“You are obnoxious and uptight at times. Other times …”

She circled a hand in the air, trying to pluck out one or two of his less irritating traits. “Other times you surprise me, Mr Ambassador. Like tonight, for instance, when you got behind the bar. You went above and beyond the call of duty there.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said smugly. “And that reminds me. I was promised payment for services rendered.”

“So you were. Have you given any thought to what form that payment should take?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I haven’t thought of anything else all evening.”

Red flags went up instantly. Gina knew she was playing with fire. Knew the last thing she should do was slide her feet off his lap and curl them under her, rising to her knees in the process.

All she had to do was look at him …

* * *

The Diplomat’s Pregnant Bride is part of the Duchess Diaries duet:

Two royal granddaughters on their way to happily ever after!

The Diplomat’s Pregnant Bride

Merline Lovelace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A career Air Force officer, MERLINE LOVELACE served at bases all over the world. When she hung up her uniform for the last time she decided to combine her love of adventure with a flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her own experiences in uniform. Since then she’s produced more than ninety action-packed sizzlers, many of which have made the USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. Over eleven million copies of her books are available in some thirty countries.

When she’s not tied to her keyboard, Merline enjoys reading, chasing little white balls around the fairways of Oklahoma and traveling to new and exotic locales with her handsome husband, Al. Check her website at www.merlinelovelace.com or friend her on Facebook for news and information about her latest releases.

To my gorgeous niece Cori and Jane and the rest of the crew at Clayton on the Park, in Scottsdale. Thanks for the inside look at the ups and downs of an event coordinator’s life!

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Prologue

I could not have asked for two more beautiful or loving granddaughters. From the first day they came to live with me—one so young and frightened, the other still in diapers—they filled the empty spaces in my heart with light and joy. Now Sarah, my quiet, elegant Sarah, is about to marry her handsome Dev. The wedding takes place in a few hours, and I ache with happiness for her.

And with such worry for her sister. My darling Eugenia has waltzed through life, brightening even the sourest dispositions with her sparkling smile and carefree, careless joie de vivre. Now, quite suddenly that carelessness has caught up with her. She’s come face-to-face with reality, and I can only pray the strength and spirit I know she possesses will help her through the difficult days ahead.

Enough of this. I must dress for the wedding. Then it’s off to the Plaza, which has been the scene of so many significant events in my life. But none to match the delight of this one!

From the diary of Charlotte,

Grand Duchess of Karlenburgh

One

Gina St. Sebastian forced a smile to hide her gritted teeth. “Good Lord, you’re stubborn, Jack.”

“I’m stubborn?”

The irate male standing before her snapped his sun-bleached brows together. Ambassador John Harris Mason III was tanned, tawny-haired and a trim, athletic six-one. He was also used to being in charge. The fact that he couldn’t control Gina or the situation they now found themselves in irritated him no end.

“You’re pregnant with my child, dammit. Yet you refuse to even discuss marriage.”

“Oh, for...! Trumpet the news to the whole world, why don’t you?”

Scowling, Gina craned her neck to peer around the bank of gardenias shielding her and Jack from the other guests in the Terrace Room of New York City’s venerable Plaza Hotel. With its exquisitely restored Italian Renaissance ceiling and crystal chandeliers modeled after those in the Palace of Versailles, it made a fabulous venue for a wedding.

A wedding put together on extremely short notice! They’d had less than two weeks to pull it off. The groom’s billions had eased the time crunch considerably, as had the miracle worker Dev Hunter employed as his executive assistant. Gina had done all the planning, though, and she would not allow the man she’d spent one wild weekend with to disrupt her sister’s wedding day.

Luckily no one seemed to have heard his caustic comment. The band was currently pulsing out the last bars of a lively merengue. Sarah and Dev were on the dance floor, along with the St. Sebastians’ longtime housekeeper, Maria, and most of the guests invited to the elegant affair.

Gina’s glance shot from the dancers to the lace-clad woman sitting ramrod-straight in her chair, hands crossed on the ebony head of her cane. The duchess was out of earshot, too, thank God! Hearing her younger granddaughter’s pregnancy broadcast to the world at large wouldn’t have fit with her notions of proper behavior.

Relieved, Gina swung back to Jack. “I won’t have you spoil my sister’s wedding with another argument. Please lower your voice.”

He took the hint and cranked down the decibels, if not his temper. “We haven’t had ten minutes alone to talk about this since you got back from Switzerland.”

As if she needed the reminder! She’d flown to Switzerland exactly one day after she’d peed on a purple stick and felt her world come crashing down around her. She’d had to get away from L.A., had to breathe in the sharp, clean air of the snow-capped Alps surrounding Lake Lucerne while trying to decide what to do. After a day and a night of painful soul-searching, she’d walked into one of Lucerne’s ultramodern clinics. Ten minutes later, she’d turned around and walked out again. But not before making two near-hysterical calls. The first was to Sarah—her sister, her protector, her dearest friend. The second, unfortunately, was to the handsome, charismatic and thoroughly annoying diplomat now confronting her.

By the time Sarah had made the frantic dash from Paris in response to her sister’s call, Gina’s jagged nerves had smoothed a little. Her hard-won poise shattered once again, however, when Jack Mason showed up on the scene. She hadn’t expected him to jump a plane, much less express such fierce satisfaction over her decision to have their child.

Actually, the decision had surprised Gina as much as it had Jack. She was the flighty, irresponsible sister. The good-time girl, always up for a weekend skiing in Biarritz or a sail through the blue-green waters of the Caribbean. Raised by their grandmother, she and Sarah had been given the education and sophisticated lifestyle the duchess insisted was their birthright. Only recently had the sisters learned how deeply Grandmama had gone into debt to provide that lifestyle. Since then, Gina had made a determined effort to support herself. A good number of efforts, actually. Sadly, none of the careers she’d dabbled in had held her mercurial interest for very long.

Modeling had turned out to be a drag. All those hot lights and temperamental photographers snapping orders like constipated drill sergeants. Escorting small, select tour groups to the dazzling capitals of Europe was even more of a bore. How in the world could she have imagined she’d want to make a career of chasing down lost luggage or shuffling room assignments to placate a whiny guest who didn’t like the view in hers?

Gina had even tried to translate her brief sojourn at Italy’s famed cooking school, the Academia Barilla, into a career as a catering chef. That misguided attempt had barely lasted a week. But when her exasperated boss booted her out of the kitchen and into the front office, she’d discovered her apparently one real talent. She was far better at planning parties than cooking for them. Especially when clients walked in waving a checkbook and orders to pull out all the stops for their big event.

She was so good, in fact, that she intended to support herself and her child by coordinating soirees for the rich and famous. But first she had to convince her baby’s father that she neither needed nor wanted the loveless marriage he was offering.

“I appreciate your concern, Jack, but...”

“Concern?”

The handsome, charismatic ambassador kept his voice down as she’d requested, but looked as though he wanted let loose with both barrels. His shoulders were taut under his hand-tailored tux. Below his neatly trimmed caramel-colored hair, his brown eyes drilled into her.

Gina couldn’t help but remember how those eyes had snared hers across a crowded conference room six weeks ago and signaled instant, electric attraction. How his oh-so-skilled mouth had plundered her throat and her breasts and her belly. How...

Oh, for pity’s sake! Why remember the heat that had sizzled so hot and fast between them? That spontaneous combustion wouldn’t happen again. Not now. Not with everything else that was going on in their lives.

“But,” she continued with a forced smile, “you have to agree a wedding reception is hardly the time or place for a discussion like this.”

“Name the time,” he challenged. “And the place.”

“All right! Tomorrow. Twelve noon.” Cornered, she named the first place she could think of. “The Boathouse in Central Park.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Fine. We’ll get a table in a quiet corner and discuss this like the mature adults we are.”

“Like the mature adult at least one of us is.”

Gina hid a wince. The biting sarcasm stung, but she had to admit it wasn’t far off the mark. The truth was she’d pretty much flitted through life, laughing at its absurdities, always counting on Sarah or Grandmama to bail her out of trouble every time she tumbled into it. All that changed about ten minutes after she peed on that damned stick. Her flitting days were over. It was time to take responsibility for herself and her baby.

Which she would.

She would!

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chin high, she swept around the bank of gardenias.

* * *

Jack let her go. She was right. This wasn’t the time or the place to hammer some sense into her. Not that he held much hope his calm, rational arguments would penetrate that thick mane of silvery blond curls or spark a glimmer of understanding in those baby-doll blue eyes.

He’d now spent a total of five days—one long, wild weekend and two frustrating days in Switzerland—in Gina St. Sebastian’s company. More than enough time to confirm the woman constituted a walking, talking bundle of contradictions. She was jaw-droppingly gorgeous and so sensual she made grown men go weak at the knees, but also friendly and playful as a kitten. Well-educated, yet in many ways naive beyond belief. And almost completely oblivious to the world around her unless it directly impacted her, her sister or her dragon lady of a grandmother.

Pretty much his exact opposite, Jack thought grimly as he tracked her progress across the crowded room. He came from a long line of coolheaded, clear-thinking Virginians who believed their vast wealth brought with it equally great responsibility. Jack’s father and grandfather had served as advisors to presidents in times of national crisis. He himself had served in several diplomatic posts before being appointed the State Department’s ambassador-at-large for counterterrorism at the ripe old age of thirty-two. As such, he’d traveled to some of the most volatile, violent trouble spots in the world. Recently he’d returned to State Department headquarters in Washington, D.C., to translate his hard-won field knowledge into policies and procedures that would improve the security of U.S. diplomatic personnel around the world.

His job demanded long days and long nights. Stress rode on his shoulders like hundred-pound weights. Yet he couldn’t remember any issue, any recalcitrant bureaucrat or political pundit, who frustrated him as much as Gina St. Sebastian. She was pregnant with his child, dammit! The child he was determined would carry his name.

The child he and Catherine had tried so hard to have.

The familiar pain knifed into him. The feeling wasn’t as vicious as it had once been, but was still ferocious enough to carve up his insides. The lively conversation around him faded. The flower-bedecked room blurred. He could almost see her, almost hear her Boston Brahman accent. Catherine—brilliant, politically savvy Catherine—would have grasped the irony in his present situation at once. She would have...

“You look like you could use a drink, Mason.”

With an immense effort of will, Jack blanked the memory of his dead wife and turned to the new groom. Dev Hunter held a crystal tumbler in one hand and offered one to Jack with the other.

“Scotch, straight up,” he said dryly. “I saw you talking to Gina and figured you could use it.”

“You figured right.”

Jack took the tumbler and tipped it toward the man who might soon become his brother-in-law. Not might, he amended grimly as they clinked glasses, would.

“To the St. Sebastian sisters,” Hunter said, his gaze shifting to the two women standing with their heads together across the room. “It took some convincing, but I got mine to the altar. Good luck getting yours there.”

The Scotch went down with a well-mannered bite. Jack savored its smoky tang and eyed the sisters. They were a study in contrasts. Dark-haired Sarah was impossibly elegant in a clinging ivory gown with feathered clasps at each shoulder and glowed with the incandescent beauty of a bride. Blonde, bubbly Gina was barely six weeks pregnant and showed no signs of a baby bump. She was still slender but more generously endowed than her sister. Her flame-colored, body-hugging, strapless and backless sheath outlined her seductive curves to perfection.

Jack’s fingers tightened on the tumbler. Six weeks after the fact and he could still remember how he’d positioned those seductive hips under his. How he’d buried his hands in her silky hair and lost himself in that lush body and those laughing blue eyes.

They’d used protection that weekend. Went through a whole damned box of it, as he recalled. So much for playing the odds.

“I’ll get her to the altar,” he vowed. “One way or another.”

Hunter raised a brow but refrained from comment as his bride smiled and crooked a finger. “I’m being summoned. I’ll talk to you again when Sarah and I get back from our honeymoon.”

He handed his empty tumbler to a passing waiter and started for his wife, then turned back. “Just for the record, Mason, my money’s on Gina. She’s got more of the duchess in her than she realizes. And speaking of the duchess...”

Jack followed his glance and saw the silver-haired St. Sebastian matriarch thumping her way toward them. A long-sleeve, high-necked dress of ecru lace draped her slight frame. A trio of rings decorated her arthritic fingers. Leaning heavily on her cane with her left hand, Charlotte dismissed her new grandson-in-law with an imperious wave of the right.

“Gina says it’s time for you and Sarah to change out of your wedding finery. You only have an hour to get to the airport.”

“It’s my plane, Charlotte. I don’t think it’ll leave without us.”

“I should hope not.” Her ringed fingers flapped again. “Do go away, Devon. I want to talk to Ambassador Mason.”

Jack didn’t consciously go into a brace but he could feel his shoulders squaring as he faced Gina’s diminutive, indomitable grandmother.

He knew all about her. He should. He’d dug up the file the State Department had compiled on Charlotte St. Sebastian, once Grand Duchess of the tiny principality of Karlenburgh, when she fled her Communist-overrun country more than five decades ago. After being forced to witness her husband’s brutal execution, she’d escaped with the clothes on her back, her infant daughter in her arms and a fortune in jewels hidden inside the baby’s teddy bear.

She’d eventually settled in New York City and become an icon of the social and literary scenes. Few of the duchess’s wealthy, erudite friends were aware this stiff-spined aristocrat had pawned her jewels over the years to support herself and the two young granddaughters who’d come to live with her after the tragic death of their parents. Jack knew only because Dev Hunter had hinted that he should tread carefully where Charlotte and her granddaughters’ financial situation were concerned.

Very carefully. Jack’s one previous encounter with the duchess made it clear her reduced circumstances had not diminished either her haughty air or the fierce protectiveness she exhibited toward her granddaughters. That protectiveness blazed in her face now.

“I just spoke with Gina. She says you’re still trying to convince her to marry you.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

Jack was tempted to fall back on Gina’s excuse and suggest that a wedding reception was hardly the proper place for this discussion. The steely look in the duchess’s faded blue eyes killed that craven impulse.

“I think the reason would be obvious, ma’am. Your granddaughter’s carrying my child. I want to give her and the baby the protection of my name.”

The reply came coated with ice. “The St. Sebastian name provides more than enough cachet for my granddaughter and her child.”

Well, hell! And he called himself a diplomat! Jack was delivering a mental swift kick when the duchess raised her cane and jabbed the tip into his starched shirt front.

“Tell me one thing, Mr. Ambassador. Do you honestly believe the baby is yours?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

The cane took another sharp jab at his sternum.

“Why?”

For two reasons, one of which Jack wasn’t about to share. He was still pissed that his father had reacted to the news that he would be a grandfather by hiring a private investigator. With ruthless efficiency the P.I. had dug into every nook and cranny of Gina St. Sebastian’s life for the past three months. The report he submitted painted a portrait of a woman who bounced from job to job and man to man with seeming insouciance. Yet despite his best efforts, the detective hadn’t been able to turn up a single lover in Gina’s recent past except John Harris Mason III.

Furious, Jack had informed his father that he didn’t need any damned report. He’d known the baby was his from the moment Gina called from Switzerland, sobbing and nearly incoherent. He now tried to convey that same conviction to the ferocious woman about to skewer him with her cane.

“As I’ve discovered in our brief time together, Duchess, your granddaughter has her share of faults. So do I. Neither of us have tried to deceive the other about those faults, however.”

“What you mean,” she countered with withering scorn, “is that neither of you made any protestations of eternal love or devotion before you jumped into bed together.”

Jack refused to look away, but damned if he didn’t feel heat crawling up the back of his neck. Wisely, he sidestepped the jumping-into-bed issue. “I’ll admit I have a lot to learn yet about your granddaughter but my sense is she doesn’t lie. At least not about something this important,” he added with more frankness than tact.

To his relief, the duchess lowered the cane and leaned on it with both hands. “You’re correct in that assessment. Gina doesn’t lie.”

She hesitated, and a look that combined both pride and exasperation crossed her aristocratic features. “If anything, the girl is too honest. She tends to let her feelings just pour out, along with whatever she happens to be thinking at the time.”

“So I noticed,” Jack said, straight-faced.

Actually, Gina’s exuberance and utter lack of pretense had delighted him almost as much as her luscious body during their weekend together. Looking back, Jack could admit he’d shucked a half-dozen layers of his sober, responsible self during that brief interlude. They hadn’t stayed shucked, of course. Once he’d returned to Washington, he’d been engulfed in one crisis after another. Right up until that call from Switzerland.

The duchess reclaimed his attention with a regal toss of her head. “I will say this once, young man, and I suggest you take heed. My granddaughter’s happiness is my first—my only—concern. Whatever Eugenia decides regarding you and the baby, she has my complete support.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, ma’am.”

“Hrrrmph.” She studied him with pursed lips for a moment before delivering an abrupt non sequitur. “I knew your grandfather.”

“You did?”

“He was a member of President Kennedy’s cabinet at the time. Rather stiff and pompous, as I recall.”

Jack had to grin. “That sounds like him.”

“I invited him and your grandmother to a reception I hosted for the Sultan of Oman right here, in these very rooms. The Kennedys attended. So did the Rockefellers.”

A distant look came into her eyes. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.

“I wore my pearls,” she murmured, as much to herself as to her listener. “They roped around my neck three times before draping almost to my waist. Jackie was quite envious.”

He bet she was. Watching the duchess’s face, listening to her cultured speech with its faint trace of an accent, Jack nursed the hope that marriage to her younger granddaughter might not be such a disaster, after all.

With time and a little guidance on his part, Gina could learn to curb some of her impulsiveness. Maybe even learn to think before she blurted out whatever came into her mind. Not that he wanted to dim her sparkling personality. Just rein it in a bit so she’d feel comfortable in the restrained diplomatic circles she’d be marrying into.

Then, of course, there was the sex.

Jack kept his expression politely attentive. His diplomatic training and years of field experience wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise. Yet every muscle in his body went taut as all-too-vivid images from his weekend with Gina once again grabbed him.

He hadn’t been a saint since his wife died, but neither had he tomcatted around. Five women in six years didn’t exactly constitute a world record. Yet the hours he’d spent in that Beverly Hills penthouse suite with Gina St. Sebastian made him come alive in ways he hadn’t felt since...

Since Catherine.

Shaking off the twinge of guilt that thought brought, Jack addressed the woman just coming out of her reverie of presidents and pearls.

“Please believe me, Duchess. I want very much to do right by both your granddaughter and our child.”

Those shrewd, pale eyes measured him for long, uncomfortable moments. Jack had faced cold-blooded dictators whose stares didn’t slice anywhere as close to the bone as this white-haired, seemingly frail woman’s did.

“You may as well call me Charlotte,” she said finally. “I suspect we may be seeing a good deal of each other in the weeks ahead.”

“I suspect we may.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must help Sarah prepare to depart for her honeymoon.”

Two

After Sarah changed and left for the airport with Dev, Gina escorted her grandmother and Maria down to the limo she’d ordered for them.

“I’ll be a while,” she warned as the elevator opened onto the Plaza’s elegant lobby. “I want to make sure Dev’s family is set for their trip home tomorrow.”

“I should think that clever, clever man Dev employs as his executive assistant has the family’s travel arrangements well in hand.”

“He does. He’s also going to take care of shipping the wedding gifts back to L.A., thank goodness. But I need to verify the final head count and see he has a complete list of the bills to expect.”

The duchess stiffened, and Gina gave herself a swift mental kick. Dang it! She shouldn’t have mentioned those bills. As she and Sarah knew all too well, covering the cost of the wedding had come dangerously close to a major point of contention between Dev and the duchess. Charlotte had insisted on taking care of the expenses traditionally paid by the bride’s family. It was a real tribute to Dev’s negotiating skills that he and Grandmama had reached an agreement that didn’t totally destroy her pride.

And now Gina had to bring up the sensitive subject again! It was Jack’s fault, she thought in disgust. Their confrontation had thrown her off stride. Was still throwing her off. Why the heck had she agreed to meet him for lunch tomorrow?

She was still trying to figure that one out when the limo pulled up to the Plaza’s stately front entrance. The driver got out to open the door but before his two passengers slid into the backseat, the duchess issued a stern warning.

“Don’t overtax yourself, Eugenia. Pregnancy saps a woman’s strength, especially during the first few months. You’ll find you’re more fatigued than usual.”

“Fatigue hasn’t been a problem yet. Or morning sickness, knock on...”

She glanced around for some wood to rap. She settled for wiggling a branch of one of the massive topiary trees guarding the front entrance.

“My breasts are swollen up like water balloons, though. And my nipples ache like you wouldn’t believe.” Grimacing, she rolled her shoulders to ease the constriction of her tight bodice. “They want out of this gown.”

“For pity’s sake, Eugenia!” The duchess shot a glance at the stony-faced limo driver. “Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow, shall we?”

Nodding, Gina bent to kiss her grandmother’s cheek and breathed in the faint, oh-so-familiar scent of lavender and lace. “Make sure you take your medicine before you go to bed.”

“I’m not senile, young lady. I think I can manage to remember to take two little pills.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Trying to look properly chastised, she helped the duchess into the limo and turned to the Honduran native who’d become a second mother to her and Sarah. “You’ll stay with her, Maria? I shouldn’t be more than another hour or two. I’ll have a car take you home.”

“Take as long as you need. La duquesa and I, we’ll put our feet up and talk about what a fine job you did organizing such a beautiful wedding.”

“It did come off well, didn’t it?”

Maria beamed a wide smile. “Sí, chica, it did.”

Buoyed by the compliment, Gina returned to the reception room. Most of the guests had departed. Including, she saw after a quick sweep, a certain obnoxious ambassador who’d shown up unexpectedly. She should have had him escorted out when he first walked in. Being summarily ejected from the wedding would have put a dent in the man’s ego. Or maybe not. For a career diplomat, he seemed as impervious to Gina’s snubs as to her adamant refusal to marry him.

He didn’t understand why she wouldn’t even consider it for their baby’s sake. Neither did the duchess. Although Grandmama and Sarah both supported Gina’s decision to go it alone, she knew they wondered at her vehemence. On the surface, John Harris Mason III certainly made excellent husband material. He was rich, handsome and charming as the devil when he wanted to be.

It was what lurked below the surface that held Gina back. Every story, every bio printed about the charismatic diplomat, hinted that Jack had buried his heart with the young wife he’d first dated in high school and married the day they both graduated from Harvard. From all reports, Catherine Mason had been every bit as smart, athletic and politically involved as her husband.

Gina knew in her heart she couldn’t compete with the ghost of his lost love. Not because she lacked her own set of credentials. The Duchy of Karlenburgh might now be little more than an obscure footnote in history books, but Grandmama could still hold her own with presidents and kings. What’s more, she’d insisted her granddaughters be educated in accordance with their heritage. Gina had actually graduated from Barnard with a semi-decent grade point average. She’d pretty much majored in partying, though, and to this day had zero interest in politics.

She might have cultivated an interest for Jack. Had actually toyed with the idea during that crazy weekend. For all her seemingly casual approach to life and love, she’d never met anyone as fascinating and entertaining and just plain hot as Jack Mason.

Any thoughts of fitting into the mold of a diplomat’s wife went poof when Gina discovered she was pregnant. There was no way she could dive into politics and marriage and motherhood at the same time. She already felt as though she were on an emotional roller coaster. All she could think about right now, all she would allow herself to think about, was proving she could take care of herself and her baby.

“You put on a helluva party, lady.”

Smiling, she turned to Dev’s gravel-voiced buddy from his air force days. Patrick Donovan now served as Dev’s executive assistant and pretty much ruled his vast empire with an iron fist.

“Thanks, Pat.”

Tall and lanky and looking completely at home in his Armani tux, Donovan winked at her. “You decide you want to come back to L.A., you let me know. We could use someone with your organizational skills in our protocol office. Seems like we’re hosting some bigwig industrialists from China or Germany or Australia every other week.”

“I appreciate the offer but I’m going to try to break into the event-planning business here in New York. Plus, I’m thinking about moving in with Grandmama for the next eight months or so.”

If the duchess would have her. They’d all been so busy these past few weeks with Sarah’s wedding, Gina hadn’t found the right time to broach the subject. Her sister heartily endorsed the plan, though. Both she and Gina hated the thought of the duchess living alone now that Sarah was moving out.

Okay! All right! So Gina needed a place to stay until she landed a job and became self-supporting. Despite her determination to prove herself, she had to have a base to build on. Grandmama wouldn’t object to letting her move in. Probably.

“I’ve got some pretty good contacts in New York,” Patrick was saying. “You want me to make a few calls? Grease the skids a little?”

“I need to do this on my own, Pat. But thanks for the offer.”

“It stays on the table,” he said with a shrug as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Call me if you change your mind. Or better yet, let your new brother-in-law know. Dev is complete mush right now. He’d set you up with your own agency if you so much as hint that’s what you want. And let me know if you want me to close up your apartment in L.A. and have your things shipped here.”

“I will. Thanks again.”

* * *

Gina climbed out of a cab some two hours later. The Dakota’s red sandstone turrets poked against the darkening night sky, welcoming her to the castlelike apartment complex that was one of New York City’s most prestigious addresses. The duchess had bought an apartment here shortly after arriving in New York City. The purchase had put a serious dent in her cache of jewels, but careful investments during those first years, along with the discreet sale of a diamond bracelet here, a ruby necklace there, had allowed Charlotte to maintain the apartment and an elegant lifestyle over the decades.

Keeping up the facade had become much tougher in recent years. The jewels were gone. So were most of the haute couture gowns and designer suits that once filled her grandmother’s closet. With her love of the classic retro look, Sarah had salvaged a number of the outfits and saved money by not splurging on new clothes for herself, but she’d had to struggle to cover the bills from her own salary.

Dev, bless him, wanted to make things easier for his wife’s grandmother. But like the wedding expenses, taking over the duchess’s financial affairs involved delicate negotiations that had yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion. Which put the burden on Gina’s shoulders. She couldn’t just move in and expect her grandmother to support her. She had to pay her own way.

On that determined note, she thanked Maria for staying so late and told her to sleep in the next morning. “I’ll make breakfast for Grandmama.”

The Honduran looked dubious. “Are you sure, chica? La duquesa, she likes her egg poached just so.”

“I know. It has to sit for exactly four minutes after the heat’s turned off.”

“And her tea. It must be...”

“The Twinings English Black. I’ve got it covered. The car’s waiting for you. Go home and get some rest.”

Maria obviously had her doubts but gathered her suitcase-sized purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

Gina was up and waiting when her grandmother walked into the kitchen just after eight-thirty the next morning. The duchess was impeccably dressed as always in a calf-length black skirt and lavender silk overblouse. Her hair formed its usual, neat snowy crown atop her head, but Gina saw with a quick dart of concern that she was leaning more heavily than she normally did on her cane.

“Good morning,” she said, masking her worry behind a cheerful smile. “I got a text from Sarah a while ago. She says it’s balmy and beautiful in Majorca.”

“I expect it is. Are you doing breakfast?”

“I am. Sit, and I’ll bring your tea.”

Surprised and just a little wary, the duchess seated herself in the sunny breakfast room off the kitchen. Its ivy-sprigged wallpaper, green seat cushions and windows overlooking Central Park seemed to bring the bright May spring right into the room.

Gina poured hot water over the leaves she’d measured into her grandmother’s favorite Wedgwood teapot and placed the pot on the table. While the Twinings Black steeped, she popped some wheat bread in the toaster and brought a saucepan of water back to a boil before easing two raw eggs out of their shells. The sight of the yolks gave her a moment’s qualm, but it passed. Still no twinge of morning nausea, thank God! With any luck, she’d escape that scourge altogether.

“Here we are.”

She hadn’t kept the yolks from breaking and going all runny, but the duchess thanked her with a smile and buttered her toast. Sensing there was something behind this special effort, she munched delicately on a corner of toast and waited patiently.

Gina pulled in a deep breath and took the plunge. “I was wondering, Grandmama...”

Dang! Admitting she was a screwup and needed to come live with her grandmother until she got her life in order was harder than she’d anticipated.

“I thought perhaps I might stay with you until I get a job. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, Eugenia!” Charlotte’s reaction came swift and straight from the heart. “Of course I don’t mind, my darling girl. This is your home. You must stay for as long as you wish. You and the baby.”

Gina wasn’t crying. She really wasn’t. The tears just sort of leaked through her smile. “Thanks, Grandmama.”

Her own lips a little wobbly, the duchess reached for her granddaughter’s hand. “I admit I wasn’t looking forward to rattling around this place by myself now that Sarah’s moving out. I’m delighted you want to stay here. Will you need to fly back to L.A. to pack up your things?”

“Dev’s assistant, Patrick, said he would take care of that if I decided to stay in New York.”

“Good!” Charlotte gave her hand a quick squeeze and picked up her fork. “Now, what’s this Sarah told me about you wanting to go into the catering business?”

“Not catering. Event planning. I did a little of it in L.A. Just enough to know I’m better at organizing and throwing parties than...” She managed a watery chuckle. “Than everything else I’ve tried.”

“Well, you certainly did an excellent job with the wedding.”

The praise sent Gina’s spirits winging. “I did, didn’t I?” She preened for a moment, her tears forgotten. “And the photographer from Sarah’s magazine shot some amazing video and stills. He gave me a disk with enough material to put together a portfolio. I just emailed it to the woman I’m interviewing with this afternoon.”

Her grandmother paused with her fork halfway to her lips. “You have an interview this afternoon?”

“I do. With Nicole Tremayne, head of the Tremayne Group. TTG operates a dozen different event venues, three right here in the city.”

“Hmm. I knew a Nicholas Tremayne some years ago. Quite well, actually.” Her thoughts seemed to go inward for a moment. Shaking them off, she lowered her fork. “This Nicole must be his daughter. If so, I’ll call him and...”

“No, Grandmama, please don’t.”

The urgent plea brought a look of surprise. “Why ever not?”

“I want to do this on my own.”

“That sentiment does you justice, Eugenia, but...”

“You don’t have to say it. I know my track record doesn’t suggest I’ll make a very reliable employee. When you add the fact that I’m pregnant, it’ll be a miracle if I land any job. I want to try, though, Grandmama. I really do.”

“Very well. I’ll refrain from interfering.”

“Thank you. Dev and Patrick made the same promise. And I’ll get Jack to do the same when I meet him for lunch today.”

The duchess tilted her head. Sudden interest gleamed in her faded blue eyes. “You’re having lunch with Jack? Why? I thought you’d said all you have to say to him.”

“I did. Several times! The man won’t take no for an answer.”

“So again I ask, why are you having lunch with him?”

“He badgered me into it,” Gina admitted in disgust. “You can see why I don’t want to marry him.”

The duchess took her time replying. When she did, she chose her words carefully.

“Are you sure, Eugenia? I treasure every moment I had with your mother and with you and Sarah, but I speak from experience when I say raising a child on your own can be quite terrifying at times.”

“Oh, Grandmama!”

Her eyes misted again. Blinking furiously, Gina bared her soul. “I’m scared out my gourd. I admit it! The only thing that makes me even think I can do this is you, and the love you lavished on Sarah and me. You filled our lives with such joy, such grand adventures. You still do. I can give that to my child. I know I can.”

A smile started in her grandmother’s eyes and spread to Gina’s heart.

“I know you can, too.”

* * *

Gina had intended to spend the rest of the morning prepping for her interview with Nicole Tremayne. To her annoyance, her thoughts kept slipping away from party planning and instead landed on Jack Mason.

Her irritation increased even more when she found herself scowling at the few outfits she’d brought to New York with her. They were all flashy, all playful. Thigh-skimming skirts in bold prints. Tights in eye-popping colors. Spangled, midriff-baring T-shirts. Reflective of her personality, maybe, but not the image she wanted to project to Ms. Tremayne. Or to a certain ambassador-at-large.

Abandoning the meager offering, she went next door to Sarah’s room and rummaged through the designer classics her sister had salvaged from their grandmother’s closet. After much debate and a pile of discards strewn across the bed, Gina decided on wide-legged black slacks. She topped them with a summer silk Valentino jacket in pearl gray that boasted a flower in the same fabric on one lapel. The jacket strained a bit at the bust but gave her the mature, responsible air she was aiming for. A wad of cotton stuffed into the toes of a pair of sensible black pumps added to the look. As a final touch, she went light on the makeup and wrestled her waterfall of platinum-blond curls into a French twist. When she studied the final result in the mirror, she gulped.

“Oh, God. I look like Grandmama.”

If the duchess recognized herself, she mercifully refrained from saying so. But Gina caught the slightly stunned look she exchanged with Maria as her new, subdued granddaughter departed for her lunch meeting.

* * *

If Gina had needed further evidence of her transformation, she got it mere moments after walking into the Boathouse. A favorite gathering place of tourists and locals alike, the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows gave unimpeded views of the rowboats and gondolas gliding across Central Park’s Reservoir Lake. Both the lake and the trees surrounding it were showcased against the dramatic backdrop of the Manhattan skyline.

The Boathouse’s casual bar and restaurant buzzed with a crowd dressed in everything from business to smart casual to just plain comfortable. Despite the logjam, Gina spotted Jack immediately. As promised, he’d secured a table tucked in a quiet corner that still gave an unobstructed view of the lake. She stood for a moment at the top of the short flight of steps leading down to the dining area and put a hand on the railing to steady herself.

Oh, Lord! Her hormones must be cartwheeling again. Why else would her knees get all wobbly at the way the sunlight streaked his tawny hair? Or her lungs wheeze like an old accordion at the sight of his strong, tanned hands holding up a menu? In the tux he’d worn to the wedding yesterday, Jack had wreaked havoc on her emotions. In a crisply starched pale blue shirt with the cuffs rolled up on muscled forearms lightly sprinkled with gold fuzz, he almost opened the floodgates.

She was still clinging to the wooden rail when he glanced up. His gaze swept the entrance area from left to right. Passed over her. Jerked back. He was too polished a diplomat to reveal more than a flash of surprise, but that brief glimpse gave Gina the shot in the arm she needed. Channeling the duchess at her most regal, she smiled at the head waiter, who hurried over to assist her.

“May I show you to a table?”

“Thank you, but I see the party I’m meeting.”

She tipped her chin toward Jack, now rising from his chair. The waiter followed her gaze and offered a hand.

“Yes, of course. Please, watch your step.”

Jack had recovered from his momentary surprise. Gina wasn’t sure she liked the amusement that replaced it.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he admitted. “Are you going for a new look?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

She took the seat next to him and considered how much to share of her plans. After a swift internal debate, she decided it might be good to let him know that she did, in fact, have plans.

“I’m also going for a new career. I have a job interview this afternoon with the head of the Tremayne Group. TTG is one of the biggest event-coordinating companies in the business, with venues in New York, Washington and Chicago.”

The change in Jack was so subtle she almost missed it. Just a slight stiffening of his shoulders. She bristled, thinking he was going to object to her making a foray into the professional party world while carrying his child. Instead, he responded quietly, calmly.

“TTG also has a venue in Boston. My wife used them to coordinate our wedding.”

Three

“Oh, Jack!”

Gina’s soft heart turned instantly to mush. She didn’t want to marry this man but neither did she want to hurt him. Ignoring the obvious inconsistency in that thought, she dug in her purse for her cell phone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had that connection to TTG. I’ll call and cancel my interview.”

“Wait.” Frowning, he put a hand on her arm. “I’ll admit I would prefer not to see you pursue a career here in New York. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But...”

“But?”

Still frowning, he searched her face. “Are you really dead set against marriage, Gina?”

Her gaze dropped to his hand, so strong and tan against the paler skin of her forearm. The stress and confusion of the past weeks made a jumble of her reply.

“Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

She looked up and met his serious brown eyes. “I like you, Jack. When you’re not coming on all huffy and autocratic, that is. And God knows we were fantastic together in bed.”

So fantastic she had to slam the door on the images that thought conjured up.

“But I think...I know we both want more in a marriage.”

He was silent, and Gina gathered her courage.

“Tell me about your wife. What was she like?”

He sat back, withdrawing his hand in the process. Withdrawing himself, as well. His glance shifted to the rowboats circling the lake. The ripples from their oars distorted the reflected images of the high-rises peeking above Central Park’s leafy green tree line. The buildings seemed to sway on the lake’s blue-green surface.

“Catherine was funny and smart and had a killer serve,” he said finally, turning back to Gina. “She cleaned my clock every time we got on a tennis court. She might have turned pro if she hadn’t lived, breathed and slept politics.”

The waiter appeared at that moment. Gina ordered decaffeinated mango tea, Jack a refill of his coffee. They listened to the specials and let the menus sit on the table after the waiter withdrew. She was afraid the interruption had broken the thread of a conversation she knew had to be painful, but Jack picked it up again.

“Catherine and another campaign worker were going door-to-door to canvas unregistered voters for the presidential campaign. She suffered a brain aneurysm and collapsed. The docs say she was dead before she hit the sidewalk.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“We didn’t learn until after the autopsy that she had Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. It’s a rare, inherited condition that can cause the walls of your blood vessels to rupture. Which,” he said as he eased a leather portfolio out from under his menu, “is why I prepared this.”

“This” turned out to be a set of stapled papers. For a wild moment Gina thought they might be a prenup. Or a copy of a will, naming the baby as his heir if he should die as unexpectedly as Catherine had. Or...

“Your obstetrician will want a complete medical history of both parents,” he said calmly. “As far as I know, I haven’t inherited any rare diseases but my father and grandfather both suffer from chronic high blood pressure and my mother is a breast cancer survivor. Who’s your doctor, by the way?”

“I don’t have one yet.”

The frown came back. “Why the delay? You should’ve had your first prenatal checkup by now.”

“It’s on my list, right after getting resettled in New York and finding a job.”

“Move the obstetrician to the top of the list,” he ordered, switching into his usual take-charge mode. “I’ll cover your medical expenses until you land a job.”

“No, Mr. Ambassador, you won’t.”

“Oh, for...!”

He dropped the papers, closed his eyes for a moment and adopted a calm, soothing tone that made Gina want to hiss.

“Let’s just talk this through. You’re currently unemployed. I assume you have no health insurance. Few obstetricians will take you on as a patient unless there’s some guarantee you can pay for their services.”

“I. Will. Find. A. Job.”

“Okay, okay.” He held up a placating hand. “Even if you do land a job in the next few days or weeks, health benefits probably won’t kick in for at least six months. And then they may not cover preexisting conditions.”

Well, crap! Gina hadn’t considered that. Her throat closed as her carefully constructed house of cards seemed to teeter and topple right before her eyes.

No! No, dammit! Hormones or no hormones, she would not break down and bawl in front of Jack.

He must have sensed her fierce struggle for control. His expression softened, and he dropped the grating, let’s-be-reasonable tone. “This is my baby, too, Gina. Let me help however I can.”

She could handle autocratic and obnoxious. Nice was harder to manager. Shoving back her chair, she pushed away from the table.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

* * *

After some serious soul-searching, she returned from the ladies’ room to find the waiter had delivered their drinks. Gina dumped artificial sweetener in her tea and took a fortifying sip before acknowledging the unpalatable truth.

“I guess I didn’t think this whole insurance thing through. If it turns out I can’t get medical benefits in time to cover my appointments with an obstetrician, I would appreciate your help.”

“You’ve got it.” He hesitated a moment before extending another offer. “Finding a good doctor isn’t easy, especially with everything else you have going on right now. Why don’t I call my chief of staff and have him email you a list of the top OB docs in the city? He can also verify that they’re accepting new patients.”

And coordinate the payment process, Gina guessed. Swallowing her pride, she nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Just call me when you decide on a doctor. Or call Dale Vickers, my chief of staff. He’ll make sure your appointments get on my schedule.”

“Your schedule?”

“I’ll fly up from D.C. to go with you, of course. Assuming I’m in the country.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The sense that she could do this on her own was rapidly slipping away. Trying desperately to hang on to her composure, Gina picked up her menu.

“We’d better order. My appointment at the Tremayne Group is at two-thirty.”

Jack’s hand hovered over his menu. “This might sound a little crass but between Catherine’s family and mine, we spent an obscene amount of money on our wedding. I could make a call and...”

“No!”

Gina gritted her teeth. Was she the only person in the whole friggin’ universe who didn’t have an inside connection at TTG? And the only fool who refused to exploit that connection? Sheer stubbornness had her shaking her head.

“No calls. No pulling strings. No playing the big ambassadorial cheese. I have to do this myself.”

He lifted a tawny brow but didn’t press the point. After signaling the waiter over to take their orders, he steered the conversation into more neutral channels.

The awkwardness of the situation eased, and Gina’s spirits took an upward swing. Jack soon had her laughing at some of his more humorous exploits in the field and realizing once again how charming he could be when he wanted to.

And sexy. So damned sexy. She savored the lump crab cake she’d ordered for lunch and couldn’t help admiring the way the tanned skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And how the light reflecting off the lake added glints to the sun-streaked gold of his hair. When he leaned forward, Gina caught the ripple of muscle under his starched shirt. She found herself remembering how she’d run her palms over all that hard muscle. That tight butt. Those iron thighs. The bunched biceps and...

“Gina?”

She almost choked on a lump of crab. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you’d consider coming down to D.C. for a short visit. I’d like to show you my home and introduce you to my parents.”

The request was reasonable. Naturally Jack’s parents would want to meet the mother of their grandchild. From the little he’d let drop about his staunchly conservative father, though, Gina suspected John Harris Mason II probably wouldn’t greet her with open arms.

“Let’s talk about that later,” she hedged. “After I get settled and find a job.”

They finished lunch and lingered a few minutes over tea and coffee refills. Gina’s nerves had started to get jittery by the time they exited the Boathouse. Jack walked with her through the park now filled with bicyclers and in-line skaters and sun worshippers sprawled on benches with eyes closed and faces tilted to the sky.

A group of Japanese tourists had congregated at Bethesda Fountain and were busy snapping photos of each other with the bronze statue of the Angel of the Waters towering over them. At the shy request of one of the younger members of the group, Jack obligingly stopped to take a picture of the whole party. Everyone wanted a copy on their own camera so Gina ended up acting as a runner, passing him ten or twelve cameras before they were done. By the time they reached Fifth Avenue and Jack hailed a cab to take her to her interview, she was feeling the pressure of time.

“Keep your fingers crossed,” she said without thinking as the cab pulled over to the curb.

Only as he reached to open the door for her did she remember that he would prefer she didn’t land this—or any job—in New York. He made no secret of the fact that he wanted to put a ring on her finger and take care of her and their child. To his credit, he buried those feelings behind an easy smile.

“I’ll do better than that. Here’s a kiss for luck.”

He kept it light. Just a brush of his lips over hers. On the first pass, at least.

Afterward Gina could never say for sure who initiated the second pass. All she knew was that Jack hooked a hand behind her nape, she went up on tiptoe and what had started as a friendly good-luck token got real deep and real hungry.

When he finally raised his head, she saw herself reflected in his eyes. “I...I have to go!”

He stepped back and gave her room to make an escape. She slid into the cab and spent the short drive to the Tremayne Group’s headquarters trying desperately to remember all the reasons why she wanted—no, needed!—this job.

* * *

At three-ten, she was reiterating that same grim list. She’d been sitting in Nicole Tremayne’s ultramodern outer office for more than half an hour while a harried receptionist fielded phone calls and a succession of subordinates rushed in and out of the boss’s office. Any other time Gina would have walked out after the first fifteen or twenty minutes. She didn’t have that luxury now.

Instead, she’d used the time to reread the information she’d found on Google about the Tremayne Group. She also studied every page in the slick, glossy brochure given out to prospective clients. Even then she had to unlock her jaw and force a smile when the receptionist finally ushered her into the inner sanctum.

Stunned, Gina stopped dead. This dark cavern was the command center of a company that hosted more than two thousand events a year at a dozen different venues? And this tiny whirlwind erupting from behind her marble slab of a desk was the famed Nicole Tremayne?

She couldn’t have been more than five-one, and she owed at least four of those inches to her needle-heeled ankle boots. Gina was still trying to marry the bloodred ankle boots to her salt-and-pepper corkscrew curls when Nicole thrust out a hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. You’re Eugenia, right? Eugenia St. Sebastian?”

“Yes, I...”

“My father had a thing for your grandmother. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember he talked about leaving my mother for her.”

“Oh. Well, uh...”

“He should have. My mother was a world-class ball-breaker.” Swooping a thick book of fabric swatches off one of the chairs in front of her desk, Tremayne dumped it on the floor. “Sit, sit.”

Still slightly stunned, Gina sat. Nicole cleared the chair next to hers and perched on its edge with the nervous energy of a hummingbird.

“I looked at the digital portfolio of your sister’s wedding. Classy job. You did all the arrangements?”

“With some help.”

“Who from?”

“Andrew, at the Plaza. And Patrick Donovan. He’s...”

“Dev Hunter’s right-hand man. I know. We coordinated a major charity event for Hunter’s corporation last year. Three thousand attendees at two thousand a pop. So when can you start?”

“Excuse me?”

“One of the assistant event planners at our midtown venue just got busted for possession. She’s out on bail, but I can’t have a user working for TTG.” Her bird-bright eyes narrowed on Gina. “You don’t do dope, do you?”

“No.”

“I’d better not find out otherwise.”

“You won’t.”

Tremayne nodded. “Here’s the thing. You have a lousy work record but a terrific pedigree. If you inherited half your grandmother’s class and a quarter of her smarts, you should be able to handle this job.”

Gina wasn’t sure whether she’d just been complimented or insulted. She was still trying to decide when her prospective boss continued briskly.

“You also grew up here in the city. You know your way around and you know how to interact with the kind of customers we attract. Plus, the classy digital portfolio you sent me shows you’ve got a flair for design and know computers. Whether you can handle vendors and show yourself as a team player remains to be seen, but I’m willing to give you a shot. When can you start?”

Tomorrow!

The joyous reply was almost out before Gina caught it. Gulping, she throttled back her exhilaration.

“I can start anytime but there’s something I need to tell you before we go any further.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“And I’m Episcopalian. So?”

Could it really be this easy? Gina didn’t think so. Suspicion wormed through her elation.

“Did my grandmother call you?” she asked. “Or Pat Donovan?”

“No.”

Her jaw locked. Dammit! It had to have been Jack.

“Then I assume you talked to the ambassador,” she said stiffly.

“What ambassador?”

“Jack Mason.”

“Jack Mason.” Tremayne tapped her chin with a nail shellacked the same red as her ankle boots. “Why do I know that name?”

Gina didn’t mention that TTG had coordinated Jack’s wedding. For reasons she would have to sort out later, that cut too close to the bone.

“Who is he,” Tremayne asked, “and why would he call me?”

“He’s a friend.” That was the best she could come up with. “I told him about our interview and...and thought he might have called to weigh in.”

“Well, it certainly never hurts to have an ambassador in your corner, but no, he didn’t call me. So what’s the deal here? Do you want the job or not?”

There were probably a dozen different questions she should ask before jumping into the fray. Like how much the job paid, for one. And what her hours would be. And whether the position came with benefits. At the moment, though, Gina was too jazzed to voice any of the questions buzzing around in her head.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

“Good. Have my assistant direct you to the woman who handles our personnel matters. You can fill out all the necessary forms there. And call me Nikki,” she added as her new employee sprang out of her chair to shake on the deal.

* * *

Gina left the Tremayne Group’s personnel office thirty or forty forms later. The salary was less than she’d hoped for but the description of her duties made her grin. As assistant events coordinator she would be involved in all phases of operation for TTG’s midtown venue. Scheduling parties and banquets and trade shows. Devising themes to fit the clients’ desires. Creating menus. Contracting with vendors to supply food and decorations and bar stock. Arranging for limos, for security, for parking.

Even better, the personnel officer had stressed that there was plenty of room for advancement within TTG. The tantalizing prospect of a promotion danced before Gina’s eyes as she exited the high-rise housing the company’s headquarters. When she hit the still glorious May sunshine, she had to tell someone her news. Her first, almost instinctive, impulse was to call Jack. She actually had her iPhone in hand before she stopped to wonder why.

Simple answer. She wanted to crow a little.

Not so simple answer. She wanted to prove she wasn’t all fun and fluff.

With a wry grimace, she acknowledged that she should probably wait until she’d actually performed in her new position for a few weeks or months before she made that claim. She decided to text Sarah instead. The message was short and sweet.

I’m now a working mom-to-be. Call when you and Dev come up for air.

She took a cab back to the Upper West Side and popped out at a deli a few blocks from the Dakota. Osterman’s had occupied the same choice corner location since the Great Depression. Gina and Sarah had developed their passion for corned beef at the deli’s tiny, six-table eating area. The sisters still indulged whenever they were in the city, but Gina’s target tonight was the case displaying Osterman’s world famous cheesecakes. With unerring accuracy, she went for a selection that included her own, her grandmother’s and Maria’s favorites.

“One slice each of the white chocolate raspberry truffle, the key lime and the Dutch apple caramel, please. And one pineapple upside down,” she added on an afterthought.

The boxed cheesecake wedges in hand, she plucked a bottle of chilled champagne from the cooler in the wine corner. She had to search for a nonalcoholic counterpart but finally found it in with the fruit juices. Driven by the urge to celebrate, she added a wedge of aged brie and a loaf of crusty bread to her basket. On her way to check out she passed a shelf containing the deli’s selection of caviars.

The sticker price of a four-ounce jar of Caspian Sea Osetra made her gasp. Drawing in a steadying breath, she reminded herself it was Grandmama’s caviar of choice. The duchess considered Beluga too salty and Sevruga too fishy. Gina made a quick calculation and decided her credit card would cover the cost of one jar. Maybe.

“Oh, what the hell.”

To her relief, she got out of Osterman’s without having the credit card confiscated. A block and a half later she approached the Dakota with all her purchases.

“Let me help you with those!”

The doorman who’d held his post for as long as she could remember leaped forward. Although she would never say so to his face, Gina suspected Jerome assumed his present duties about the same time Osterman’s opened its doors.

“You should have called a cab, Lady Eugenia.”

Sarah and Gina had spent most of their adult years trying to get Jerome to drop their empty titles. They’d finally agreed it was a wasted effort.

“I’m okay,” Gina protested as he tried to relieve her of her burdens. “Except for this.”

She sorted through her purchases and fished out a wedge-shaped box. Jerome peeked inside and broke into a grin.

“Pineapple upside down! Trust you to remember my favorite.”

Gina’s emotions jumped on the roller coaster again as she thought about his devoted loyalty to her and Grandmama over the years.

“How could I forget?” she said with a suspicious catch to her voice. “You slipped me an extra few dollars every time I said I was going to Osterman’s.”

For a moment she thought the embarrassed doorman would pat her on the head as he’d done so many times when she was a child. He controlled the impulse and commented instead on the bottles poking out of her bag.

“Still celebrating Lady Sarah’s wedding?”

“Nope. This celebration is in my honor.”

Riding her emotional roller coaster to its gravity-defying apex, she poured out her news.

“I’m moving back to New York, Jerome.”

“Lady Eugenia! That’s wonderful news. I admit I was a bit worried about the duchess.”

“There’s more. I’ve got a job.”

“Good for you.”

“Oh,” she added over her shoulder as she made for the lobby. “I’m also pregnant.”

Four

Gina walked into the Tremayne Group’s midtown venue at 9:30 a.m. the next morning. She didn’t drag out again until well past midnight.

Her first impression was wow! What had once been a crumbling brick warehouse overlooking the East River was now a glass-fronted, ultra-high-rent complex of offices, restaurants and entertainment venues. TTG occupied a slightly recessed four-story suite smack in the center of the complex. The primo location allowed into a private ground-floor courtyard with bubbling fountains and a top-floor terrace that had to offer magnificent views of the river.

A young woman with wings of blue in her otherwise lipstick-red hair sat at a curved glass reception desk and fielded phone calls. Gina waited until she finished with one caller and put two others on hold to introduce herself.

“I’m Gina St. Sebastian. I’m the new...”

“Assistant coordinator. Thank God you’re here! I’m Kallie. Samuel’s in the banquet hall. He said to send you right up. Third floor. The elevators are to your right.”

Gina used the ride to do a quick check in mirrored panels. She’d left her hair down today but confined the silky curls behind a wide fuchsia headband studded with crystals. A belt in the same hot pink circled the waist of her apple-green J. Crew tunic. Since this was her first day on the job she’d gone with sedate black tights instead of the colorful prints she preferred. She made a quick swipe with her lip gloss and drew in a deep, steadying breath. Then the elevator door glided open and she stepped out into a vortex of sound and fury.

What looked like a small army of workers in blue overalls was yanking folded chairs from metal-sided carrier racks, popping them open and thumping them around a room full of circluar tables. Another crew, this one in black pants and white shirts, scurried after the first. They draped each chair in shimmering green, the tables in cloth of gold. Right behind them came yet another crew rattling down place settings of china and crystal. The rat-tat-tat of staple guns fired by intent set designers erecting a fantastic Emerald City added to the barrage of noise, while the heady scent of magnolias wafted from dozens of tall topiaries stacked on carts waiting to be rolled to the tables.

Soaking up the energy like a sponge, Gina wove her way through the tables to a wild-haired broomstick with a clipboard in one hand, a walkie-talkie in the other and a Bluetooth headset hooked over one ear. “Not The Wizard of Oz,” he was shouting into the headset. “Christ, who does Judy Garland anymore? This is the new movie. Oz the... Oz the...”

Scowling, he snapped his fingers at Gina.

“Oz the Great and Powerful,” she dutifully asserted.

“Right. Oz the Great and Powerful. It’s a Disney flick starring Rachel Weisz and...”

More finger snaps.

“Mila Kunis.”

“Right. Mila Kunis. That’s the music the clients requested.” The scowl deepened. “Hell, no, I don’t! Hold on.”

He whipped his head around and barked at Gina. “You the new AC?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Samuel DeGrange.”

“Nice to...”

He brushed aside the pleasantries with an impatient hand. “Go upstairs and tell the DJ to pull his head out of his ass. The clients don’t want Dorothy and Toto, for God’s sake! Then make sure the bar supervisor knows how to mix the fizzy green juice concoction that’s supposed to make the kids think they’re dancing down a new, improved Yellow Brick Road.”

* * *

Eight and a half hours later Gina was zipped into the Glinda the Good Witch costume that had been rented for her predecessor and making frantic last-minute changes to seating charts. Kallie the receptionist—now garbed as a munchkin—wielded a calligraphy pen to scribble out place cards for the twenty additional guests the honoree’s mother had somehow forgotten she’d invited until she was in the limo and on her way from Temple with the newly bat mitzvahed Rachel.

* * *

Another six hours later, Gina collapsed into a green-draped chair and gazed at the rubble. Iridescent streamers in green and gold littered the dance floor. Scattered among them was a forgotten emerald tiara here, an empty party-favors box there. The booths where the seventy-five kids invited to celebrate Rachel’s coming of age had fired green lasers and demolished video villains were being dismantled. Only a few crumbs remained of the fourteen-layer cake with its glittering towers and turrets. The kids invited to the party had devoured it with almost as much gusto as the more than two hundred parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends had drained the open bar upstairs.

Gina stretched out her feet in their glittery silver slippers and aimed a grin at the toothpick-thin Tin Man who flopped into the chair beside her.

“This party business is fun.”

“You think?” Samuel shoved back his tin hat and gave her a jaundiced smile. “Talk to me again after you’ve had an inebriated best man puke all over you. Or spent two hours sifting through piles of garbage to find a guest’s diamond-and-sapphire earrings. Which, incidentally, she calls to tell you she found in her purse.”

“At least she let you know she found it,” Gina replied, laughing.

“She’s one of the few. Seems like our insurance rates take another jump after every event.” He slanted her a sideways glance. “You did good tonight, St. Sebastian. Better than I expected when I read your resumé.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“You need to keep a closer finger on the pulse of the party, though. The natives got a little restless before the cake was brought out.”

Gina bit her lip. No need to remind her new boss that he’d sent her out to the terrace to shepherd some underage smokers back inside right when the cake was supposed to have been presented.

“I’ll watch the timing,” she promised.

“So go home now. I’ll do the final bar count and leave this mess to the cleaning crew.”

She wasn’t about to argue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Nine sharp,” he warned. “We’ve got a preliminary wedding consult. I’ll talk, you listen and learn.”

She popped a salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Christ! You got enough energy left for that?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just shooed her away. “Get out of here.”

* * *

The Oz the Great and Powerful bat mitzvah set the stage for the dozens of events that followed during the busy, busy month of May. Almost before she knew it Gina was caught up in a whirl of wedding and engagement and anniversary and graduation and coming-of-age parties. She gained both experience and confidence with each event.

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