Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,25

wondering where Hunter was, and watched the minutes tick by.

At eight-fifteen, she decided that he was deliberately breaking rule number eight.

At eight-thirty, she began to worry that he’d stood her up. Maybe the big surprise was that she’d end up going to the party alone. She could do that. She headed to the closet to get her evening jacket as the buzzer went.

“Your carriage awaits, Miss Richardson,” Patterson said, sounding like he was bursting with a secret.

Carriage?

It had to be a metaphor.

“I’ll be right down.” Chloe heard Daphne squeal and went to the window to look. Parked on the street outside the entrance to the building was one of the carriages from Central Park, pulled by a dapple grey horse. It wasn’t a metaphor at all—Hunter had hired an actual carriage.

It was a more elaborate carriage than the ones she usually saw in the park and the horse was young and proud. There were daisies and ribbons woven into the horse’s mane and the driver wore a top hat and tails.

Hunter himself stood beside the carriage, an ivory rose corsage in one hand and a matching boutonniere in his lapel. He was wearing a dark suit and managed to look both elegant and disreputable. Chloe’s heart did that jumping thing when he looked up, as if he’d felt her glance. Whether he could see her or not, he grinned and Chloe’s pulse skipped.

In the meantime, her nieces were bouncing around her in their fuzzy pjs.

“Is that carriage for you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a princess now?”

“Maybe.”

“Is he your prince?”

Chloe laughed. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s like a movie,” Daphne informed her.

“He’s going to turn into a frog at midnight,” Alex said.

“And the carriage will be a pumpkin!” They laughed and squealed, too excited to be falling asleep anytime soon.

“Can we go for a ride?”

“Not tonight. We’re going to be late. And besides, you’re supposed to be in bed already.” Chloe hugged them goodnight, smiled at the housekeeper, then headed downstairs.

She felt like she was making an entrance. Other residents of the building waited in the lobby, clearly curious about the carriage and what would happen next. Patterson swept open the door for her and Hunter bowed, offering his hand. He looked taller and broader in his suit, older and, for a moment, he even looked more serious. Then his wicked smile broke free, giving her a serious case of the flutters.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered to him.

“But it’s fun, isn’t it?” He stood close to her as he pinned on her corsage. She could smell his cologne and the heat of his skin and those eyes were dangerous at such proximity. “Like prom on steroids.”

“I didn’t go to prom.”

“I went three times,” he confessed.

“What? How is that even possible?”

“Easy. I dated a girl older than me, one in my own year, and one younger than me. Three proms.” He sobered and she knew he was going to say something ridiculous. “Helped me completely nail this corsage thing. See?”

He had positioned it perfectly and not pricked her once. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The color was a guess, but it works.” He brushed his fingertips across her bare skin and she shivered with pleasure. Her gown had spaghetti straps and he looked down at the curve of her breast then took a breath. “Those emails kept me awake all night,” he murmured, his eyes dancing. “I hope I don’t doze off.”

“I doubt you will.”

“I’m doubting it, too.”

The group of passersby who had gathered to watch broke out in applause as he handed her into the carriage. Chloe felt herself flush at the unexpected attention, but Hunter tucked the blanket over her lap. He nodded to the driver and the carriage pulled away.

“Wave to your adoring public,” he told her in a conspiratorial undertone. Chloe laughed and waved. She looked up at the windows of her mom’s apartment and waved to the girls, glad she couldn’t hear them.

“I’ve been warned that you’ll turn into a frog at midnight.”

Hunter laughed. “I might. Or maybe just back to my usual self.”

The air was crisp but it was a clear night. The horse’s hooves echoed on the street as the carriage headed back toward the park. People on the sidewalks waved at them and they waved back. Christmas lights glinted on all sides and it was absolutely magical.

Having Hunter’s thigh pressed against her own and his arm around her shoulders didn’t hurt either.

“Where did you find the carriage?”

“Where I always find one. I just call Reg.”

The driver glanced back