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meant what she said, too. She liked this big football player. He may not have much sophistication, but he seemed like a truly nice guy. And his clumsy invitation to go home with him was … flattering.
    He said, “Look, I didn’t mean to get you riled up. Not about going to my place. Or about Jake Kendall.”
    “You didn’t. I’m just anxious to get my travel over with. Oops.” She must have been more flustered that she realized, because she managed to let her coat slip off her arm. It landed on the floor at his feet.
    He bent and picked it up, gave it a shake, and handed it over. “I thought that drink was supposed to calm you down.”
    On the contrary, the gimlet seemed to have had the opposite effect. Accepting her coat, standing with him, Grace felt more churned up than before. Postponed flight, tomorrow’s schedule—it all spun in her head. So why was she hearing his voice? What’s the proper etiquette for asking a lady if she needs a bed for the night ? That certainly wasn’t the kind of thing Dear Miss Vanderbine should be thinking.
    She turned away before Luke could guess her state of mind and led the way to the bank of televisions that scrolled flight information. The concourse was still crowded, but people seemed to be hurrying out of the terminal, not heading toward the security line.
    When Luke caught up to her, she decided to put an end to their brief association. “Thank you for looking after me. I have appreciated your help. I’m not nearly as nervous as I was when we got here. And you---Thank you for being so nice. You seem very sweet.”
    “We’ll see what you have to say about that,” he predicted, “after you’ve had breakfast in my kitchen.”
    “I’ll forgo that pleasure.” Grace extended her hand for him to shake.
    “I don’t think so.” Luke was looking over her head at the blinking television screens.
    Grace spun around. “Oh, no.”
    “Canceled,” Luke read aloud, sounding far from sorry. “See? Philadelphia’s closed. So are Newark and Baltimore. You’re grounded, Princess.”
    “Oh, damn!”
    He laughed. “Hey, is that what Dear Miss Vanderbine says in polite company?”
    She was tempted to say worse.
    Luke took her hand in his. He turned her away from the televisions and drew her out of the stream of pedestrian traffic. “Don’t lose your social graces now, Princess,” he coached.
    “I have appointments tomorrow. This is so maddening!”
    “I’m sure it is,” Luke said. “Well? How about it? My place after all? I do have people stay over now and then, so it’s not a pig sty. At least, nobody has complained so far.”
    Grace pulled from his grasp and faced him. He was smiling again. Which seemed to make her more flummoxed than ever. “Thank you, but no. I’m sure I’ll manage to find something suitable--”
    “Honestly,” he said with patience, “you’re not going to find a hotel room, and it would be hell to hang out here all night, waiting for Philadelphia to open again. Think. You might as well come with me.”
    “I couldn’t. Can’t. Thank you, but—”
    Luke dropped both her suitcases on the floor with a double thud and interrupted. “I know, I know, we haven’t been properly introduced.”
    He took a step and sketched a bow to Grace. In an imitation of a highbrow New England accent, he said, “Miss Grace Vanderbine, may I have the pleasure of introducing Lucius “the Laser” Lazurnovich, Emperor of the Kingdom of the Lateral Sweep and heir to the throne of the Football Hall of Fame? And you are Miss Vanderbine, of the publishing Vanderbines—not the Vanderbines in trade, of course. How do you do, Miss Vanderbine? Have we met before perhaps? The south of France? Aren’t the beaches quite dazzling this time of year?”
    A sputter of laughter escaped Grace’s mouth just before she clapped her hand to smother her reaction.
    “There. See?” he said. “Painless. Now, let’s go before we both get stranded here for the night. I’m