Judith McNaught - Remember When

A few hours ago, she'd been Daniel Penworth's cast-off fiancée, the object of pity and ridicule. A few hours from now, the press was going to portray her in a new role with Cole Harrison—probably as his lover. That was so incredible that she felt a sudden urge to giggle.

Somehow she managed to keep her face straight and introduce Cole to her grandparents and mother, but the feeling of giddy mirth was swelling inside her as she watched them react in their own individual ways to what Cole had done: Corey's greeting was filled with laughing approval, and she gave him a quick hug. Mrs. Foster was less effusive but very friendly. Spence and Grandpa smiled politely and shook Cole's hand. Grandma stared into his eyes as if she were trying to assess his soul. Amy Leeland actually blushed when Cole smiled at her.

Doug Hayward was not only antagonistic, he was openly insulting. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pants pockets to avoid shaking Cole's hand. Without taking his contemptuous gaze from Cole, he explained to Amy, "Harrison used to work at our stable, mucking out stalls. Now he donates artwork at charity balls." To Cole he added, "It's amazing how far a man can actually climb in America, isn't it, Harrison?"

Cole's jaw hardened and his eyes turned cold.

The inexplicable hostility between the two men was palpable, and Diana's family automatically turned to her to intercede. No matter how awkward or volatile the social situation, Diana could always be counted on to step in and defuse it with her special gifts of diplomacy, sensitivity, and humor.

This time, however, Diana seemed unwilling or unable to do that. Instead, she beamed a bright smile at the two men, who were glaring at each other like silent duelists awaiting the signal to begin pacing off, and she gaily announced, "I can see how anxious you both are to catch up on old times, but you'll just have to wait because Cole and I are leaving." With that, she swept up a plain black handbag from the table, linked her hand through Cole's arm, and turned with enough momentum to partially pull Cole with her.

Feeling that courtesy required some form of parting remark from him, Cole looked over his shoulder and saw Hayward stalking away. "Diana has agreed to take her life in her hands and dance with me," he explained to her family.

The group at the table watched with a variety of reactions as the couple departed. With the exception of Diana's grandmother, everyone seemed to think the evening was a triumph that would mark a complete turning point in Diana's unhappy personal life. "Mr. Harrison was exactly what Diana needed tonight to help her get over Dan. She has her pride back now, and she looks happy again."

"Diana is a survivor," Spencer put in.

"Diana is practical," Grandpa added. "She knows Dan wasn't the man for her, and she's putting him behind her already."

"Diana is a fighter and she's brave," Corey agreed.

"Diana," Grandma contradicted flatly, "is at the end of her rope!"

"Nonsense, Gram," Corey said, partly because she didn't want to believe that. "She's always been independent and self-sufficient. She's calm. she's grace under pressure, and."

"And," Grandma interrupted triumphantly as she produced the ultimate proof of Diana's mental state, "she's just walked off with my black purse!"

That particular revelation caused the entire group to turn in alarmed unison and gape at the departing Diana. As all of them knew, Diana's fastidious attention to detail was unflagging; her flair for style was as legendary as her ability to be perfectly groomed and coordinated no matter how difficult the circumstances. Lying on the table was Diana's little purse—a glittering Judith Leiber evening clutch shaped like a jeweled sugarplum, with a silver stem and green leaves. The fact that she had actually walked away in a glamorous purple gown with a matronly black handbag dangling over her forearm was so completely out of character that the entire family felt deep tremors of genuine alarm.

"As you can see," Grandma sadly declared, "Diana has finally reached her limits. There's the proof."

"If you're really going to dance with me," Cole joked when they neared the entry to the adjoining ballroom, "I suggest you have something to drink first." He stopped at a banquet table with an untouched place setting, lifted a bottle of champagne from the cooler in the center of the table, and poured some champagne into an unused glass. "Alcohol acts as an anesthetic," he told Diana with a grin as he handed her the glass, "and dancing with me could be a painful and dangerous experience."

Diana took the glass, so relieved that her personal ordeal was over and so grateful for his kindness and ingenuity that she would have danced with him if her feet were bare and he was wearing golf cleats. No longer were women eyeing her with pity or disdain. In fact, she noted with amusement, they weren't looking at her at all—they were looking at Cole, and Diana couldn't blame them. With his thick black hair, piercing gray eyes, and tall, athletic physique, Cole Harrison was magnificent.

The same male qualities that had made all the girls fantasize about him long ago were even more pronounced now. There had always been a rugged strength and latent sexuality about him, but now it was enhanced by an aura of cool sophistication and indomitable power.

Walking into the adjoining ballroom, she sipped the champagne, enjoying the looks of confusion on the faces of the same acquaintances who earlier had eyed her with pity or satisfaction.

The orchestra was playing a popular slow song as they neared the dance floor, but when Diana started to put the glass of champagne down on a table, he shook his head. "Finish it."

"Are you really that worried about stepping on my feet?" she asked, her smile filled with a mixture of gratitude, relief, and laughter.

"Certainly not," he teased. "I'm worried that you'll be so tense and stiff that you'll step on my feet."

With a laugh, she drained the glass and tucked her hand through his arm, drawing him close in an unconscious gesture that seemed a little possessive to Cole and pleased immensely. He was about to negotiate one of the most important "business deals" of his life with a lovely, unsuspecting woman who needed to trust him enough to accept his bizarre offer.

When he slid his arm around her on the dance floor, Diana gazed up at him, her features soft and warm with gratitude. "Cole?"

He returned her smile, but the gray eyes that regarded her from beneath half-lowered lids seemed preoccupied, thoughtful. "Hmmm?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are very sweet and very gallant?"

"Certainly not. Generally, I'm described as cold, calculating, and ruthless."

Diana was aghast at the injustice of that. With her heart filled with gratitude and her head swimming from all the wine and champagne she'd drunk to reinforce her courage, Cole Harrison seemed completely wonderful and omnipotent—a mighty defender who'd charged to her rescue, vanquished her foes, and saved her from humiliation. He was gallantry and daring in a world filled with cowardice and malice. "How could people possibly think such awful things about you?"

"Because they're completely true," he stated with calm finality.

Diana's reply was an irrepressible giggle. "Liar."

He looked stung. "Now, that is one thing I am not."

"Oh." Trying unsuccessfully to bite back a smile, she decided he was joking because he was embarrassed by her praise, and she switched the topic. "Who did you really buy this necklace for?"

Instead of answering, he gazed at her in speculative silence for so long that Diana began to wonder uneasily if he'd had a recipient in mind, or if he'd actually spent $40,000 on a necklace merely to bolster her status tonight. His next words relieved her mind. "The necklace is a wedding gift for my future wife."