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She relaxed and sighed, and leaned toward him. And it was all he could do not to draw her into an embrace and feed the desire between them.
He finally forced himself to pull back and look at her. “There…recompense received.”
“I—I—” Pia cleared her throat and frowned. “You’re
quite the expert at stealing kisses, aren’t you?”
Solemnly, he placed his hand over his heart. “It’s a rare occasion that I have the opportunity to act so gallantly.”
She hesitated, and then gave him a stern look and faced forward. “We need to get back.”
They made it back to the New York Botanical Garden in record time while Pia filled him in with desultory wedding details.
When he pulled up in front of the valet again, Pia rushed away to help the bride. As Hawk dealt with the car and the valet again, he reflected that he’d heard nothing but good things from Victoria and Timothy about Pia’s eleventh-hour help with their wedding. He was impressed by how professionally Pia had handled herself with little time to prepare.
After leaving the valet, Hawk sauntered alone toward the other guests mingling on the grassy outdoor space where the ceremony was to take place, surrounded by the Botanical Garden’s rich greenery. The bridal arch and bedecked chairs, arranged by the florist, stood at the ready.
He made idle chitchat with some fellow guests, but within twenty minutes, everyone was seated and the ceremony started.
The bride looked pretty and the groom beamed, but Hawk only had eyes for Pia, standing discreetly to one side, within a few feet of the seat he’d chosen for himself in one of the back rows.
Suddenly catching Pia’s eye, he motioned for her to take the empty seat next to him.
She hesitated for a moment, but then slipped into the white folding chair next to him.
Hawk smiled to himself. But as he stared ahead, watching the bride and groom, more weighty thoughts eventually intruded.
He’d chosen long ago to attend this wedding alone. Victoria and her groom, Timothy, were longtime friends of his, and he’d found that for this occasion at least, he wanted to be free of expectations. At his age, society and the press were apt to view any date of his as a potential duchess.
Hawk reflected that Victoria and Timothy were going through a rite of passage that would soon be expected of him. Tim was an Old Etonian, like him, and Victoria was a baron's daughter who had attended all the right schools and now had a socially acceptable job as the assistant to an up-and-coming British designer.
Victoria, in fact, had precisely the pedigree and background that would be expected for the bride of a duke. She was the sort of woman of whom his mother would approve.
Hawk’s mind went to his mother’s attempt at matchmaking with Michelene Ward-Fombley in particular, but he pushed the thought aside.
He stole a look at Pia next to him. Her business had trained her in the etiquette of the elite, but that couldn’t change her background or give her connections that she didn’t possess. With the crowd here today, she’d always be the bridal consultant, never the bride.
At that moment, Pia’s lips parted as she looked to the front, and her expression became rather emotional.
Pia cried at weddings.
The thought flashed through Hawk’s mind like a news bulletin and was closely followed by the realization that Pia was doing what she loved to do. Weddings, he realized, were more than a job to her.
He’d meant to make things up to her, in a way, by arranging for her to coordinate this wedding and Lucy’s. But he’d also, in the process, tested the limits of their relationship because he enjoyed teasing her.
It had been too tempting to spar with her and watch her eyes flash. He admitted to himself that any reaction from Pia was better than having her treat him with indifference. And her kiss…it was hard to imagine a better reaction than that.
But the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Pia again, he reminded himself. A relationship wouldn’t be possible for them, and he shouldn’t tease either of them with kisses that couldn’t lead to anything more. She deserved to be able to get on with her life, and so did he.
A dog started barking, recalling him from his thoughts.
Beside him, Pia sat up straighter.
Hawk had noted before that the only surprising touch to the ceremony was the bride’s King Charles Spaniel, who’d been dressed with an ivory collar and bow and had been led down the aisle by an attendant.
Now, he spotted the dog up front near the bridal arch, playing with—or rather, tearing at—a flower arrangement on the ground.
“Not the dog, please,” Pia said under her breath. “We haven’t even taken photos with the bridal bouquet yet.”
