Glass Slipper Bride

by Arlene James

  Sighing, she got up and left the room, bothering with neither robe nor slippers, as was her custom. What was the point when her sleep shirt was as decent as any dress and she relished the feel of the floor beneath her feet? Quietly, she slipped into the kitchen and went to the refrigerator, to take out the milk. Leaving the door ajar so she could use the light, she filled a mug and heated it in the microwave, stopping it before it beeped. She added a few drops of vanilla to the warm milk and stirred it in with a spoon. Just as she lifted the mug to her lips, Zach said from the shadows, “Does that really improve the taste?”

  She fought down the thrill that skipped over her nerve endings by wrinkling her nose. “Not enough.”

  “I prefer a good book myself.”

  She smiled at that. “I didn’t get to the bookstore today for some mason.”

  He chuckled, saying, “Put that down and come in here.”

  She sat the mug on the counter and followed him into the den, closing the refrigerator door on the way. He had turned on the television but kept the volume way down. The flicker of the screen was the only light in the large, cool room. He motioned toward the couch. “Sit down.”

  She folded herself onto the powder-blue couch and waited, sensing that something was coming. He put his hands to his hips and looked at her.

  “I had a talk with your sister about you.”

  Relief shimmered through her. So that was why he was in Camille’s room so long. She relaxed and curled up her legs, saying, “Oh? What about me?”

  He sucked a deep breath through his nostrils and pushed it out again. “Camille thinks I ought to keep away from you.”

  The relief vanished. “That’s silly!”

  “No, it isn’t.” Sighing, he walked over and sat down next to her. “You draw me, Jillian. I’m not sure why, really, but I know it’s unwise.”

  She was dismayed and suddenly a little desperate. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Listen, Please,” he said, taking her hands in his. “What I do has the potential of real danger.”

  “I know that.”

  He squeezed her hands, signaling that he didn’t want her to interrupt “I realized a long time ago that it wouldn’t be fair to ask anyone to share that with me.”

  “But”

  He dropped her hands, hurrying on. “That’s not the only reason I want to stay uninvolved. I like my life. I do important work, and I’m not going to give it up.”

  “Of course you’re not,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t have relationships.”

  “Relationships, yes,” he said. “But not a serious relationship. I won’t go through that again.”

  “So this is really about Serena?” she asked, but he shook his head.

  “No, honey, this is about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to let you hurt me?” she demanded. “I’m not some helpless little waif who can’t take care of herself, no matter what anybody thinks. Just because I don’t stomp my feet and shout and demand everything go my way doesn’t mean I’m too stupid to make my own decisions and choose my own path.”

  He blinked at that, obviously surprised by her vehemence. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So just exactly what path do you think you’re choosing here?”

  She frowned, not at all certain now what she wanted, hoped for, from him She knew only that he made her feel special in a way no one else had, not that she’d had much experience with men. Quite the opposite, in fact But she knew that she liked the way he made her feel, that she didn’t want to stop feeling this way, that it was unfair on some fundamental level to expect it of her. Exactly what she was going to do about it, she didn’t know, unless... It would mean taking a chance, a huge chance, but he had kissed her twice now of his own volition. Perhaps it was her turn to take the initiative. She looked down at her hands in her lap, working up her courage. What was the worst that could happen? He was on the verge of forgetting he’d ever known her now. Decision made, she lifted her head. The wavering light cut shadowy vales in the half of his face turned away from the television, limning the strong bone structure of his forehead, nose, chin and jaw. He was a breathtakiagly handsome man, even in near darkness, and her heart was beating hard at the audacity of what she was about to do, and yet she found the courage to slide closer on the couch, to lift her hands and place them on the corded slopes of his shoulders, pulling herself against him.

  His hands went to her waist, even as he leaned back slightly. “Jillian? Are you sure about this?”

  She didn’t even know what this was, only that she must do something to bind him to her before it was too late. Pushing up on one leg, she leaned into him and put her mouth to his. He pushed lightly at her waist, but she slid her arms around his neck and wound them tight. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her and sank back onto the couch, its padded arm supporting his head. She lay atop his chest, her legs tangling with his, and reveled in the feel of his hands wandering over her hips and down to her thighs, then back again to cup her and pull her against him. She couldn’t miss the evidence of his response and exulted in it even as it frightened her a little. It was so male, so elemental, an incontrovertible fact of life with which she had only passing acquaintance.

  In truth, she had never before wanted to deepen her acquaintance with sexual desire. What she knew of Camille’s liaisons and those of most of her friends had not inspired any great need to join their ranks. It all seemed so shallow, so quickly dismissed and easily forgotten, that she had never understood the need to take such risks with her person. She had always suspected that for her passion would be more a matter of the heart than the physical, much as it seemed to be with Denise and Worly. They were the only two people she knew who were totally committed to each other. Now she was beginning to understand the danger of allowing one’s heart to be engaged in such elemental matters. As much as she wanted Zach, she could not be sure that indulging this mutual passion would gain her anything but heartbreak. Yet what was she to do? Let him walk away without a backward glance?

  The hand slowly sliding up beneath her gown did nothing to clear her mind. She gasped, her head spinning, when he slipped it between her legs and rubbed her through her panties. He whorled his tongue around her mouth before breaking the kiss. Shifting and turning her so that she slid down onto the couch and was wedged against the back and the seat, he rose above her on one elbow and trailed his fingertips over her mouth and chin and downward to the slight fullness of one breast. She closed her eyes, amazed that the same breast she had washed, dressed and laid upon for so many years could produce such intense sensation when stroked by another. Would it feel this way with anyone else? She couldn’t quite believe that it would.

  “I want to make love to you,” he whispered, “but I have to be sure that it’s what you want, too.”

  She opened her eyes. “I think it is.”

  Sighing, he shook his head. “Not good enough, sweetheart.” He began to pull away, but she caught him to her.

  “Please, Zach. Try to understand. It’s just that I’ve never before... I—I’ve never wanted to with anyone else.”

  He studied her face for a long moment before comprehension dawned. When it did, a myriad of emotions flickered across his face, among them shock, dismay, fascination and something surprisingly like respect. “Dear God,” he breathed. “What a treasure you are!”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “Mind? Hell, yes. I want you so badly that I’m quite willing to overlook a great many of my own convictions. But not this one. You deserve better than this.” He pushed his hand into her hair, cupping her ear in his palm. “You deserve everything, more than I have to offer, I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t say that,” she pleaded.

  His smile was sad, determined. “Facts are facts, sweetheart. You’re much too dear, much too wonderful to settle for what I can give you. I want you to wait for the right man.”

  “But you—”


  “No,” he said. “No.”

  He pulled her face to his chest and wrapped his arms around her, holding on as if he’d never let her go again. She felt perilously close to tears, and she wasn’t even certain why. Disappointment was part of it, of course, but also relief. Then again, she was aware of something else, something unfamiliar, not pride exactly and not shame, something in between perhaps and yet totally different. She had thrown herself at him, but it was some thing she’d never done before and would probably never have the courage to do again, and he admired her for mat, which thrilled her. On the other hand, he didn’t love her, and he had as good as said that he never could, which was breaking her heart. What was one more difficult fact to face when she’d had so much practice at it, though? As usual, she would take what she could get and be thankful for it; so determined, she swallowed down the tears and returned his embrace, content for the moment to merely hold and be held. Tomorrow she would find a way to be happy again. Tomorrow.

  Zach jerked awake, aware of a painful screech somewhere near to hand. Not an alarm clock, surely. Who would want to start his day with such a horrible sound? He attempted to lift his hands to cover his ears and abruptly realized that at least one of his arms was caught beneath something. Something that blew a gust of hot air against his chest and snuggled closer, if that was possible. Jillian. He had no time to consider the situation more fully. The screech had become words.

  “You little slut!”

  Zach popped his eyes open and glared at the fuzzy form standing over him. Correction, them. Jillian stirred at the same time, and he felt her stiffen against him.

  “Gerry!” she gasped.

  A hand flashed out. Instinctively, Zach caught it, aware only as his fingers closed around her ropy wrist that it was Gerry who had swung at Jillian. Anger had him surging upward and thrusting that hand back from where it came. “What the hell is going on?”

  “That is painfully obvious!” she shrieked, jerking back her hand as though he’d bitten her. She spewed venom at Jillian. “You ungrateful little bi-”

  “Hey!” Zach jabbed a finger at her. “What’s your problem?”

  Gerry’s face contorted in pure hatred as she confronted Jillian. “Your sister took you in when no one else in the world would have you!”

  Jillian made a helpless sound. “I know that!”

  “And this is how you pay her back?” Gerry shook a fist at Zach. “You know she’s interested in him! He went into her room with her last night!”

  “Hold on!” Zach snapped. “There is absolutely nothing between Camille and me!”

  “Because of her!” Gerry screamed. “It’s always because of her!”

  “That’s absurd. Why don’t you just calm down and—”

  “We fell asleep,” Jillian said pleadingly. “Nothing happened. We were just... We fell asleep, that’s all.”

  “Don’t, Jillian,” Zach said. “You don’t owe her any explanations.”

  “Oh, yes, she does!” Gerry hissed. “She owes me a great deal more than that! And she owes her precious sister everything, just everything!”

  “Will you calm down!” Zach demanded, but he might as well have saved his breath.

  Gerry balled both hands into fists and hammered her thighs with them, her turban sapping sideways, nightdress and robe twisting around her. “How could you do this again?” she bawled at Jillian. “Wasn’t once enough? You have to steal every man she wants?”

  Again? Puzzled, Zach fixed his attention on Jillian, whose face had lost every vestige of color. “What’s she talking about?”

  Jillian shook her head, staring at Gerry. “It’s not true,” she said weakly. “You know it’s not true.”

  “You stole Janzen from Camille!” Geny accused. “He was in love with her, and you threw yourself at him until he gave in.”

  “No!” Jillian exclaimed. “It wasn’t like that!” Unable to take in what he was hearing, Zach bounded up off the couch to stare down at her. “It wasn’t,” she told him, holding up a hand beseechingly.

  “Then why did he tell Camille that it was you he really loved?” Gerry demanded. “Why did he break up with her and swear the two of you would be together? Why did he threaten her when she told him to stay away from you?”

  Stunned, Zach watched as Jillian swallowed painfully, tears glimmering in her eyes. She’d lied to him. Jillian had lied to him. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t not believe it. Most of all he couldn’t understand why he wasn’t angry, why instead it felt as though a hot blade had been driven deep into his chest.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Jillian said to him. “I don’t even like Janzen. I never did. When he first started coming on to me, I thought it was another of his tasteless jokes.”

  “You lie!” Geny screamed. “You enticed him. He was jealous of Camille’s celebrity, and you played on that! You—”

  “Mother!”

  Zach looked up as Camille swooped into the room, her robe belling around her.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  Gerry poked a finger at the couch and Jillian, who knelt there,, hugging herself. “They were sleeping together! The two of them, right there!”

  Camille glared at Zach, one hand sweeping her hair back from her face. “Didn’t I tell you—”

  “Not nearly enough.” he interrupted. “You’ve lied to me. All of you. Eibersen isn’t after you. He’s after Jillian!”

  “No,” Jillian said, shaking her head. “I told him. I want no part of him. I never did. I told him that!”

  Camille lifted her chin and folded her arms. “And he blames me for it,” Camille said. “The man has lost his mind. He came to me saying that he was hopelessly in love with Jillian, and naturally I forbade him any contact with her.”

  “I don’t want any contact with him,” Jillian insisted softly.

  “He believes I’ve turned her against him,” Camille went on as Jillian hadn’t spoken. “He says I’ve made her choose, and he wants to punish me for it. So, you see, no one really lied. I’m the one he’s angry with, the one he’s obsessed with.”

  “The poem he spray-painted all over your kitchen,” Zach said numbly. “That wasn’t for you. It was a love poem, albeit a bad one, for her.” He nodded at Jillian,. “And the window he painted—that was hers, too.” Suddenly, his head began to throb. He pressed his fingertips to his temples, feeling the blood vessels beneath the skin expand.

  “It’s all her fault!” Gerry cried, pointing a finger at Jillian.

  “Cut it out,” Zach muttered, massaging his temples as the throbbing in his head grew more pronounced.

  “She’s not the sweet, naive little sister you’ve always wanted her to be,” Gerry told Camille. “It’s her, I tell you.”

  “Mother, that’s enough!” Camille ordered sternly. Regally, she lifted her chin, her gaze challenging Zach somehow.

  Suddenly he saw it, the insecurity, the uncertainty of a little girl whose father had abandoned her along with her mother for someone he loved more. She had to believe she was Eibersen’s target. She couldn’t bear to believe that her former lover might actually be fixated on her innocent little sister instead of her. For the first time Zach felt sorry for her. The poor, deluded thing would always come in second to Jillian. And she knew it. She fought it, but deep inside, she knew it. As for Jillian, right now he couldn’t even think beyond the fact that she’d lied to him. All he could think was that he needed some space here, some objectivity. He looked at Jillian and remembered how dangerously close he’d come to making love to her last night, how dangerously close he was to losing his heart even now, knowing that she’d lied to him.

  “I have to go,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “What about the new security code?” Camille asked shrilly.

  Security code. Five digits. He tried to think and finally pulled down the most obvious numbers. “Um, use this. Nine, two, seven, six, seven. Got that? Nine, twenty-seven, sixty-seven. I’ll, um,
call it in on my way home.”

  “Nine, two, seven, six, seven,” Camille repeated. She smiled mockingly. “What’s that, your birthday?”

  “Yeah. But Eibersen won’t know that.” He couldn’t make himself look at Jillian. He didn’t have to see her face to know she was crying, but he couldn’t do anything about that. He was having enough trouble holding himself together at the moment. “I’ll, uh, be in touch,” he muttered, and then he turned around and walked away, uncomfortably aware that it was very likely the most cowardly thing he’d ever done in his life but completely unable to stop himself. She had lied to him, and the ache of it told him how disastrously close he was to losing something essential to his well-being-his heart.

  Jillian listened to the sound of the door closing and knew one of the bleakest, loneliest moments of her life. Why had she lied to him? Why hadn’t she told him everything from the beginning? Camille wouldn’t even have had to know, but she hadn’t even thought of that. She’d thought only of doing what Camille wanted, of protecting Camille both emotionally and physically for all the good it had done. The look in Camille’s eyes was colder and harder than any other she had ever seen before.

  “Well,” she said, as if confirming Jillian’s worst fears, “you’ve really done it this time. I doubt he’ll even continue working for us now.”

  Jillian wiped her face with her hands and shook her head. “He’s not like that. Zach is genuinely good. He’ll be here if we need him.”

  Camille chuckled scathingly. “Good grief, Jill, are you that naive? Just because he slept with you doesn’t mean that he’s Prince Charming in blue jeans! In fact, it means just the opposite. That man took advantage of you, and after I expressly forbade it! We’ll be lucky if we ever hear from him again! He’ll have his office bill us, and that will be that!”