A Knight in Central Park(12)

“I never lie,” Alexandra chimed in.

Sir Joe’s face flushed with anger. “She never lies,” he said incredulously. “Tell Suzanne where you’re from. Tell her about King Henry and all of the king’s horsemen. Go ahead.”

Alexandra sighed. Sir Joe failed to believe her after all. All his talk...just a cartful of lies. Despite her damaged leg, she made her way past the tall, elegantly dressed, sweet-scented woman. Sir Joe’s true character mattered not she told herself. It mattered only that he believe in her plight...and the sooner the better.





Joe watched Alexandra hobble away before he turned back to face Suzanne. As always, Suzanne was perfection in her dark tailored suit and pearls. Her blonde hair was rolled tightly upon her head, her anger flaring from icy blue eyes. “I know this looks bad,” he said, “but you have to believe me. That woman is crazy...absolutely nuts. I did not invite her into my bed.”

“How can I believe you after what I just saw and heard?”

He pointed to his chest. “Because you know me.”

As if that were the lamest answer he could have ever come up with, Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Did you touch her breast, or not?” she asked once more.

His silence spoke volumes.

Suzanne marched from the room.

He nearly tripped over his feet trying to catch up to her. For the life of him, he couldn’t fathom how he always seemed to get himself into these messes. “Shelly let that woman in the house last night after I told her not to,” Joe finished just as Suzanne reached the front door. “When I woke up this morning, she was in my bed.”

Suzanne paused, her hand nestled around the knob as she waited for an answer to her question.

“Yes,” he finally said regretfully, “I touched her breast. I thought it was yours.”

Suzanne growled, threw the door open, smacking his toe in the process. She marched to the curbside, unlocked her Mercedes, and slid into the driver’s seat.

Joe glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t you go anywhere,” he told Shelly. Then he shut the door and limped after Suzanne.

The car engine came alive.

Suzanne rolled the window down a crack and said, “You must really think I’m gullible.”

He rested his head against the cold metal frame of her car door, his bare feet already numb. “I was asleep, Suzanne, having fabulous dreams about you...and when I—”

“You were dreaming of me?”

“Only you.”

Her mouth tightened into a straight line. “Well, keep on dreaming because I never want to see you again.”

Joe jumped back and watched her drive off. Damn. He limped back inside.

He heard voices. Shelly and Alexandra were talking in the kitchen. Just as well, since he wasn’t ready to deal with them. As he made his way back up the stairs to his room, he shook his head. He entered his bedroom and closed the door behind him. Suddenly the whole crazy scene struck a chord inside of him. He found himself chuckling at the thought of how stupid he must have looked, standing before Suzanne, half naked and fully expecting her to believe him. Hell, he could hardly believe it himself.

Although he knew it shouldn’t strike him as funny, he felt a strange sense of relief wash over him, as if a huge weight had miraculously lifted from his shoulders the moment Suzanne told him she never wanted to see him again. Her parents carried a fair amount of social clout in New York, and for the past five months her parents had been pushing for him and Suzanne to marry. He didn’t like the pressure, the expectations, the idea of being tied to one woman for the rest of his life.

He caught his reflection in the mirror, and realized he hadn’t seen himself smile in a very long time. He liked Suzanne, but he wasn’t interested in setting up house with her...or anybody else. He was used to being alone. In fact, he preferred it that way. His research kept him busy enough. Besides, above all else, he liked peace and quiet.

Leaning over the sink, he splashed cool water onto his face. When he looked back into the mirror, he saw Alexandra standing there, staring back at him.

His shoulders tensed. “What now?”

She fidgeted with the belt on the robe she’d put on. “I wish to apologize.”

He dried his face with a towel, then headed for the closet. “Don’t worry about it.” He grabbed his running shoes, sat on the edge of the bed, and put them on.

“I did not mean to be an annoyance,” she said. “Are you angry?”