Prologue

“Y ou kiss it.”

“No, you kiss it!”

Eight-year-old Katie Marcelli glanced from her seven-year-old twin sisters to the small green frog perched on a log in front of them. Summer sunlight shone through the trees, creating patterns on the grass and the log that made her think of fairies dancing in the breeze.

“Mommy said kissing a frog meant becoming a princess,” Francesca said, sounding doubtful. “I don’t want to be a princess that bad.”

Brenna pushed back the cardboard tiara Katie had carefully cut out, then covered with glue and glitter. “Boys are stupid and so are frogs. And princes.” She crossed her arms over her tattered lace-and-tulle dress-up costume and scowled.

Katie didn’t like boys all that much, but princes were different. Princes rode white horses and carried girls off to beautiful castles, where they got to eat ice cream any time they wanted and never had to write thank-you notes.

But Francesca had a point. Was all that really worth kissing a frog?

“How do we know it’s a magical frog?” she asked.

“In the book the frog had a little crown on its head. I don’t think this one used to be a prince at all,” Francesca told her.

Katie crouched down until she was eye level with the frog. It regarded her with big eyes, but didn’t jump away.

Francesca was right—there wasn’t any crown. No twinkling lights filled the air. But they’d never seen a frog here before—not in their special place.

She glanced around at the ring of trees and the soft, springy grass. Here she and her sisters pretended to be everything from elegant travelers taking a boat to a mysterious new land, to Cinderella, to mermaids. Sometimes their games were so elaborate they went on for days and Katie helped their Grammy M make special costumes. Today they were dressed to be fairy princesses. They’d just been deciding who was going to be kidnapped by the evil Dark Duke, when they’d spotted the frog.

“What if it’s magic and it wants to be sure we believe?” Katie asked.

Brenna rolled her eyes. “Then kiss it and find out. If it’s not magic, you’ll get warts all over your face and have to stay in your room because you’ll be so ugly.”

Not a happy outcome, Katie thought. But she really wanted to find a handsome prince and fall in love. She wanted a big wedding, with lots of lace and flowers and a sky full of stars.

“I believe you’re a prince in disguise,” she whispered to the frog. “I’m going to kiss you and then wait every night for you to come find me. You’ll be my one true love, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

She sucked in a deep breath for courage, leaned close, and pressed her lips against the frog’s small face. It croaked and hopped away.

Brenna laughed while Francesca tried to hide a smile. Katie wasn’t discouraged. When she’d kissed the frog, she felt…something. Like a tingle. Or a promise.

“You’ll see,” she told her sisters. “One day my prince is going to come for me. He’s going to want only me, and you’ll be sorry you didn’t kiss the frog, too.”

Francesca looked wistful, but Brenna shook her head. “You’ll be waiting until you’re old, because no prince is gonna show up.”

“You’re wrong. He will and I’ll be right here.”

Katie did wait. Every night for the next three years, she stood at her window and watched the sky, waiting for her prince to ride up on his white stallion and whisk her away.

In time she forgot about the frog, the kiss, and her beliefs, which was a good thing, because twenty years later there had been a lot more frogs, but not a single prince.

1

K atie Marcelli knew that with the right staff, she could organize the world. But as good help was hard to find, she contented herself with smaller projects, such as organizing closets, parties, and seminars. She owned her own business, made a decent living, and had a five-year business plan that would make a Fortune 500 CEO weep with envy. She was tough, confident, in charge.

On the outside.

On the inside her nerves were currently playing baseball in her stomach, and someone had just hit a foul ball down the third base line. She pressed a hand to her midsection and knew that fourth cup of coffee she’d gulped in her car was about to turn to acid. She was tense, wired, and pacing in high heels that might make her ankles look as slender as a gazelle’s but also threatened her future ability to walk without a limp.

Oh, please, oh, please let me say just the right thing, she thought as she paused in front of a large window overlooking Century City and Beverly Hills. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day. She’d wanted to take her company to the next level, and this job was going to make it happen. All she had to do was be…sparkling.

The word made her smile. Ah, yes. She was “the Sparkling One.” Bright, bubbly, like fine champagne that had—

“Ms. Marcelli? Mr. Stryker will see you now.”

Katie turned toward a well-dressed fifty-something woman who held open a thick door and motioned for her to enter.

Katie stepped from the nicely carpeted hallway into sink-to-your-ankles plushness in an office the size of Rhode Island. A corner office, with floor-to-ceiling windows, sleek yet traditional furniture, a massive pair of leather sofas on the walls opposite the windows, and an elegantly dressed man good-looking enough to grace one of the billboards that lined Sunset Boulevard.

Zach Stryker, one of only three senior partners in the largest family law firm in the Los Angeles metropolitan area, and the youngest partner. He had a reputation for being tough, unflinching, and a hell of a negotiator. Oh, and he wasn’t just a winner in the courtroom. Rumor had it he broke at least two female hearts a week.

The nerves in her stomach instantly abandoned their baseball game and began flying in a “man-alert” formation which warned her that caffeine overload was not all that far away. Perfect, she thought, because staying calm in a meeting was so overrated.

“Ms. Marcelli?” the man said, his voice low and sultry enough to make him a fortune in radio. “I’m Zach Stryker.”

“Mr. Stryker. A pleasure.”

She managed to cross the carpet without twisting her ankle. As he came around his pool-size desk, she transferred her briefcase from her right hand to her left, then shook with him.

Oh, great, sparks, she thought as sexual heat arced from her fingers to her chest and beyond. Wildly attractive, tall, dark, and blue-eyed. How L.A. How her luck. Wasn’t she only supposed to care about the job?

A good question, she thought as she took the seat he offered in front of his desk.

Instead of circling back to his “I’m the man” leather chair, he settled next to her, then angled toward her and gave her the kind of engaging smile that could send an angry, gray-haired nun into cardiac arrest. Katie told herself she was made of sterner stuff.

“I guess we’re going to throw a party together,” he said.

Right. A party. The reason she was here. “Absolutely.”

She opened her briefcase and pulled out a light blue folder. “Your assistant filled me in on the basics. Your law firm hosts an annual fund-raiser, with the proceeds going to several local family charities.”

“Right. The event is generally coordinated by one of the partner’s wives. John’s wife volunteered, but then she discovered she was pregnant with twins. Her doctor didn’t want her stressing herself with all the planning, so I stepped in and said I’d take care of things.” He rested one ankle on his opposite knee. “Not having a wife, I needed to call in a professional. That’s where you come in.”

“I see.” Which she did. Sort of. Yes, she’d planned parties before, but never one of this magnitude. It was black-tie, A-list, and exclusive. She would never personally have been invited, although she’d read about the fun and good times in In Style magazine.

No doubt he couldn’t ask one of his women to do it. That would require him keeping her around for more than fifteen minutes. A circumstance that would no doubt cramp his style.

He pushed a stack of folders toward her. “Everything you need to know about the previous two parties, including the guest list. John’s wife got as far as picking the hotel, so you’re going to be starting from there.”

Which meant practically starting from scratch. Easy enough. If she had six months and hired three or four more staff members, she could—

“The party’s in May.”

“Not a problem,” she said, holding in a shriek. May? As in less than four months from now? As in ohmygod, now what?

He gave her the exact date, and she wrote it down on her pad.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he said.

“As you said, Mr. Stryker, I’m a professional. This is what I do.”

“I’m sure you do it very well.”

The intensity of his gaze unnerved her. Or maybe it was the heat he generated. She felt as if she were sitting too close to a furnace. Or maybe it was the drop in his voice, as if they were having an intimate conversation.

She glanced around at the impressive office, then studied his tailor-made suit, expensive shoes, and casually elegant good looks. Uh-huh. She knew the type. Zach Stryker was the kind of man used to getting what he wanted in business, and in life. Women lined up by the dozens just to throw themselves at his feet.

She might be experiencing a little attraction, but there was no way she would become one of a crowd. So she would keep her thoughts and her reactions to herself. Besides, this was business.

“If you’re the kind of woman who enjoys a challenge, this is going to be exactly what you were looking for,” he said.

“I do like a challenge,” she admitted. “I’m not afraid to take risks or work hard. That’s why I’m successful.”

“I’m sure it is.” He shrugged, and gave her another dazzling smile. “I’m a typical guy about party planning, so I’m not sure I’m going to be much help to you. Still, I’ll do what I can.” He shifted so that both feet were flat on the floor, then leaned toward her. “We’ll have to work closely together.”

She had the feeling they were talking about more than the party, but she wasn’t going to let on.

“I appreciate your willingness to cooperate, but the bottom line is, Mr. Stryker, you’re hiring me to make the party happen with a minimum of disruption to your already busy schedule.”

“Call me Zach.”

Call me anytime.

Fortunately she only thought the words, rather than saying them aloud. When she got home she was going to give her hormones a stern talking to. Over the years they’d quivered over any number of inappropriate men, but never one this far out of her league. Men like Zach chewed up and spit out women like her with their morning coffee.

She mentally winced at the awkward metaphor, then turned her attention back to business.

“I’ll look over the plans from the previous fund-raisers,” she said as she gathered the files. “I’ll review the location and come up with three or four possible themes. I should be back in touch with you by the middle of next week.”

“That sounds good. I’ve notified my assistant to get you in to see me as quickly as possible.”

Talk about an invitation. “Great.”

Katie snapped her briefcase closed and they both rose. Which meant they were standing close together. Too close.

Despite her potentially crippling high heels, she found herself several inches shorter than Zach. He smelled good—clean, sexy, powerful. His cobalt blue eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. She couldn’t decide if they were his best feature or if she liked his mouth better.

The job, she reminded herself. His ability to pay her was by far his most appealing characteristic.

“This event is very important to my law firm, Katie,” he told her. “I’m looking for a win.”