Meet Mr. Prince Page 12

  “Tell you what. I’ll grab a cab and we’ll stop by for you around noon. I’ll call you when we’re a block or two away. We’ll go and have some lunch first, then we’ll skate.”

  “It’s not necessary to pick me up, Zach. I can just meet you at the rink. I’m sure I can find it.”

  “C’mon, Georgie, don’t give me a hard time. The kids love going to lunch, and they’ll both be disappointed if you don’t come with us. Heck, I will be, too.”

  When he put it that way, how could she say no?

  Later, as Georgie left the office and walked to the apartment she was now beginning to think of as home, she told herself once again that there was absolutely no harm in the coming Sunday excursion, and certainly no danger. In fact, she couldn’t imagine why she’d been so sure she could not spend any time outside of office hours with Zach and his kids. Now if she and Zach were going to be alone, that would be different. There was absolutely too much awareness between them to spend even one minute alone with him in any environment other than the office. But lunch and skating with him and the kids on a Sunday afternoon didn’t fall into that category at all. Sunday would be innocent fun.

  Even so, all Friday night, as she had dinner with an old school friend who lived out in one of the suburbs and had gotten in touch earlier in the week, she kept thinking about Sunday. It was hard concentrating on what her friend had to say, because innocent excursion or not, she got butterflies every time she remembered where she’d be Sunday afternoon and who she’d be with.

  Saturday wasn’t much better. Exasperated with herself—why did she keep thinking about Zach?—she cut her afternoon at MoMA short and took a long walk in Central Park instead. It was actually a nice day, cold but sunny, and she felt a lot better after the physical activity.

  She even managed to put Sunday and Zach out of her mind for a few hours that evening because she rented a movie she’d been wanting to see and ate takeout Chinese while watching it.

  But later on, in bed, thoughts of Zach came rushing back. And that night, she dreamed of him. In the dream, they were in some kind of outdoor pavilion and they were dancing. Georgie didn’t even like to dance, but in her dream she was wonderful, good enough to be on one of those dancing reality shows, and Zach was equally good. They were all dressed up—he wore a black tux and she wore a shimmery sequined gown in a shade of green that matched her eyes.

  They were slow-dancing, and he was holding her close. Because she was so tall as well as wearing heels, his lips were close to her temple, and she could actually feel his breath. He smelled wonderful, a combination of his woodsy aftershave and sexy male.

  When their dance was over, they stayed on the floor and he kissed her—a long, deep kiss that traveled from her lips down through her body to her toes. It stole her breath and melted her bones and made her heart thunder in her chest. She wanted the kiss to go on forever.

  She woke up with the feel of his lips still on hers. She was trembling from the force of the desire the dream had wakened.

  What was wrong with her?

  Why did she continue to think about Zach in ways that only made her situation worse? As a potential lover, he was totally off limits. You know that! No amount of wishing would make it otherwise.

  Georgie was a disciplined woman. When she decided she wanted something, she went after it wholeheartedly, and she usually reached her goal. The same went for getting rid of bad habits. She’d briefly flirted with smoking cigarettes when she was in college, but when she decided she wasn’t going to smoke anymore, she quit, cold turkey. And when she decided in her sophomore year of college that she was gaining weight she didn’t want, she increased her exercise and decreased her food intake until her weight stabilized where she thought it should be.

  So this inability to wipe something—well, someone—out of her mind when she told herself she would, was frustrating. And fantasizing about kissing that someone and having sex with that someone, when kissing him and having sex with him was the last thing in the world she’d ever be doing, was just plain ridiculous.

  She was reminded of her favorite book in the world, Pride and Prejudice, and how Darcy at one point is furious with himself and vows that “he will conquer this.”

  I, too, will conquer this. Even if it kills me.

  And, she thought ruefully, if the unfulfilled, almost painful ache in her body was any indication, it just might.

  Chapter Ten

  Georgie dressed warmly, putting on a thick pair of tights topped by a below-the-hip cable-knit sweater. Over that she wore a quilted down car coat. The outfit might not be glamorous, but if she fell on her backside, she wanted some protection.

  Her phone rang at 11:55 a.m. “We’re about a block away,” Zach said. “We’ll be out front in just a few minutes.”

  “I’m ready. I’ll be waiting at the curb.” Butterflies beat soft wings in her stomach.

  “Oh, you’re a mess, Georgie Fairchild,” she muttered as she waited for the elevator. “If you’re going to conquer this obsession you seem to have for Zach, you’re going to have to do better than this!”

  When the elevator arrived, it was empty, and for that she was grateful. She took deep breaths as she rode down to the lobby level, and by the time she walked outside, she felt more in control. The cab bearing Zach, Jeremy and Emma pulled up about five seconds later.

  Smiling at her, Zach got out to let her in. He was dressed casually in jeans and a navy pea jacket with a long scarf knotted around his neck. Georgie wanted to stay cool, calm and collected, but the moment she saw him, her heart skidded and she remembered every moment of her dream the night before. Thank goodness he couldn’t know what she was thinking.

  “Twins,” she managed to say breezily, holding up the ends of the long scarf knotted around her neck.

  He grinned.

  There ought to be a law against looking as good as he did. In the bright winter day, his eyes were as brilliant as blue topaz. More than anything, what Georgie wanted at that moment was to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. She had to look away so he wouldn’t see the hunger in her eyes.

  “Hi, Georgie,” piped up Jeremy as Georgie entered the cab. “This is Emma.”

  An angelic-looking toddler with curly hair sat on Jeremy’s lap. Emma’s huge eyes, just as blue as her dad’s and brother’s, met hers. “Hi, Georgie,” she said in a high, sweet voice.

  By now Zach had gone around and gotten in the other side of the cab and heard Emma’s greeting. “Emma, her name is Miss Fairchild. You know that. I told you so this morning.”

  “Jare-mee calls her Georgie,” Emma said. Her entire stance seemed to say she dared her father to dispute that.

  So she wasn’t as angelic as she looked. Georgie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

  “And Jeremy isn’t supposed to,” Zach said, giving his son an admonishing look.

  “It’s okay, Zach, honestly,” Georgie said. “I prefer to be called Georgie. Miss Fairchild makes me feel old.”

  “See, Dad?” Jeremy said.

  “See, Dad?” Emma repeated.

  Now Georgie did laugh. She couldn’t help it. And when her gaze met Zach’s, she could see he was laughing, too, although trying not to. “I’m outnumbered,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I’m afraid you are,” Georgie agreed. She realized she probably shouldn’t have contradicted him, but it was too late now. She was just glad he wasn’t irritated with her. A lot of men might have been, but Zach had already shown her that he didn’t feel his manhood was threatened by a woman’s disagreeing with him. And he had a sense of humor, thank goodness. Which Georgie was sure he needed—what any parent needed.

  Zach gave the cab driver their destination, which Georgie learned was a place called Ellen’s Stardust Diner.

  “Do you know it?” Zach said, settling back in the seat.

  Georgie shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re gonna love it!” Jeremy said. “It’s really cool. They have these wait
ers that sing.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re good, too. Aspiring Broadway performers, most of them,” Zach said.

  “And the food is the best,” Jeremy said.

  “The best!” Emma echoed.

  “I like the Love Me Tenders.” This from Jeremy.

  “What are Love Me Tenders?” Georgie asked.

  “It’s a fancy name for chicken fingers and fries,” Zach said.

  “What about you, Emma?” Georgie asked. “What do you like to eat there?”

  “Sketti! Or Moss!” Emma said.

  “Spaghetti or mozzarella cheese triangles,” Zach translated.

  “I love spaghetti myself,” Georgie said. Grinning, she turned to Zach. “And what about you, Mr. Prince? Do you have a favorite dish?”

  “I do. It’s called Hot Diggity Dog.”

  Georgie laughed. “Let me guess. Hot dogs.”

  “And not just any hot dogs. New York dogs.”

  “Like the ones sold on the street? With sauerkraut?” Georgie had already had a couple of street dogs, which she found irresistible.

  “You got it,” Zach said.

  So when they arrived at the restaurant, which was just as charming and clever as Georgie had imagined it would be, with its retro 1950s decor and happy ambiance, it didn’t take long to pin down their order, since, except for Georgie, everyone else had pretty much decided what they wanted to eat. After a short struggle where she almost picked the healthy choice of something called a Whole Earth Wrap, Georgie gave in to the stronger temptation to indulge in the Hot Diggity Dogs with Zach.

  While they waited for their food, they enjoyed the upbeat atmosphere and a performance of “Love Me Tender” by the waiters.

  “They’re singing about my food!” Jeremy said, making a goofy face.

  Not to be outdone, Emma imitated him.

  Zach just rolled his eyes, and Georgie laughed. She had to admit the kids were fun.

  Later, as they were eating, Georgie tried to think of another time recently when she’d enjoyed herself more, but she couldn’t. She was trying to decide which of the two children she liked better, Jeremy or Emma. Jeremy was showing off, a typical seven-year-old enjoying having a fresh audience, especially an appreciative one like Georgie, who found him highly amusing and entertaining. And Emma…well, Emma was a delight. Obviously a little spitfire, she reminded Georgie of herself when she was young. She would be a handful as well as a heartbreaker when she hit her teen years, Georgie was sure, but if anyone could manage her, it would be Zach.

  Watching him, Georgie realized anew what a great guy he was, and she was filled with regret that she wasn’t cut out to be the kind of woman he needed. The words Deborah had uttered were ever-present in the back of her mind: His children really need a mother.

  The only sour note during lunch occurred when they had finished their meal and were waiting for the bill. Two young women approached their booth, giggling and jostling each other. The taller one, a blonde wearing too much makeup, said, “Oh, Mr. Dempsey, will you take a picture with us?” Before Zach could even answer, the other one, a curvy little redhead, whipped out her cell phone and proceeded to take a photo of Zach.

  “Please put that phone down,” Zach said. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  The girls stared at him. Georgie could tell they didn’t believe him. “He’s really not,” Georgie said.

  “Whatever,” the blonde said. “C’mon, Heather, let’s go.”

  “Does that kind of thing happen often?” Georgie asked as they exited the restaurant.

  “Not as much anymore.”

  Georgie could see Zach didn’t want to discuss the incident, so she said nothing further.

  Zach looked around. “Let’s walk down to the corner. It’ll be easier to get a cab there.”

  “Yeah!” Jeremy said, already beginning to run ahead.

  “Jeremy!” Zach called. “Get back here. And Emma, you hold my hand.”

  “I wanna hold Georgie’s hand,” Emma said.

  Zach smiled. “Looks like you’re a hit.”

  Emma’s mittened hand settled into Georgie’s as if it belonged there, and when the toddler looked up at her and said, “I like you. Will you paint my nails when we get home?” Georgie knew one thing for sure: She was no longer in danger of losing her heart to Zach, because his daughter had already stolen it.

  After they’d rented skates for Georgie and a locker to hold their belongings, they ventured out onto the ice. Zach had to hold Georgie firmly or she would have fallen, because her legs wouldn’t stop wobbling.

  It was so beautiful out in the open air, though—cold, yes, but bright and sunny and sparkling. The snow on the ground was still fresh enough to be white and pretty, and all the skaters, many of them in gaily colored coats and hats, gave the rink a festive look.

  Georgie loved it.

  Or would have loved it, if she didn’t feel so awkward and certain she was going to topple over at any moment. She would have been happy sitting on the sidelines, just watching, for Zach and his two children were good skaters. Even little Emma was pretty steady on the ice, and Jeremy was a revelation.

  “Wow,” Georgie said to him as she watched him zip around, “you’re great!”

  “Told you!” he said.

  “Don’t be a smart aleck,” Zach said. But once again, the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him, and Georgie knew Zach enjoyed Jeremy’s impudence and Emma’s stubborn streak.

  “C’mon,” Jeremy said, grabbing Georgie’s hand. “It’s not hard.”

  “Hey, wait,” Zach said. “Let her get her sea legs.”

  “We’re not in the water, Dad,” Jeremy said, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s just an expression, son.” Zach looked at Georgie. “They’re so literal.”

  She tried not to laugh but was only partially successful.

  For the next hour, Zach (patiently) and Jeremy (not so patiently) instructed her on the proper way to navigate the ice while keeping her balance. After a while, she felt she was getting the hang of it, but she knew it would take a lot of practice—a lot!—if she was ever going to be anywhere near as good as the Prince men.

  Still, by the time they’d been on the ice about an hour and a half, she was moving along fairly easily, as long as she didn’t attempt turns or anything other than straightforward skating…and as long as Zach was there to help if she got in trouble. By then Jeremy was bored with teaching and he was having fun on his own, although Zach insisted he stay nearby. Emma, on the other hand, stuck to Georgie like glue.

  “You’re doing really well,” Zach said, “but I’ll bet you’re tired.”

  Georgie hated to admit it, but she was tired. And her legs hurt because she’d used muscles she didn’t know she had.

  Just as Zach was about to call Jeremy, who was skating a ways ahead of them, but still in sight, Jeremy whipped around and sped back to them. Shouting, “Georgie, Dad! I can skate on one leg! Look!” he zoomed right up to Georgie, spun and lifted one leg and in the process made her lose her balance, and before Zach could prevent it, she fell heavily, twisting her right leg beneath her.

  Because Emma was so close, she also lost her balance and fell on top of Georgie.

  Georgie knew, even before Zach began to help her up, that she’d injured her right ankle, because it hurt like the devil, and she couldn’t put her weight on it.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeremy kept saying.

  Zach glared at him.

  Emma started to cry.

  “It wasn’t his fault, Zach,” Georgie said.

  “Yes, it was. He was showing off, and he wasn’t careful.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” Jeremy looked stricken and on the verge of tears himself.

  “Georgie’s the one you need to apologize to,” Zach said. “She’s probably sprained her ankle.” He put his arm around her so he could support her weight. “C’mon, let’s get you over to that bench and get your skates off. If you really have sprained t
hat ankle, it’s going to start swelling, and you don’t want your skates on when that happens.”

  Sure enough, her ankle looked swollen and red when Zach removed her skate.

  Emma had stopped crying and climbed up next to Georgie. “Does it hurt?” she said.

  Georgie nodded. “But it’s not bad.” It was, though. It was throbbing and she knew she wasn’t going to be able to walk on it.

  “You can’t walk on that foot,” Zach said.

  “But I have to get out to the street somehow. And you certainly can’t carry me.”

  “I’m sorry, Georgie,” Jeremy said.

  “It’s okay, honey,” she said.

  “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Zach said. “Let’s get your other skate off so I can return them. You and Emma stay here while Jeremy and I go to the lockers and get our stuff. In the meantime, I’ll call Les, this fella who drives us sometimes, to get my car out of the garage and come and pick us up.”

  “But—”

  “He can stop off at the apartment first and get the portable wheelchair we used when Jenny was sick. I’ll call Fanny and tell her to wheel it downstairs and give it to the doorman. After we take the kids home, we’ll get you to a doctor. Make sure it’s just a sprain.”

  Georgie marveled at how quickly and easily Zach had taken charge. Of course, it helped that he had seemingly unlimited resources. Within forty minutes, the driver showed up. The wheelchair made it simple to get her to the car—which was actually a roomy SUV—and before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of Zach’s apartment.

  “I won’t be long,” he told her. “Just stay in the car with Les, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. C’mon, kids. Let’s go.”

  “I wanna stay with Georgie,” Emma said, pouting.

  “You can’t. But you’ll see her again after we get back from the doctor’s.”

  Ten minutes later they were on their way again. Zach had thoughtfully brought back a couple of Advil for her, along with a bottle of water. “Are you doing okay?”

  “It’s not so bad, really.”