How to Tame a Modern Rogue by Diana Holquist

Author:Diana Holquist [Holquist, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Love Stories, Fiction, Women's Fiction, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780446551953
Google: hUo1AQAAQBAJ
Amazon: 044619705X
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2009-07-31T23:00:00+00:00

The trouble with meddling in a lady’s affairs was that most ladies’ affairs were such pits of mismanagement, that once one got started, it was frighteningly difficult to find a way out.

—From The Dulcet Duke

Chapter 17

One police cruiser, its lights flashing, led them over the bridge. The second brought up the rear. Paula clopped along elegantly between them, ignoring the police cars and their flashy display. The black Jeep trailed them, almost empty now, as most of the crew was piled in the carriage. The model and Granny Donny sat on one bench. Ally, Sam, and the makeup artist were crunched together on the facing bench. The pretend photographer knelt in the space between the seats, crouched on the floor of the carriage, clicking away.

Ally wondered if he was really taking pictures or miming for the police.

Sam had sped over this bridge hundreds of times, but this was different, and it was hard to say why. He leaned back on the seat, enjoying the sunshine. Something about the open carriage and Lady Giordano, smiling so serenely, sure that life was just one big elegant ball waiting to be thrown. She hadn’t been the least bit surprised to see him. She’d counted on him, believed in him.

And then there was Ally, who sat beside him, looking shell-shocked. She kept looking back toward Manhattan, as if she had forgotten something important. She didn’t seem to notice the sparkling water below or the shining bridge above, or the clip-clop of Paula’s hooves as the road-mad Manhattan drivers slowed to give them a wide berth and curious stares. Classic Ally. Just like waltzing—or rather, not waltzing—in the park.

“Ally, you okay?” he asked.

“You know, this bridge took fourteen years to build. John Roebling, who designed it, died from an accident before it was done. He never even saw it.”

“Ally?”

“In fact, lots of men died. Two were hit by a giant snapped cable in 1872—”

“Ally?”

“And Washington Roebling, who took over the work after his father died, was hit by such a bad attack of the bends that—”

“Ally!”

She stopped. “What?”

“Shhhh…”

“But—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Shh. It’s okay.”

She seemed to stop.

He cautiously lowered his finger. “You look a little green around the gills.”

“I’m great. Super. Never better.”

He looked at her a long minute. She wasn’t super by a long shot. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, wondering why she was so spooked.

They sat like that all the way to the other side.

They were over the bridge.

Ally tried to still her mind. She was, possibly, on her way to see her parents. And Sam was by her side and he’d been—

Oh, hell…

He’d been…

Their hero.

It was exasperating. Infuriating.

Mateo had stopped Paula on the shoulder to unload the film crew, who climbed back into their black Jeep. All except Sam, who unloaded a small travel bag from the Jeep and waved his good-byes and thanks to his friends. When the Jeep and the two police officers (the younger one with Chloe’s number, and, Ally couldn’t help notice, a bit of a boner) were gone, Mateo swung back onto the carriage seat.

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