Cinderella for a Night

by Susan Mallery

He walked back to the window and stared out at the city. He wondered how it was possible to do the right thing and feel that it was incredibly wrong.

  Cynthia entered the hall from Colton’s room. The baby had just gone down for the night. Now her excuse for being busy was gone and she was left with her thoughts. Unfortunately she was as confused about them as ever.

  She didn’t know what was happening with Jonathan. He’d been avoiding her ever since they’d made love. He’d buried himself in work and had slipped in and out of the house like a ghost. She didn’t regret what they’d done, but he was making her feel that he did.

  She stood in the center of the hall, not sure what to do next. There was a sound from Jonathan’s room, which made the decision for her. She would confront him. If they talked about the problem, surely they could fix it.

  She walked to his closed door and knocked firmly. “Jonathan, it’s Cynthia. We have to talk.”

  “Come in.”

  She drew in a deep breath and turned the handle of the knob. She hadn’t been back in this room since they’d made love and she was more than a little concerned about all the memories that awaited her. So instead of looking around the room, she stared at the floor as she entered.

  “This is crazy,” she said, coming to a stop about five feet from the bed. “We can’t keep avoiding each other as if one of us is contagious. I know that you’re upset because I was a virgin and you think it’s a big deal. I guess I should have told you, but I was afraid of your reaction. Besides, the fact that I picked you to be my first time should be a little flattering, if nothing else. But I meant what I said before. I don’t have a lot of expectations.” She raised her gaze to look at him. “No, I take that back. I do have one expectation.”

  Words fled her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Jonathan stood in the doorway to his private bath. He’d obviously showered and shaved. He wore an elegant dark suit. Not the casual clothes he usually wore when he was home.

  He stared at her, his face unreadable. “What is your expectation?”

  “That, ah, that we maintain our friendship. I hate that you’re avoiding me.” Her chest felt funny. Tight, but it was more than that. She couldn’t seem to breathe. “Are you going out?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  “Yes.”

  His curt response cut through her. She had to bite on her lower lip to keep from crying out. She took a step back. “I—I don’t understand. It’s a business dinner, right? You can’t mean on a date.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.” He walked to his dresser where he slipped on his watch, then tucked his wallet into his jacket pocket. “I made these arrangements some time ago and I can’t cancel them now.”

  “But, I don’t understand.”

  He turned to face her. His gaze hardened. “No, you don’t. That was my point. You say that you’re willing to play my kind of game, but you’re not.”

  Pain blossomed inside of her. It grew and flowered until there wasn’t room for anything else. He was going out with another woman. They were going to be together. At dinner, possibly dancing…making love.

  The vision of him with someone else filled her brain. The need to cry out was almost primal. She wanted to run and hide, but where was there to go? She wanted to attack him, to pummel him, to scream that he didn’t have the right to treat her this way.

  But she didn’t do any of those things. Not with him watching her, waiting for her to act like the innocent young woman she was. He expected her to fall apart and that expectation gave her the courage to be strong.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” he growled. “I told you I wasn’t a saint.”

  “I certainly believe you now,” she managed to say.

  The doorbell rang.

  “That would be my family,” she said. “Tonight is Jenny’s dance. My mom said they’d all come by so I could see her. If you’ll excuse me.”

  She forced herself to turn and walk away even though it felt as if a thousand shards of glass were cutting through her body. She didn’t know what to say or how to act, so in the end, she simply put one foot in front of the other and made her way down the stairs.

  Another woman. There was another woman. All this time she’d thought that Jonathan was closed off from the world. That he didn’t believe in anyone or anything. That he needed her to emotionally take care of him the way that Colton needed her to physically take care of him. When all the time he’d been seeing someone else. She’d assumed he was broken and that she in her wisdom could heal him.

  She’d been a fool. Worse, she’d made a fool of herself. He wasn’t worried about not being worthy of being her first time. He was terrified that she wouldn’t recognize a one-night stand when it happened. He thought that she expected more of him than he wanted to give. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable, it was that he wasn’t interested.

  Humiliation added to her pain. As she reached the front door, she tried to compose herself so that her family wouldn’t know that something was wrong. She wasn’t sure she was successful.

  “Hi,” she said with a false brightness as she pulled open the door. Jenny, her mother and the twins stood on the wide front porch. But none of them were smiling.

  At first Cynthia couldn’t figure out the problem, then someone moved in front of her family—a tall, dark-haired woman with incredible green eyes and a formfitting black dress that left little to the imagination.

  Cynthia stared at her. It was her worst nightmare. It was worse than just about anything in her life, except Frank’s death.

  The woman didn’t just have an amazing body. She was also beautiful enough to inspire a revolution. Her haughty gaze settled on Cynthia. “I didn’t realize Jonathan had a new housekeeper. Shouldn’t you be in uniform?”

  With that, the woman pushed past Cynthia and entered the house. “Tell Jonathan I’m here. I’m Martha Jean Porter.”

  She spoke the name as if it meant something. Cynthia blinked at her.

  “She’s not the housekeeper, Martha Jean.”

  Jonathan had come down the stairs and joined them. He nodded at Cynthia. “Please invite your family inside.”

  Cynthia realized she was still standing in front of the door. She stepped back. Her mother and the children took hesitant steps into the impressive foyer.

  “Cynthia Morgan is my nephew’s nanny,” Jonathan said by way of introduction. “This is her mother, Betsy Morgan, her sister Jenny, and those two rug rats are Brett and Brad.”

  He smiled at the boys, but the twins only moved closer to Betsy. “Why does she smell funny?” Brett asked in a too-loud whisper.

  Martha Jean stiffened. Then she slid next to Jonathan and tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow. “You let your hired help entertain? Jonathan, I would have expected better of you.”

  Cynthia didn’t know what to say. Jonathan rescued her by stepping in.

  “Jenny has her first school dance tonight. They just stopped by to show her off.” He turned his attention to the teenager. “Remember what I said about the boys? It’s doubly true tonight.”

  Jenny blushed. For the first time Cynthia was able to notice what her sister looked like. Betsy had piled her long blond hair on top of her head in a cascade of curls. A cream-colored dress fell in layers to midcalf. Cynthia looked closer then laughed and hugged her sister.

  “I recognize my old prom dress,” she murmured in her ear. “I hate that it looks better on you than it did on me.”

  Jenny hugged her back. “That’s not true but thank you for pretending it is.”

  “I’m sure she looks as lovely as possible,” Martha Jean said in an obviously bored voice. “Can we leave now?”

  Jonathan didn’t protest as the beauty led him from his house. Cynthia could only watch helplessly as they disappeared into the night. The pain inside of her was as strong as ever and she had a fleeting thought that while it might not kill her, it could certainly destroy her.

  She turned and caught her mother’s knowin
g gaze. She flushed. How much had Betsy guessed?

  “I had a plan,” her mother said. “I thought I’d leave the boys with you while I take Jenny to the middle school. You three can argue about which pizza to order. After dinner, I thought we’d watch a movie. The twins picked out a couple at the video store.”

  Cynthia nodded. “Sounds great,” she said, wondering if she would be able to eat or if the food would choke her. She wasn’t hungry. She didn’t think she would ever be hungry again.

  Dinner consisted of a small salad followed by crab in a pastry shell and a few vegetables. Martha Jean kept the conversation moving along topics of mutual interest such as business and people in town.

  Jonathan listened with half an ear and picked at his food. Not that it wasn’t tasty, but he wasn’t in the mood for a meal designed to give him energy without making him feel too full to perform. Martha Jean was many things, but subtle wasn’t one of them. Even now, as they talked about investment opportunities brought on by a building boom, she reached across the small table to rest her fingertips on the back of his hand. Her nails scraped across his skin in a way designed to arouse and intrigue.

  He wondered if he should tell her that it wasn’t working. Was it her or was it him? He and Martha Jean had been lovers on and off for years. When she was between men, she liked to come calling and so far he’d never told her no. She was good in bed and uncomplicated. What was there not to like?

  But tonight something was different. He remembered Brett’s comment about her perfume and couldn’t help agreeing with the boy. Her scent was cloying, seeming to fill the room and almost attack him. And could her dress be more obvious? The black fabric was so tight, he was surprised that she could eat anything without popping out of it. He compared her complicated and sophisticated hairstyle with a ponytail and found the former lacking.

  She’d always made it easy because she didn’t want to get involved any more than he did. But now he couldn’t see what was so special about that.

  “Your little nanny was interesting,” Martha Jean said as she picked up her glass of wine. “Very homespun. Does her family intrude often?”

  “No, but I enjoy their company.”

  “Really?” Dark eyebrows rose in an expression of surprise. “Well, at least you have the problem of your nephew solved with minimal inconvenience.”

  Her attitude couldn’t have been more different from Cynthia’s. “How is it you’ve never had children?” he asked. “All those husbands and none of them wanted an heir?”

  She leaned back in her chair and laughed. “Of course they wanted children. So many men are funny that way. But I have no intention of getting pregnant. Do you know what that sort of thing does to a woman’s body? It’s disgusting.”

  She rose to her feet and came around to stand behind his chair. She pressed herself to him, then kissed his neck. “Unless we’re talking about your child, my love. I would be willing to do many things to have your baby.”

  He wasn’t fooled for a second. “You think I’m that rich?”

  She chuckled warmly and licked his ear. “I know you are. Any woman would do just about anything for you, darling. Why should I be an exception? After all, I have the advantage of knowing that money isn’t even your best asset.” She slipped one hand down to his crotch. “I’ve been with more than my share of men and I have to admit, you’re in the top ten percent.”

  He tossed his napkin on the table and rose to his feet. “How flattering.”

  Martha Jean moved close, a smile tugging on her lips. She stopped a foot in front of him and unzipped her dress. The slinky garment fell to the floor.

  Jonathan watched it go, then stared at her perfect body clad only in a strapless bra, panties, garter belt and stockings. Nothing about her moved him. He found himself remembering someone very different. Someone charming and sincere, and completely uninterested in his money or doing what he wanted. Someone who did what was right. Suddenly he didn’t know what the hell he was doing here.

  “I have to go,” he said, and walked to the phone. He dialed information and asked for a cab company, then had them connect him with the number.

  “What are you doing?” Martha Jean demanded when he hung up. “You’re leaving? But we haven’t done it yet.”

  “I know.” He stared at her. “I’m sorry, but this relationship isn’t going to work anymore.”

  She glared at him. “How dare you leave me? You’re here to take care of my needs. Damn you, Jonathan, I waited two weeks for this night and you’re not going until you’ve done what we both want. What on earth is wrong with you?”

  He walked to the door. “It’s rather strange,” he told her. “I’ve realized that I’m developing standards and you’re not up to mine.”

  Cynthia and her mother sat on the living-room sofa while the twins watched a movie in the den. The pizza was history, although Cynthia hadn’t been able to do more than nibble on half a piece.

  “Want to talk about it?” Betsy asked. “And don’t say you don’t know what I mean. You’ve barely spoken, you didn’t eat your dinner and you look as if you’ve been shot.”

  Cynthia shook her head. What was she supposed to say? That she was a fool? That she’d believed in something that didn’t exist? That she’d given her heart to a man who didn’t care about her at all?

  “I know it’s Jonathan,” Betsy said quietly. She placed her hand on her daughter’s forearm. “I tried to warn you before, honey. He’s not your type. He’s too old and too experienced in the ways of the world. If you insist on falling for him, you’re going to get hurt.”

  “Too late for both,” she whispered and tried to fake a smile. “Oh, well.”

  Betsy looked stricken, then leaned toward her and pulled her close. “I’m so sorry.” She hugged Cynthia and rocked slightly, as she had when her daughter had been a young girl. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Cynthia tightly closed her eyes and tried not to cry. Crying would only make it worse. Right now the pain made it nearly impossible to breathe, but if she gave in to tears, it would grow and consume her. She had to maintain control at any cost.

  “This is all my fault,” Betsy said. “It’s Frank. You saw how we loved each other and wanted that same thing for yourself. You never dated much. I didn’t worry about it but I see now that I should have.”

  Cynthia raised her head and stared at her mother. “Because I wanted what you had? Is that so bad?”

  “Because you weren’t willing to settle for anything else. You needed to be meeting all kinds of boys and trying to figure out which ones were for you. Instead you set your sights on an impossible dream. You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

  Cynthia nodded. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t love me back.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Her mother stroked her back. “I know you don’t want to hear this now, but it will get better with time. The wounds will heal and you’ll be able to start over. Just promise me that next time you’ll stick with someone your own age. Someone with your own level of experience.”

  She couldn’t imagine a next time. She’d barely given her heart away, only to have it returned all smashed and burned. Why on earth would she want to do that again?

  Jonathan walked into the quiet house close to midnight. He’d had the first cab drop him off at the office so that he could think, then he’d called for a second one to take him home. He supposed that he was a coward along with a jerk, because in the back of his mind he knew that he’d been avoiding an encounter with Cynthia’s family. He didn’t want them knowing how he’d hurt her.

  Not that he could expect them to stay in ignorance for very long. Betsy probably already knew what he’d done to her daughter. He stood in the darkened foyer and wondered how he could justify his actions. Then he knew he couldn’t. What he’d done was wrong. All of it.

  He shouldn’t have made love with her, he should have stopped when he realized she was a virgin. Once that was done, he should have handled th
e situation differently afterward. He should have held her close and made her feel good about what they’d done. He should have sat down with her and talked until she understood the ramifications of what had happened. Together they should have redefined their relationship.

  Instead he’d turned his back on her and ignored her. He’d hurt her desperately by going out with Martha Jean. Was there even one thing he hadn’t screwed up?

  Jonathan couldn’t think of it, so he made his way to the stairs. He might not be able to change the past, but he could improve the future. The first thing he had to do was apologize. The second was to find out what she needed from him and do his best to provide it. Unfortunately, while Martha Jean wasn’t up to his standards, he wasn’t even close to Cynthia’s. Still, he was all she had right now.

  He was going to have to make her see that she would be better off without him. That in time she would find a nice young man who still believed in all the things she did. Someone with whom she could have a future.

  At the top of the stairs, he walked toward her room. As he got closer, he heard the sharp sound of a sob. It ripped through him, making him clench his hands into fists. He’d done that to her. He was to blame.

  He’d been wrong to go out with Martha Jean. That had been the coward’s way out. Cynthia wouldn’t have done it. She was brave enough to face the consequences of her actions, regardless of what they might be. She was stronger than anyone he’d ever known. He admired her and wanted her. And he would prove his respect and admiration by never touching her again.

  But first, he had to fix what he’d done wrong.

  Chapter 12

  Cynthia closed her eyes against the pain that filled her. Tears continued to spill down her face and she didn’t know how to make them stop. She’d told herself earlier that if she gave in and started crying, she would never be able to stop. Unfortunately she’d been right.

  She loved him and he’d left her. She loved him and he’d gone to be with another woman. Right now he could be in her bed doing all those things with her that he’d done with Cynthia. That’s what hurt the most. Not his potential infidelity, but that when he’d been making love with her it hadn’t meant anything. If it had, he wouldn’t have been able to go to another woman’s bed so quickly and easily. She hadn’t been a person to Jonathan, she’d been a body.