Midnight Reunion

By

Anna DePalo

Prequel to Dynasties

Chapter One

New Year's Eve and Chloe wondered whether she'd be kissing another frog this

year. Or any frog at all, for that matter.

Holding on to her wineglass, she looked around at the mingling guests inside the

impressive turn-of-the-century Hamptons mansion belonging to Patrick and Maeve
Elliott. She and other guests, including assorted employees, had been invited to join
the Elliotts after an earlier gathering for family members only.

It was nearly midnight now, and there wasn't even a likely frog — um, prospect

— in sight.

All the Elliott men were off-limits. Romantic entanglements between employees

were frowned upon at EPH.

She sighed.

There was time left. Her parents' annual post-holiday party wasn't for another two

weeks. She could still come up with an impressive date, even if it looked as if tonight
would be a bust.

She took another sip of wine as Patrick Elliott, the seventy-something-year-old

patriarch of the Elliott clan and founder of the Elliott Publication Holdings empire,
tapped his wineglass and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

The room fell silent. Patrick Elliott, after all, was a commanding presence.

"Before we say goodbye to another year," Patrick said in his deep, gravelly voice,

"I'm going to say a few words."

Chloe listened as the CEO of EPH thanked the assembled gathering, which

included various Elliott offspring and adult grandchildren, for their efforts on behalf
of EPH for the past year.

However, as Patrick droned on, Chloe found her mind wandering.

She refused to show up dateless — or worse, frogless — to another Davenport

family gathering. Her older sister, Maxine, already had the requisite two kids, doctor
husband and beautiful home in suburban Westchester, north of New York City.
Maxine had long since claimed the title in their parents' eyes of the child who'd come
closest to fulfilling all their dearest wishes.

But Chloe refused to concede defeat. From the outside, she knew her life seemed

perfect. People at work often commented that she must not have a care in the world.

The truth was, however, that she'd worked hard to maintain a certain image. She

dressed well and lived in a cute little shoebox apartment in the trendy Chelsea section
of Manhattan.

But though she thought she'd done everything right to attract a man, she hadn't

had a date in months. She'd lain awake at night analyzing why. There was, of course,
the fact that Chelsea had a large gay community, so right off the bat, a sizeable
chunk of the surrounding male population was eliminated.

Perhaps her problem was that she was just too candid for most men. On the other

hand, she liked to think being direct was the reason why she'd thrived in her job as
executive assistant to Finola Elliott, the editor in chief of Charisma magazine, which
competed hotly with Vogue. She always let Fin know what was what.

Chloe looked over at Fin now. Her mother would say Fin was a cautionary tale

about what could happen to a woman if she buried her nose in her career and didn't
bother to glance up until she was eligible for retirement. At thirty-eight, Fin was
married only to her job.

Chloe wondered if that was the road she herself was traveling. Weren't too many

late nights at work the reason why she'd ended up coming to her employer's New
Year's Eve party — alone? And, of course, it didn't help that in a few months she'd
be hitting her thirtieth birthday.

She heard her mother's voice in her head and silenced it. Her mother had tried to

set her up with men in the past, and she shuddered when she thought about who
some of those candidates had been. It was somewhat mortifying to think her most
likely route to landing a date these days was through her mother. She was only
surprised her mother hadn't tried to offer up a New Year's Eve date…

Aware of a sudden tension in the room, she yanked her mind away from her

thoughts. She looked around at the hushed gathering, her eyes coming to rest on Fin,
who wore a taut expression on her face. Moving to her boss's side, Chloe asked,
"What is it?"

"Didn't you hear?" Fin whispered back distractedly. "My father just announced

he's stepping down as CEO of EPH. He told the family a couple of hours ago and
swore us to silence, but now he's telling others."

"And, so," Patrick Elliott went on at the front of the room, surveying the gathering

with shrewd eyes, "I've decided that the fairest way to name my successor is by
competitive bidding, so to speak. After all, competition is what EPH was built on

and what it continues to thrive on."

Chloe thought the publishing empire had been built on family, given how many of

the younger Elliotts worked at EPH's midtown Manhattan headquarters, but she
mentally shrugged and thought whatever.

Patrick went on. "The head of whichever EPH magazine makes the largest profit,

adjusted for magazine size, by the end of this coming year will be named my
successor."

Uh-oh.

Chloe had heard rumors at work about an impending announcement —

secretaries talked, after all — but she'd never expected this.

She peeked at Fin. Everyone knew about Fin's difficult relationship with her

father, Patrick. Chloe's already uptight, workaholic boss wasn't going to deal well
with this pronouncement. Inevitably, it would mean even more late nights at the
office for Fin — and for Chloe as Fin's assistant.

Finished with his speech, Patrick walked into the crowd, and some muted

conversation struck up again.

Chloe sighed again. She'd be lucky if even a frog crossed her path now. She was

going to be trapped at the office for the foreseeable future.

"Well, well, if it isn't Fab Dav."

She turned to look up into mocking green eyes. No one had called her Fab Dav

— short for Fabulous Davenport — since high school.

Chloe couldn't help but notice he was wearing green in the form of an expensive

shirt in a light herringbone pattern. Ralph Lauren Purple Label, if she were betting on
it.

"Ryder?" she asked.

Chapter Two

Ryder gave her the lopsided smile she remembered so well. "It's been a while," he

said, tacitly acknowledging the surprise and uncertainty in her voice.

"Why are you wearing green?" she asked abruptly, his presence transporting her

back to another time and another place.

A bad place. In short, high school. Sure she'd been called Fab Dav, but more

because everyone had had a nickname than because the label fit — a least in her
opinion. She'd always thought she had more flaws than she could count.

Now here he was, Ryder McPhee, the guy who'd teased her without fail back

then. He must have just arrived at the Elliott mansion because she hadn't spotted him
earlier. In all likelihood, he'd come over from another fantastic Hamptons party.

He looked down at his shirt and then back up at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Something wrong with the color green?"

"No! Um —" She stalled, then blurted, "It's just that green is for frogs!" Because

she felt like an idiot, she added by way of some semblance of rationality, "Green is
out this year. All the fashion magazines have said so."

He looked at her in amusement, and she could swear he read her mind. "Relax.

The Elliotts are Irish by heritage, and so am I. It's a nod to tradition."

How had this happened? Chloe wondered, perturbed. Ryder appeared to be the

reasonable one while she seemed like a lunatic. At least in high school she'd reacted
to his behavior by giving as good as she got and then marching away with her head
held high — though his laugh had usually followed her down the hall.

He'd been ahead of her at their Westchester high school, but that hadn't stopped

them from running into each other all too often in the hallways and, of course, in the
couple of elective courses they'd shared.

Though he'd had a few good buddies, she'd always considered him to be a lone

wolf at heart. She'd heard him called brilliant but it hadn't been until he'd graduated,
when Mrs. McPhee had told her mother that Ryder was heading off to the
prestigious Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania, that
Chloe had paid any attention.

She looked at him now. He'd always been tall, but now it was impossible to

ignore the hard, muscular build beneath his open-collar shirt and black pants. He'd
developed impressive biceps to match his impressive brain, and she felt diminutive
and feminine next to him.

An involuntary shiver of awareness went through her.

Disconcerted, and in an attempt to change the subject, she demanded, "What are

you doing here?"

Again she was rewarded with the lopsided smile that reminded her of the Ryder

she used to know. "Cullen Elliott and I know each other through business
associates, so I got an invitation to drop by his grandparents' party tonight." The
teasing light came back into his eyes. "How about you?"

"I work at EPH," she said shortly.

"Right," he said, nodding. "I recall my mother mentioning you're a secretary at

Charisma."

"I'm the executive assistant to the editor in chief," she corrected, adding

somewhat defensively, "I like my job." She really was not much more than a
glorified secretary, despite her lofty-sounding title, but Ryder brought out the
contrarian in her.

"You don't say," he said casually. "Glad to hear it."

"Does it surprise you when people turn out well?" she countered.

Mischief sparked in his eyes.

She watched as he gave her a once-over, causing her blood pressure to rise. She

knew what he'd see. She had slender curves, but nothing that qualified her as
bombshell material. She wore her dark brown hair long and straight, and if pressed,
she'd say her clear blue eyes were her best feature.

His eyes came back to hers. "No, it doesn't surprise me," he murmured. "I'm not

disappointed, either."

She felt a flash of heat. Was Ryder flirting with her?

* * *

He was flirting with her.

Ryder watched as Chloe's big baby-blue eyes widened, and he realized he'd

unsettled her. Good.

After all, she was why he was here tonight, and if he couldn't do better than the

ridiculous plan that had been in the process of being hatched, he deserved to be
thrown out on his rear end.

Not that that was something he was accustomed to. He'd ridden the Internet

boom years to the top — starting a lucrative online business with a classmate from
college — and his significant net worth was a testament both to his business acumen
and to his financial success. When he stopped to think about it, it amused him to
think he would now be considered a catch on the dating scene, despite the fact that
he tended to keep quiet about the details of his work life.

Still, looking down at Chloe tonight, he'd been transported back to high school

and the urge to bait her had been irresistible.

Chloe. He remembered she'd regularly had to explain to people that her name was

Chloe — spelled clo-EE — without the French accent aigu or a double dot over the
e. But then, Ryder mused, there was never anything about Chloe that needed
accenting.

Back in high school, lots of guys had gone for her. She'd been Shannen Doherty

of Beverly Hills, 90210 but without the attitude — though these days, he supposed,
she'd be compared instead to Jennifer Garner of Alias.

He ought to know. He'd heard the locker room talk. At the time, the competition

from his classmates had irritated him, so he'd used the one fail-proof method of
getting Chloe's attention: teasing her.

Thanks to his baiting tonight, however, things hadn't initially gone according to

plan. But they were back on track. She was off balance.

From somewhere, Ryder heard a television begin to blare. Glancing around, he

spotted the television screen. The announcer was broadcasting from Times Square
in Manhattan, where a huge crowd had gathered to ring in the New Year.

"One minute to midnight!" someone in the room announced.

Ryder glanced back down at Chloe, who was looking around distractedly.

"Are you here with somebody?"

She looked up at him in confusion. "What? Um, no."

Her baby blues were so damn cute. "Looks as if it'll have to be me then."

"It'll have to be you, what?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation. "Kissing you at midnight. I guess I'll

have to do the dirty deed."

From the television, a chorus could be heard starting the countdown to midnight.

"Ten. Nine…"

Chapter Three

Kiss him? Chloe stared up at Ryder as the inexorable countdown to midnight

continued around them.

"Seven."

Dimly, she was aware of the crowd in the room. Couples sidled closer to each

other in anticipation of a kiss at the appointed hour.

"Six."

Help.

"Five."

Ryder wore an amused expression on his face.

"Four."

Her gaze lowered to his lips. He really did have a nice mouth. It was curved and

inviting and looked just soft enough to be exciting. She pushed down a flutter. These
days that mouth was attached to an equally delectable body.

"Three."

He leaned toward her, and her focus moved up from his mouth to his green eyes,

where she was caught by his intent look.

"Come on, Chloe," he taunted gently. "I dare you."

"Two."

Well, she thought, she might as well kiss someone at midnight, right? At least this

way, she'd confirm Ryder wasn't the prince she was waiting for.

"Why not?" she said, struggling for a nonchalance she didn't feel in the face of

Ryder's intensity. She strove to keep her breath even.

"One."

She lifted her face as Ryder leaned in farther, closing the space between them to a

hair's breath. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Happy New Year!"

Ryder's lips touched hers. A brief pressure, a sense of warmth and softness

joined by a little jolt of electricity, and Chloe started to back away.

Her retreat was arrested, however, as Ryder's hands came up to cup her upper

arms. He parted her lips with his own and deepened the kiss.

The sound of horns blared around them — the crowd in the Elliott mansion

adding to the cacophony coming from the television set. The notes of "Auld Lang
Syne" began, and people started singing about old forgotten acquaintances.

For Chloe, however, the surrounding world retreated as she was swamped by the

waves of interesting and exciting sensations evoked by Ryder's intimate embrace.
She sighed as she sank deeper into the kiss, which was fierce and warm, then gentle
by turns.

The kiss built slowly until Ryder seemed to want to devour her. Someone

moaned, and Chloe realized it was her.

A loud cough sounded nearby, then a voice Chloe recognized as belonging to

Cullen Elliott broke through the haze that surrounded her. "And here I thought I was
the babe magnet for the evening," Cullen said, his voice laced with amusement.

With a gasp, Chloe pulled away from Ryder. Touching two fingers to her lips,

she looked around and realized their passionate kiss had attracted the attention of
several party-goers.

As Cullen sauntered away, holding a drink and shaking his head with a smile,

Chloe looked up at Ryder and saw bemusement stamped on his face. There was no
way she could forget this old acquaintance after that.

She didn't know what to say. She felt hot and turned on. Sometime during the

kiss, she'd discovered she was confronting a man she hardly knew. He was a
powerful, sexy stranger who had the ability to turn her insides to mush.

As if drugged, she watched his lips move — the same lips that had just seconds

ago tasted and savored her. "I'll drive you back," he said. "Where are you staying?"

She named a bed and breakfast in the closest town.

His lips curved. "Happy coincidence. I'm staying down the street at the Barston

Cove."

In another mood, Chloe would have raised her eyebrows. The Barston Cove was

the priciest, most exclusive hotel in town. Instead, she merely nodded and said,
"Hmm."

He took her elbow and guided her through the crowd. Chloe heard herself

murmur polite thank-yous and good nights to their hosts and the various guests they

encountered on their path to the front door. Beside her, Ryder's sexy voice
sounded, adding his own words of desultory conversation.

Then, before she knew it, they were in a black Jaguar zipping along the dark road

to town, and Chloe wondered how Ryder had come to own a car that cost more
than she earned in a year.

That is, she wondered until she noticed his pricey Baume & Mercier watch, and

then got distracted by the sight of his hand on the steering wheel.

It was a capable hand, large and masculine with a strong wrist. She thought about

that hand touching and stroking and caressing her, and another strong wave of
awareness washed over her.

Within minutes, Ryder pulled into a parking space halfway between his hotel and

her bed and breakfast. He came around the car and helped her out, his hand holding
her fingers loosely.

"Nightcap?" he murmured.

"All right," she said. The sexual heat between them was so thick she felt as if she

were enveloped in a luxurious blanket against the cold night air.

And then, just as seemed inevitable since they'd left the party together, they were

inside his hotel room. A bedside lamp cast its dim light across the room, and a
chilled bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket — one of the little courtesies of a
luxury hotel, she supposed.

The minute Ryder's hands settled on her shoulders, though, all thoughts of

toasting the new year flew out of her mind.

Ryder ducked his head, seeking her gaze. "Chloe?"

"Yes." The word came out as a whisper, and Chloe knew she was saying more

than just yes to his questioning.

And that, she supposed, as Ryder's lips closed over hers, was how last year's old

acquaintance could become the new year's sexy new stranger.

Chapter Four

He guided her backward until the wall was at her back.

Not breaking their kiss, they tore at each other's clothes.

Her black cocktail dress with its sheer lace sleeves and upper bodice slid down

and caught at her elbows.

"This is crazy," Chloe said breathlessly.

"Just feel," Ryder said in between kisses.

Maybe he was right, she thought, as he moved down and kissed her neck. If she

was going to be working long hours as Fin's assistant for the foreseeable future, she
might as well live it up now. Besides, she was doomed to show up dateless at
another Davenport gathering, and the thought was more than depressing.

Chloe watched as Ryder nuzzled her breasts. Thank God she'd decided on the

black satin bra, she thought, as he unsnapped her undergarment. At least she felt
dressed to entice.

Her eyelids lowered as his lips closed over her bare breast and sparks of pleasure

shot through her. After giving the same attention to her other breast, he moved down
farther, his lips trailing over her bare midriff and then lower, divesting her of clothes
as he went.

He nuzzled the curls at the apex of her thighs, then kissed her intimately.

Liquid fire pored through her, and she opened her eyes and watched him.

A feeling of unreality settled over her. This was Ryder. Her former high school

classmate. Her former neighbor's son. Mrs. McPhee's boy.

Her knees weakened and bent.

He stood quickly then and picked her up, sliding one arm below her knees.

Striding to the bed, he laid her out on it and came down beside her.

He smiled into her eyes — a wicked, intimate smile — as he stroked her bent leg,

which was still encased in a thigh-high black stocking. "I used to wonder what was
beneath the layers you wore."

"Now you know," she said, and couldn't prevent a tinge of uncertainty from

coloring her voice. She tried to keep in shape with exercise, but she knew her
willowy frame had more to do with good genes than with any real effort on her part.

His gaze traveled over her before he gave her a wolfish look. "Yeah. Now I do."

"You like?"

"Yeah, I like," he drawled.

The look he gave her then was so hot, it obliterated the last of her uncertainty. She

raked a hand through his hair and pulled him down for a full-bodied kiss.

When she finally pulled away, she whispered against his lips, "You're still wearing

too many clothes."

"Easily corrected."

She raised herself up on her elbows and watched as he stood up. He reached

over to a shaving kit on the bedside table and pulled out a small foil packet that he
placed beside the bed. Then, his gaze locked on hers, he unbuckled his belt and
began to undress.

When he was naked, she said throatily, "I like."

He flashed her a smile. "I aim to please."

"Now that remains to be seen."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" His hand closed over her ankle and he

pulled her toward the foot of the bed. "Let's see how much you like this…"

She squealed as he came down beside her again, nuzzling her neck with his

mouth, his hands moving over her.

He stroked her everywhere, arousing her and bringing her to a fever pitch. In

return, she caressed the lean muscles of his chest and back, then moved lower,
stroking his sculpted thighs and the evidence of his arousal.

Eventually, he gave a helpless half laugh and moved himself away from her. "I

want this to last," he said, his voice not quite steady.

Chloe watched as he sat up and donned protection, then turned back to her.

Gathering her close, he said, "Now where were we?"

She nibbled at his lips. "Mmm…somewhere between wonderful and fantastic?"

"Yeah, that's what I remember, too."

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, and she gave herself up to the

gathering passion between them.

When he positioned her, settling himself in the cradle of her thighs and arranging

her silkily clad legs around him, she welcomed him into her embrace. It seemed the
most natural thing in the world when he finally entered her.

"Oh, Ryder," she gasped, her hands fisting into the bedcover below her.

"So good," he said, his eyes closed, his expression rapt. "So tight, so hot, so

sweet…"

She followed his rhythm, knowing intuitively how to match him and fuel the

gathering storm. Eventually, he moved to her side and pumped into her, their bodies
facing each other.

The tightness within her grew more and more taut…until all at once it snapped,

and she went spiraling free. He swallowed her gasp as he took her up, following her
so they went over the precipice together.

Afterward, he loosened his hold, and she lay relaxed and replete. He smoothed

the hair away from her forehead, and she turned her face into the palm of his hand.

Their eyes caught and held.

"What just happened?" she asked.

He gave her his lopsided smile, and she grasped at that piece of the familiar

because it gave her comfort in a world that was suddenly topsy-turvy. She'd had sex
with Ryder!

"What happened?" he repeated musingly. He tucked a strand of hair behind her

ear and then joked, "If you have to ask, I must be losing my touch."

No, you're not, she almost said.

She searched his gaze and found it unfathomable. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that if I'd known we'd be this good together, I'd have had an even

bigger crush on you in high school."

"You had a crush on me? You were obnoxious!"

"Yeah to both," he confirmed solemnly. His head was propped up by the hand of

one bent arm, and he was using his other hand to trace circles on her bare upper
breast. "Until tonight, though, I thought I was cured of at least one of those two
afflictions."

"Which one?"

Chapter Five

Ryder arched an eyebrow. He had to play this right. Now that reality had intruded,

she looked as if she was contemplating bolting from his hotel room. But it was
important she know tonight was the culmination of a long history — at least for him.
"Which one do you think?"

She looked coy for a moment. "I don't know. You were rather obnoxious

tonight…"

He pretended to wince. "You still don't pull any punches, do you? So, the crush,

it is." He kept his hand moving on her bare flesh, soothing her even as he strove to
keep his voice light. "I had a whopper of a crush on you in high school."

"You had a funny way of showing it."

"What? You didn't like my obnoxious-gets-the-girl technique? Should I have

pulled your pigtails?"

"In the first place, I didn't have pigtails. In the second, pardon me for not thinking

more of your technique, but since it didn't get you the girl —"

She stopped in midsentence as he surveyed her naked body.

His eyes came back to hers. "Didn't get me the girl, huh? Are you sure about that?

Seems to me I've had you in the best way possible."

She flushed.

"The question is," he said slowly, "where do we go from here?"

She stiffened under his hand. "Does it have to go anywhere, Ryder? Don't worry

that I expect anything from you, or that you have some sort of obligation just
because our families sort of know each other."

He never imagined he'd be the one offended at being dismissed as a one-night

stand after glorious sex. Judging from Chloe's matter-of-fact reaction, though, he

wasn't the first guy she'd attempted to dispatch this way. It looked as if Fab Dav's
man-killer skills had only grown since high school.

She seemed guarded with him, and he supposed he shouldn't be surprised if she

was. After all, most of her memories of him were from high school…when he'd
teased her mercilessly and in general been an all-around jerk toward her. During one
memorable Saturday night party, they'd both landed in the pool after she'd tried to
shove past him and he'd grabbed her as he was thrown off balance. She'd been
angry and upset, not least because she'd been trying to make an impression on a
buddy of his that she had a not-so-secret crush on — a guy that Ryder had therefore
wanted to take apart.

But he was only at the beginning of his campaign to get her to see him in a new

light. Tonight had been spectacular, better even than he'd imagined — and he'd
imagined for a long time.

* * *

When Chloe returned to work, she was still trying to grasp what had happened on

New Year's Eve.

Making copies in the photocopy room, she thought again, I slept with Ryder. She

still couldn't believe it. Had she become so desperate she'd just fall into bed with an
old high school classmate?

The answer apparently was yes.

And yet, Ryder — the present day Ryder — was nothing like what she

remembered. He had the power to turn her insides to mush with just a look, to leave
her weak-kneed with a touch and to slay her with a kiss.

That's what scared her. That more than anything was what had sent her scurrying

for cover after she'd floated back down to ground after hot-and-heavy sex in his
hotel room. Sure she'd been bemoaning her lack of a date. But she hadn't expected
Ryder. Hadn't expected someone who left her feeling fragile and shaky.

Sleeping with Ryder was further proof that her navigational compass was off

when it came to men. Way off.

She'd been looking around for a prospective date, but she couldn't bring Ryder to

her parents' post-holiday party. What if things didn't work out between them? News
would get back to his mother. To her mother. There'd be complications. Ryder was
someone her family already knew and about whom they'd make a whole host of
assumptions — particularly about the long-term prospects of his relationship with
her.

If she was honest with herself, she'd also admit Ryder unsettled her for other

reasons, too. These days the cloak of sophistication and worldliness clung to him
like a second skin. He was obviously doing well. She only had to look at the car he
drove to determine that. She, on the other hand, was basically a secretary who'd
been inching her way up the corporate ladder since college. If the corporate world

were an old luxury liner, she'd be steerage and he'd be first class. He had no reason
to be interested in her for other than casual sex and maybe to satisfy some lingering
curiosity about a girl he remembered from high school.

Consequently, she'd decided to inform him on Saturday night that she didn't

expect great sex to lead to anything more. After all, he'd admitted he'd gotten over
his crush on her a long time ago, and then he'd gone on to adopt a teasing attitude
when they'd been lying in bed together. When he'd asked her about where they'd "go
from here," she'd seen all the signs of a man waiting to be let off the hook.

Let him think she was blasé and sophisticated. Better that than knowing she'd

never had a one-night stand in her life — that is, until he'd come along again. Which
all went to show just how much Ryder had disconcerted her.

Sighing, she picked up her photocopies and headed back to her desk, bumping

into one of the Elliott twins on the way.

"Oops! Careful!"

"Sorry, Summer. I didn't see you."

"That much was obvious," Summer said easily. "You seemed lost in space."

"You could say that," she hedged, then added, "Here to see Scarlet?"

The twenty-five-year-old Elliott twins both worked at EPH, Summer as a copy

editor for The Buzz and Scarlet as an assistant fashion editor at Charisma. When
Chloe had started working at EPH, she'd had some trouble telling the twins apart,
but she'd eventually learned to distinguish them by their different styles. Scarlet was
the flamboyant one who often dressed in bright colors, while Summer was positively
retro, sometimes wearing 1950s-style sweater sets and pearls.

"I'm meeting Scarlet for lunch," Summer said. "Want to join us?"

Chloe shook her head. "Sorry, too much to do. I'll probably just eat at my desk."

"It's started already with Aunt Finny, huh?"

"Don't ask," Chloe advised lightly.

Usually, she enjoyed socializing with the Elliott twins, but today work served as a

convenient excuse. If she had lunch with Summer and Scarlet, she'd be tempted to
spill the beans about Ryder, and the last thing she wanted to do was expose how
much she'd thrown her nonexistent social life into upheaval in the past few days. She
had no doubt Summer would be sympathetic, but in contrast to her own present
state, everything in Summer's life was neat and tidy. Summer had a steady
relationship with her advertising executive boyfriend, and Chloe wouldn't be
surprised if the two of them became engaged soon.

"Okay, your call," Summer said, "but you're showing all the signs of someone

who's come back to work on Monday morning shell-shocked by the events of the
weekend. I promise I'd make a good listener if you need one."

"Thanks."

After they'd parted, Chloe sighed inwardly. Summer wasn't dense, nor were any

of the other Elliotts, for that matter. She wondered how many of them had seen her
leave the Elliott mansion with Ryder and drawn their own conclusions.

As Chloe approached her desk, she heard the phone ringing. She reached for the

receiver and said automatically, "Charisma. This is Chloe Davenport."

"Hello, Chloe."

Chapter Six

Chloe's stomach did a flip-flop at the sound of the rich male voice at the other

end of the phone. "Ryder, hi." She sat down. "How are you?"

"Good, but I'd be better if I saw you."

Well, that was direct, she thought. It appeared she wasn't the only one who could

be forthright. Out loud, she tried for lighthearted flirtation. "Well, that's what I like. A
man who knows what he wants."

His laugh sounded from the receiver. "Honey, if I really told you what I wanted,

we'd be breaking the decency code for a corporate phone line."

A thrill ran through her. He was calling her — pursuing her. "Why don't you tell

me what you're thinking?"

"I'm thinking," he said, his voice dipping, "that we shouldn't have waited more

than ten years to sleep together."

His words sent a shiver through her — and that was just the beginning.

The flowers arrived later that day. A large arrangement of pink and red roses.

Chloe found herself having to peek around them to address people who approached
her desk at work.

And there were plenty who did stop by. The curious, the inquisitive and the

frankly nosy. The steady procession of people finally led Jessie Clayton, one of
Charisma's young interns, to tease, "Wow, Chloe, you really have people talking
today."

Chloe playfully rolled her eyes at the pretty auburn-haired intern. "Believe me, I'd

prefer not to be the number one topic of conversation."

Jessie nodded understandingly, and Chloe thought that if anyone could

sympathize with her situation at the moment, it was Charisma's intern. Jessie's sweet
country girl attitude made it impossible not to like her, but Chloe had immediately
been struck by the fact that the intern seemed to like her privacy —which put her in
the minority at the fashion magazine.

At Charisma — where people breathed a rarified air of high fashion married to

sophisticated society — guessing how someone had spent the weekend was an
office pastime. The magazine staff was littered with fashionistas whose social lives
were so hectic, they were like second full-time jobs.

Chloe supposed she'd be considered a fashionista, too, but then she made a

conscious effort to fit in. She loved to shop, and she tried never to repeat an outfit at
work. It also helped that Charisma was inundated with free samples from designers
hoping to get a glowing mention in the magazine about their clothes and newest
products. It helped even more that Chloe was the editor in chief's executive
assistant, and Fin got more free stuff than any woman could expect to use in a
lifetime.

The next two weeks passed quickly. After Ryder's phone call and flowers, Chloe

found herself caving in to the urge to see him again — aided by Ryder's persistent
pursuit of her.

She and Ryder had dinner, attended a Broadway show, went ice skating in Central

Park, and caught an invitation-only showing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Ryder made no pretense of being cool and detached. He wanted her and he was

pursuing her. Chloe found it a refreshing change from many of the men she came
into contact with. There was no elaborate ritual to follow, no waiting by the phone
until Wednesday for a Saturday night date, no guessing whether he'd call at all.

Instead, Ryder made her feel feminine, pursued and desired. If she had lingering

concerns about where their involvement was heading, Ryder's constant attention
drowned them out.

Inevitably, their evenings would end at her apartment or Ryder's, which, Chloe

soon discovered, was a huge and airy penthouse loft in the trendy TriBeCa section
of Manhattan.

If she'd had any doubts about how successful Ryder had become since high

school, they were erased the first time she stepped into his apartment.

Yet, when she questioned him about his career, he would only say, "I got

involved with an Internet company, like a lot of people did in the late 90s, except
mine didn't go bust along with the dot-com boom and I was able to do well as one
of the higher-ups."

As they walked along West Broadway near his apartment one wintry evening, she

reflected on his words…until he suggested they take a ski trip together during the
upcoming weekend.

"Actually," she confessed, "I'm expected at a family gathering on Saturday."

He arched a brow. "What sort of family gathering?"

"The annual Davenport family post-holiday bash at my parents' house," she said

quickly, making sure her tone didn't attach any special importance to the event. Then
because she knew her mother and Ryder's kept in occasional contact, mostly
through the chance encounter while out and about, and she remembered seeing Mrs.
McPhee at her parents' party a couple of times over the years, she added, "Your

parents might have received an invitation."

"My parents have gone to Florida to visit friends and relatives, so they won't be

making it."

Chloe felt a wave of relief. At least she wouldn't have to face Ryder's parents and

determine whether or not they were aware of her recent involvement with their son —
or decide whether or not she should mention it herself. She couldn't very well blurt
I've started sleeping with Ryder. Even for her, that would be a little too candid.

Ryder looked at her squarely. "Invite me."

He didn't mince words, and she found herself agreeing with a simple "Okay."

As they continued walking toward his apartment, she convinced herself that

bringing him home to the Davenport gathering wasn't such a big deal. Yes, there'd be
questions, but Ryder — if he hadn't been a known quantity to her family and
someone from her past — was exactly what she'd been looking for in a date:
successful and handsome, and someone she was wildly attracted to.

Ryder put an end to her thoughts as they stepped off the elevator and directly into

his penthouse apartment, and once again, Chloe gave herself up to his embrace and
the burning attraction between them.

Chapter Seven

The party was in full swing when Chloe showed up with Ryder for the annual

Davenport family gathering at her parents' house in suburban Westchester. The
sounds of noisy laughter and people speaking over one another could be heard
reverberating throughout the first floor of the house as they stepped inside the front
door.

The Davenports post-holiday tradition had started years before when Chloe's

parents had realized there was no way to gather together all — or even most —of
their extended family and friends during the hectic December holiday season. It had
taken on added significance when Chloe's sister, Maxine, had gotten married and
begun alternating her holidays between the Davenports and her in-laws. The January
gathering had become an opportunity for Chloe's parents to see the grandkids.

"Chloe, you're finally here!"

Chloe nearly groaned as her sister moved toward her, holding eighteen-month-old

Emma. Somehow, Maxine always managed to invest her comments with an element
of reproach.

Chloe sighed over the fact that she and Ryder had barely had a chance to shed

their coats and already she was faced with what was bound to be one of the more

challenging introductions of the afternoon.

Maxine leaned forward and air-kissed her, and Chloe dutifully reciprocated. Chloe

knew that, in her sister's opinion, there was no use ruining a perfectly made-up face
with greetings that were bound to be rouge-effacing.

As Maxine moved back, she pulled Emma's hand from the collar of Chloe's wool

sweater. "No — no — no!" she said in a singsong voice to her daughter even as her
eyes wandered to Ryder, open curiosity evident on her face.

With resignation, Chloe realized there was no putting off the inevitable any longer.

She adored her niece and four-year-old nephew, Andrew, but she had trouble
dealing with her perfectly polished sister and brother-in-law.

"Maxine, you remember Ryder McPhee, don't you?"

"Ryder, of course!" Her sister extended her hand. "No wonder you looked so

familiar! It's wonderful to see you again. How long has it been?"

Chloe watched as Ryder took the proffered hand. "Since high school, I'd say.

You haven't changed a bit, Maxine."

Was it just her imagination, Chloe wondered, or was there a double edge to

Ryder's words? She was distracted from considering the answer to that question by
the appearance of her brother-in-law, Gavin.

Spotting her husband, Maxine held out the baby in her arms and said, "Darling,

could you take her, please?"

After Gavin had taken Emma in his arms, Chloe introduced Ryder to him and

some casual chitchat ensued. Eventually, however, Chloe caught Maxine eyeing her
and Ryder speculatively.

"So," Maxine asked, "did you two arrive together?"

Chloe felt Ryder slide an arm over her shoulders. "Yes. Let me know if anyone

needs me to move my car; it's the black Jag at the end of the driveway."

Chloe could almost see her sister's mind churning as she seemed to take in

Ryder's attire, from his custom-made jacket to his Tod's shoes. If anything, Maxine
was more adept than she was at spotting the telltale signs of discreet wealth, though
her sister wasn't the one who worked for a fashion magazine. Chloe supposed,
however, that being a full-time housewife in an upscale suburb was credential
enough.

Maxine glanced from her to Ryder, a cute little frown marring her otherwise

smooth brow. "It's so rare Chloe brings a date to these events. I hope it's not
because she's embarrassed by her family!"

Gavin chuckled. "Honey, I'm sure that's not the case."

Before Chloe could reply, Maxine leaned toward her and said in a stage whisper,

"It's so cute you brought one of our old high school classmates. I'd never have
thought of going that route. Good thinking!"

Gavin spoke up. "So what are you doing these days, Ryder?"

Chloe thought it was the type of question her brother-in-law might ask a

newcomer while playing a round of golf at his exclusive country club.

Ryder's hand tightened on her shoulder as he directed a level look at the shorter

man. "You could say I've been an investment manager since I sold some of my
stock in Gizmo during the Internet boom."

Chloe watched as her brother-in-law's eyebrows moved up, and even Maxine

looked impressed. Heck, she herself was impressed. Gizmo was one of the more
successful Internet companies to date. Even Chloe had heard of it. When stock had
been sold to the public a few years ago, the company's founders and executives had
become instant multimillionaires.

She glanced up at Ryder. He'd remained so vague about his career. Why hadn't

he told her about Gizmo? The company was only one of the most successful
information retrieval portals around! If Ryder had sold his stock in the company
after it had gone public, then his net worth was certainly in the tens of millions of
dollars!

No wonder he called himself an investment manager — investing all his money

must be a full-time job!

When Maxine and Gavin had moved off — ostensibly in Maxine's case to deal

with a fussy Emma — Chloe confronted Ryder. "Why didn't you tell me you were
involved with Gizmo? Were you one of the founders?"

Ryder shrugged. "A cofounder. I went in with a buddy from business school."

He nodded in the general direction in which her sister and brother-in-law had just
departed. "Why didn't you tell me about Barbie and Ken, Mr. and Mrs. Perfect?"

This time it was her turn to shrug. "What's to tell? They're family." She held his

gaze. "That's not the same thing as forgetting to mention you're a dot-com
gazillionaire!"

"Honey, I'm so glad you're here!"

Chloe turned in time to see her mother bearing down on them. At sixty-six, her

mother was an older version of Maxine, though in personality she tended to have a
more distracted air.

For her mother's benefit, Chloe nodded at the man next to her — did she really

know him? "Mom, you remember Ryder McPhee? I think you still keep in touch
with his mother occasionally."

"Hello, Mrs. Davenport," Ryder said.

Her mother's face reflected surprise and then delight. "Oh — yes, of course!

Ryder! It's wonderful to see you again. I'm so glad you could join us."

Chloe watched as her mother glanced at her, then back at Ryder. "I'm just

surprised — surprised and pleased. That is, I told Helen… What I mean is, I didn't
realize Helen had told you…"

Next to her, Chloe noted that Ryder seemed to stiffen.

"Mrs. McPhee told Ryder what, Mom?"

Her mother looked back at her, a smile touching her lips. "That Helen and I

wanted to fix the two of you up! I didn't realize Helen had said anything to Ryder
about our conversation the last time we ran into each other in town, but, well, here
the two of you are!"

Here they were, all right, Chloe thought, feeling her blood pressure rise. Putting

two and two together, she realized it hadn't been a coincidence that Ryder had run
into her at the Elliotts' New Year's Eve party. He'd planned it!

She'd thought she was finally showing up at a Davenport family gathering with a

date she was proud of — one that, yes, she'd fallen for, and one that, yes, she'd
found on her own. Instead, the joke was on her because she'd shown up with her
mother's set-up date. She couldn't think of anything more humiliating.

Her eyes connected with those of Maxine, who stood a few feet away and had

obviously taken in the whole scene.

On second thought, Chloe reflected, perhaps there was something more

humiliating.

Maxine clapped her hands together. "I love it! Mom to the rescue!"

Chapter Eight

Ryder took in Chloe's turbulent expression and realized he was a man going down

for the count. He had to act fast.

Damn it. He hadn't expected Chloe's mother to blurt out that she and his own

mother had tried to arrange a date between their offspring. He'd deliberately
exhibited a lack of interest when his mother had brought up the idea, but admittedly
that's how his own plan to approach Chloe had started to form.

Obviously, his mother had thought it better to let Mrs. Davenport believe she'd

never brought up the subject with him than to confess Ryder had shown zero interest
in dating Chloe. Equally obvious, however, was that Mrs. Davenport thought his
mother must have eventually persuaded him to ask Chloe out, after all — how else to
explain his presence at the party today?

He should have anticipated this, but then again, how could he have guessed

Chloe's mother would draw the wrong conclusion? And what's more, judging from

the smirk on Maxine's face, that her conclusion would be drawn in front of
everyone.

Taking Chloe's arm, he said, "Excuse us."

As they walked away, she remained stiff under the pressure of his hand.

"Look," he muttered, "I know you're mad at me —"

"Really?" she interrupted sarcastically. "How can you tell?"

"— but right now I need you to tell me where we can find a private place to talk."

He started to think she wouldn't answer, but finally she said, "Upstairs. My old

bedroom."

When they got upstairs, he shut the door to her bedroom behind them and took a

look around. The furniture was white wicker, the color scheme purple and pink.

Ten years ago, he mused, he'd have given his right arm for a glimpse of Fab

Dav's bedroom. Turning back to Chloe, he lifted an eyebrow. "Looks as if things
haven't changed much since high school."

She looked at him coolly. "In more ways than one, apparently. My mother hasn't

redecorated, and you're as obnoxious as ever."

He smiled, though he knew it would incense her. Given her current mood, he

doubted finding her adorable when angry would be welcome news.

"I'm glad you find this funny," she said acerbically.

Deliberately, he moved toward her. "The other thing that's remained the same is

that I'm living out a fantasy by being in your bedroom." His arms snaked around her
before she could protest, and he kissed her. Deeply, thoroughly, satisfyingly.

When he finally loosened his hold, she braced her hands on his chest and said,

"That's it? That's your response? To try to resolve this with sex? You intentionally
didn't tell me about our mothers' plotting —"

"And you didn't tell me your motive for showing up with me today was to have a

date to show off to Maxine and Gavin. So I guess we're even."

He waited, and it became obvious she didn't have a quick comeback.

* * *

Chloe didn't have a quick comeback. Except for the truth. Sure, she'd been

worried about finding a date to bring to the party today, but things had changed over
the past two weeks.

Gradually, it had become less important she bring a date today and more

important she bring Ryder. Because she wanted him. Because she'd fallen for him.

Ryder bent and trailed warm, feathery kisses across her brow, along the side of

her face and to the corners of her lips — soothing her, lulling her.

After a couple of minutes, her eyes fluttered shut seemingly of their own accord.

He was seducing her, the sneak, and she couldn't seem to summon the willpower to
do anything about it.

"Chloe."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't show up at the Elliotts' New Year's Eve party because of our mothers'

attempt at matchmaking."

She blinked slowly. "What? Of course, you did."

He nibbled at her lips some more before pulling back and shaking his head. "I

admit, Mom told me she'd run into your mother recently and they thought it would
be a great idea if I got in touch with you —"

"So, you admit it."

"— but I told my mother, no. I arranged to run into you at the Elliotts' bash

because I wanted to, not to please my mother."

"What?" she asked, now more alert.

He gazed down at her, his face thoughtful. "I also knew you'd never go for a date

arranged by our mothers acting as the go-betweens. For one thing, you probably
wouldn't appreciate the meddling, particularly from your mother. For another, your
last memories of me were from high school, when I was deliberately obnoxious in
order to get your attention."

Her heart began to lift at his confession. He truly understood her, and why wasn't

she surprised?

"But my mother's attempt at matchmaking got me thinking," he went on. "I knew

you were single and available and working at Charisma, so I finagled an invitation to
the Elliotts' New Year's Eve party from Cullen."

"You went to a lot of trouble," she said carefully.

He gave her the lopsided grin she'd come to know and love so well. "I knew

Cullen through some business associates, so getting an invitation wasn't too hard.
The hard part is never getting over a high school crush."

A giddy joy filled her at his admission. "I never understood how I got the name

Fab Dav. I certainly didn't feel fabulous in high school. "

"Remind me to fill you in one day," he joked, then sobered and searched her face.

"I've gotten used to being closemouthed about my career, but I figured that through
your mother, you knew something about what I'd been doing these past few years."

She shook her head. "Mom is clueless about the Internet. She's older than my

friends' parents — Maxine and I didn't come along until her mid-thirties. If you said
Google to her, she'd think it was a noise that babies make."

She now remembered her mother mentioning once or twice over the years that

Mrs. McPhee had said Ryder had become successful in his business career, but

she'd dismissed the comments as nothing more than the boasting of a proud parent.
The word successful had conjured thoughts of Ryder as a middle manager with a
nice paycheck, not of a member of the multimillionaires' club.

She watched now as Ryder grinned. "It's good to know you were attracted to my

body and not my stock portfolio."

"Actually, when you showed up on New Year's Eve, I thought I was destined to

kiss another, ah, frog at midnight."

He gave a half laugh. "No wonder you seemed to dwell on the fact I was wearing

green."

"Remember that, do you?" she teased, then added more seriously, "By the way,

two weeks ago I may have been looking for a date for this party, but I asked you to
come today because of you. Not because of Maxine or Gavin."

She couldn't care less about her sister and brother-in-law's reactions. She'd

wanted Ryder to come today because she'd fallen for him.

"Chloe, I know it's been only two weeks —"

"Yes."

"But that crush I mentioned earlier?"

"Yes?"

"It's only gotten worse since high school."

She pressed two fingers to his lips. "I know. I feel the same way." Her heart filled

with happiness as she realized she'd guessed wrong that night in his hotel room: it
was his obnoxious behavior, not his crush on her that he'd thought he'd been cured
of since high school.

He smiled against her fingers. "I'm thinking it's love at this point."

"You'd better," she said with pretend severity, trying to hold back the well of

emotion, "because I'm crazy in love with you."

"Ah, Chloe."

And then there was no talking for a very long time, until Chloe reluctantly broke

away and said, "We should get back to the party."

As they went back downstairs together, Ryder teased, "Think you can live with

knowing your mother had a role in your encountering your future husband?"

She linked her arm through his, thinking of the little McPhees in their future.

"Remind me to thank her."

The End