“If we’re not married by thirty, we’ll marry each other.”

Allegra Clark doesn’t expect to be a runaway bride...till she’s about to say, “I do.” Then the commitmentphobe bolts—straight into the adjacent thirtieth birthday party of the man she’d once vowed to wed. Billionaire hotelier Zander Wilde can hardly believe his eyes. The woman he never forgot, more beautiful than ever, in a gown and veil. And she’s just days away from her thirtieth birthday.

TERI WILSON is a novelist for Mills & Boon She is the author of Unleashing Mr. Darcy, now a Hallmark Channel Original Movie. Teri is also a contributing writer at www.HelloGiggles.com, a lifestyle and enter-tainment website founded by Zooey Deschanel that is now part of the People magazine, TIME magazine and Entertainment Weekly family. Teri loves books, travel, animals and dancing every day. Visit Teri at www.teriwilson.net or on Twitter, @teriwilsonauthr.

Also by Teri Wilson

The Ballerina’s Secret

His Ballerina Bride

The Princess Problem

It Started with a Diamond

Unmasking Juliet

Unleashing Mr. Darcy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

How to Romance a Runaway Bride

Teri Wilson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07783-5

HOW TO ROMANCE A RUNAWAY BRIDE

© 2018 Teri Wilson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For my friends and fellow writers in San Antonio Romance Authors, my local RWA chapter.

You all inspire and uplift me every day.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Quote

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

“You dance secretly inside my heart,

where no one else can see.”

—Rumi

Chapter One

Zander Wilde was seeing things. It was the only explanation. He was hallucinating. Or having a stroke. Anything. Because the woman in a frothy white wedding gown who’d just burst through the door of his birthday party at the Bennington Hotel couldn’t possibly be real. Not when she looked so very much like Allegra had all those years ago.

“Let’s make a deal. If neither of us is married by the time we turn thirty, we’ll marry each other,” Zander had said. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Allegra had replied.

Zander’s throat grew tight. He hadn’t thought about that conversation in a long time. A very long time. Unless the past week or so counted. But it was normal to remember such things under the circumstances, wasn’t it? He was turning thirty, and that impulsive little arrangement was a childhood memory. Nothing more. Nothing less. It didn’t actually mean anything.

Except here she was, almost a decade and a half later, dressed from head to toe in bridal white.

No one else seemed to notice her sudden appearance, so maybe she was indeed a figment of his imagination. Either that, or the party guests had been distracted by the arrival of his enormous birthday cake. With any luck, it was the former.

He tore his gaze away from her and focused instead on the cake sitting on the table in front of him. The blaze from its thirty candles warmed his face. Someone started to sing the lyrics to “Happy Birthday to You”—maybe one of his sisters or another of the Wildes. He didn’t even know. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on the very real people and the very real celebration going on around him.

He glanced back up. She was still there—the woman in white—looking even more like Allegra. Same honey-colored hair tumbling about her shoulders in waves. Same petite frame. She pressed a hand to her abdomen and took a few deep breaths, nodding to herself the way she’d always done backstage before a dance competition when she was a teenager. Zander had witnessed this private ceremony of nerves on many occasions. He’d just never seen it performed when Allegra looked like she’d recently climbed down from atop a wedding cake.

Zander blinked. Hard. This was one realistic daydream.

He cleared his throat and fixed his attention on the candles melting all over the thick frosting of the chocolate-bourbon masterpiece the hotel’s pastry chef had created. The pâtissier had really gone all out. It was just another perk that came with being CEO of one of New York’s most legendary hotels, Zander supposed. He forced himself to smile—or tried, at least—and realized the singing had stopped.

“You going to blow those out?” Ryan Wilde asked.

Everyone around the table looked at Zander. His sister Tessa and her fiancé, Julian. His mother, Emily, along with about four dozen or so other party guests. All of Zander’s staff and closest friends, including his date, whose name he couldn’t quite recall at the moment.

Susan. Or Stacy. Something that began with an S. They weren’t serious, obviously. Zander’s dalliances never were.

And now you’re seeing imaginary brides.

He was losing it.

No. No, he wasn’t. He was perfectly competent. He was at the peak of his career. Two months ago, GQ had named him one of Manhattan’s “Top Thirty Under Thirty.” He was one of the most eligible bachelors in New York, and he had every intention of staying that way.

The ancient deal he’d made with Allegra was messing with his head, that’s all. Which was more than a little irritating. Not to mention absurd on every level. Zander hadn’t set eyes on Allegra Clark in over a decade, and he was certain it had been even longer than that since she’d given him a passing thought. She’d left Manhattan without even saying goodbye.

Enough reminiscing. Some things were best left forgotten, and whatever had—or more accurately, hadn’t—gone on between him and Allegra was definitely one of those things. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath and readied himself to blow out his candles. In the second before he exhaled, he heard something. A voice from his past, as breathy and velvety soft as he remembered.

“Oh, my,” the voice said.

Zander looked up.

“It seems I’m interrupting something.” The woman standing with her back pressed to the ballroom door offered a tentative smile. “I’m sorry.”

Allegra Clark. Not a figment of his overactive imagination, but real. As real as her floor-length white gown and the bouquet of blush-pink roses in her hand.

Zander opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t seem to form words. What in the hell was going on?

“It’s nothing. Just a little birthday party,” Zander’s mother said. She shot a questioning glance at Zander and he stared back at her, paralyzed by shock.

Emily cleared her throat. “Join us. The more the merrier, and all that.”

She jumped up from her chair, scurried toward Allegra and gathered her into a welcoming hug. His sister Chloe followed suit, and Zander began to wonder if anyone was going to mention Allegra’s unusual attire or if they were going to keep pretending anything about this scenario was remotely normal.

“Thank you,” Allegra said. She cast a panicked glance at the closed door behind her. Then her chin wobbled in a way that brought about a sudden, intense ache in Zander’s chest.

He looked past Allegra, hoping with every fiber of his being that there was a groom standing somewhere nearby. Surely there was.

No such luck. There was no husband, apparently. A growing sense of panic welled in Zander’s chest, which did nothing to improve his mood. He’d single-handedly restored the Bennington Hotel to its glory days. He was one of the most powerful CEOs in the city. He could snap his fingers and in an instant, a team of security officers would materialize and discreetly escort Allegra from the building. Under no circumstances should he be losing his cool over the sight of a woman in a wedding gown.

But this wasn’t just any woman.

“Hey.” Beside Zander, Tessa frowned. “Isn’t that...”

“Yes. It is.” Since Tessa was hearing impaired, Zander signed the words in addition to speaking them in a voice that sounded angrier than he intended.

He actually hadn’t realized he was angry. Surprised? Yes. Confused? Absolutely. But angry? At Allegra? He wouldn’t have admitted as much back in the day. But he supposed he was. In reality, he’d probably been angry at Allegra for a very long time.

“Allegra Clark. Wow,” Tessa muttered. “After all this time.”

“Yep,” Zander said and drained his glass of Veuve Clicquot. He should probably do something. Or at least speak to her. But he was at a complete loss. He just sat there like an idiot, staring as his other sister and his mother made a big fuss over Allegra. They hurried her over to the bar, oohing and aahing all the way across the expanse of the ballroom.

“Let’s get you something to drink. A brandy, perhaps. You seem rattled,” his mother said.

Chloe beamed at Allegra. “Isn’t that a lovely dress, though? You look beautiful.”

She did, actually. Quite beautiful. Far prettier than Zander remembered, which was something of a shock. Even when they’d been at odds, Allegra had never failed to take his breath away.

He could remember with perfect clarity the first time it had happened—a simmering summer evening in early August. He and Allegra couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven. They’d taken advantage of her father’s place on the board of the Museum of Natural History and spent the day wandering among the dinosaurs in the building’s cool air-conditioning. Allegra had been running ahead of him, like she always did, while he struggled to catch up. Then she’d stopped suddenly to turn and say something. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what she’d said. But he remembered everything else about that moment—the swirl of starlight in the windows overhead, the massive T. rex skeleton looming behind her in the darkness, strange and beautiful.

Most of all, he remembered the way his heart had stopped when she’d smiled. It was as if he’d seen her for the very first time, this girl he’d known for as long as he’d been alive.

Allegra’s pretty, he’d thought. The realization had struck him like a physical force. He remembered clutching at the front of his T-shirt, not unlike the time a basketball had hit him hard in the back at recess and knocked the wind right out of him.

But they’d been kids back then, Allegra no more than a girl. The woman who’d just interrupted his birthday party was all grown-up, and to Zander’s great dismay, she was very possibly the most stunning creature he’d ever set eyes on. She had impossibly full lips, eyes that glittered like sapphires and an arch in her left eyebrow that gave him the impression she’d accumulated more than her fair share of secrets over the course of the past decade.

“What do you suppose she’s doing here?” Tessa turned to look at Zander.

Zander coughed and tore his gaze from the long row of tiny white buttons that ran the full length of Allegra’s spine, stopping just above the curve of her lush bottom. “How should I know?”

Tessa’s gaze narrowed. “Hey, didn’t you ask her to marry you once?”

Zander clenched his jaw. “No.”

Because he hadn’t. Not technically. They’d had a deal. A stupid, childish deal. They’d been thick as thieves back then. Either one of them could have suggested it.

It had been Zander’s idea, though.

That much he couldn’t deny.

* * *

Allegra took the glass one of the women thrust at her and cleared her throat. “Thank you, um...”

Both of the women peering back at her looked familiar.

She took a swig of the amber liquid and nearly choked. Allegra never drank alcohol straight up. Then again, she’d never run out on a wedding before. Today was a day of firsts, it seemed.

She stared into her glass. “What is this again?”

“Brandy,” the older woman said. “Neat.”

Allegra let out a snort. Neat. What a joke. There was nothing neat about her current situation. She couldn’t have made a bigger mess if she’d tried.

She took another swallow, a smaller one this time. Her head spun a little. She was vaguely aware of her bridal bouquet slipping from her grasp and falling onto the ballroom floor with a thud.

The older of the two women bent to pick it up, and when Allegra took in her straight spine and the fluid grace of her movements, reality dawned. “Mrs. Wilde?”

“Yes, dear,” she said, and Allegra blinked back tears.

Emily Wilde had been her childhood dance teacher. More than that, really. She’d been Zander’s mother. Allegra had spent more time at the Wilde home than she had her own.

Her gaze flitted to the younger woman standing beside Emily. “Chloe, is that you?”

“It is.” Chloe smiled. “It’s so good to see you, Allegra.”

What was happening? She hadn’t seen any of the Wildes in years, not since she’d left Manhattan. Now here they were, at her wedding.

No. You fled from your wedding, remember?

That’s right. Allegra probably shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach. Emily and Chloe weren’t at her wedding. Rather, they were in the room next door at some kind of fancy celebration. Allegra’s gaze drifted from one end of the dazzling ballroom to the other. There were people everywhere. In her haste to escape her nuptials, she’d dashed into the first door she’d seen. It led to an adjoining ballroom apparently.

She’d crashed a party.

In a wedding dress.

Wonderful.

Allegra closed her eyes and took another fortifying gulp of her brandy. Somewhere close by, a throat cleared. A very masculine throat.

She opened her eyes and found a dashing man dressed in what could only be called a power suit parting the crowd and charging straight toward her with a few hotel staff members trailing behind him. Everything about the man exuded confidence, from his peaked lapels and slicked-back hair to the bold Windsor knot in his tie. But beneath his arrogant exterior, there was something undeniably familiar.

Allegra’s knees went wobbly.

Zander. Zander Wilde. Her Zander.

Not that he’d ever actually been hers. They’d never dated or anything. He hadn’t taken her to prom or the homecoming dance. They’d just been friends. Best friends. And for some reason, that had made Allegra feel even closer to him than if she’d been his girlfriend. Girlfriends came and went. Zander had known her.

But that was yesterday. Now she could only stand there and try to make sense of the fact that he was wearing a three-piece suit just like the one her father had always worn. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. Not one bit. And he looked so...so...serious. Angry, even.

Allegra cast a glance over her shoulder in search of the object of his wrath, but there was no one there. She swiveled to face Zander again. Sure enough, his glare appeared to be aimed directly at her.

Her heart started pounding again. Her tummy did a little flip. But she didn’t feel panicky. No, this was something different. Something not as frightening as a panic attack. In fact, it almost felt like attraction.

Odd.

And wrong. So very wrong. This was Zander. Her friend. Or at least he’d been her friend. Now he was just...nothing. And Allegra was still wearing the dress she’d chosen to wear to her wedding. To another man. So there was nothing remotely appropriate about the butterflies swarming in her belly.

She swallowed and decided they weren’t butterflies at all. She was overwhelmed. Period. It had been quite a day. A lump formed in her throat, and she suddenly had to blink back tears.

Zander came to a stop directly in front of her. A furious knot tensed in his jaw. His very square, very manly jaw. Zander Wilde had done quite a bit of growing up since she’d seen him last.

“Allegra.” He gave her a businesslike nod, as if she was a total stranger.

Why on earth was he acting so ridiculous?

“Zander.” She threw her arms around him in a bear hug. Maybe it was a little presumptuous since they hadn’t seen each other in so many years. But gosh, it was good to see him. Better than she would ever have imagined. The lump in her throat grew threefold.

Zander stiffened and promptly peeled her arms away from him. “Could everyone let us have a word for a minute, please? In private.”

Chloe smiled at Allegra over Zander’s shoulder, then wandered to the far side of the ballroom along with the others. Emily, however, lingered.

Zander seemed to sense her presence. “You, too, Mom.”

She shook her head. “Zander, maybe you should—”

“Mom, please. This is between Allegra and me.” For a split second, his steely gaze grew soft. Allegra caught a brief glimpse of the boy she’d once known. Then before she could even smile at him, he was gone. “No one else.”

“Fine.” Emily glared at the back of her son’s head, then aimed a parting smile at Allegra. “It’s nice to see you again, dear. You look gorgeous. Such a beautiful bride.”

Bride. Oh, goodness.

In her shock at seeing Zander again, she’d forgotten all about her dress. He clearly hadn’t. The way he was staring, she might think Zander Wilde had never seen a woman in a wedding gown before.

“What was that all about? Clearing the room.” She glanced at the hotel staff nervously hovering just a few yards away. “Are those your minions? Are you going to have them escort me off the property or something?”

Allegra laughed.

Zander didn’t. Not even close. “Those are my employees. I’m the CEO of this hotel. No one is going to escort you off the property, but come on, Allegra. You can’t be serious right now. What are you doing here? And why on earth are you wearing that?”

He waved a hand at her gown, but didn’t seem to look directly at it. In fact, he appeared to avoid looking directly at her altogether and instead focused on a spot somewhere above her head.

This was getting more annoying by the minute. She’d just bailed on her wedding. She was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. She needed a nap and a good long cry. Not an argument. Especially an argument that had somehow started without her.

“I’ll tell you why I’m wearing this as soon as you explain why you’re being such a jerk. You used to be nice.” She had no intention of confiding in him. Frankly, she couldn’t think of a more humiliating idea. And she didn’t want to cry in front of him, but bitter tears were already stinging her eyes. A sob caught in the back of her throat.

She should be married right now, but here she was. Alone. Just like always.

How had everything gone so horribly wrong?

She looked Zander up and down, from the top of his perfectly groomed head to the tips of his wing tip–clad toes. She wished he wasn’t so good-looking. It made his new, smug attitude much more annoying. “What exactly is going on here?”

Zander’s gaze narrowed. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Allegra pretended not to notice how much broader that chest had gotten since eleventh grade.

“What’s going on is my birthday party. My thirtieth birthday,” he said with a tone that implied she should have known.

Ten years ago, maybe even five, she would have. But Allegra had spent more than a decade trying so hard to eradicate bad memories that some of the good ones slipped through the cracks. The bad ones never did.

Her gaze strayed toward the birthday cake on the table in the center of the room. She’d run out on a wedding and crashed her oldest friend’s birthday party all on the same day. And if the woman standing beside the cake looking slightly forlorn was any indication, she’d also interrupted Zander on a date.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your party. Happy birthday.” She swallowed. Something still didn’t seem quite right. Why would Zander, who so clearly had grown into an adult man, be so upset about a birthday party?

She didn’t care. This painful little reunion was over. Allegra had more important things to worry about—things like picking up the shattered pieces of her life. Again.

She gathered her billowing skirt in her hands and moved in the direction of the ballroom’s grand double doors. With any luck, she could somehow make it to the hotel’s registration desk without bumping into any of her wedding guests. Or, heaven forbid, the press. “I’ll just get a room and—”

Zander cut her off. “Stop, Allegra. This isn’t happening.”

“What’s not happening?” Ugh, was the hotel full? Couldn’t Mr. Hotshot CEO pull some strings and get her a room?

She hated to ask him for a favor, especially when he was looking at her like he’d love nothing more than to turn her out on the street in her Vera Wang. But there were reporters outside. She needed a room. And she really, really needed to get out of her wedding dress and into something else. Anything else. Pronto.

“This. Us.” Zander inhaled a deep, measured breath. Then he finally looked at her. Really looked. Allegra almost wished he hadn’t, because these weren’t the same eyes she remembered from her childhood, full of innocence and hope. She didn’t know the man who belonged to these eyes. “I won’t marry you, Allegra. Not now. Not ever.”

Chapter Two

Zander crossed his arms and told himself he’d done absolutely nothing wrong, despite the glare his mother was currently aiming at him from across the ballroom. He’d probably get an earful from her later on. Emily Wilde was no shrinking violet. She was a woman with strong opinions and a tendency to meddle, and now that Zander’s younger sister was happily engaged as well as dancing with a major ballet company, Emily no longer felt the need to hover over Tessa. The family matriarch had moved on to Zander’s personal life instead.

Oh, joy.

She wanted him married. She wanted grandchildren, preferably a boy, who could ensure that the Wilde family name and legacy would live on long after she was gone. Thus she made Zander curse his status as the only male offspring on a regular basis. He’d just as soon let some other guy get married and carry on the family name. Except there wasn’t another guy. Just him, a fact that was all the more painfully obvious now that he had a bride standing in front of him.

I won’t marry you, Allegra. Not now. Not ever.

Granted, it might have sounded a bit harsh, but he’d only said what needed to be said, plain and simple. Emily would no doubt accuse him of causing a scene, which was absurd. If anyone was causing a scene, it was Allegra.

She’d crashed his birthday party. In a wedding gown. Had she honestly expected him to just run off into the sunset and marry her? Had she gone insane since she’d left town?

She peered up at him, lush lips pressed together and a cute little wrinkle in her forehead. She didn’t look crazy. She looked confused. Confused and undeniably gorgeous. Looking into her luminous blue eyes made Zander’s chest hurt for some strange reason. He focused once again on the sparkling chandelier hanging over her head. That dress...those eyes—it was all too much.

“Marry me?” Her voice rang with incredulity. And if Zander wasn’t mistaken, a fair amount of amusement.

He lifted an eyebrow. You’re the one in a wedding dress, sweetheart.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, deadpan.

Zander didn’t say a word, but simply held her gaze. He’d said his piece. There was no way he’d be held to a silly promise he’d made as a kid. Now she just needed to go back to wherever she’d come from before she embarrassed herself further.

Allegra’s gaze narrowed, as if she was trying to peer inside his head. Then her pretty pink lips curved into a grin. She was smiling? Now?

Maybe she really was unstable. The poor thing.

Zander reached for her hand. A mistake. A huge one. A long time ago, he’d read something in a magazine article that said a simple touch could possess memory, a notion he’d dismissed as sentimental nonsense. Memories lived in the realm of the mind. They were made up of thoughts, images and unflinching emotions. How could a person’s flesh be capable of such complexities?

But the moment his fingertips connected with Allegra’s, something strange happened. His limbs felt looser all of a sudden, and his spirit lifted. He remembered the soaring sensation of holding Allegra in his arms and twirling across the dance floor. He remembered ice-skating in Central Park, a lacy veil of snow in Allegra’s hair and his heart pounding hard in a darkened museum. He felt like a kid again. It was like being knocked flat by a New York blizzard.

He dropped her hand and recrossed his arms. Revisiting the past had no place on his current agenda. She needed help. Obviously. He should call someone, but who? She no longer had any family in New York.

Did she have any family left at all? Anywhere?

“Look, Allegra—” he began.

She cut him off. “You seriously think I’m here because I want to marry you?”

She let out a giggle, then appeared to make a feeble attempt to keep her mouth shut. It was no use. Another giggle escaped, louder this time, until she was quite literally laughing in his face.

Allegra’s laugh hadn’t changed a bit. Once upon a time, it had been one of Zander’s favorite sounds. Not anymore. “You find the idea of marrying me amusing, do you?”

“Actually...” She cleared her throat and managed to collect herself. For the most part. There was still far too much snickering going on for his taste. “I do.”

“‘I do.’” Zander lifted an eyebrow. “You even sound like a bride.”

That managed to stop her snickering. “Oh, get over yourself. I haven’t even seen you in thirteen years.”

Actually, it was closer to fourteen. Not that Zander was counting. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from opening his mouth and saying it out loud.

Allegra’s smile faded. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You actually think I came here after all this time to drag you to the altar. Tell me, Mr. Suit, what kind of evidence do you have to support this delusion?”

Mr. Suit.

Her voice dripped with disdain. Zander probably should have expected that. He hadn’t. Then again, everything about this insane night was coming out of left field. Happy birthday to me.

“You mean other than your attire?” He ordered himself not to look at the dress again. But then he fixed his gaze on the delicate row of tiny shimmering crystals that ran along the curves of her shoulders.

“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.”

“No reservation?” His frown deepened. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any single rooms available without a reservation.”

This day kept getting better and better. “Fine. I’ll take a double.”

But the desk clerk wasn’t any more accommodating. “I’m afraid we don’t have any double rooms available either.”

Allegra’s heart started beating hard again. This couldn’t be happening.

“Fine. I’ll take the honeymoon suite.” Desperate times called for desperate measures, and these were indeed desperate times.

The hotel clerk shrugged. He was really beginning to get on Allegra’s nerves. “That room is booked, as well. We’re completely full. Without a reservation, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Full? Full? As in there’s not a room of any kind available?” It couldn’t be true. Where on earth would she go? What was she supposed to do? Go marching back into her wedding to ask her erstwhile fiancé for a ride to the airport?

Even if the hotel clerk took pity on her and came up with a room, she had no way to pay for it. She’d walked out of the ceremony with nothing but her bridal bouquet. She wasn’t even sure where her purse—and her wallet full of credit cards—was at the moment.

Why had she agreed to get married in Manhattan?

She should have insisted on a nice, simple ceremony in Cambridge, where she and Spencer actually lived. How had she let herself get talked into coming back here?

Because Spencer was a politician, that’s why. He’d wanted a big, splashy wedding, one that would look good in all the newspapers. A grand show. Allegra just hadn’t realized she was nothing but a prop.

How could she have been so monumentally stupid?

“We’re completely booked.” The clerk gave her a sympathetic smile, and something inside Allegra died just a little. “Can I do anything else for you? Call a car, perhaps?”

Behind her, someone chimed in. “That won’t be necessary.”

Allegra spun around and found herself face-to-face with Zander’s mother. Emily Wilde wasn’t exactly the first person she wanted to chat with after the oddly uncomfortable encounter she’d just had with Zander. But it was definitely preferable to talking to Zander himself. “Mrs. Wilde, hello.”

“Since when do you call me Mrs. Wilde? I’m Emily, remember?” The older woman gave her a warm smile. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just on my way out since it seems the birthday party has ended, and I overheard.”

“I was trying to get a room, but it seems the hotel is booked.”

“Winter in New York is always a busy time of year. But, of course, you know that.” Emily tilted her head. “Isn’t your birthday right around the corner? I seem to remember it being during the snowy season.”

Indeed it was. Just two weeks away. Allegra’s thirtieth, which meant if she’d ever made that ancient deal with Zander, they still had fourteen days to make good on it. Not that they’d made any such arrangement. And not that she’d ever in a million years marry the man.

When had he turned into such a grump? And what was he doing running a hotel? The Zander she knew wanted to run the family business someday. The Wilde School of Dance. She’d have been less surprised to see him starring in a Broadway play than strutting around wearing a business suit, surrounded by minions.

Zander Wilde’s profession should be the least of your worries at the moment. You’re homeless, and the only article of clothing you own is a wedding gown.

“Allegra, you don’t look well.” Emily pressed a hand to Allegra’s forehead. “You need to lie down, dear.”

Allegra nodded. Emily was right. She’d never needed to rest so much in her life. She felt like she’d been running for the better part of fourteen years. In a way, she supposed she had. But it wasn’t as if she could just curl up on the sofa in the hotel lobby.

Could she?

No, of course she couldn’t. She’d probably get in trouble. Or even arrested. She let out a hysterical laugh. Wouldn’t that be the perfect ending to this horrible day? To have Zander call the cops on her.

Zander Wilde, who thought she’d been pining away for him since the day she’d left town.

“You’ll stay with me,” Emily said as matter-of-factly as if she’d just offered Allegra a stick of gum rather than a roof over her head.

“What?” Allegra shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t...”

But Emily had already removed her coat and was wrapping it around Allegra’s shoulders as she led her toward the revolving door. “Of course you can. How many afternoons did you come home with us after dance class when you were a girl?”

More than Allegra could count. “But things are different now.” She slowed to a stop two feet from the exit. “Emily, I can’t. I’m afraid that might upset Zander. We had a disagreement a few minutes ago.”

“I heard.” Emily nodded. “Half of Manhattan heard, actually.”

Fabulous. Just fabulous.

“It doesn’t matter what Zander thinks. It’s my house, not his.” Emily gave Allegra’s waist a gentle squeeze. “And if you don’t mind my saying, it doesn’t really look like you have a lot of options.”

She didn’t. Zero, in fact.

“Allegra, dear. I can’t leave you here all alone. I owe it to your mom and dad to see that you’re taken care of.” Emily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Come on home.”

At the mention of her parents, the last shreds of Allegra’s resistance crumbled. She didn’t have the strength to fight the past. Not tonight. Not now.

Come on home.

She wanted nothing more than to go home, if only she knew how to get there.

Chapter Three

Zander stared at Ryan sitting in one of the wingback chairs opposite his desk and tried to wrap his mind around the bomb his cousin had just dropped. “A reporter called here to ask whether or not the hotel has been cursed?”

This was a first. Zander was no stranger to New York’s tabloid press. He was fully aware of how brutal it could be. But a curse? That seemed beyond ridiculous, even for a rag like the Post or the Daily News.

“She wasn’t asking exactly.” Ryan frowned. “She’s going to run with it.”

Zander released a tense exhale. He didn’t need this kind of complication. Today of all days. He was still a little rattled after his encounter with Allegra. A lot rattled, frankly. Mainly by her assertion that she didn’t even remember their marriage pact.

Then why the wedding gown?

“Fine.” He needed a drink. A real drink. No more birthday champagne. A martini, maybe. Something potent enough to eradicate the memory of the past half hour of his life, if such a drink existed. “A single negative tabloid article won’t kill us, even one that says we’re cursed. At least they get points for creativity.”

He waited for the pained look on Ryan’s face to relax a little.

It didn’t. If anything, the crease between his cousin’s brows deepened.

“It’s not a tabloid,” Ryan said. Then he uttered the only three words powerful enough to tear Zander’s thoughts away from Allegra Clark dressed in bridal white tulle. “It’s the Times.”

This had to be a bad joke. The New York Times had won more Pulitzer Prizes than any other paper in the world. “Good one. You almost had me. But the Gray Lady is a New York institution. It’s a serious publication. They’d never run a story about a hotel being cursed.”

“Think again.” Ryan lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “The Society section would.”

Zander swallowed, longing once again for the smooth burn of vodka, vermouth and a little olive brine sliding down his throat. Things were apparently worse than he’d anticipated.

The Times, for God’s sake. Only the society page, but still...

It wasn’t just the society page, though, as Zander soon realized.

Ryan took a deep breath and lowered the boom. “Specifically, the Vows column.”

Zander clenched his gut. “The Vows column? From the Sunday Wedding section?”

“The one and only.” Ryan sighed.

Having the hotel lambasted on the front page would have been better than the Vows column announcing that the Bennington was cursed. People all over the damn world read the wedding announcements in the Sunday edition of the Times. Like every other luxury hotel in Manhattan, a sizable portion of the Bennington’s business came from the wedding industry. Moonstruck brides and grooms.

He shook his head. This couldn’t happen. Not after he’d worked so hard to restore the Bennington to its former glory. “I don’t understand where this is coming from. Why would a columnist from Vows think we’re cursed?”

Ryan frowned. “You seriously have to ask?”

“I do, actually.”

I do.

The instant the words left his mouth, he remembered Allegra saying the same thing while she stood in front of him, looking like she’d just walked out of a fairy tale.

He’d taunted her. You even sound like a bride.

Now reality was finally coming together with horrific clarity.

Damn. He groaned. “We’ve had another runaway bride, haven’t we?”

“Bingo.” Ryan seemed to be fighting a smirk. “The bride who crashed your birthday party just now was the latest. You know, the one you assumed was here to strong-arm you into marrying her.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Now he did, anyway.

Zander sighed. No wonder Allegra had laughed in his face. She hadn’t turned up to make good on their deal. She’d been on the run from her own wedding to a completely different man.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. But the timing seemed awfully fortuitous. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted to believe she’d come back for him.

You sure about that?

Beneath the surface of his desk, Zander’s hands curled into fists. Of course he was sure.

Ryan’s gaze narrowed. “What’s the story there, if you don’t mind my asking? The two of you were engaged once?”

“No,” Zander said with a little too much force. Then, more evenly, he added, “It wasn’t like that.”

Ryan stared blankly at him, waiting for more.

Zander was in no mood to oblige. “Back to the matter at hand. We have two weddings on the schedule this weekend. Which one just went belly-up?”

Zander didn’t personally handle the hotel’s wedding-planning details, but as with everything else that went on beneath the roof of the fabled building, he supervised with a watchful eye. It was his job to know what was going on, and he definitely would have noticed if they’d had a wedding on the schedule with a bride named Allegra Clark.

Ryan took a beat too long to answer. “The big one. The Warren wedding.”

The Warren wedding, as in Spencer Warren, city councilman and mayoral candidate for the city of Cambridge, Massachusetts. No wonder the Times had already taken notice.

The hotel roster had listed the bride’s name as Ali Clark. So Allegra was going by Ali now?

Zander wasn’t sure what he found more surprising—the fact that Allegra had changed her name or that she’d ever considered being a politician’s wife.

It was time to face the facts. He no longer knew her. Allegra was a stranger now. She wasn’t even Allegra anymore, and she didn’t want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry her.

He also had far more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. “This is our third runaway bride in the span of a month.”

Ryan nodded. “We also had one about twelve weeks ago.”

No wonder the Times thought the Bennington was cursed. “Once the Vows column goes forward, no one will want to book a wedding here.”

“We’re screwed,” Ryan said.

“No, we’re not.” Zander gave his head a slow, methodical shake. “We’ll just have to prove them wrong.”

He wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d worked too long and too hard to let a runaway bride bring him to his knees.

Even a runaway bride he’d once been foolish enough to love.

* * *

Allegra woke the next morning when the first rays of soft pink sunlight peeked through the ruffled curtains of Emily Wilde’s guest room. Her first conscious thought was how pretty the cozy attic space looked, with its white barrel-vaulted ceiling and antique pedestal sink in the corner. Her second conscious thought was that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good night’s sleep.

It defied logic. She was homeless, for all practical purposes. Stuck in New York with no belongings, no job and no fiancé. No plan. Yet, she felt more at peace than she had in months. Maybe she’d actually done the right thing, for once. She’d made a good choice in coming back...coming home.

Except this wasn’t home. This was Zander’s mother’s house. His mother’s room. The pale gray flannel pajamas Allegra had slept in didn’t belong to her either. They were at least three sizes too big. She could only guess they’d once belonged to Zander’s father.

Still, it felt nice here. Peaceful. She peeled back the curtain and watched the snow float down from the sky. Slowly, softly, like feathers shaken loose from a pillow. A tiny black kitten tiptoed its way through the white fluff on the sidewalk down below. Everything was so picturesque that Allegra’s heart gave a little lurch.

Don’t get used to it. You can’t stay here. You cannot.

Except where else could she go?

Somehow she’d thought she could figure it all out after she got some sleep. But nothing had changed. Not really. The hotel was booked. Even if they’d had a room and even if she’d managed to locate her purse, her debit card would have only been good for two or three nights. Four at the most. She’d spent every last dime on her dream wedding. There’d been the fancy caterer, the string quartet, the flowers...

An image of her extravagant bridal bouquet falling to the floor of the Bennington Hotel’s ballroom flashed through Allegra’s mind. She squeezed her eyes closed.

Everything is going to be okay. It will.

But when she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at a pouf of tulle at the foot of the bed. Her discarded wedding dress.

Everything was not okay.

She tossed aside the sheets, climbed out of bed and headed down the curved, Victorian-style staircase to Emily’s kitchen. She needed coffee. A gallon of it, if possible.

“Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Emily sat at the kitchen table and looked up from the copy of the New York Times in her hands.

Allegra glanced at the front page. She spotted Spencer’s name in a headline just below the fold and pointedly averted her gaze.

“I slept great, thank you.” Allegra looked around the kitchen, with its blue-and-white-toile wallpaper and shelves crammed full of mismatched china teacups. It hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she’d stood in this spot.

“Come sit down.” Emily folded the newspaper closed. “I’ve got your breakfast warming in the oven.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Mrs. Wilde. Honestly, you’ve done enough.”

“Nonsense.” Emily planted her hands on Allegra’s shoulders and steered her toward the table. “And stop calling me Mrs. Wilde. We’re not in dance class. Besides, I’ve known you since you were so tiny that your head didn’t even reach the top of the ballet barre.”

Allegra sat and watched as the older woman removed a breakfast casserole from the oven that looked big enough to feed an army. Just how hungry did Emily think she looked?

“Here you go. Dig in while I get you some coffee.” Emily slid a plate in front of her.

Allegra couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked her breakfast. Or any meal, for that matter. She could get used to this kind of royal treatment if she stayed here for any length of time.

Which she most definitely would not.

She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. “This is delicious. Thank you so much. For everything. I’m not sure what I would have done last night if you hadn’t offered me your guest room.”

“You were in a bit of a pickle,” Emily said.

The understatement of the century. Allegra’s stomach churned. She set down her fork and forced herself to meet Emily’s penetrating gaze.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Maybe.

No, actually. She didn’t. Not yet, and not with Zander’s mother. It was too soon and far too humiliating. “His name is Spencer Warren. But I’m guessing you know that by now.”

Allegra glanced at the folded newspaper and her throat grew tight. Her hands started to shake, and she had to remind herself to take a breath.

Not another panic attack. Not now.

“I’ve made such a mess of things,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you did the right thing,” Emily said, and even though Allegra knew she was just saying it to be kind, it still made her feel a little better. “You can stay here as long as you wish.”

“I can’t.” It was just too awkward. What would Zander say when he found out she was staying with his mother? A lot, probably. A whole lot.

“Of course you can. I’d love to have someone to dote on.”

“But I need to get my life in order.” Starting with a job. And something to wear. And a place to live. “I’m a mess, Emily.”

“Think of it as temporary, just until you get your feet under you. A month.”

“A month?” How many times would she run into Zander if she was living at his mother’s house for thirty days? Too many. “Absolutely not.”

Emily shrugged. “A week, then. Allegra, I hate to break it to you, but you can’t reinvent yourself in one day.”

She had a point.

And a week might not be too terrible. How often could Zander come by in seven measly days? He was a CEO now. He probably spent all his waking hours at his fancy hotel. He couldn’t even make it through a whole birthday party without working, which was a pretty good indication that he didn’t have time to hang around his mother’s brownstone. Plus seven days would give her time to come up with some sort of plan.

Still, something about this didn’t feel right.

You don’t have a choice. Be grateful.

She took a deep breath. “I’ll stay a week, if you’re sure it’s no bother.”

Emily waved a hand. “Why on earth would it be a bother?”

“Because I think I embarrassed your son last night. He seemed upset.” Yet another understatement.

Emily shrugged and sipped her coffee. “He probably had it coming.”

Actually he had. The misunderstanding was 100 percent his fault. He’d assumed she’d shown up in a wedding dress to marry him after all this time. What kind of person made such a nonsensical leap?

An egotistical one. One who was pathologically cocky.

One who’d just walked into the kitchen.

Allegra choked on a bite of eggs. “Zander.”

He stood staring at her from the threshold while snowflakes swirled around his head. A shiver coursed through her, and he slammed the door behind him.

“Allegra? What are you doing here?” Zander’s gaze dropped to her pajamas, then flitted back to her face. His eyes were red, his face wind chapped. He had a serious case of bed head, yet he was still dressed in his suit from the night before. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since she’d watched him saunter out of his birthday party.

Allegra’s head spun a little. Never in her life had she seen such a handsome exhausted man. His shoulders seemed even broader than they’d been just twelve hours ago. It was baffling. And infuriating. She looked down and stared pointedly at her plate.

“She lives here,” Emily said.

Zander let out a bitter laugh. “Very funny.”

“I’m not joking. Stop being rude to our guest.”

Allegra blinked. Our guest? What did that mean? Then she remembered the enormity of the breakfast casserole. And the pajamas.

She lost her grip on her fork and it clattered to the table. She ignored it and fixed her gaze on Zander as the mortifying reality of the situation dawned. “Wait a minute. What are you doing here?”

“Zander lives here, too,” Emily said far too sweetly. “Did I forget to mention that, dear?”

Chapter Four

For the second time in less than twelve hours, Zander couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

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.

Zander glared at her. “I’m very rational.”

“I’m sure you are,” she said, but he wasn’t buying the innocent act. Not for a minute. “Tell me, did you assume all of the other runaway brides wanted to marry you, too? Or just me?”

He clenched his fists to keep himself from scooping her into his arms, carrying her out the door and depositing her into the nearest snowdrift.

“Four runaway brides in the span of a few months does seem strange,” Emily said.

Great. If his own mom was buying into the Vows nonsense, what chance did he have?

“Until last night, no one seemed to care. Apparently, three runaway brides are acceptable. But not four.” He looked pointedly at Allegra. “The fourth one means it’s a curse.”

Allegra’s gaze narrowed, but Zander couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t quite looking him in the eye anymore. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s completely arbitrary.”

“The fact that your groom is rather high-profile wasn’t helpful. When a political candidate gets left at the altar, people tend to notice.”

Too far.

He knew he’d crossed a line the moment the words left his mouth. The article wasn’t Allegra’s fault. Not entirely, anyway. He had no right to taunt her about her almost marriage. No right whatsoever, especially given how close he’d once come to tying the knot.

He didn’t know why he was acting like such a jerk.

You know exactly why.

Allegra stared down at the newspaper.

Look at me, damn it. Look at me and tell me again that you don’t remember.

“I’m sure each and every one of those brides had a perfectly legitimate reason for walking away,” she said. Her voice had gone calm, but Zander could see the tremble in her fingertips as her hands twisted in her lap.

He hated himself just a little bit then. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking. He wanted to know. He needed to know. “I’d love to hear what those reasons were. Seriously, I’m all ears.”

It wasn’t the time or a place for a heart-to-heart. He was exhausted, her wedding gown was probably still lying in a heap somewhere and they weren’t even alone. But he couldn’t think straight when she was sitting there looking like that.

So beautiful. So tempting.

So lost.

“Enough.” His mother stood. “Zander, you need to get some sleep. You look like a train wreck. Besides, Allegra doesn’t have time for the third degree right now. We have to get to work.”

Allegra’s head snapped up. “Work? Emily, I’m not sure what you mean.”

His mother smiled. “The dance studio, dear. Surely you remember.”

Zander turned to go. He’d heard enough. Allegra was back in New York. Back in his life. It made sense she’d end up back at the Wilde School of Dance, as well.

It was where she belonged, even after all this time. Once upon a time Zander had belonged there, too. But those days were over.

* * *

Walking into the Wilde School of Dance was as close to going home as Allegra would ever get. It looked exactly the same as it had all those years ago. Same smooth wood floors, same mirrored walls, same old blue record player sitting on the shelf inside the studio where she’d spent the majority of her childhood.

The wave of nostalgia that hit her when she walked through the door nearly knocked her off her feet.

She’d never imagined coming back here again. Ever. But given the choice of either accompanying Emily to the studio or staying back at the brownstone with Zander had been a no-brainer. Still, she purposefully turned her back to the collection of recital photos that lined the wall of the entryway and took a deep breath.

“Why don’t you flip through the records and choose some barre music for the adult ballet class?” Emily slipped out of her coat and turned on the computer at the front desk. “You remember where they are, don’t you?”

“Sure.” Allegra couldn’t quite believe Emily’s dance school wasn’t streaming music for class, but she was happy to have something productive to do. Anything to keep her mind off the last time she’d been in this building.

The record albums were lined up on the shelves beneath the turntable, right where they’d always been. As she flipped through them, she spotted several of her favorites—music that made up the soundtrack to less complicated days, when her biggest concern had been whether or not she’d remember the steps to her competition dance numbers.

She would have given anything to be able to go back to those days.

That was impossible, obviously. She hadn’t realized just how impossible until she’d spotted Zander staring at her from across the Bennington ballroom.

Her throat grew tight. Why did she keep thinking about him?

Maybe because you’re wearing his coat.

Indeed she was. And it smelled magnificent, like cedar and sandalwood. Wholly masculine.

She wiggled her way out of it and tossed it as far as she could throw it. It landed on the chair situated at the front of the room and was now draped over the seat as if Zander himself had just slid it off his broad shoulders.

Allegra’s face grew hot. Again.

Enough thinking about Zander Wilde. She might have slept in his pajamas last night, but that didn’t mean he had any place in her thoughts. No man did. She was starting over. Alone.

She slid one of the albums from its sleeve, placed it on the turntable and gingerly lowered the needle. The familiar sound of the needle scratching against the record’s grooves filled the air. Without thinking about it, Allegra pointed her foot and began sliding it against the polished maple floor in a smooth rond de jambe.

“You always did have the best turnout,” Emily said.

Allegra moved back into a normal standing position and crossed her arms. “I didn’t hear you come in here. I was just messing around.”

“Messing around quite beautifully. You’ve kept up with your technique.” Emily winked. “It shows.”

Allegra laughed. “You can tell that from one rond de jambe?”

“I could tell before you set foot in the studio. I knew the moment I saw you. You carry yourself like a ballerina, dear.”

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