Cinderella & the CEO

by Maureen Child

  When he left the kitchen, she didn’t even glance at him.

  The minute she was alone, Ivy slumped against the beautiful kitchen countertop.

  “That went well,” she murmured to the empty room. She’d made him angry right off the bat. Though to be fair, she thought, he had already been angry when he opened the door to her. If she hadn’t been so quick on her feet, she might not have gotten into the house.

  And she’d had to get in. Had to have this job as housekeeper. Yes, the extra money would come in handy, what with everything she was trying to do at home right now, but that wasn’t the real reason she was here—in enemy territory. That sounded odd, even to her. She had never actually had an enemy before. But she did now. A very rich, very powerful one.

  But she wished she’d known ahead of time that her enemy was so gorgeous. One look at him and she’d actually had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling.

  Tanner King should have a warning label slapped against his forehead. More than six feet of leanly packed muscle and long legs, the man was a walking hormone celebration. She knew because her own were still doing a happy dance that had her palms damp and her stomach doing twists and turns. From the moment he opened his front door, Ivy had felt as though she was trying to keep her feet during an earthquake.

  His dark blue eyes, his thick black hair, shaggy and touching the collar of his shirt. His wide shoulders, narrow waist and his long legs all combined to make her insides quiver.

  And that was something she hadn’t counted on. How was she supposed to work for the man, subtly win him over, if her body was in a constant state of excitement?

  “Maybe Pop was right,” she muttered, remembering how her grandfather had tried to talk her out of this plan. Too late now though, she thought, stalking to the floor to ceiling cupboard on the far end of the room. As she’d hoped, it was a butler’s pantry and one look inside at the mostly empty shelves told her that Tanner King was lucky he hadn’t starved to death in the two months he had been living here.

  Bur then it seemed that all he did was work on his computer games and make complaining phone calls to the sheriff.

  About her.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting all the air slide from her lungs again. That’s why she was here, of course. One too many visits from Sheriff Cooper who had told her only two days before that he didn’t know how much longer he could placate Tanner King.

  Closing the pantry doors, she leaned back against them and looked at the expansive room. Beautiful but empty. Sort of like its owner, she mused. What kind of man was it who could build a house this beautiful and leave it so bare?

  “Well, that’s what you’re here to find out, isn’t it, Ivy?” she told herself firmly.

  She not only wanted to understand him, she wanted to make him understand her and this place he’d moved to. Before he ruined everything.

  It wouldn’t be easy, but Ivy didn’t come from a family of quitters. Once her mind was made up, her grandfather often observed, it would take an act of God to change it. She was here and she wasn’t going to leave until she’d helped Tanner King to see the light, so to speak.

  A little nervous about this whole thing, she knew pretending to be nothing more than a part-time housekeeper was going to be hard. After all, she was a terrible liar. But then she didn’t actually have to flat out lie either, did she? Ivy smiled to herself. It was more of a lie of omission and that wasn’t really so bad, was it? If it was for the greater good?

  “Man, I wonder how many people have consoled themselves with that particular thought.”

  She sighed a little, wishing things were different. But wishing didn’t change a thing as she knew all too well. Besides, the game was in motion, she’d already made her first move, so there was nothing to do now but go forward. She was here. She’d do the job she came to do.

  And one way or another, Tanner King would find out he’d met his match.

  Two

  “All I’m saying,” Tanner King muttered darkly into the phone, “is that a man shouldn’t have to be bothered by Christmas in the middle of August.”

  “Uh-huh.” The voice on the other end of the line sounded amused. “Now you sound like those idiots who buy a house next door to an airport and then complain about the noise.”

  Tanner scowled out the window at the tree farm that bordered his one acre plot of land. At night, it looked deceptively peaceful. The scent of pine drifted to him on a soft breeze slipping beneath the partially opened window and he scowled. Looking at the place now, you’d never guess what a crowded, noisy place it was during the day.

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point,” his cousin said on a chuckle, “is that you knew that Christmas tree farm was there when you bought your place a year ago. No point whining about it now.”

  “A,” Tanner told the other man, “I don’t whine. And B, what kind of Christmas tree farm is open all year round? Nobody mentioned that when I bought this place.”

  Of course, he hadn’t asked, either. But, Tanner thought in his own defense, who would? He’d bought his house more than a year ago and hadn’t given his next-door neighbors much thought, beyond the fact that the trees made for a nice view from his windows. Christmas tree farms, by definition, were Christmas-based operations, right? At least that was how it was supposed to be. Shaking his head while his cousin’s voice rang in his ear, Tanner again stared out the window of his office at the property next door.

  He had moved in only two months ago—since the construction crew he’d hired right after buying the place had spent nearly ten months remodeling. When he’d finally settled in, he’d looked forward to some quiet. Who wouldn’t have, with a tree farm as their closest neighbor? Instead though, he had spent the last two months watching a veritable parade of visitors to the Angel Christmas Tree farm.

  Except for his neighbors, the house was everything he’d wanted. Glass and wood and surrounded by nearly an acre of land, he had all the privacy he required. Or so he’d thought. From the second story window, Tanner had quite a view. Acres of trees sprawled across the landscape, stretching out for what looked like miles. But then, it wasn’t the trees themselves he was having a problem with. It was the farm owner’s entrepreneurial spirit. Apparently the Angel family who owned the farm, had come up with the idea of expanding their holiday business into a year-round concern.

  There were event weddings taking place nearly every weekend, hayrides, picnic sites and, God help him, even kids’ birthday parties. All of which had resulted in a never ending stream of cars roaring up and down the narrow road in front of his property. The Angel tree farm was turning into a pain in his ass.

  But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was the music, piped out of speakers attached to telephone poles. Holiday music. In August. Blistering heat outside and Tanner was forced to listen to “White Christmas” on a daily basis.

  While he was trying to sleep.

  “You could consider giving up the whole ‘live like a vampire’ thing and sleep at night like most people,” his cousin Nathan suggested.

  “I tried that when I first got here,” Tanner muttered, turning away from the view to stare at the flat screen computer monitor on his desk across the room. “You try working on a medieval war game while listening to the sound of ‘Jingle Bells’ in a never ending loop.”

  No, working at night had been the only reasonable solution, he thought, remembering the sexy woman roaming his house. How was he supposed to concentrate on work when he knew she was here? Right downstairs?

  “Okay, forget I said that,” Nathan told him. “I’d rather have you crabby as hell and that computer game you’re working on finished by deadline. How’s it coming, anyway?”

  This was why his cousin had called in the first place. Tanner’s company, King Games had entered into a partnership with Nathan’s company, King Computers. The new computer game Tanner was designing would be included in the software of every new King
PC. It was going to be huge. If Tanner finished the thing on time.

  Which, thanks to the Angel tree farm—and now, Ivy Holloway—was looking less likely by the minute.

  Of course, the game was actually near completion. He’d done most of the art work months ago and the programmers had coded the damn thing. Now he was working out a few of the details in the graphics and story line itself and he was behind schedule. He could have handed the project off to any number of the designers who worked for him. But designing games was what Tanner enjoyed most—and this particular game was far too important to trust anyone else to do it the way he wanted it done.

  Besides, a King game was damn well going to be designed by a King.

  “I hit a snag last night,” Tanner grumbled, scrubbing one hand across his eyes.

  “We’ve got production set to roll in another month.”

  “Thanks, I’ve got a calendar. Don’t need the reminder.”

  “I’m just saying, if we want the first of these games to be ready for the Christmas rush then you’ve got to bring it in on time.” Nathan blew out a breath. “As it is, we’ll be scrambling in production. We can’t take a delay on this, Tanner.”

  “It’ll be ready. Just don’t talk to me about Christmas, okay?” Or about beautiful, clever blondes. He kept his mouth shut about Ivy. He didn’t need to hear any teasing from his cousin on that score, too. Nathan was a legendary player. Had more women in his life than he could keep track of. If he got wind of what Mitchell had set Tanner up for this time, he’d never hear the end of it. Besides, she wouldn’t be here long.

  “Right. Look, I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes with the distributors. I’m going to be talking up this game and the new King PC so let’s just stay on track here, okay?”

  “Relax, Nathan. I know how important this is. To both of us.”

  His video/computer gaming company was already more successful than even he could have dreamed. Tanner had built his enterprise into a worldwide success—and this partnership with his cousin was going to put King Games into the stratosphere. Just where he wanted it.

  All he had to do was focus.

  And somehow, keep his mind off the woman downstairs.

  Two hours later, groceries had been delivered from town and most of them were already stashed in the amazingly numerous cupboards.

  Ivy was completely in love with Tanner King’s house. Especially, she thought, the kitchen.

  Oh, she loved her own place too, of course. The old Victorian where she’d grown up had plenty of character—lots of that character was grumpy, but still she loved it. There were memories etched into every square inch of the battered old house and she wouldn’t trade it for anything. But if she were going to trade, she’d take Tanner King’s house in a heartbeat.

  “Honestly, the man has a kitchen to die for and he keeps it stocked with beer and pretzels. No wonder he needed help.” She was talking to herself, which was understandable because the house was so quiet if she didn’t, she might start feeling a little creeped out at the silence.

  How he worked in such a barren atmosphere, she didn’t know. And how he invented such intricate games that were filled with wit and magic while he was working in a black hole of solitude she’d never understand.

  Ivy liked people. She thrived on the energy of being in the midst of things. Being a part of life. She was awake at dawn and resented having to close her eyes to sleep every night. There was just so much to do. So much to plan. So much to dream. She felt as though she never had enough time to accomplish everything she wanted to do.

  Which made it even harder to understand a man like Tanner King choosing to shut himself away. Hard to imagine why anyone would want to live like that.

  Two months Tanner King had been living in Cabot Valley and not a soul there knew him at all. Not even Merry Campbell who had been known to uncover a person’s life story over a short cup of coffee. Of course, the man would have had to actually go into town and step into Merry’s store for that to happen.

  And he hadn’t.

  As far as Ivy knew, he hadn’t been into town once since moving into this flawless, spectacular wood and glass palace. He had his few groceries delivered and avoided all other contact.

  “Well,” she corrected herself, “not all.” He’d certainly been spending time talking to the sheriff of Cabot Valley. He’d lodged at least a dozen complaints about the Angel Christmas Tree Farm in the last couple of months. The crowds. The noise. The music. The traffic.

  You’d think he’d have better things to do, she told herself firmly. But no, he’d moved into the valley and immediately tried to remake everything just the way he wanted it. Well, it wasn’t going to work. They weren’t going to change to suit Tanner King and the sooner she could make him see that, the better for all of them. But first, she had to make him like her. Become his friend. Introduce him around, maybe. Let him see that the Angel Christmas Tree Farm was a big part of the community.

  And feeding him seemed like a good place to start.

  Shaking her head, she opened the oven door, pulled out the fresh loaf of bread and set it on a cooling rack. While delectable scents filled the air, she turned to the stove and stirred the pot of soup. It smelled good despite being the ninety-minute quick start variety. Better than canned, but not as good as homemade. But at least he’d have fresh bread to go with it and she was fairly sure that this meal would be better than anything he’d made for himself in the last couple of months.

  Her mom used to say that any man could be won over by a good meal and a warm smile.

  She sure hoped Mom was right.

  Because otherwise, Ivy would never be able to protect her Christmas tree farm from a rich man who wanted to shut it down.

  Tanner couldn’t work. He’d tried, but every time he entered the changes he wanted on the programming form, his mind drifted to the woman in his house. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Dimple. The sound of her breathy voice and the faint, lemony scent that clung to her. Damn it, it didn’t seem to matter how many times he pushed thoughts of her from his head, she came right back a moment later.

  And it was more than just mental images of her. How was a man supposed to keep his mind on work when he knew someone else was in the house? He hadn’t heard a vacuum or anything, but she was no doubt wandering around with dust cloths or whatever. Poking into things. Looking around. Breathing his air.

  “Damn it.”

  Tanner sat back in his desk chair and shoved both hands through his hair. Frustration tugged at the corners of his mind. He had thirty days to get the kinks worked out of this game. And he was wasting time sitting there thinking about Ivy Holloway.

  “This is just not going to work,” he muttered and reached for the phone.

  After three rings, his lawyer picked up. “Hello?”

  “Mitchell, you’ve got to fire that housekeeper.”

  The other man laughed shortly. “Hi, Tanner. Good to hear from you. Yeah, Karen’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Tanner scrubbed one hand across his face. “Very funny. This isn’t a social call.”

  “Yes, I picked up on that.” Mitchell sighed. “The housekeeper hasn’t even been there one full night and already you want her fired?”

  Pushing up and out of his chair, Tanner stalked to the window and stared out at his nemesis, the tree farm. “I didn’t want her in the first place, remember?”

  A part-time housekeeper had sounded like a good idea in theory, two weeks ago when Mitchell had first suggested it. God knew he was tired of frozen or packaged dinners and doing his own damn laundry. But with the crunch to get the game done and his lack of sleep, now wasn’t a good time.

  “Forget it, Tanner. You need someone in there to cook and clean.”

  “Because more distraction is exactly what’s required.”

  “You know,” his old college roommate mused, “there’s a fine line between brilliant recluse and nutcase hermit.”

  He frowned at the phone. “I’m not a hermi
t.”

  “Not yet.” Sighing, his friend asked, “Would you rather she come in during the day while you’re sleeping?”

  “No.” That would be all he needed, he told himself. Not only the noise from the tree farm, but someone inside his house making noise, too. Besides, he thought, remembering his sexy new housekeeper, if she were around when he was in bed, he’d be way too tempted to have her join him. No, better that she come in while he was working. At least then, he could tell her to stay away from wherever he happened to be and to clean around him.

  “Then it’s settled. Don’t scare her off.”

  “I don’t scare women,” Tanner said, insulted at the suggestion. And Ivy Holloway hadn’t seemed the slightest bit intimidated by him. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “My old friend, you scare everybody but me,” Mitchell told him.

  Scowling, Tanner thought about that for a second or two. He didn’t like people much. Preferred his own company. Did that really make him a damn hermit? A scary one at that? When had that happened? When had he gone from being a private person to a solitary one?

  Sighing heavily in resignation, he changed the subject.

  “Mitchell, at least tell me there’s something we can do about the damn tree farm.”

  He’d turned his lawyer onto the problem since Tanner’s last conversation with the local Sheriff hadn’t resolved a damn thing. Of course, that wasn’t surprising. Naturally Sheriff Cooper would side with the local against a newcomer. Still though, something had to change.

  His old friend said, “I’ve checked into it, and I can file an injunction, but it won’t get you anywhere. That farm’s been in the Angel family for three generations. The town’s happy with it. Brings in plenty of tourist dollars and no local judge is going to side with you on this. You’ll only stir things up and probably make them worse.”