One Night with Prince Charming (Aristocratic Grooms 2)

“And a beautiful shade of blond, it is,” he murmured. “It’s gold spun with wheat and sunshine.”

She looked into his eyes. She could, she thought, spend hours studying the fascinating mix of hues there.

James cocked his head, his eyes crinkling. “Okay, Pia,” he continued in his smooth, deep voice, “Broadway, Wall Street, fashion, advertising or The Devil Wears Prada?”

“None of the above?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’ve never struck out before.”

“Never?” she asked with feigned astonishment. “I’m sorry I ruined your track record.”

“Never mind. I trust your discretion will spare my reputation.”

They were flirting—or rather he was flirting with her—and she was, amazingly, holding her own.

It was all exhilarating. She’d never had a man flirt with her this way, and certainly no one of James’s caliber.

In fact, though, she wasn’t an actress, a banker, a model, or in advertising or publishing. “I’m an event planner,” she said. “I organize parties.”

“Ah.” His eyes gleamed. “A party girl. Splendid.”

There were party girls and then there were party girls, she wanted to say, but she didn’t correct him.

“What about you?” she asked instead. “What are you doing here in New York?”

He straightened, dropping his arm from the back of the seat. “I’m just an ordinary Joe with a boring finance job, I’m afraid.”

“There’s nothing ordinary about you,” she blurted, and then clamped her mouth shut.

He smiled again, his dimple appearing. “I’m flattered you think so.”

She lifted her drink for another sip because he and his smile—and, yes, that dimple—were doing funny things to her insides.

He was studying her, and she tried to remain casual, though he sat mere inches away.

She was very aware of his muscular thigh encased in beige pants on the seat beside her. He wore no tie, and the strong, corded lines of his neck stood in relief against the open collar of his light blue shirt.

He nodded, his eyes fixed at a spot near her collarbone. “That’s an interesting necklace you’re wearing.”

She glanced down, though she knew what he’d be seeing. She wore a sterling silver necklace with a flying fish pendant. In deference to the July heat, she’d worn a sleeveless turquoise blue sheath dress. The pendant was one of her usual accessories.

She’d come directly to the bar from work, and she figured he’d done the same from the way he was dressed. Though he wasn’t wearing a suit, his attire qualified as business casual. Work dress code was more relaxed in the summer in the city, especially on a dress-down Friday.

She flushed now, however, at the thought that between the color of her dress and the symbol on her pendant, she resembled nothing so much as a pond with a solitary fish swimming in it.

Drat. Why hadn’t she thought of that when she’d dressed this morning?

But James’s face held no hint of amusement at her expense—just simple curiosity.

She fingered her pendant. “The necklace was a gift from my friend Tamara, who is a wonderful jewelry designer here in the city. I like to fish.”

“A woman after my own heart then.”

Pia checked her surprise. Of course, he would be interested in fishing. He was her fantasy man—how could he not be?

“Do you fish?” she asked unnecessarily.

“Since I was three or four,” he said solemnly. “What kind of fishing do you do?”