. Tariq turned and found himself looking at a blonde. Here we go again, he thought.
And then he stopped thinking. Logically, at any rate.
The brunette had been beautiful. This woman was—hell, she was spectacular.
Her hair was the color of spring wheat, falling in soft waves around her oval face. She had high, elegant cheekbones; her mouth was full and soft-looking. Her eyes were dark brown and bright with intelligence. She was tall and slender, her curves accented by a simple black silk dress that clung to her high breasts, narrow waist and gently rounded hips like a lover’s caress.
“I said, are you alone?”
The same game, but a different gambit. Maybe he needed a break from the routine of the last weeks.
Maybe the evening was looking up after all.
He smiled, took the single step that brought him closer to her.
“What happens if I say yes?”
“If you say yes, you’ll save my life.”
“I’m impressed. Such high drama at a run-of-the mill party.”
A quick smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Okay, you won’t save my life but you’ll save me from being unkind to a toad. Can you do that?”
“A toad?”
“A man. He just looks like a toad.”
“Ah.” Tariq grinned. “So, I’ll get an award from the Save the Toads Society?”
The blonde laughed. Her laugh was charming, light and easy and natural.
“Something like that. Look, it’ll only take a few minutes. Just talk to me. Smile. Cocktail party stuff. Please?”
“Well,” Tariq said, looking serious, “if it’s to conserve wildlife…”
“Wonderful. Thank you.” She looked past his shoulder. “There he is,” she said softly, and she flashed him a bright smile. “Oh,” she said gaily, her voice just loud enough to carry beyond the two of them, “that’s so true! I wouldn’t have put it that way, but—” She stopped in midsentence and rolled her eyes. “He’s gone.”
“Toads have a way of doing that,” Tariq said solemnly. “Here one second and then, hop, gone the next.”
She gave another of those wonderful laughs as she looked up at him. Her eyes weren’t just brown, he noticed, they were the color of rich chocolate.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, reached out and traced the arc of one perfect cheekbone with the tip of his finger. “What’s your name?”
“My name?”
“Your name. Your address. Your phone number.” His voice grew husky. “We can start there, habiba.”
“You mean—you mean, you think…” Her face took on a hint of color. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t coming on to you. Seriously I’m…” She looked past him. “Oh, darling,” she trilled, “yes, thanks, I’d love to!”
Tariq raised an eyebrow. “The toad is back?”
“Yes.”
“If he’s done something to offend you, habiba…”
“No. Nothing like that. I just couldn’t lose him. And I didn’t want to come straight out and tell him he was wasting his time.”
“A woman with a heart.” Tariq’s voice dropped to a husky growl. “What about me, habiba. Am I wasting mine?”
Oh God, Madison thought, out of the frying pan and into the fire—except, this fire could absolutely burn a woman to a crisp…
And leave her thrilled it had happened.
Not a woman like her, of course. Not one who wanted no more of these silly games, but a woman who was impressed by good looks, a sense of humor, clothes that said a man had money, could definitely be in trouble any second.
And sex appeal. No point denying that. This man was sexy as hell.
Not like the toad.
He’d cornered her an hour ago, managed to separate her from Barb, or maybe Barb had done the separating. Either way, Madison had found herself trapped in a corner while he talked about himself. His success. His money. His genius in a high-tech field.
“Well, that’s interesting,” she’d said, when he’d paused for breath. “I’m in a high tech field, myself, and—”
She might as well not have bothered. He’d started talking again, his words silencing hers, about his expensive condo, his expensive car, his Miami pad…
“Oh, there’s someone I promised to say hi to,” Madison had said brightly, and she’d zoomed straight for the only man who’d seemed to be by himself.
She’d wanted a savior.
What she’d found was a man who would never save a woman from anything but would surely lead her straight into sin.
He was gorgeous. There was no other word to describe him. Tall, tall enough to still tower over her even though she was wearing spiked heels. Dark-haired, with eyes so gray they were almost silver. Broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs. He had the faintest accent that only added to his sex appeal.
He was a magnificent predator and it would be oh, so easy to celebrate this last night before her life changed forever by giving in to what was happening because she knew it was happening, that he wanted to take her home, take her to bed and she—and she—
Madison took a shaky breath and stepped back. Or tried to step back; the room was so crowded that she couldn’t.
“Listen,” she said quickly, “What I started to tell you a couple of minutes ago is the truth. I don’t blame you for misunderstanding. I mean, it’s my fault entirely, but—”
“Have we met before?”
Her eyebrows lifted. Such a trite line from a guy like this?
