depend on him. He wouldn’t do anything to mislead her.
But when he spoke, his voice came out soft and deliberate. “I guess I’ll stick around and be your husband.”
“This way,” Stephanie said to Alec, pointing to an aisle that stretched between two racks of clothes in the exhibition hall in the basement of the hotel. For the first time in weeks, she felt lighter, almost happy. She’d always enjoyed the social events around major jumping competitions, and she woke up this morning vowing to enjoy them this weekend.
It would be odd hanging out with Alec, odder still that people would know they were married. But at least she’d have a dancing partner.
She supposed there was always a silver lining.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Alec stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the exhibition hall entrance, staring in obvious disbelief at the racks of costumes, hats, shoes and accessories.
“Our party’s a 1920s theme,” she offered, halting beside him.
He gazed deliberately around the barnlike costume rental setup. “They bring all this in for horse jumping?”
“Tonight isn’t the only theme event. And with this many wealthy people in one place, it’s a prime opportunity for fund-raising.”
People were starting to pile up behind them, so she snagged his arm and tugged him forward.
“You mean I have to dress up in a costume and give away my money?” he asked.
“You really don’t get out much, do you?” she couldn’t help teasing him.
“Not like this,” he told her, gazing around the jumble of merchandise taking up about a quarter of the cavernous room. “I’m more a dinner at Palazzo Antinori or a cruise on the Seine kind of guy.”
“A closet romantic,” she reflexively observed, then cringed at the unfortunate choice of words.
His expression turned serious. “No, Stephanie. I’m not a romantic of any kind.”
She sensed some kind of a warning in his words.
“Over there.” She cheerfully pointed, changing the subject as they made their way past a suit of medievalarmor and a shelf of colored wigs and sparkling Mardi Gras masks.
Alec leaned in close, his tone still dire. “I don’t want you to…” He obviously struggled for words.
She refused to prompt him. She really didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation.
“To get caught up—”
“In the 1920s?” she wedged in.
“In our marriage,” he corrected.
She let sarcasm color her tone. “You afraid I’ll mistake a dance for a declaration of undying passion and devotion?”
He backed off a little. “You seem…”
“What?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Happy. Animated.”
“And you attribute that to you? Wow. That’s some ego you’ve got going there Alec.”
“It’s not my ego.”
“Right.”
He clenched his jaw. “Forget I said anything.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“You’re faking, Alec. I get that. I’m faking it, too.” She might have let her emotional guard down for a moment, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of enjoying herself again.
He searched her expression. “Fine.”
“Fine.” She nodded in return. Just flipping fine. Bad enough she had to fake a marriage. Now she wasn’t allowed to smile while she did it.
She put her attention on the costume racks again, now simply wanting to get this over with. “You might as well pick something?”
He glanced around. “I’m not a fan of costumes.”
“Yeah? Too bad.”
He shot her a look of annoyance.
What? She was supposed to get happy again? “Be a man about it,” she challenged. “Put on some pinstripes and spats. Be grateful it’s not superhero night.”
His look of horror almost made her smile.
“You’d look good in red tights.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“Check those out.” She gestured to a rack of suit jackets.
For herself, she moved further down the aisle, finding a selection of flapper dresses.
She started through them one by one. After a few minutes, she came across a sexy, silky
But when he spoke, his voice came out soft and deliberate. “I guess I’ll stick around and be your husband.”
“This way,” Stephanie said to Alec, pointing to an aisle that stretched between two racks of clothes in the exhibition hall in the basement of the hotel. For the first time in weeks, she felt lighter, almost happy. She’d always enjoyed the social events around major jumping competitions, and she woke up this morning vowing to enjoy them this weekend.
It would be odd hanging out with Alec, odder still that people would know they were married. But at least she’d have a dancing partner.
She supposed there was always a silver lining.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Alec stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the exhibition hall entrance, staring in obvious disbelief at the racks of costumes, hats, shoes and accessories.
“Our party’s a 1920s theme,” she offered, halting beside him.
He gazed deliberately around the barnlike costume rental setup. “They bring all this in for horse jumping?”
“Tonight isn’t the only theme event. And with this many wealthy people in one place, it’s a prime opportunity for fund-raising.”
People were starting to pile up behind them, so she snagged his arm and tugged him forward.
“You mean I have to dress up in a costume and give away my money?” he asked.
“You really don’t get out much, do you?” she couldn’t help teasing him.
“Not like this,” he told her, gazing around the jumble of merchandise taking up about a quarter of the cavernous room. “I’m more a dinner at Palazzo Antinori or a cruise on the Seine kind of guy.”
“A closet romantic,” she reflexively observed, then cringed at the unfortunate choice of words.
His expression turned serious. “No, Stephanie. I’m not a romantic of any kind.”
She sensed some kind of a warning in his words.
“Over there.” She cheerfully pointed, changing the subject as they made their way past a suit of medievalarmor and a shelf of colored wigs and sparkling Mardi Gras masks.
Alec leaned in close, his tone still dire. “I don’t want you to…” He obviously struggled for words.
She refused to prompt him. She really didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation.
“To get caught up—”
“In the 1920s?” she wedged in.
“In our marriage,” he corrected.
She let sarcasm color her tone. “You afraid I’ll mistake a dance for a declaration of undying passion and devotion?”
He backed off a little. “You seem…”
“What?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “Happy. Animated.”
“And you attribute that to you? Wow. That’s some ego you’ve got going there Alec.”
“It’s not my ego.”
“Right.”
He clenched his jaw. “Forget I said anything.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“You’re faking, Alec. I get that. I’m faking it, too.” She might have let her emotional guard down for a moment, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of enjoying herself again.
He searched her expression. “Fine.”
“Fine.” She nodded in return. Just flipping fine. Bad enough she had to fake a marriage. Now she wasn’t allowed to smile while she did it.
She put her attention on the costume racks again, now simply wanting to get this over with. “You might as well pick something?”
He glanced around. “I’m not a fan of costumes.”
“Yeah? Too bad.”
He shot her a look of annoyance.
What? She was supposed to get happy again? “Be a man about it,” she challenged. “Put on some pinstripes and spats. Be grateful it’s not superhero night.”
His look of horror almost made her smile.
“You’d look good in red tights.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“Check those out.” She gestured to a rack of suit jackets.
For herself, she moved further down the aisle, finding a selection of flapper dresses.
She started through them one by one. After a few minutes, she came across a sexy, silky
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