Living here permanently hadn’t sounded crazy when Zander suggested it. He’d made it sound almost normal. Almost...nice.

  You can stay here as long as you like, Allegra. Your nameless kitten, too.

  Of course by the end of the conversation he’d looked as if he wanted to take it back. His face had gone back to being as blank as a slate.

  “I can’t believe I never knew these were your parents. Zander never said anything.” Allegra peered at the smiling man and woman in the black-and-white image. “But this wasn’t taken at a dance competition, was it?”

  Emily shook her head. “Good eye. No, it wasn’t. Care to take a guess?”

  “It’s a dance marathon, isn’t it?”

  “Bingo.” Emily beamed. “They were quite popular back in the day. I think that photo was taken in 1942. Maybe 1943. My mother and father were newly engaged and determined to be the last remaining couple on the dance floor so they could win the grand-prize money. My mom had her heart set on a society wedding at the Plaza, and the couple who danced the longest that night won three thousand dollars.”

  “That had to be a fortune back then. Did they win? Did your mother get her dream wedding?” Allegra hoped so.

  Emily reached across her desk for the framed photograph and ran her fingertips lovingly over the picture. “They did. They danced for twenty-seven hours and fourteen minutes straight. Three months later, they said ‘I do.’”

  “At the Plaza?”

  “No.” Emily let out a laugh. “Believe it or not they got married at the Bennington.”

  “You’re kidding.” Zander’s grandparents had exchanged vows at his hotel decades before he worked there? For some reason, that struck Allegra as outrageously romantic. Which was something of a shock, considering romance was the absolute last thing on her mind.

  Along with weddings.

  And Zander Wilde.

  She took a deep breath. This conversation wasn’t supposed to have anything to do with the past. Or romance. It was supposed to be about moving on. Plus one very important thing—money.

  “Isn’t there a college somewhere in the Midwest that holds a dance marathon once a year as a fund-raiser for their marching band?”

  Allegra remembered reading about the event in a dance magazine a while back. The band members played old swing standards, songs from Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman, while students danced until they dropped. The annual event had become so popular that the most recent marathon had raised enough money for the band to buy all new instruments.

  “I think you’re right,” Emily said, handing the picture back to Allegra. “Can you imagine how much fun something like that would be?”

  “I can. And I’m glad you like the idea because I think we should have one.” Allegra could already see it—streamers and retro bunting, a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. So perfectly retro. So perfectly perfect. “We could charge a modest entry fee, plus the couples could get supporters to pledge money for each hour they spend on the dance floor. We could give away a trophy to the winners, both the couple who lasts the longest and the dancers who raise the most money. All the funds could go to the school.”

  It could work.

  If it did, maybe the school would get enough of a bump to put it into the black. The money from the sale of the brownstone wouldn’t last forever, and while Zander was obviously quite successful, he couldn’t support the Wilde School of Dance indefinitely. Especially when brides were running away from his hotel in droves.

  Allegra still felt a little responsible for the mess Zander was in. Okay, a lot responsible.

  She kept telling herself the “curse” wasn’t her fault. After all, she wasn’t the only runaway bride.

  Still. She’d been the most recent one. The most notorious one, apparently. And the Times wasn’t backing down.

  The damage was done. It was obviously too late for her to do anything about the curse, but maybe she could help Emily’s school.

  “It sounds wonderful. I love the idea, especially since it ties in with the Wilde family history. But I’m not sure I can pull off something like that on my own. I suppose Tessa and Chloe might be able to help.”

  “No need. I’ll do it.” It was the least Allegra could do after everything Emily had done for her. After everything she was still doing.

  It’s Zander’s house, remember? It’s his bed you’re sleeping in.

  She released a shaky breath. “If you like the idea, let me put together a dance marathon. I can get something planned quickly enough. We could probably get a lot of nice word of mouth just in time for class registration for the new semester.”

  The more Allegra thought about it, the better her idea seemed. They could raise some money and increase the size of their enrollment at the same time. It was win-win.

  Of course if she committed to putting together a fund-raiser, she’d have to stick around long enough to see it through. Effectively, she’d be choosing to stay on as a teacher at the school. At least for another week or two.

  But she could do that, couldn’t she? She’d still have time to sign on for the ballet tour...

  Maybe.

  But that would require calling the ballet director or, at the very least, Talia. So far Allegra hadn’t come close to contacting either of them.

  “I’d hate to impose on you like that, dear,” Emily said.

  “It’s the least I can do. I don’t know where I would be right now if you hadn’t helped me the night of the wedding. A dance marathon really wouldn’t be too hard to put together.” Allegra should know. She’d spent more time than she liked to admit helping organize campaign events for Spencer. Because that’s what perfect political wives did instead of languishing on the bottom rung of a third-tier ballet company. Or so she’d been told.

  She shuddered to think how close she’d come to making that her life, all for a man who’d been cheating on her. A man she wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved.

  She was better off alone. Allegra was used to life on her own. It was better this way.

  Predictable.

  Safe.

  Zander’s image flitted briefly through her consciousness. His perfectly square jaw. His hands. His mouth.

  A shiver coursed through her that felt anything but safe and predictable.

  Something was wrong with her. Obviously. She had to get over this ridiculous infatuation she’d somehow developed with regard to her oldest friend.

  Concentrate. You’ve got a fund-raiser to plan. “The most difficult part would be finding a location. After that, the rest should fall into place easily.”

  Emily shrugged. “We could always have it here at the school.”

  Allegra nodded. “We could. But I was thinking someplace bigger. Someplace special, so we could draw more people. I already have a few ideas in mind.”

  Technically, she only had one place in mind. But it was perfect, and she was almost certain she’d be able to pull it off.

  “You really want to take this on?” Emily asked.

  “I do.” Allegra nodded.

  This would be good. Not just for the school, but for her, as well. She clearly needed something to occupy her thoughts.

  Something other than kissing Zander Wilde.

  * * *

  Another day, another wedding.

  Zander still hadn’t managed to get any face time with the Vows reporter, but he had high hopes for Friday night.

  The midweek ceremonies had been long shots. He knew that. Most couples chose to get married on the weekend, particularly the kind of high-profile brides and grooms who were regularly featured on the wedding pages in the Times. Still, he had to try.

  While his failure to cross paths with Celestia Lane earlier in the week had been disappointing, Zander didn’t consider it cause for alarm. Tonight was a different story.

  Vows would run again in the Sunday edition. This was it. Tonight was his last chance to make a favorable impression on Ms. Lane before she once again offered up her thoughts on the Manhattan wedding scene for everyone in the city to read over weekend brunch. He needed the Bennington to be included in those thoughts. Favorably, if at all possible.

  After a meticulous investigation that involved combing through the past three months’ issues of Vogue, Vanity Fair and Town & Country, as well as a ridiculous number of hours poring over Page Six, Zander was certain he and Ryan had identified the wedding that would be splashed across the Vows headline this weekend.

  The bride was a fashion stylist whose clients regularly appeared on the pages of the Times’s Lifestyle section, and the groom was a junior partner at one of the biggest law firms in the city’s financial district. Both the ceremony and the reception were to take place at the Museum of Natural History, which—according to a rumor that had been repeated no less than four times in Page Six alone—was being lavishly decorated in a secret-garden theme. If the rumor was true, wedding guests would be treated to a three-course meal in the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life, in the shadow of the museum’s iconic blue whale, surrounded by peonies and terrariums of succulents.

  Zander couldn’t have cared less about the plants. Or the meal. Or the whale. But he cared very much about the fact that the wedding was being hailed as the social event of the season.

  Celestia Lane’s appearance was a certainty.

  So was Zander’s.

  He had the driver drop him off a block from the museum and walked the rest of the way down Central Park West. Best to forgo taking his car and using the valet in case they kept a guest list, because yes, he was still technically crashing.

  Zander considered that a minor point, though, because he had no intention of going anywhere near the actual ceremony and reception. He knew better than to fake an invite to an event where every paparazzo in Manhattan would be in attendance. All he had to do was bump into the Vows reporter in the lobby. The museum was a big place, but it only had one main entrance. He’d imply he was there for a meeting of some sort, turn on the charm and, with any luck at all, get another dinner scheduled.

  It was the best he could hope for.

  The wedding was scheduled to begin at six o’clock, just fifteen minutes after the museum closed. Thank God. It was a small enough window to make his meeting excuse plausible.

  The sun had just begun to dip below the New York skyline when Zander made his way toward the steps of the massive building. The stone figures atop the museum’s Gothic columns were covered with a soft blanket of snow, and the sky darkened from blue to violet overhead.

  Zander hesitated as he reached for the door. How long had it been since he’d set foot inside this iconic building?

  A while.

  Fourteen years, minimum.

  He withdrew his hand, shoved it into the pocket of his overcoat and took a backward step.

  This had been their place. His and Allegra’s. They’d spent nearly as much time between the museum’s hallowed walls as they had at dance practice.

  As chairman of the museum’s board, her father had retained an office right upstairs. It was in one of the Gothic building’s turrets, which had delighted Allegra to no end. She’d once told Zander that when she’d been very small, she’d thought the museum was a castle. Her father’s kingdom.

  However, Zander could count the number of times he’d actually seen Preston Clark behind the desk of his exquisite turret office on one hand. Allegra’s father spent most of his time in his law office on Park Avenue.

  But that hadn’t stopped Allegra from dragging Zander to the museum every spare moment they had. On the rare occasions when dance class ended early or was canceled altogether, they’d grab a burger at the diner around the corner from the studio and then head uptown. Zander hadn’t needed to ask where they were going. It was a given.

  Likewise, every one of Allegra’s birthday parties took place at the museum. Long before Zander knew her well enough to complete nearly all her sentences, he’d labored under the misconception that she was just oddly passionate about dinosaurs. But it wasn’t the bones that drew her there time and again. She’d been searching for something else.

  Preston Clark rarely turned up to watch Allegra dance at the school’s yearly recital. Zander couldn’t recall the man spending more than five minutes at any of those birthday parties at the museum. If he couldn’t be bothered to spend time in his daughter’s world, she’d been determined to come into his.

  Zander clenched his fists in the pockets of his overcoat. A lot of years had passed, but time hadn’t erased the memory of the hurt in Allegra’s eyes every time she’d peered past the red velvet curtain on recital evenings and seen empty seats in the audience where her parents should have been. Time hadn’t made the bitter irony of the fact that their fatal accident had occurred on their way to watch her dance any easier to swallow.

  They’d been on their way. Finally.

  Allegra blamed herself, of course. “It’s all my fault,” she’d whispered, again and again, as Zander held her that night.

  He knew it was wrong to hate a dead man, but Zander had never been so angry with anyone in his life as he’d been at Allegra’s father in the agonizing hours that followed.

  He still was, he realized, as he stared up at the museum’s towering facade.

  None of that mattered now, though. He hadn’t come here to chase ghosts. He was here to save his business, and he couldn’t do that while he was standing on the top step, gazing at his reflection in the glass double doors, imagining he was seeing a teenage kid instead of the man he’d become.

  People were passing him now. Men in black tie and women in long beaded gowns were murmuring words like pardon and sorry while they stepped in front of him and entered the building. Wedding guests.

  Get ahold of yourself, for crying out loud. You have a job to do.

  Zander pulled the door open and stepped inside.

  He glanced up at the violet light filtering through the rotunda, bathing the great room in winter’s soft hues. Then he swallowed hard and forced himself to look past the two looming dinosaur skeletons, locked in eternal battle while New York’s glittering elite sparkled at their feet. He swept the room with his gaze, searching for a glimpse of the Vows columnist. He’d studied the head shot beside her byline long enough to recognize her anywhere.

  Just when he was on the verge of giving up, he saw her. She was walking straight toward him through the throng of people, her brow furrowed in confusion as she spotted him.

  To say Zander was surprised as well would have been an understatement, although in a way it made sense. Perfect sense, because the woman walking toward him wasn’t Celestia Lane.

  It was Allegra.

  Chapter Ten

  Allegra didn’t question Zander’s sudden appearance at the museum at first. On some level, she wasn’t the least bit surprised to find him standing in the lobby after her meeting with the event planner. She felt like she’d been looking over her shoulder for a glimpse of him since the moment she’d stepped through the building’s familiar columned entryway.

  Which was silly, really. Why should Zander be at the Museum of Natural History on a random Friday night? This was the present, not the past. They weren’t children anymore.

  Yet there he was, dressed in one of his impeccably cut suits with his smoldering gaze fixed unwaveringly on hers as she crossed the room toward him.

  Her breathing grew increasingly shallow with each click of her stilettos on the mosaic tile floor. What was he doing here, anyway?

  She gazed up at him. He was a good three or four inches taller than she was, even in her heels. The last time she’d been so close to him in this same spot, they’d stood eye to eye. So much had changed.

  Has it, though? Has it really?

  “Zander.” She swallowed. “You’re here.”

  “Indeed I am.” He cast a glance at the crowd of elegantly dressed people spilling through the museum’s doors.

  When his gaze flitted back to Allegra, her stomach gave an annoying little flip. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”

  Had Emily told him where to find her?

  No, that couldn’t be it. Allegra had told her she had an appointment to talk to someone about a location for the dance marathon, but she very purposefully hadn’t breathed a word about the museum. She didn’t want to promise something until she was 100 percent sure she could deliver.

  As it turned out, she couldn’t.

  Her father’s name was engraved on a memorial plaque in the museum’s turret offices, and an exhibition in one of the galleries had been named after him “in gratitude for over a decade of service.” Almost everyone in the event-planning department remembered Allegra and had kind things to say about her father, but that was where the special treatment ended. The museum’s schedule was packed for the next year and a half. The soonest they could accommodate the dance marathon would be the middle of next year, and even then, Allegra would be expected to pay the full going rate.

  “You first,” Zander said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a meeting. It was disastrous.” She tilted her head. “You?”

  “I’m here for a wedding.” Zander clenched his jaw. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” Allegra lifted an eyebrow.

  How did a person sort of attend a wedding?

  “Correct. Sort of.” Again, his gaze darted toward the flow of guests moving from the glass double doors toward the Milstein Hall of Ocean Life.

  “Oh, my God.” Allegra let out a laugh and then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re crashing, aren’t you?”

  “No.” The corner of Zander’s mouth quirked into a grin. “Okay, yes. But not the actual reception. I’m only lingering at the cocktail hour to see if I can find the reporter who keeps writing about the curse in the Times.”

  Again with the curse.

  Things at Zander’s hotel must be a lot worse than he’d been letting on.

  “You’re just going to pretend you’re a guest and ambush her here in the lobby?”

  Zander’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

  Allegra looked him up and down. “It’ll never work. You should have brought a date. She’ll never buy the fact that Zander Wilde, bachelor at large, would go to something like this by himself.”

 

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