Prince Of The City

“Excuse us, everyone,” Bill said, and whisked her onto the dance floor as if afraid she would change her mind.

Fat chance of that happening, either, Eloise thought, as she stepped into his open arms and allowed herself to be enfolded in his masculine embrace one last time.

“I hope you didn’t mind my dragging you off the way I did, but it’s getting late and I wanted to dance with you again before we left,” Bill admitted somewhat sheepishly.

“I didn’t mind at all,” Eloise assured him, smiling as she met his questing gaze.

“Good.”

He drew her closer, his arms tightening around her imperceptibly as he brushed his cheek against her hair.

As the music played on, Eloise had a good idea of exactly how Cinderella must have felt, the clock ticking away the moments until she would be dropped back into the real world again. Her party was about to be over very soon, too. And in the morning she would once again have to face her own version of the real world, along with the very real problems she had come no closer to solving that night.

She had spent several hours with Mayor Harper, and although most of that time had also been spent with other people, as well, she’d had more than one opportunity to broach the subject of his proposed cuts to city funding. But she hadn’t done it, and she wasn’t going to.

Not as they danced together one last time, and not on the short ride back to her apartment, sitting close beside him in the privacy of his black limousine, the bright lights of the city muted by the tinted glass in the windows.

Certainly she was entitled to a little downtime, she reasoned justifiably. And certainly she was entitled to spend that downtime in harmony with an old and very dear friend, renewing an acquaintance that would be of benefit to her and, by association, to Manhattan Multiples, as well.

Or so she tried to believe as she tucked her head against Bill’s shoulder and allowed her hand to remain firmly clasped in his.

Whatever differences they had—and there were some—could, and would, be addressed. But at another time, in another place, she vowed, aware of how fleeting peaceful moments like the ones they now shared had lately seemed to be in her normally hectic life.

Bill appeared to be no more inclined to talk than she was, either in the limousine or on the all too speedy elevator ride to her apartment, though he did seem to want to keep ahold of her hand. Eloise was grateful on both counts. Tonight had been a very special night for her, one she would never forget. But just like Cinderella, she knew the countdown to its end would be over very soon now.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Bill said as the elevator door whispered open on her floor.

Stepping off together, they started slowly down the hallway, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps, the pale glow of the art deco wall sconces lighting their way.

“So did I,” Eloise replied, risking a glance at him as they came to a halt just outside her apartment door.

She knew immediately that she had made a big mistake by meeting his gaze. Knew, too, what was coming next and that she had a duty to discourage it. But the look of longing in Bill’s bright blue eyes, edged with just the right hint of masculine mischief, made it impossible for her to do anything quite so sensible.

She was capable only of standing silently, caught and held by his mesmerizing gaze, as she awaited the inevitable and not unwelcome moment they had been moving toward all evening.

“I’m so glad we finally got together again,” he continued, his voice pitched a notch lower.

Obviously feeling much too sure of himself, he offered her another winning smile.

“Yes,” she agreed, brought back to earth again by his show of confidence. “I’m glad, too.” Then, gathering her wits about her as she should have done much sooner, she ever so politely extended her hand. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Bill.”

“Thank you, Eloise,” he replied, his smile widening. “For making it much more than a lovely evening.”

Pulling her close before she could even think of resisting, he bent his head and gently, chastely claimed her lips with his.

Eloise had forgotten how gratifying even the simplest kiss could be, especially when shared with someone as desirable as Bill Harper had always been to her.

It wasn’t as if thoughts of him had ever interfered with her marital happiness, and it certainly wasn’t as if she had ever obsessed about him sexually. But Bill had meant so much to her once upon a time.

So surely it wasn’t odd that her attraction to him had lingered over time, tucked away in the far reaches of her fondest-days-past memories. Nor was it any surprise at all that she found herself responding to his kiss with an ardor that she would have never displayed with any other man, even though some reticence on her part probably would have been wise.

But she didn’t want to be wise tonight, Eloise decided as Bill deepened their kiss ever so slightly.

Tracing the line of her lips with a teasing tongue, he sought entry, finding it as she uttered a soft sigh, relaxed against him and teased back with her own tongue.

His arms tightened around her possessively as they tasted each other intimately, and she sighed again, raising up on her toes, seeking desperately to get as close to him as she could. She wanted to feel even more completely the warmth radiating so seductively from his body—wanted, secretly, to dispense with all the clothing keeping her from putting her hands and her mouth against his hot, bare skin.

Suddenly, somewhere much too close to them, a door opened with a heavy rush. The sound registered in Eloise’s mind, along with the faintest hint of boyish snickering, setting off a vague sense of alarm. But she was too enthralled by Bill’s sensual kiss to react as promptly or appropriately as she should have. And then it was too late. She was thoroughly and completely caught in the act by her sons.

“Hey, Mom,” Henry, the youngest, sang out. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, Mom, you are way late,” John, her middle son, chided. “Way, way, way late. We expected you to be home hours ago.”

“Do you know how worried we’ve been?” Carl, the eldest, demanded, his tone resembling one she had often used herself with them, only without the obvious touch of humor blended in for good measure. “I’m here to tell you that you are so grounded.”

“Yeah, so grounded, Mom,” Henry and John echoed, barely able to contain their laughter.

Totally flustered, Eloise took a step back as Bill broke off their kiss with a masculine chuckle.

“Looks like we have an audience,” he muttered, his blue eyes gleaming with what appeared to be pride.

Though he shifted to one side so that he faced her sons—all three crowded into the open doorway of the apartment—he still kept a possessive arm around her shoulders.

“Sorry, guys, it’s my fault your mom’s late getting home. We were having so much fun together we lost all track of time.”

“A likely story,” Carl retorted grimly, but his eyes twinkled, too, as did his brothers’.

“You three were supposed to be in bed no later than ten o’clock,” Eloise reminded them primly, going on the offensive.

They looked so cute in the red plaid flannel pants and red long-sleeved T-shirts they had recently adopted in lieu of pajamas that she wanted to hug them. But they were the ones who were up much too late tonight—a school night—against her expressed wishes.

“And a good thing we weren’t,” John replied severely. “Otherwise, who knows what you might have gotten yourself into out here in the hallway?”

“Yeah, Mom, who knows?” Henry added.

“She’s safe with me,” Bill assured them. “Although I must admit I couldn’t resist snatching one little kiss before I said good-night.” He traded conspiratorial grins with her sons then transferred his charming gaze back to Eloise. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Ms. Vale.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Mayor,” she murmured in reply, not quite able to look him in the eye.

Bending, Bill gave her a last quick kiss on the cheek, and added very quietly for her ears only, “I’ll call you,” as he gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

Then, to her sons, he saluted smartly.

“Gentlemen, don’t be too hard on her.”

“We won’t,” Carl answered for all of them.

“And don’t you be too hard on them,” he instructed Eloise, his grin widening for an instant before he turned and headed down the hallway to the elevator.

“Yeah, Mom, don’t be too hard on us,” Henry pleaded in a teasing tone as she made herding gestures with her hands to get them out of the hallway and back inside the apartment where they belonged.

“We were only looking out for you, Mom,” John reminded her.

“’Cause we love you,” Carl added wisely.

“You are never going to be able to get out of bed in the morning, much less be able to stay awake all day,” she chastised them. “I’m not paying good money to a private school for you to fall asleep in class.”

“Hey, it’s already morning. Maybe we should just stay up,” Henry suggested.

“Absolutely not. You are all going to bed without any further delay, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint from any of you when your alarms go off at six o’clock.”

“Like you’re even going to be up then yourself,” Carl quipped as he headed into his room.

“Oh, I’ll be up,” Eloise vowed, remembering the busy day she had ahead of her. Then remembering, too, that she hadn’t done anything tonight to alleviate any of the problems awaiting resolution at Manhattan Multiples, she added by way of warning, “And I’ll also be just a little cranky.”

“No, please, not Cranky Mom,” Henry teased as he scurried into his room.

“A fate worse than death,” John said, peeling off down the hallway into his room, as well.

“Good night, boys,” Eloise called out, smiling to herself as she continued on to her bedroom.

“Good night, Mom,” they replied in unison.

They were such good boys, she thought as she slipped out of her black silk coat and hung it in the closet. But they really should have gone to bed as instructed. Although, as John had said, it was probably a good thing they hadn’t. Without the teasing interruption they’d provided, there was no telling what she and Bill might have been tempted to do out in the hallway.

Why, she might even have invited him into the apartment for a nightcap.

Just thinking about curling up on the sofa with Bill made Eloise blush as she kicked off her high-heeled black shoes, then reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. They wouldn’t have simply sat there for very long if the kiss they had shared in the hallway was any indication. And Eloise had sense enough to know that sharing even a chaste kiss with him wasn’t a very good idea under the circumstances.

The issues dividing them hadn’t magically faded away over the course of the evening they’d spent together. In fact, those issues would have to be addressed first thing in the morning when she arrived at her Manhattan Multiples office. No amount of wishing otherwise would change that. Nor would any number of shared kisses, whether chaste or intimate.

Though not sworn enemies, she and Bill Harper couldn’t really be friends, much less lovers. Not when he had the power to destroy all she had worked so hard to accomplish the past twelve years, she reminded herself as she washed her face, brushed her hair, slipped into her nightgown and then into bed.

And while she understood Bill’s reasons for wanting to cut city funding to nonprofit organizations, she couldn’t, in good conscience, appear to go along with those reasons by pursuing any kind of personal relationship with him. There were too many good and dedicated people depending on her and, more important, on Manhattan Multiples for her to be so selfish.

She’d had her downtime—as she had come to think of that evening—and she had enjoyed it thoroughly. But she had to face reality in the morning and get busy again doing whatever she could to save Manhattan Multiples. Even if that meant staying as far away from Mayor Harper as she could.

And she would, really she would—in the morning.

But now, snuggling under the blankets on her bed, eyes closed, arms around her linen-covered feather pillow, Eloise allowed herself to relive one more time the soul-stirring kiss she had shared with him so unreservedly, and to consider, as she drifted off to sleep, the might-have-been that could, and would, never be.

Chapter Three

The muted but monotonous drone of a vacuum cleaner brought Eloise slowly, annoyingly awake. Much to her regret, the remaining wisps of a very pleasant dream faded altogether as she opened her eyes. Beams of sunlight peeked through the slats of the plantation blinds on the bedroom windows, assuring her morning had come.

Only, she didn’t really want to get out of bed just yet. She wanted to close her eyes again, snuggle deeper under the blankets and try to recapture the peace and serenity of wherever her sleeping self had been just moments ago. And she tried to do that—for all of the thirty seconds it took her to realize what hearing the sound of the vacuum cleaner meant.

Mrs. Kazinsky, who always arrived at the apartment at nine o’clock sharp on Wednesdays and Fridays, was already busily at work.

Which meant that she, in turn, had overslept by at least three hours from the time when her alarm should have gone off. Would have gone off if she hadn’t been in such a daze following the Mayor’s Ball that she had forgotten to set the darn thing in the first place.

Why hadn’t anyone invented an alarm clock that went off at the same time every morning whether you remembered to click the appropriate switch or not? And if someone already had, why hadn’t she found one yet?

Grumbling to herself, Eloise tossed aside her blankets and sat up, finally risking a glance at the obstinately ordinary and uncooperative, though highly decorative, clock on her nightstand.

Ten-fifteen! It couldn’t be.

But it was, she chided herself as she hurried toward the master bathroom, then skidded to a halt and headed, instead, for the bedroom door, her disgust at her own lack of discipline—how much effort did it require to set an alarm clock, after all?—having been replaced by concern for her sons.

It was her responsibility to see that Carl, John and Henry got off to school on time every morning—a responsibility she had never taken lightly and had always fulfilled regardless of how late she had been out the night before—well, always in the past.

As she flung open the door and started down the hallway, her agitation mounting, Eloise saw Mrs. Kazinsky backing slowly out of Carl’s room, pushing, then pulling the vacuum cleaner as she went. Seeming to sense Eloise’s presence in the hallway, the housekeeper looked up, smiled placidly and switched off the vacuum.

“So, Mrs. Vale, you are awake. I am hoping I didn’t disturb you, but I had to start on the boys’ rooms.”

“It’s a good thing you did or I might have slept till noon,” Eloise reassured her.

She knew Mrs. Kazinsky liked to tackle her sons’ rooms first, getting the heaviest cleaning out of the way while she was feeling the most energetic, and she didn’t blame the older woman for sticking to her routine. Eloise was the one who had deviated from her usual schedule, one that had her out of the apartment no later than eight-thirty most weekday mornings.

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I brought some of those pastries from the Polish bakery in my neighborhood that you like,” the housekeeper offered, still smiling.

“Sounds wonderful, Mrs. Kazinsky.” Eloise smiled gratefully in return, then added, “I take it the boys got off to school okay.”

“They were gone when I got here, and there were cereal bowls and glasses in the sink, all rinsed out, too. They are such good boys, Mrs. Vale.”

“Yes, they are,” Eloise agreed as she headed toward the kitchen, ready for a cup of Mrs. K.’s strong black coffee and one of the buttery rich, cinnamon and nutfilled pastries she had yet to find the willpower to refuse.

She should have known her Carl, John and Henry could, and would, get themselves off to school on their own. They had already convinced her that they were safe at home in the apartment without an adult sitter to supervise them when she attended social engagements in the evening, hadn’t they?

They were growing up, she reminded herself, pouring coffee into a china mug, taking a pastry from the bakery box on the counter, then heading back to her bedroom. And they were also growing more and more independent. She was proud of them, of course. She didn’t want them tied to her apron strings, clinging to her forever. That wouldn’t have been fair to any of them, herself included.

But at the same time, Eloise felt just a little sad and just a little lost. She had devoted so much of her life to her beloved sons. What would she do once they were truly out on their own, especially if she no longer had Manhattan Multiples to occupy her time? She didn’t like the idea of spending her golden years not only all alone, but also without work she enjoyed.

For a fleeting instant, Eloise remembered the kiss she had shared with Bill Harper at her front door the night before, and realized that she didn’t necessarily have to be alone. But contemplating a future with Bill was more wishful thinking than anything else.

The physical and emotional attraction between them had been more than obvious. But she couldn’t, in good conscience, pursue a relationship with him under the circumstances. His views on city funding for nonprofit organizations made it impossible.

As for having to give up her work at Manhattan Multiples—work she thoroughly enjoyed—that she could control, at least to some extent. She hadn’t lost the battle to save city funding for her organization yet. And there was still a very good chance that she wouldn’t if she got her butt in gear, threw on some clothes and made an effort to get to her office sometime before noon, she reminded herself, making a face at her tousle-haired image in the bathroom mirror.

Worst case scenario, she could, and would if necessary, keep Manhattan Multiples going using her apartment as a base of operations. Granted she would have to scale down considerably, but she would continue to offer as many services as possible. And she would focus on the most important aspect of her work, the one she enjoyed the most—directing a supportive, nurturing network of people as devoted as she was to helping women cope with their multiple birth pregnancies.

She had already brought in quite a bit of money from the fund-raisers she’d been holding for Manhattan Multiples. Of course, that amount wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover the costs of maintaining the three floors Manhattan Multiples now occupied in a building on Madison Avenue. It would, however, be enough to pay some salaries, provide counseling services, some classroom instruction and some medical care to those most urgently in need of help.

The scope of her organization would certainly be smaller and the headquarters would have to be relocated, but Manhattan Multiples wouldn’t go out of existence altogether. Not if she had anything to do about it, and she had only just begun to tap her personal resources.

Reinvigorated by a hot shower, a second cup of Mrs. Kazinsky’s coffee and, yes, another pastry, along with the talk she’d had with herself, Eloise swept a brush through her hair and applied her makeup. Then she dressed quickly in tailored gray wool pants, a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and black, low-heeled leather boots. She completed her outfit with a single strand of pearls and matching pearl-cluster earrings, sophisticated but not showy, snapped the catch of her chunky gold and platinum watch band and was ready to go.

Though the weather report she’d caught on the radio stated that the outdoor temperature was hovering just above freezing, she decided to walk the short distance to her office at Manhattan Multiples. Bundled into her calf-length black cashmere wool coat she would be more than warm enough. And the brisk air and bright sunshine would surely blow away any last cobwebs that might fog her brain.

She had a lot to deal with today, and getting a late start as she already was, she couldn’t afford to be anything but at her very best.

The walk did indeed do her good. The sights and sounds of the bustling city and the people moving past her on the sidewalks with seeming strength and purpose, lifted her spirits another notch.

Yes, her beloved New York City had been down for a while following the destructive attacks by a band of mad terrorists. But the city and its people were healing, and signs of renewed faith, hope and love were visible all around her.

Especially within the walls of Manhattan Multiples, Eloise reminded herself with a slight smile as she headed toward the double glass doors that led into the warm and inviting reception area on the first of the organization’s three floors.

“Good morning, Ms. Vale,” Tony Martino greeted her as he stepped forward and opened one of the doors for her.

A personable young man, five-ten, with a sturdy build, black hair and kind brown eyes, he was the daytime security guard she’d hired after she’d started receiving threatening letters from an anonymous but frighteningly disgruntled man who seemed to despise everything Manhattan Multiples represented. Tony’s twin brother, Frank, took over as the nighttime security guard, which was extremely fitting and amused Eloise to no end.

She loved the idea of multiples looking out for the well-being of Manhattan Multiples.

“Good morning, Tony, although I should probably say good afternoon. I’m running way late today.”

“Hey, no problem, Ms. Vale. You’re the boss. Ain’t nobody I know gonna get on your case,” Tony replied with an engaging grin. “And if they do, you tell me about it and I’ll take care of them for you.”

“Thanks, Tony. I will.”

The soothing blue of the sky motif covering the wall behind the elegant antique reception desk never failed to lighten Eloise’s mood, as did the lovely mix of New Age music piped through the sound system. She recognized a favorite cut from a Danny Wright CD that had been getting lots of play lately.

And with good reason, she acknowledged, seeing Josie Tate Dunnigan, her receptionist, newly wed to Michael Dunnigan and proud mother-to-be huddled with her personal assistant, Allison Baker Perez, also newly wed to Jorge Perez, and expecting. Eloise was more and more certain she would have twins or maybe even triplets if her rapidly expanding tummy was any indication.

Love had been in the air at Manhattan Multiples for several months now, much to Eloise’s delight. She had always been a romantic at heart, and having so many of the special women she had come to care about over the past few years finally finding happiness with some very special men had given her great joy. And a great, but very secret, desire to find that same kind of happiness for herself.

Maybe that explained why she had been so attracted to Bill Harper last night. Maybe she had just been overly receptive to any possibility of love, and Bill had simply been available. Of course, that would only be the case if her attraction to Bill was something new rather than something she had first felt seventeen years ago and had continued to feel ever since.

Again Eloise remembered the kiss they’d shared, and again she realized how easily he had swept her off her feet. And would again, she warned herself, given half a chance. Unless she kept in mind the cause she had to support—a cause that was in direct opposition to Mayor Harper’s own stated goals for the city.

“Sorry I’m late,” Eloise said again to Josie and Allison as she approached the reception desk.

“I would have been surprised if you weren’t, all things considered,” Allison replied, her smile as teasing as her tone of voice.

Amazing how her formerly oh-so-prim-and-proper personal assistant had changed in the past few months, Eloise thought. Allison could still be businesslike when necessary, but she was so much more relaxed, and so much happier now. Marriage to Jorge Perez and impending motherhood seemed to have made it possible for her to reveal the more lighthearted side of her personality that she had once seemed impelled to hide.