Cindy and the Prince

by Debbie Macomber

  “Thorne,” she pleaded. Every second he continued to hold her weakened her determination to explain everything. He felt so warm and vital…so wonderful. “Please…don’t,” she begged as he covered her face with kisses. Even as she spoke, pleading with him to stop, she was turning her head one way and then another, allowing him to do as he wished.

  “I’m starving for you,” he murmured, kissing her again.

  She was so weak-willed with Thorne. She could start out with the firmest of resolves, but after being with him for ten seconds she had no fortitude left at all.

  “Cindy”—his arms tightened—“I’ve been going crazy without you.”

  It hadn’t been any less traumatic for Cindy. “You hired a detective?”

  “He found you?”

  “No…I heard you were looking.” Her hands lovingly framed his face. “Thorne, please call him off.” She didn’t want the private detective harassing or intimidating those she loved most. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know…only please, please, don’t hate me.”

  “Hate you?” His look was incredulous. “I’m not capable of feeling any differently toward you than the night we met.” For the first time he seemed to notice the stares they were generating. “Let’s get out of here.” He reached for her hand and led her purposefully away.

  “Thorne,” she cried with a surprised glance over her shoulder. “Your briefcase.”

  He seemed so utterly astonished that he could have forgotten it, Cindy laughed outright.

  Without hesitating, he turned and went back to retrieve it, dragging her with him. “See what you do to me?” His words were distressed.

  “Do you know what you do to me?” she responded with equal consternation.

  “I must have quite an effect on you, all right. You can’t seem to get away from me fast enough. You sneak off like a thief in the night and turn up when I least expect it. I don’t sleep well, my appetite’s gone, and I’m convinced you’re playing me for a fool.”

  “Oh Thorne, you don’t honestly believe that, do you?” She came to an abrupt stop. People had to walk around them, but Cindy didn’t care. She couldn’t bear it if Thorne believed anything less than what she truly felt for him. “I think I’d rather die than let you assume for even a minute that I didn’t care for you.”

  “You have one heck of a way of showing it.”

  “But, Thorne, if you’d give me a chance to—”

  Undaunted by the traffic, Thorne paraded them halfway into the street, his arm raised. “Taxi!”

  “Where are we going?”

  A yellow cab pulled up in front of them. Thorne ignored her question; he opened the car door and climbed in beside her a second later.

  Before Cindy could say another word, Thorne spoke to the driver. When he’d finished, he leaned back and stared at her as though he still wasn’t completely sure she was really there.

  Cindy hadn’t thought about where she’d talk to Thorne, only that she would. Over and over she’d rehearsed what she wanted to say. But she hadn’t counted on him hauling her across Manhattan to some unknown destination. From the looks he was giving her now, he didn’t appear any too pleased with her.

  Thorne finally relaxed and expelled a long sigh. “Do you realize we’ve been to bed together and I don’t even know your name?”

  Cindy felt more than saw the driver’s interest perk up. Color exploded into her cheeks as she glared hotly at Thorne. “Would you stop it?” she hissed. He was doing this on purpose, to punish her.

  “I don’t think I can.” He regarded her levelly. “You’ve got me so twisted up inside, I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore. My parents think I need to see a shrink, and I’m beginning to agree with them!”

  Cindy covered his hand with her own. “I’m certainly nothing like the Cinderella you met that night.” Her voice was a raw whisper, filled with pain. “I thought I could pretend to be something I’m not for one glamorous night, but it all backfired. I’ve hated deceiving you—you deserve better than me.”

  “Is your name really Cindy?”

  She nodded. “That’s what started it all. Now I wish I’d been named Hermione or Frieda—anything but Cindy. If I had, then maybe I wouldn’t have believed in that night and decided to do something so stupid.”

  “No matter who you are and what you’ve done,” Thorne told her solemnly, “I’ll never regret the Christmas Ball.”

  “That’s the problem—I can’t, either. I’ll treasure it always. But, Thorne, don’t you see? I’m not Cinderella. I’m only me.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly Prince Charming.”

  “But you are,” Cindy argued.

  “No. And that’s been our problem all along—we each seemed to think the other wanted to continue the fantasy.” He put his arm around her and drew her close to his side. “That evening was marvelous, but it was one night in a million. If we’re going to develop a relationship, it has to be between the people we are now.”

  Cindy leaned against him, sighed inwardly, and closed her eyes as he rested his chin on her head.

  “I want to be with Cindy,” he said tenderly, “not the imaginary Cinderella.”

  “But Cindy will disappoint you.”

  “If you’re looking for Prince Charming in me, then you’re in for a sad awakening as well.”

  “You don’t even know who I am!”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her lovely face commanded all his attention. He sensed that something deep inside her was insecure and frightened. She’d bolted and run away from him twice, her doubts overtaking her. No more. Whatever Williams had dug up about her had brought her back. She was here because Mike had gotten close to her, had begun to uncover her secrets.

  Thorne had found his Cindy again and could on go with his life. The restless feeling that had worn away at him was dissipating. He was a man who liked his privacy, but overnight he’d discovered he was lonely and could no longer adjust to the solitude. Not when he’d met the one woman he wanted to share his world with. All he had to do was persuade her of that. Only this time, he’d be more cautious. He wouldn’t make demands of her. She could tell him whatever was troubling her when she was ready. Every time he started questioning her, it ended in disaster.

  Cindy sat upright, her back stiff as she turned her head and glanced out the side window. She knew he was right; they couldn’t go back to the night of the Christmas Ball. But she wasn’t completely convinced they could form a lasting relationship as Thorne and Cindy.

  “You say it doesn’t matter,” she said thoughtfully, “but when I tell you I’m the girl who—”

  “Stop.” His hand reached for hers, squeezing her fingers tightly. “Are you married, engaged, or currently involved with another man?”

  She glared at him for even suggesting such a thing. “No, of course not!”

  “Involved in any illegal activity?”

  She moved several inches away from him and sat starchly erect, shocked at his questions. “Is that what you think?”

  “Just answer me.”

  “No!” She had difficulty saying it. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in nervous agitation. “I don’t cheat, rarely lie, and am thoroughly law-abiding—I don’t even jaywalk, and in New York that’s something!”

  Thorne’s warm smile chased the chill from her bones. “Then who and what you are is of no importance. You’re the one who has all the objections. What I feel is apparently of little consequence to you.”

  “That’s not true. I’m only trying to save you from embarrassment.”

  “Embarrassment?”

  “My family name isn’t linked with three generations of banking.”

  “I wouldn’t care if it was linked with generations of garbage collecting.”

  “You say that now,” she snapped.

  “I mean that. I’m falling in love with a girl named Cindy, not a fairy-tale figure who magically appeared in my life. She’s bright and funny and
loving.”

  Falling in love! Cindy’s heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness. Then she realized—once again—the impossibility of an enduring relationship between them. Dejectedly, she lowered her gaze. “Please don’t say that.”

  “What? That I’m falling in love with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s true.”

  “But you hardly know me,” she said. Yet that hadn’t deterred her from falling head over heels for him.

  The taxi came to a stop in the heavy traffic, and the driver told them, “Central Park is on your left.”

  “Central Park?” Cindy echoed, pleased at his choice of locations to do their talking. She hadn’t paid attention to where they were going.

  “I thought we should return here and start over again.”

  She got out as Thorne paid the driver. A moment later, he joined Cindy on the sidewalk. He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and smiled seductively down on her.

  Her returning smile was feeble at best.

  “Hello there,” he said softly. “I’m Thorne, which is short for Thorndike, which was my father’s name and his father’s before him.”

  “I’m a first-generation Cindy.”

  “Well, Cindy, now that we’ve been properly introduced, will you have dinner with me tonight?”

  “I…can’t.” She hated to refuse, but she couldn’t spend time with him when she was paid to clean his office. As it was, she was due there within half an hour.

  His face tightened briefly. “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “But it’s New Year’s Eve.” Surely he had other places to go and more important people to spend the evening with. Arguments clustered in her mind and were dispelled with one enticing look from Thorne.

  “New Year’s Eve or not, I’ll pick you up and we’ll paint the town.” He felt Cindy tense and guessed why. Quickly, he amended his suggestion. “I’ll meet you somewhere. Anyplace you say.”

  “In front of Oakes-Jenning.” Although it was a holiday, she’d be working; she couldn’t afford to turn down time and a half. “I…won’t be available until after eleven-thirty.”

  “Fine, I’ll be there.”

  —

  “You’re late,” Vanessa said unnecessarily when Cindy ran breathlessly into the basement supply room.

  “I know.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Central Park.” She made busy work filling her cart with the needed supplies. She’d left after promising Thorne she’d meet him the following night. His gaze had pleaded with her to give him something to hold on to—a phone number, a name, anything. But Cindy had given him something of far greater value—her word. Letting her go had been a measure of his trust. She could see that he wasn’t pleased, but he hadn’t drilled her with questions or made any other demands.

  What he’d said was true. Neither of them could continue playing the role of someone they weren’t. Cinderella was now Cindy and Prince Charming had gone back to being Thorne. They’d been a bit awkward with each other at first, but gradually that unease had evaporated.

  Cindy was beginning to believe that although there were many obstacles blocking their path, together they might be able to overcome them. There hadn’t been time to say the things she needed to say because she’d had to rush to work. She hadn’t explained that to Thorne and saw jealousy appear on his face.

  “What are you thinking?” Vanessa asked, studying her.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” her friend complained. “Give me a break! Are we back to that?”

  Cindy relented. “I’m seeing Thorne tomorrow night.”

  “You are?” Even Vanessa sounded shocked. “But it’s New Year’s Eve…oh heavens, did you forget we have to work?”

  “No…I told him I wouldn’t be ready until after eleven-thirty.”

  “And he didn’t ask for any explanation?”

  “Not really.” The questions had been there, in his eyes, but he hadn’t voiced a single one. Cindy felt her friend regarding her thoughtfully and busied herself with the cart, making sure she had everything she needed before heading for the upper floor.

  She only hoped she was doing the right thing. Thorne kept insisting that who she was didn’t matter to him. She was going to test that, and in the process wager her heart and her future happiness.

  —

  “Thorne, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Thorne frowned at the telephone receiver. He could tell by the slight edge to his mother’s voice that she was going to bring up an unpleasant subject—Sheila. The other woman was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. No pun intended.

  “Yes, Mother,” he returned obediently, throwing his magazine on the coffee table. This conversation would require his full attention.

  “Your father and I are having a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night and we’d like you to attend.”

  He’d never enjoyed parties, which was one reason his mother had been so keen on Sheila, who loved to socialize. Sheila would be good for his career, his father had once told him. At the time, Thorne had considered that an important factor in choosing a wife. Not anymore.

  “I apologize, Mother, but I’ll have to decline, I’ve already made plans.”

  “But Sheila said—”

  “I won’t be with Sheila,” he responded shortly.

  “Oh dear, is it that Cheryl woman again? I’d thought that was over.”

  “Cindy,” he corrected, swallowing a laugh. He knew his mother—she remembered Cindy’s name as well as she did her own.

  “I see,” his mother said, her voice sharpening with disapproval. “Then you haven’t said anything to Sheila.”

  “As I recall, you advised me against it,” he reminded her.

  “But, Thorne, the dear girl is beside herself with worry. And what’s this about you chasing a strange woman down some sidewalk? Really, Thorne, what’s gotten into you?”

  “I’m in love.”

  The horrified silence that followed his announcement nearly made him laugh into the phone. His parents had been waiting years for him to announce that he’d chosen a wife, and now that he was in love, they acted as if he’d committed a terrible crime. However, Thorne was positive that once his parents met Cindy, they’d understand and love her, too.

  “Are you claiming to love a woman you hardly know?”

  “That’s right, Mother.”

  “What about her family?”

  “What about them?”

  “Thorne!”

  His mother sounded aghast, which only increased Thorne’s amusement. “Would you feel better if you could meet her?”

  “I’m not sure…I suppose it would help.”

  “Dinner, then, the first part of next week. I’ll clear it with Cindy and get back to you.”

  “Fine.” But she didn’t seem enthusiastic. “In the meantime, would you talk to Sheila? She hasn’t heard from you all week.”

  “What do you suggest I say to her?”

  “Tell her…tell her you need a few days to think things over. That should appease her for now. Once I’ve had a chance to…meet your Cheryl, I’ll have a better sense of the situation.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said obediently and replaced the receiver. Family had always been important to Thorne, but he wouldn’t allow his mother or anyone else to rule his life.

  Leaning back, Thorne folded his arms behind his head. He felt good, wonderful. He’d never looked forward to anything more than he was looking forward to tomorrow night. New Year’s Eve with Cindy. And with it, the promise of spending every year together for the rest of his life.

  The following day, Thorne worked until noon. He did some errands, ate a light dinner at about six, showered, and dressed casually. The television killed several hours, but he found himself glancing at his watch every few minutes. He’d leave around eleven, he figured. That would give him plenty of time to get to Oakes
-Jenning, and from there he’d take Cindy to Times Square. It was something he’d always wanted to do but had never had the chance. They could lose themselves in the crowd and he’d have every excuse to keep her close.

  The doorbell chimed at about eight, and Thorne hurried to answer, convinced it was Cindy. Somehow, some way, she’d come to him early. His excitement died when he saw Sheila standing in the hallway.

  “Sheila.”

  “Hello, Thorne.” She peered up at him through seductively thick lashes. “May I come in?”

  He stepped aside. “Sure.”

  “You’re looking very casual.” She entered the apartment, removed her coat, and sat on the sofa. Wearing a slinky, low-cut black dress, she looked anything but casual.

  “This is a surprise.” He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, hands buried in his pockets.

  “I haven’t heard from you since our lunch date and thought I’d stop in unannounced. I hope you don’t mind?”

  Thorne would have preferred her to choose another day, but since she’d come, he might as well use the opportunity to tell her about Cindy. “I’m glad you did.” At the happiness that flashed in her eyes, Thorne regretted his poor choice of words.

  She folded her hands in her lap and regarded him with such adoration that Thorne felt his stomach knot.

  “Sometimes I do such a terrible job of explaining my feelings,” she said softly, lowering her gaze to her hands. “I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

  The knot in Thorne’s stomach worked its way up to his chest. “I treasure your friendship as well.”

  She arched her brows. “I thought we were more than simply friends. Much more.”

  Thorne sat on the ottoman and rolled it toward Sheila so that he sat directly in front of her. “This isn’t easy.”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “I already know what you’re going to say…You’ve met someone else.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” They’d been seeing each other steadily for months, and although he’d come to realize how mismatched they were, Sheila hadn’t seen it yet, and he honestly wished to spare her any pain.