Cinderella for a Night

by Susan Mallery

  Cynthia forced a smile even though she wasn’t sure how successful she was in the execution. “Jonathan keeps telling me the same thing. That I see him as a nice guy, but he’s really a bastard.”

  Betsy looked startled at the comment. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just pointing out that while to you he’s a knight in shining armor, to him, you’re his nephew’s nanny. You are my daughter and I think you’re amazingly special, but I’m not sure you’re someone he would fall in love with. I’m only concerned about protecting you.” She paused. “Does that make sense?”

  Cynthia nodded slowly. “More than I want it to.”

  She hated thinking about her mother’s words, but she knew they were wise and she would be a fool to ignore them. Whatever attraction might exist between her and Jonathan, it had no basis in reality.

  But even as she thought that, a voice in her head whispered that the passion had been extraordinary, and she hadn’t been the only one to think so. Jonathan had been aroused when they’d kissed. Of course men got aroused all the time and did it necessarily mean anything?

  “Jonathan is going through a difficult time right now,” her mother said. “He’s just lost his brother and sister-in-law and has a new baby in his life. You are the one person rescuing him. But when things settle down, he’s not going to need you so much.”

  “I know, Mom,” she said. “Everything is really confusing right now, but I’ll remember what you said. I know you want to keep me safe from harm.” She hesitated. “I don’t blame you for my lack of social life. I’m the one who chose to stay home.”

  Betsy regarded her thoughtfully. “I think it’s time that changed. We have to learn to live without you and you have to get back to your own life.”

  “I agree.”

  But the thought of moving out made her sad. She’d enjoyed being with her family on a daily basis. Still, the natural order of things said that the young grew up and left. Circumstances had changed the course of her life—possibly for the better. Now it was time to tackle her own destiny.

  Did that mean Jonathan? Or should she listen to her mother and assume that nothing between them was going to work? As much as she believed Betsy’s words and knew that if she continued to think about him and long for him, she was bound to get hurt, she wasn’t convinced she could simply turn her back on the man. Certainly not while she was living in his house. And she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. They hadn’t begun to make plans for him to hire a permanent nanny.

  But Jonathan kept telling her that he wasn’t a prize—that if she wasn’t careful, she was going to get hurt. Her mother’s words reminded her that it might be prudent to listen. After all, he might just be telling the truth.

  Jonathan looked up as Cynthia returned to the dining room. She carried a fancy cake on a plate. Betsy followed with plates and forks.

  “I know the boys don’t really like dessert,” Betsy said in a playfully serious tone of voice. “You don’t have to cut any for them.”

  Brad, or maybe it was Brett, slapped his hands flat on the table. “Mo-om, you know that’s not true. We love dessert. Especially cake.” He turned to Jonathan. “Did Lucinda bake it herself?”

  “Sure. She bakes lots of things. There are probably enough frozen cookies in the freezer to open a bakery.”

  The boy’s eyes widened at the thought. “Wow. Cookies in the freezer. Mom makes them all the time, but there aren’t any left over to freeze. If there were, we could take ’em in our lunch.”

  “Imagine,” Betsy teased. “But that would mean eating less when they were straight from the oven.”

  “Or you could bake more,” her son offered.

  “I suspect there will be leftover cake,” Cynthia said as she started to cut into the flowered confection. “I doubt that Mr. Steele will mind if you take some home.”

  Both boys turned their attention to him. “Feel free,” he said and earned two blazing smiles.

  “Just a little piece,” Jenny said from her seat across the table. As she had at her own house, she held Colton in her arms. “The same size as yours, Cynthia.”

  Jonathan had noticed that Jenny was content to be her older sister’s shadow, doing whatever she did, the same way at the same time. Brad and Brett obviously cared about their sister, but they didn’t emulate her. Instead he’d caught them giving him worshipful glances from time to time.

  “Do you think we could go look at your cars?” one of the boys asked. “We read this article about you a while back and it said you had a five-car garage and that it was filled.” He spoke with a reverence only possible when male soon-to-be drivers discussed cars.

  Jonathan chuckled. “Sure. After we finish dinner.”

  “Until then, leave Mr. Steele alone,” Cynthia said, sliding a slice of cake in front of him.

  Since the funeral and the visit to his brother’s house, she’d changed out of her black dress into more casual attire. Her hair was still back in the fancy braid she favored. She looked impossibly young and beautiful.

  He looked around at the table still covered with serving dishes from dinner. He tried to remember the last time he’d used the dining room for anything but a solitary dinner. Lucinda lamented his nearly monastic social life and his refusal to entertain. She’d been in her element this afternoon and evening as she’d prepared for his guests. No doubt when she returned on Monday she would lecture him to have people in more often.

  At the far end of the table Brad and Brett had started a heated conversation about the virtues of a turbocharged V-6 engine versus a basic V-8. Jenny was busy telling them that cars were boring while Cynthia joined in to point out that they were all years from driving and wasn’t there something else they could talk about.

  Betsy, seated on his left, leaned forward. “Were you this interested in cars when you were their age?”

  “Probably. I think most boys can’t wait to be old enough to drive.”

  She nodded and looked at her sons. “They’re growing up so fast. I can’t believe they’re already ten.” She smiled. “Double digit ages are very important.”

  “Maybe at ten. They’re less interesting now.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said.

  He looked at her, at the wide eyes so like her daughter’s, at the ready smile. Betsy and Cynthia had a lot in common, although the mother had more wariness in her expression. It was hard to believe that she was only a few years older than himself and that she’d been a mere two years older than Jenny when she’d had Cynthia.

  “They miss their father,” Betsy said, nodding at the twins. “That’s why they’re clinging to you. Don’t panic, they’re not expecting a substitute, it’s just that they don’t spend a lot of time with many men.” She took a bite of cake and chewed thoughtfully. “I keep telling myself it’s time for me to change that, but I’m not sure.”

  “I would guess with children around, you have to be careful.”

  “Exactly.” She leaned toward him. “Colton is young enough now that it’s not an issue for you, but it will be as he gets older. I’ve been out with a few men, but so far I haven’t met anyone I want to introduce to the boys. Although there is a nice sales rep where I work.” She shrugged. “We’ll have to see.”

  He glanced at the far end of the table and saw that Betsy’s children were still occupied with their own conversation. “How did you manage to raise Cynthia on your own? You were so young.”

  “In a way that helped,” she said. “I was too inexperienced to realize what a huge job I was taking on. So I was able to be confident and fearless, even when I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “You have tremendous character that you’ve passed onto your daughter. I admire that.”

  “Mine or hers?” she asked, then shook her head. “You don’t have to answer that.” She looked at her daughter. “Cynthia was there for me when I was going through a bad time. I’ll never forget that, nor will her brothers and sister. She’s a very special young woman. But being at
home with me these past three years has meant that she couldn’t have much of a social life of her own. She hasn’t had the usual experiences other women her age have had.”

  As far as warnings went, it wasn’t a very subtle one.

  “I understand that you have concerns,” he said stiffly. “I have no intention of hurting her.”

  Betsy stared at him. “Unfortunately it’s not just your decision. I’ll be honest. I’ve tried to warn her off you, but I don’t think she’s going to listen. Sometimes lessons have to be learned through personal experience. If you break her heart, she’ll have to figure out a way to get over it.”

  Her pragmatic attitude surprised him. “Aren’t you going to threaten me in some way if I break her heart?”

  “No. I suspect that if you hurt my daughter, you’ll punish yourself far more harshly and effectively than I ever could. Besides, I can’t help wondering if you’re the one meant to learn a lesson from all this rather than Cynthia. Wouldn’t that be interesting?”

  Sunday morning Jonathan sat in the dining room, reading the paper. Betsy and her children had left about ten the previous evening, after watching a movie in the media room. Surprisingly he’d enjoyed having them over for the evening and he’d been sorry to see them go.

  “Have you recovered from the invasion?”

  He looked up and saw Cynthia standing in the doorway of the dining room, holding Colton in her arms. She wore a long-sleeved robe that came to her ankles and her hair was loose.

  In her shapeless outfit, clutching an infant, she was nothing like the women who usually made up his world. He could easily provide a list of all the things they didn’t have in common and all the reasons a relationship with her wouldn’t work. But that didn’t stop the heat from slamming into him as he stared at her with hungry appreciation.

  “I was just thinking that I enjoyed last night,” he said, knowing that she was unlikely to read the need in his eyes. At times her innocence was a blessing. It kept her from figuring out what he was thinking, and acted as a reason for him to keep his distance.

  “And now you can tell Brett and Brad apart.” She smiled. “Very few people have figured that out.”

  Brett did most of the talking for the twins, but Brad was the quiet rebel. He had a small scar by his left eyebrow. The result of a close encounter with a coffee table when he’d been a toddler and both boys had been jumping on the sofa.

  “Today is Lucinda’s day off,” she began.

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Good.”

  She walked forward and handed him Colton. The action was so unexpected that he found himself taking the baby and holding him awkwardly against his chest.

  “I want to take a shower,” she announced. “So you need to watch Colton for me until I’m done. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

  He stiffened and held the baby out at arm’s length in front of him. “I can’t do that. What if he needs something?”

  Colton began to fuss, which made Jonathan sweat.

  “Don’t hold him like that,” Cynthia said, reaching over and drawing the baby close to his chest. “Cuddle him. Pretend he’s that big stuffed bear you brought me in the hospital.”

  “Not likely. I don’t think you’d appreciate me leaving him propped up in the closet.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You know exactly what I mean. Now he’s been fed and changed, so he’s not going to need anything specific in the next half hour. Just get to know him.”

  She gave him a quick wave of her fingers, and then she was gone.

  Jonathan stared down at the small child he held. Blue eyes so much like his own stared back at him.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  Colton didn’t answer. Instead he waved a plump hand in the air and made a cooing sound.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to let me read the paper, are you?” he asked conversationally.

  Colton surprised him by smiling. Involuntarily Jonathan smiled back, then shifted the baby so that he nestled in the crook of his left arm. The placement felt awkward, but it mimicked what he’d seen Cynthia do dozens of times. Colton didn’t have high standards for his caretaker because he quickly relaxed and began a private baby game that required him to catch sight of his fingers, then waggle them in the air.

  Jonathan looked at the boy. This living being was a part of his brother, David. David who had stolen from him and wanted him dead. Yet he wasn’t angry at Colton. He wasn’t anything at him. His lack of desire to be with the child was more about not knowing how to handle the situation than any avoidance based on emotion.

  “Cynthia thinks it’s important that we bond,” he said.

  Colton glanced up with interest.

  “I thought we could wait until you’re older. You know, when you have something to say.”

  Colton offered a gummy grin.

  Jonathan knew that this infant was completely dependent. Without aid from the outside world, he would die in a matter of days. He, Jonathan, had once been this small and helpless. Smiling back at the baby he knew that he could never let anything happen to Colton. It wasn’t because of blood ties or any feelings, but because it would be wrong. He might be fifteen kinds of a bastard, but he wasn’t about to abandon his nephew.

  Yet his father had turned his back on him. Without a second thought, the elder Steele had made Jonathan unwelcome in his own home. Not once, not even at the time of his death, had Jonathan’s father once recanted his position.

  “I won’t do that to you,” he said quietly, gently touching the boy’s soft cheek. “I can’t promise to love you because love is a dangerous thing to feel. But I won’t make you unwelcome.”

  As the baby seemed to like the sound of his voice, Jonathan picked up the business section he’d been perusing and began to read aloud.

  Some time later Cynthia walked back into the dining room. She’d showered and changed into jeans and a shirt. The green-and-black plaid brought out the green in her eyes. Her hair hung loose around her face and a light touch of makeup accentuated her pretty features. The scent of fresh shampoo and soap teased him.

  “It’s Sunday,” she announced, helping herself to coffee from the carafe in the center of the table. “I thought you might like to spend some time with Colton. Sort of a family thing. Although if you want me around to help with him, I’m happy to tag along.”

  He had a sudden vision of the three of them on a picnic, like a scene out of a TV movie. Or maybe they could just spend the day quietly at home.

  Cynthia sat across from him and smiled. As she picked up her cup of coffee, her shirt tightened slightly, outlining her breasts. The need to pull her close and kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. Even though she was off limits and completely wrong for him. Or maybe those were the reasons why she appealed. Because she was different. Because with her at least one of them could possibly give a damn about what was happening.

  The realization that he might want Cynthia to care about him drove him to his feet. He lived alone. That was how he preferred it. No one got in the way; no one got close.

  He thrust Colton at her across the table. “I’m not interested in playing house with you,” he said cruelly. “I want you to do your job, nothing more.”

  He walked out of the dining room, then out of the house. He decided to go to work because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

  But once at the office, he found he couldn’t concentrate. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t get lost in spreadsheets and projections. The words and numbers were meaningless. All he could see was the hurt in Cynthia’s eyes and the way she’d flinched from his words.

  “I warned her,” he muttered to himself, but the phrase didn’t help. Nor did telling himself she would get over it.

  He’d never allowed himself to play with anyone out of his league. He was careful to choose companions who understood, women like Martha Jean Porter. Slick, experienced and
as coldly calculating as himself. His date with her was in less than a week. At least then he could take care of the ache that filled him. It was just an itch, he told himself, and she was the exact woman to scratch it.

  Cynthia brushed away the tears on her cheeks and told herself she was a fool for crying over Jonathan Steele. “He’s your client, nothing else,” she reminded herself. They didn’t have a personal relationship.

  But it had felt personal when he’d kissed her and again last night when he’d laughed and joked with her family. It had felt good and right and she’d allowed herself to make-believe that all this was real.

  “But it’s not, is it?” she asked softly.

  Colton gurgled, then reached for a loose strand of hair. She eased the lock from the baby’s grip and tried not to give in to more tears. “You’re not mine,” she said, holding the sweet-smelling baby close. “This is work and I mustn’t let myself care about you too much. Jonathan is going to get a permanent nanny and then I’ll be gone.”

  But as she held the now-familiar weight of the happy child, she had a bad feeling that it was too late for this lecture to help much. Since moving into Jonathan’s house she’d been so caught up by the man himself, so concerned about the temptation to get close that she hadn’t thought to keep her heart safe from either him or his nephew. Now she was in danger of falling in love with both of them. To be honest, she didn’t know who it would be harder to leave.

  The smart thing would be to walk away. She had several nannies working for her and any one of them would be a qualified replacement. Except her mother hadn’t raised her to be a quitter.

  I’m not interested in playing house.

  Jonathan’s words cut through her like a knife. She replayed them again and again in her mind wondering how he’d known that’s what she was doing. Pretending that she really belonged here, that he cared about her and that Colton was the baby they would raise together. A foolish dream.

  Humiliation washed over her and with it a resolve that she wouldn’t act that way again. She wasn’t going to let him catch her daydreaming again. She would do what was expected and nothing more. When the time was up, she would walk away with her head held high.