A Bachelor At The Wedding

Thank goodness for Nana Bella. She normally got annoyed when her family interrupted her at work with one of their crazy “emergencies,” but this time her dear grandmother had displayed perfect timing. Nana Bella always claimed to be a little psychic—as Italian grandmothers often do, just to keep their children in line—but this episode proved it.

Matt Harding unnerved her enough under normal circumstances—curtly delivering his orders, shouting his displeasure, showing no positive reaction to the many miracles she pulled off. But when he slipped into a personal mode…asking her about her family, her social life—or lack thereof—and praised her work to the sky, she couldn’t take it. She’d nearly melted into a puddle of goo, right there on the Persian rug.

What in the world had come over him? Maybe the kitchen had slipped something into his afternoon coffee, she mused.

Sometimes she hated this job. Not her real job, as assistant manager of hotel operations, which she’d started at the Harding Plaza about two months ago. She loved that job. Landing it had been a big step in her career. But this special, temporary assignment. She was never going to make it. She would lose her mind before it was all over.

Why her, of all people? She’d been so happy here at first. Then, just as she was getting her feet wet in the new spot, the buzz spread around the office: Matt Harding needed a temporary replacement for his personal assistant. For some mysterious reason, Stephanie was tapped for the assignment. She couldn’t understand it. So many others who were possible choices had been at the hotel far longer. Some of the female managers especially were more than willing—jealously wondering what Stephanie had done to deserve the honor.

But what choice did she have? She couldn’t very well refuse. Her boss had presented the call as a real perk—a chance to show off her talents to the top man.

“Do a good job for Mr. Harding and you’ll really advance in this organization,” her boss had advised her.

Stephanie had a far different view. She’d already heard the lowdown on Matt Harding. For one thing, the dynamic founder of Harding Hotels was reputed to be demanding and temperamental, totally charming one minute, then biting someone’s head off the next.

So far she’d barely glimpsed the charming side. The past few weeks had been mostly snarling, barking and a few nips here and there—or totally ignoring her. Which she found most unnerving of all.

Then there was this other problem. Matt Harding himself, an undisputable hunk. With enough masculine magnetism to light up Times Square. When her friends found out she’d been called upon to babysit “His Royal Hotness” they’d had a field day teasing her and giggling endlessly over silly, adolescent fantasies. Stephanie either ignored them, or denied that she felt any attraction.

Nobody believed her. Why would they? He was just that good-looking…or something. Stephanie could never quite figure out what it was about Matt Harding that set him apart—she just knew, whatever it was, he had plenty of it.

Yes, secretly she was attracted to him, though she’d never admit it in a million years, not even to her closest friends.

Insanely attracted.

It was insane, Stephanie often reminded herself. And pointless. Like yearning after a movie star or sports figure, some guy so distant and unattainable, he didn’t even know you were alive.

Besides, Stephanie knew by now a good relationship was more than a physical attraction. Matthew Harding had his shortcomings. To begin with, he was arrogant, a total egotist, and extremely insensitive. Not the type of man she admired and respected at all. Therefore, no problem. Right?

The kind of man she envisioned settling down with would be solid, sensitive and warm. He would share her values and background. He was not a self-centered playboy, running around with models and actresses half his age. He wanted a wife and family, a real life—and he’d want to make a real and lasting commitment.

The description of her ideal brought to mind her former fiancé, Tommy Torelli. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood of Brooklyn, homey Carroll Gardens. They’d gone to the same schools and had known each other forever. Their parents were friends and Tommy was almost like family.

Stephanie’s father had always predicted that one of his daughters would end up a Torelli. But Tommy, in his careful methodical way, took his sweet time making his choice. The summer after Stephanie graduated from college, he asked her out on a date. She’d thought he was joking at first, but when she realized he was serious, Stephanie said, “Sure, why not?”

Maybe that would have been good enough for most people—a comfortable, feet-on-solid-ground start for the same type of clearheaded romance. But it wasn’t quite good enough for Stephanie. She wanted more. Some indefinable but essential ingredient was missing. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but as time went on, she realized her so-called romance with Tommy never quite progressed beyond, “Sure, why not?”

She might be willing to date a man for that reason, and even go steady for several years. But she ultimately discovered she could not answer his mature and logical proposal of marriage by saying, “Sure, why not?”

Tommy was dear, he was sweet. He had good values, a strong character, an easygoing, pleasant personality. Their backgrounds were so similar, they could share a private joke with a mere glance. But Tommy was not the man she wanted to share her life with.

Her family was shocked and unhappy when Stephanie announced the breakup. Her parents had hoped Angie’s wedding would inspire Stephanie to set the date as well. They’d never imagined Angie’s nuptials would have just the opposite effect.

“You’re throwing away a good chance here, Stephanie,” her mother warned. “I just don’t understand you sometimes.”

Then her father chimed in, “You’re just nervous, sweetie. Everybody’s afraid to get married, believe me. Sure you like your job. It’s fine for a girl to work until the babies come. But you don’t want to end up like Aunt Lily, do you? Living alone with a bunch of cats to keep you company?”

Aunt Lily was her grandmother’s so-called spinster sister. The story was that when her fiancé died in World War II, Lily would have no other. A spinster or not, Aunt Lily had always seemed very happy and fulfilled to Stephanie. She’d been a schoolteacher and now was active in her retirement years, always traveling to exotic places on educational tours for seniors. Lily always invited Nana Bella to come along, but Stephanie’s parents always dissuaded her. Despite her father’s dire warning, Aunt Lily’s golden years didn’t look half bad to Stephanie.

Besides, women had far more choices these days. But try telling that to her well-meaning, but totally sexist, traditional father. He was hardly aware that women had the vote.

What was the use of arguing? Stephanie couldn’t explain it. Tommy was a little too steady and settled. She wanted to get married, not turn into a zombie.

Only Grandma Bella seemed to understand. “Don’t listen to your father. He’s not the one marrying Tommy. You did the right thing, sweetheart. Tommy’s a nice boy, don’t get me wrong. But figlia bella, he’s not for you,” Grandma agreed with a brisk shake of her head. “You need a little…fire.”

But who was for her? What faceless stranger would step out of the shadows to inspire that head-over-heels feeling she was holding out for? That breathless rush that reminds a person that life is more than going to work, eating dinner and watching the six-o’clock news? The pure elation and connection of two minds and souls that can fill you with absolute joy?

Who was that man, who would share this adventure with her, Stephanie wondered as she gazed out her office window.

It certainly was not Matt Harding.

If she felt he was taking some personal notice of her today, that was merely her overactive imagination. Matt Harding did not look at a woman like her twice. Not when he had the “flavor of the week” supermodels lined up as his Saturday night dates, she reminded herself. All she had to do was open the New York society pages to get dashed with cold water, washing away any misconceptions she might have about his interest in her. Not to mention the hotel grapevine, always ripe for the picking with rumors about her sexy boss’s exploits.

There were other rumors too, a sad story about his past. How he’d married his college sweetheart, but she’d broken his heart. According to the gossip, she’d not only left him for another man, but also somehow walked away with the savings he’d planned to use to start his business. He’d been spurned, burned and left with nothing. Somehow, he’d managed to survive those hard times and build his business anyway. But she suspected the scars from that episode went deep. Which might explain his apparent aversion to serious relationships.

But it was not for her to analyze or judge Matt Harding. She wished she didn’t think of him at all. He seemed content with his life and happy on his romantic merry-go-round. I probably make no more impression on him than a new piece of office furniture, Stephanie thought glumly.

So why did he get so personal today? Maybe he was merely curious, she reasoned. It didn’t mean anything at all.

Even if he was feeling some tiny spark of attraction, she couldn’t dare encourage it. That would be a total and complete disaster. She was in a very vulnerable state right now. She couldn’t let her guard down.

She glanced out her office windows at an extraordinary view of Central Park and the uptown skyline, which sparkled with points of light. The moon hung low in a smoky blue sky. Perfectly round and shimmering like a silver coin. Well, maybe that explained it. Nana Bella always warned her about the romantic powers of the full moon, Stephanie thought, smiling to herself.

Perhaps her domineering, gorgeous-but-grouchy boss was not immune to the spell?

Far below, she could see the sidewalks crowded with fast-walking, fast-talking New Yorkers, hurrying home to start their weekend or to meet friends…or meet a date somewhere special. Taxis darted in and out of traffic, and alongside the park entrance, horse-drawn carriages lined up, waiting to take passengers on a romantic moonlit ride.

It was a perfect night to be out in the city. But she had nowhere special to go, no one to meet. It was just as well that she worked late, Stephanie decided. Less time to feel lonely. She wouldn’t even bother trying to find another manager. Why ruin someone else’s plans, when she had none?

A dash of lipstick and a quick smoothing out of her sedate hairstyle, and she was ready to oversee the journalists’ big banquet. Who knows, she mused, as she walked toward the elevators, maybe some dashing international correspondent will sweep me away on his magic trench coat.

Like Nana Bella always said, “When you wake up in the morning, honey, you never know what’s going to happen. So make sure you always wear nice underwear, sweetheart. Okay?”

Chapter Two

Matt turned the key and let himself in his front door. A penthouse suite atop the hotel, the luxury apartment was a laughably short commute.

He strolled across the onyx floor of the foyer and into the sweeping living room. He kicked off his shoes, slipped off his suit jacket and yanked off his tie. Then he fixed himself a drink, the usual, bourbon with a splash of soda. Already past seven, he noticed. Not much time left to get ready for his date. The buff-colored leather couch, covered with large suede and Kilim tapestry pillows, looked tempting and he longed to sit back and put his feet up. But Jenna would read him the riot act if he was late. She had pull at the trendiest restaurants and hated to miss out on a good table. A table where she could see all and be seen by all.

At times, she seemed to have no greater joy in life than finding her blurry photograph in the gossip pages of the morning newspaper. Not his style at all, though so far, he humored her. He’d never courted publicity and actively avoided it. Though the paparazzi always seemed to find him a worthy subject, he couldn’t quite understand the fascination. Especially when the gossip columnists put out some absurd story about his private life. But as Jenna often reminded him, any publicity was good publicity. He wasn’t so sure about that theory, but never bothered to argue with her.

He took a bolstering swallow of his bourbon and headed for the bedroom, a large master suite. Jenna was not the deepest, most sensitive person he had ever met—but she was very good in bed. Hey, a guy can’t expect a woman to be perfect.

Unfortunately, the concept of female perfection brought to mind one woman and one alone…Stephanie Rossi. He stripped off his shirt and trousers, wondering what Stephanie was like in bed. She always seemed so quiet and controlled. Yet he had long suspected that was an act, mostly for his benefit—a “persona” she donned for the office.

For one thing, there was her sense of humor. Surprisingly sharp and even zany at times. And he’d always found you could tell a lot about a woman by watching her eat. One morning he’d spied Stephanie having breakfast at her desk, a sticky cinnamon roll and a frothy cappuccino. The way she had delicately devoured the pastry, her eyes half closed as she licked the tip of one finger, her tongue darting out, skimming the trace of sugary icing….

He felt a lump forming in his throat—and other places on his anatomy—just thinking about it. She was a deeply sensual woman—no question about it. Secretly sensual perhaps. But that would make it all the more delightful to unveil her hidden, erotic side. Yes, a man would be very lucky indeed to be granted that special privilege.

Unlike Jenna, who flaunted her sexuality so boldly he’d become numb to it. Ah, well. Like the song goes, you can’t always get what you want.

He strolled across the bedroom in his briefs, not even bothering to glance at his image in the large mirror that hung on the opposite wall. For all his good looks and the admiring glances he constantly received, he was not a vain man. His tall, wide-shouldered frame was lean and fit, with well-developed muscles in his long legs, chest and arms. His chest was covered with a mat of dark brown hair, tapering down his flat, sculpted stomach. He liked to keep fit and needed to be in top shape just to keep up with his demanding lifestyle. He worked out regularly in the hotel’s fully equipped health club, and swam laps in the Olympic-size pool. Living across the street from Central Park made it easier to take an early-morning jog, or even go cycling.

Like many men approaching forty, Matt found it wasn’t quite as easy to finish those fifty sit-ups, or sprint that last mile. He sometimes worried about going “soft” all over. Yet the truth of the matter was, he didn’t have much to worry about. The women in his life never had any complaints.

As Matt pulled a dark-plum bath sheet from the linen closet, he noticed the light flashing on the phone machine, which sat on a writing desk in the corner of the bedroom. He walked over and pressed the answer button. Jenna’s high-pitched voice greeted him. She tended to squeal when excited and he turned the volume down.

“Hey, Matt. It’s me. I was really looking forward to seeing you, sweetie. But something has come up at work and I’m leaving tonight for—guess where?—the French countryside. Top secret emergency, sweetie, so don’t tell a soul. Guess what? Brian and Melanie are getting married—” Matt frowned. He didn’t know any Brian, or Melanie. Then he realized Jenna was talking about two famous actors who were always on the cover of the supermarket tabloids. Brian Bigelow and Melanie Marsh? Something like that.

Jenna, the celebrity authority, often referred to total strangers on a first-name basis, a habit he found annoying.

Jenna’s voice rattled on, and he listened with half an ear. He already knew the punch line. He’d been stood up for Brian and Melanie. For some reason, instead of feeling let down, he felt strangely…relieved.

“…so our sources heard the wedding was not going to be in Palm Springs or at Brian’s ranch in Montana. I mean, I knew that was a spin all along. Then I found out the real location. Brian’s stepmother’s chateau. She’s practically British royalty, you know. Lady Gainsworth…or Gainsworthy? I’m not sure…. Anyway, her personal secretary’s sister-in-law goes to the same day spa as I do. So she was getting a body wax in the booth right next to me and I heard everything. Lucky, right?”

How long was his message tape, Matt wondered. Didn’t it have an automatic cutoff at some point?

“Sorry, sweetie, but this really is the story of the year. I can’t miss out. Anyway, kisses and kisses, Matt sweetheart—” Matt heard some juicy kissing sounds and winced a bit. “I’ll make it up to you next week. Promise,” Jenna added with a sexy laugh.

A long, electronic beep signaled the end of her seemingly endless message. Well, so much for his hot date. He pressed the rewind button on the machine and headed for the shower.

Maybe Jenna breaking this date was in fact, a good thing.

This relationship wasn’t going anywhere and it was time he faced it. When she came back, he’d take her out to dinner and have the usual talk. “It’s not you, it’s me…” etcetera and so on. He knew his lines by heart by now. She’d probably be angry. Maybe even throw a drink at him. Some women did. He’d send her flowers, maybe a nice piece of jewelry?

Was there something wrong with him? Why was he so hard to please? Why couldn’t he find a woman who didn’t drive him crazy, or just plain bore him to tears?

Matt turned on the shower, adjusted the water to the steaming-hot temperature he preferred, then stepped into the black-marble and glass enclosure. For years, he’d been focused on building his business. Working hard and playing hard. He loved the company of charming, attractive women and was rarely without a gorgeous one in his life. But relationships—real relationships—were never a priority to him. Women seem to come and go, the next one always more enticing than the last.

As a young man, his motto had always been, “So many women, so little time.” But now it seemed more as if time was running out, and while he’d enjoyed the company of many, he still hadn’t found that special one in the world, the woman that was made just for him. Did she really exist? Would he ever find her?

Once upon a time, he’d been an optimist about such matters. A real romantic. But that had all changed back in college, when his first love left him for another man. She’d not only broken his heart, but had also made off with his inheritance, the seed money for his business. With the help of banks and investors, he’d managed to succeed anyway. Eventually, he’d realized that his ex-wife had robbed him of something even more valuable than money—the courage to reach out and love again.

Now it felt as if he was forever trapped in a hopeless loop of meaningless romances, with trophy dates like Jenna. Finally, just like tonight, he always found himself alone.

He briskly toweled off, then dressed in jeans and a black V-neck pullover. He combed his thick wet hair straight back and didn’t even think about shaving. Maybe I’ll grow a beard this weekend, he thought as he walked barefoot back into the living room.

He freshened his drink, then flicked on the evening news. The flashing images captured only a fraction of his attention. He was weary and the weekend seemed to stretch out endlessly—echoing with loneliness.

He’d take out his phone book and call someone. There were plenty of names to choose from. He could find a date for tonight, even at such short notice, he consoled himself. He and Jenna didn’t really have an exclusive relationship. He considered this solution, then realized there wasn’t any other woman he really wanted to see.

Well, there was one. But she was off-limits to him.

He took a gulp of his drink, the ice tinkling against the crystal glass. He’d drive out to his country house and spend the weekend at the beach. Being near the ocean always soothed his nerves and energized him. He’d spend the weekend. Maybe he’d meet somebody new out there, at the shore. Or in a club.

Is that what Stephanie would be doing this weekend? Not spending time with a boyfriend, he knew now. That was some relief. But maybe going out with girlfriends to singles clubs, or on blind dates, trying to find a new boyfriend?

He sighed and shifted restlessly in his seat. Why torture yourself? She’s clearly and totally off limits. Is that the fascination here? The kind of woman you need is running off to the French countryside to mingle with celebrities. Not hopping a subway to Brooklyn to babysit.

He glanced around the stylishly decorated, perfectly neat apartment. It suddenly felt so sterile…so oppressive. He had to get out of here. He snapped off the TV with the remote and dropped his glass on the marble coffee table.

Back in the bedroom, he started to pack a bag. The phone rang and he paused. Jenna again? Maybe her plans changed and she was free.

He made no move to pick it up. He didn’t want to see her tonight after all. The machine answered on the third ring and he listened closely.

“Mr. Harding? I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not even sure if you’re there…but a problem has come up that you should know about….”

Stephanie. He leaped toward the writing desk and scooped up the receiver.

“Yes, Stephanie. I’m here. What is it?”

Some glitch with the banquet. She needed his help. He’d run down and smooth it out. Then maybe they’d have dinner together….

“It’s Blue Water Cay. Ben Drury, the general manager just called. Talks just broke off with the unions. All the local employees just walked off the job—”

“What!?” Matt jumped up from his seat at the desk.

Blue Water Cay was the newest Harding property, a luxury resort and spa set on a tiny island off Florida’s southwest coast. The resort had opened just weeks ago. There were always kinks to work out at a new hotel. He knew the unions were acting up, asking for changes on the contract they’d only just signed. He had a team of mediators and lawyers on it.

But a complete walk-off of all employees? That was a total disaster.

“It was hard to get all the details. You should probably speak to Mr. Drury directly. He’s waiting for your call.”

“Of course. Do you have his number handy?” Matt grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down the number Stephanie recited.

“Thanks. Don’t leave the hotel until you hear from me,” he added. “I may need you tonight.”

Stephanie promised to wait for his call. She said goodbye and hung up.

Matt quickly dialed the general manager of Blue Water Cay Resort. The phone rang once and Ben’s voice came on the line.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Matt began the conversation without bothering with a greeting. “My assistant says you just had a full-scale walkout.”

Ben confirmed the bad news and went on to explain the problem in detail. Beneath his calm tone, Matt could sense that the newly promoted general manager was indeed, in a panic.

Understandably. It was a mess few hoteliers would ever have to face. Yet Matt was still angry that the situation had gone so far out of control before anyone had called him.

“The worst news is the union reps have walked out of their meetings with our representatives. Unfortunately, guests are starting to walk out, too.”

Just what he didn’t want to hear. An incident like this could tarnish the new hotel’s reputation for years to come. Matt simply couldn’t let this happen.

“Enough said. I’ve got the picture.” Matt considered reading Ben Drury the riot act. Then realized that would only waste time. Once he reached the hotel, he’d have plenty of opportunity to reprimand his top executive.

“Hold tight. I’ll be there in a few hours.” Matt glanced at his watch. “I’ll call from Miami. Send a car to the airport.”

The trip to the island from New York required a flight to Miami and then a puddle jumper, a small twin-engine plane that made quick runs to the islands.