"Oh, excuse me," she said. She looked up, feeling a bit disoriented. "Don't I know you . . . ?"
"Jacqui Velasco." The person in front of her was six-foot three, blond, and beaming, in a tailored shirt with nice wool pants.
"Pete? Pete Rockwood?" Jacqui asked in disbelief. "Am I dreaming?"
"Nope. Not at all." Pete broke into a wide grin. "It's me."
"What are you doing here?" she blurted, too shocked to have any manners. Was this really the guy she'd met at the duck pond? He almost looked like a sophisticated Hamptonite and not the sweet tourist she'd met back in June.
"It's a long story," he said, smiling at her so widely that she couldn't help but smile back. "Are you going downstairs?"
She nodded, unable to remember what she'd been doing before she bumped into him, and he led the way.
"I think there's an elevator around here somewhere--I took it on the way up." They walked down the length of the hallway to a small elevator next to the library that was almost hidden in the wall.
"So, would you like to tell me the long story?" she prodded, her curiosity getting the better of her.
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"Well, it all started at the dentist's office," he said in a practical tone as he punched button to call the elevator.
"The dentist's office?" Jacqui burst out laughing. She couldn't help it; it was all too surreal. Where could this story be going?
"Yeah," he said with a grin, letting her step inside the car first. He pushed the elevator button and the doors closed behind them. "Anyway, there I was, waiting for Dr. Finklemore, when I pick up a magazine and there you are. Your picture, that is. The article said you were spending the summer in the Hamptons, modeling for some store. So I stole the magazine and called up the boutique--Eliza Thompson? Anyway, the girl there said she knew where you were. So here I am."
Jacqui stood there looking at him, totally stunned. All that effort just to track her down? But then, hadn't she spent the first weeks of the summer madly Googling him?
"So basically, I came here looking for you. Does that make me a stalker?" His blue eyes twinkled and perfect dimples formed in either cheek. For a moment, all Jacqui could think about was that any girl would be happy to have Pete Rockwood for a stalker.
She suddenly remembered herself and shook her head, as if shaking water out of her ears. "But how--how'd you even get into this party? I thought you were from Indiana," Jacqui said as they arrived at the first floor with a ding. How did a small-town boy end up at an exclusive fashion event?
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"I am." He smiled as he ushered her out of the elevator. "I've got my methods," he said with a crafty grin.
She raised an eyebrow, more curious than ever.
"C'mon, a guy's gotta have a few secrets, right? All that matters is that I'm here now and you're here."
They stepped out of the elevator and into the main hall. "You're everywhere, in fact," he added with a laugh, gesturing to the enormous photographs of Jacqui plastered as far as the eye could see. "Anyway, I was thinking . . . maybe I could take you out? Tomorrow night?"
"Take me out--"
"On, like, a date?" he asked, his face hopeful. "Dinner. Movie. Awkward conversation. You know, that sort of thing."
"A date . . . tomorrow," Jacqui repeated. She shook her head, reality suddenly coming back to her in a rush. "I can't."
Pete exhaled, looking crestfallen. They stopped in an empty alcove where they could hear the murmur of the party in the adjacent room.
"It's not what you think," Jacqui said gently. "I like you. It's just I'm leaving for Paris tomorrow." And I have a boyfriend now, she thought but didn't say.
"So how about when you get back?" he asked. "Tell me if I'm trying too hard," he added, still managing a ghost of a smile.
She shook her head, more slowly this time. "No, it's not a vacation--I'm going to Paris to model. I'm staying there."
Now it was his turn to look shocked. "But what about
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