A Bachelor At The Wedding. Kate Little
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had not even noticed he’d been holding.
This…thing he had about Stephanie Rossi was insane. If he didn’t watch out, he’d end up embarrassing himself…embarrassing both of them. And maybe with a lawsuit on his hands for harassment as well, he reminded himself.
He ran his hand through his hair, picking up the subtle trace of Stephanie’s perfume that still hung in the air.
He shook his head. “Harding, get a grip!”
Stephanie escaped Matthew Harding’s office on wobbly legs. She entered her own office and quickly shut the door.
Thank goodness for Nana Bella. She normally got annoyed when her family interrupted her at work with one of their crazy “emergencies,” but this time her dear grandmother had displayed perfect timing. Nana Bella always claimed to be a little psychic—as Italian grandmothers often do, just to keep their children in line—but this episode proved it.
Matt Harding unnerved her enough under normal circumstances—curtly delivering his orders, shouting his displeasure, showing no positive reaction to the many miracles she pulled off. But when he slipped into a personal mode…asking her about her family, her social life—or lack thereof—and praised her work to the sky, she couldn’t take it. She’d nearly melted into a puddle of goo, right there on the Persian rug.
What in the world had come over him? Maybe the kitchen had slipped something into his afternoon coffee, she mused.
Sometimes she hated this job. Not her real job, as assistant manager of hotel operations, which she’d started at the Harding Plaza about two months ago. She loved that job. Landing it had been a big step in her career. But this special, temporary assignment. She was never going to make it. She would lose her mind before it was all over.
Why her, of all people? She’d been so happy here at first. Then, just as she was getting her feet wet in the new spot, the buzz spread around the office: Matt Harding needed a temporary replacement for his personal assistant. For some mysterious reason, Stephanie was tapped for the assignment. She couldn’t understand it. So many others who were possible choices had been at the hotel far longer. Some of the female managers especially were more than willing—jealously wondering what Stephanie had done to deserve the honor.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t very well refuse. Her boss had presented the call as a real perk—a chance to show off her talents to the top man.
“Do a good job for Mr. Harding and you’ll really advance in this organization,” her boss had advised her.
Stephanie had a far different view. She’d already heard the lowdown on Matt Harding. For one thing, the dynamic founder of Harding Hotels was reputed to be demanding and temperamental, totally charming one minute, then biting someone’s head off the next.
So far she’d barely glimpsed the charming side. The past few weeks had been mostly snarling, barking and a few nips here and there—or totally ignoring her. Which she found most unnerving of all.
Then there was this other problem. Matt Harding himself, an undisputable hunk. With enough masculine magnetism to light up Times Square. When her friends found out she’d been called upon to babysit “His Royal Hotness” they’d had a field day teasing her and giggling endlessly over silly, adolescent fantasies. Stephanie either ignored them, or denied that she felt any attraction.
Nobody believed her. Why would they? He was just that good-looking…or something. Stephanie could never quite figure out what it was about Matt Harding that set him apart—she just knew, whatever it was, he had plenty of it.
Yes, secretly she was attracted to him, though she’d never admit it in a million years, not even to her closest friends.
Insanely attracted.
It was insane, Stephanie often reminded herself. And pointless. Like yearning after a movie star or sports figure, some guy so distant and unattainable, he didn’t even know you were alive.
Besides, Stephanie knew by now a good relationship was more than a physical attraction. Matthew Harding had his shortcomings. To begin with, he was arrogant, a total egotist, and extremely insensitive. Not the type of man she admired and respected at all. Therefore, no problem. Right?
The kind of man she envisioned settling down with would be solid, sensitive and warm. He would share her values and background. He was not a self-centered playboy, running around with models and actresses half his age. He wanted a wife and family, a real life—and he’d want to make a real and lasting commitment.
The description of her ideal brought to mind her former fiancé, Tommy Torelli. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood of Brooklyn, homey Carroll Gardens. They’d gone to the same schools and had known each other forever. Their parents were friends and Tommy was almost like family.
Stephanie’s father had always predicted that one of his daughters would end up a Torelli. But Tommy, in his careful methodical way, took his sweet time making his choice. The summer after Stephanie graduated from college, he asked her out on a date. She’d thought he was joking at first, but when she realized he was serious, Stephanie said, “Sure, why not?”
Maybe that would have been good enough for most people—a comfortable, feet-on-solid-ground start for the same type of clearheaded romance. But it wasn’t quite good enough for Stephanie. She wanted more. Some indefinable but essential ingredient was missing. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but as time went on, she realized her so-called romance with Tommy never quite progressed beyond, “Sure, why not?”
She might be willing to date a man for that reason, and even go steady for several years. But she ultimately discovered she could not answer his mature and logical proposal of marriage by saying, “Sure, why not?”
Tommy was dear, he was sweet. He had good values, a strong character, an easygoing, pleasant personality. Their backgrounds were so similar, they could share a private joke with a mere glance. But Tommy was not the man she wanted to share her life with.
Her family was shocked and unhappy when Stephanie announced the breakup. Her parents had hoped Angie’s wedding would inspire Stephanie to set the date as well. They’d never imagined Angie’s nuptials would have just the opposite effect.
“You’re throwing away a good chance here, Stephanie,” her mother warned. “I just don’t understand you sometimes.”
Then her father chimed in, “You’re just nervous, sweetie. Everybody’s afraid to get married, believe me. Sure you like your job. It’s fine for a girl to work until the babies come. But you don’t want to end up like Aunt Lily, do you? Living alone with a bunch of cats to keep you company?”
Aunt Lily was her grandmother’s so-called spinster sister. The story was that when her fiancé died in World War II, Lily would have no other. A spinster or not, Aunt Lily had always seemed very happy and fulfilled to Stephanie. She’d been a schoolteacher and now was active in her retirement years, always traveling to exotic places on educational tours for seniors. Lily always invited Nana Bella to come along, but Stephanie’s parents always dissuaded her. Despite her father’s dire warning, Aunt Lily’s golden years didn’t look half bad to Stephanie.
Besides, women had far more choices these days. But try telling that to her well-meaning, but totally sexist, traditional father. He was hardly aware that women had the vote.
What was the use of arguing? Stephanie couldn’t explain it. Tommy was a little too steady and settled. She wanted to get married, not turn into a zombie.
Only Grandma Bella seemed to understand. “Don’t listen to your father. He’s not the one marrying Tommy. You did the right thing, sweetheart. Tommy’s a nice boy, don’t get me wrong. But figlia bella, he’s not for you,” Grandma agreed with a brisk shake of her head. “You need a little…fire.”
But who was for her? What faceless stranger would step out of the shadows to inspire that head-over-heels feeling she was holding out for? That breathless rush that reminds a person that life is more than going to work, eating dinner and watching