Cinderella Busted (The Cinderella Romances #1)

by Petie McCarty

  “I’ve never taken one, but I imagine taking one with you would be romantic,” Rhett said, then leaned over and kissed her.

  Delia wheeled her Jaguar into the Bloom & Grow parking lot on Sunday afternoon. Her father had promised to find out what he could about the mysterious Lily, specifically any available dirt, and she knew Chester Armstead would come through. He wanted Delia married to Rhett Buchanan more than Delia did.

  Too impatient to wait for her father to pry, she decided to take matters into her own hands and investigate the nursery where Rhett had met his slutty blonde. Someone there might know something about the slut. If she bought plants regularly, they should have her address, and Delia could make a covert run past her house. Delia prided herself on being able to determine someone’s net worth just by driving past their house, and she was rarely, if ever, wrong.

  She intended to fight the blonde for Rhett, and if she had to, she would fight dirty. Rhett Buchanan fit all her husband requirements—richer than anyone on the eastern seaboard, capable of supporting Delia’s spending habits, and sex with him was better than any other man she’d met, except Raoul who listed toward mild perversion.

  Thinking of Raoul made her frown. The Argentinean polo player had dumped her two months earlier when he left for South America at the end of polo season. Had a girl back home he loved, or so he said. Damned if Delia would lose both of her favorite sex partners to other women.

  She chose to ignore the fact she hadn’t slept with Rhett for a long time before she tumbled into Raoul’s bed. Rhett had started backpedaling on her long ago, but she had given up the chase when her Argentinean lover appeared on the scene. Rhett had flitted in and out of her life a half-dozen times already, and she had always let him go because she loved playing the field and knew he did, too.

  Rhett Buchanan would never settle down.

  For the first time—Delia bit her lower lip—she didn’t feel so sure of herself. Rhett hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the blond slut Friday night, and Delia hadn’t liked the hungry look in his eyes. She had never made a concerted effort to corral Rhett in the past, but she intended to accomplish that feat now.

  She climbed out of her Jaguar and gazed in disgust at the gravel entrance drive and mulch path to the nursery office. She could ruin her Manolo Blahniks here. With a grimace, she trudged toward the little office building. When this was all over, she would see to it Rhett bought her another pair. No, make that two.

  One glance through the open doorway showed the office to be deserted. Delia started back toward the parking area and spotted a gardener in the adjacent field of container trees, a watering wand in his hand.

  He glanced up as she approached. “Can I help you?”

  She stifled the urge to wrinkle up her nose and advanced toward the man. His hair was shaggy, damp sweat spots peppered his shirt, and the oldest sneakers in the world hugged his feet. She stopped well short of aroma range and put up a hand to shield her eyes.

  “Yes, you can,” she said, squinting. “I’m trying to locate a client of yours. She left a scarf at my party last night, but I don’t know where she lives, and I don’t have her phone number. I just wanted to return her scarf.”

  He accepted the story—hook, line, and sinker. But then, why shouldn’t he?

  “That’s nice of you,” he said, “but we have hundreds of people come through here month to month.”

  “I know that.” She waved him off. “But she said she was just here on Friday afternoon.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  I would have said it outright if I did, moron.

  She had been so focused on getting to Rhett at the party and squeezing the blonde out of the way, she hadn’t paid any attention to the woman’s name. It was Lily something. Delia’s father would find out eventually, but she hadn’t felt like waiting. Delia wanted Rhett back now.

  She had grown even more worried when she’d gone by Rhett’s house that morning—late morning—and he wasn’t there. The mansion had looked deserted. Even his housekeeper was gone, and Rhett only gave the housekeeper time off when he left town. Delia had worked herself into a frenzy. Rhett better not have slept with that blond bitch.

  She waggled her fingers at the dirty gardener. “It was Lily something.”

  He grinned. “Something is her last name?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I don’t know her last name.”

  “Like I said, ma’am, we get hundreds of folks through here every month, and I don’t see them all.”

  “You can’t even recollect who came through here Friday afternoon?” she snapped.

  He stiffened.

  Delia moderated her tone significantly. If she angered this man, he wouldn’t help her. “Look, the woman talked to Rhett Buchanan when he was here to inspect trees, of all things. Surely, you know who he is.”

  “Yes, I know who the man is,” the young man said evenly. “I’m the one who pulled his order, but the only Lily I saw talking to Mr. Buchanan was Lily Foster.”

  “That’s it!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering the introduction on Friday night. “That’s her name.”

  He frowned. “She’s no client. She’s the owner.”

  “The owner of what?” Delia asked, exasperated.

  He grinned. “This nursery.”

  She suddenly felt lightheaded.

  “Are you all right?” the grubby gardener asked and grabbed hold of her elbow.

  She snatched loose from his grimy hand. “I’m fine, just a little overheated.”

  “Well, there’s a water cooler in the office. You should go have a drink and sit down for a bit. You can leave the scarf there, too. Lily lives in the cottage at the back of the property.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

  Delia followed the direction of his thumb-point and spied a small blue clapboard cottage beyond the greenhouses. The house wasn’t big enough for chauffeur’s quarters.

  “She can pick up the scarf the next she comes up to the office,” the gardener was saying.

  “I, uh, I didn’t bring the scarf with me. I’ll have to come back later.”

  “Suit yourself.” He went back to his watering, obviously considering his assistance to be at an end.

  Delia hemmed in her emotions and didn’t dare squeal aloud or do a crazy victory dance. The grubby man would ask questions. She settled for one huge and very smug grin that felt as though it stretched from ear to ear.

  If Rhett thought his little slut was a customer, he no doubt assumed she came from Jupiter money. Wait till he found out his latest conquest was a dirt farmer who had to live right on her farm.

  She let out a contented sigh. The blond slut was after Rhett’s money, and Delia could not allow that to happen. She would have to protect Rhett. For his own good, of course.

  Rhett had more than one New York surprise up his sleeve, and their moonlit carriage ride the first night only stepped off the whirlwind fairy tale. He spent every spare minute he could with Lily, filling her days and nights with a happiness she had never felt before—a baseball game at Yankee Stadium, trips to Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, and a soul-stirring kiss at the top of the Empire State building, much to the delight and eventual applause of the other visiting tourists.

  Wherever they were, they talked. About everything and about nothing. About favorite things and about their dislikes, too. The scary part for Lily was that their favorites and dislikes matched well. Too well, in fact. Well enough, she feared she’d never find someone more perfect for her than Rhett. They traded secrets, too. Some painful. And when she’d unwittingly asked Rhett to divulge the secret of his success, his answer hadn’t been what she’d expected.

  The question had come late one night while the two of them lay curled up together on a chaise lounge on their balcony. Rhett had g
one silent a long time, and finally confessed that whenever he’d felt like giving up on a project, he would close his eyes and imagine himself back in his uncle’s matchbox house in Indiantown. He would recall the stench of his uncle’s gin-soaked breath and visualize the gaunt man swaying slightly right before he took the all-too-frequent drunken swing at his nephew. The pain-filled image had forced Rhett to persevere and to move ahead, to get better, to further increase the distance between him and that pugilistic childhood. After his confession, Lily had hugged him tighter, and guilt over forcing him to remember had plagued her well into the night.

  Rhett had also taken her along to a formal business dinner, much to her trepidation. They had dined with six stodgy investors, there to haggle over a contractual agreement BDC–New York had on the table for a new resort in the Hamptons.

  Rhett said it was either take Lily with him or spend the evening away from her, which he was not willing to do. He beamed at the end of the evening and declared she had charmed the “old geezers” into agreeing to his terms, and Rhett assured her they would still be arguing if he hadn’t brought her along.

  For Lily, the week was the most romantic and the most exhausting she had ever had. She had to remain on her toes every second and wary enough to steer the conversation away from herself when it veered too close. Thankfully, she had admitted to Rhett from the get-go that she’d never been to New York, so she could keep the conversation littered with questions about the sights when she needed to, though her admission had given him pause.

  “You’re a design consultant, and you’ve never been to New York?” he’d asked, a bit astounded.

  “I mostly stick to the Miami and Palm Beach scene,” she had responded quickly. Which was true enough—just specialty trees, not designer dresses.

  They had spent most of their waking hours out and about the Big Apple, but their time alone in their hotel suite heated up quickly upon their return, with the two of them “necking like high school kids,” as Rhett put it.

  Lily was wavering. Every hour spent with Rhett was heaven, and when he held her in his arms, she melted like a chocolate bar on Miami Beach in July. She wanted him, plain and simple. Rhett made her ache deep inside with a desire she had never known. And the fact that he hadn’t pressed her made Lily want him all the more.

  Their wonderful week was drawing to a close. She hated the thought that her fairy tale was ending. Tonight, he would be taking her to a Broadway show—Beauty and the Beast.

  “For my little Disney freak,” he’d said when he returned from a meeting and presented her with the tickets.

  “You remembered I said that on our first date,” she whispered against his lips as she put her arms around his neck.

  She was definitely falling for Rhett, and tonight was Broadway. Tonight would be special. Maybe . . .

  The clock on the mantel in the suite at the Waldorf Astoria chimed midnight when Lily and Rhett stepped inside. Rhett closed the door behind him, and before Lily could step away, he swept her into his arms. She came willingly. He kissed her—hard—the way he’d thought about doing all evening.

  She had enjoyed the restaurant and the Broadway show with the unfettered joy of a child, and he had been amazed by his contentment just to be with her. He had cuddled her in the cab ride from Broadway and thought to steal a kiss then, but her blue eyes were wide with excitement, drinking in the lights and sounds of Manhattan just as she’d done every night since they’d arrived.

  Her rapid-fire questions about the Big Apple had never stopped. He’d shuttled her to all the must-see attractions in between his business meetings and loved watching her see everything for the first time. It was like his first time in New York all over again. Her excitement was contagious, and so he had settled her against his side in the cab and let her look to her heart’s content.

  This woman was different from all the other women in his life. He could feel it in his blood. Out of a sense of self-preservation, Rhett had long ago relegated women to two useful purposes, sex and social engagements, or both if things happened to work out well. He’d never needed women for anything else. His life had been too busy for the complication of a relationship—nor had he wanted one—and so he made a point of telling every woman he dated exactly that. But the thought of a relationship with Lily made his heart beat faster and sent his blood singing through his veins. The thought of taking her to bed made his mouth go dry.

  He’d been incredibly patient this week, he thought. Five days and nights in New York, and he still hadn’t taken Lily to bed. She had given no indication she was ready to take their relationship to the next level, and damned if he hadn’t promised to let her make the first move in that direction.

  Standing in the foyer and holding Lily in his arms, he suddenly felt like a high-school boy with his first real crush. He ate corporate CEOs for lunch, and this little slip of a girl had brought him to his knees—and he felt fantastic. He grinned.

  “What?” She smiled up at him.

  “Did you have a good time tonight?”

  Her eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me? Beauty and the Beast on Broadway? Tonight was fabulous, and that was exactly the show I would have picked. Your little Disney freak, remember?”

  “A mighty pretty freak,” he said and brushed his lips gently against hers.

  She gazed up at him, her blue eyes luminous. Her lashes fluttered. “You are so tender,” she whispered.

  The innocent, trusting look in her eyes was genuine. Lily played no games with him. He’d been with women who tried the innocent game, and they had never succeeded. Not with him. But what lay behind Lily’s innocence? Inexperience maybe? A relationship that had turned out badly? She had a girl-next-door aura that made Rhett feel like a knight in shining armor. Him, of all people.

  His heart lurched in his chest, and his breathing grew labored. No woman made him feel like this one did—like he was king of the world, a conqueror to protect her against all evil. Those primal thoughts sent the blood rushing away from his head to mobilize elsewhere for one dramatic and, on this evening, very necessary purpose. He wanted her more than any woman he had ever met, and he was kicking himself now for that promise he’d made to her. Seduction ran heavy on his mind.

  “I’m only tender through immense strength of will,” he said hoarsely.

  Her incredible blue eyes widened with curiosity and only served to feed his impression of innocence.

  “I’m thirty-five years old, Lily,” he said, “and when I’m with you, I feel like I’m eighteen again. And I act like it.”

  Hell, he didn’t want to frighten her, but his body was reacting as though it had a will of its own tonight.

  “Is that so bad?” she asked softly.

  Definitely innocent or she wouldn’t ask me that.

  “It makes not grabbing you and taking you to bed difficult indeed, hence the necessary strength of will.”

  She glanced away. “I’m sorry.”

  He tilted her chin back up and brushed a kiss across her lips that heated his own to the point he almost growled. “Don’t be sorry, please. You’re . . . refreshing.”

  “I hope that was a compliment.”

  “It was. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”

  She was so close he could feel her breath against his neck. Her scent aroused an almost painful need in him. Holding back became exquisite torture.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “I promised you time, but I want you. I can’t help it.”

  Startled, she fixed those enormous blue eyes on his face, and he pulled her in, lowered his lips to claim the last kiss he would allow himself tonight. Any move ahead now must be her decision. He would keep his end of their bargain, even if he died of sensual torture.

  Rhett muttered something under his breath that Lily couldn’t quite make out as he pulle
d her against his chest, and she felt an electrified jolt on contact. His lips settled over hers with increasing pressure. The tip of his tongue teased her lips, which she willingly opened to him and prayed she wouldn’t gasp. His touch ignited nerve endings on her cheeks, her neck, even her hair. One large hand swept down her back while the other cupped her hip and gently pulled her against him.

  She loved the feel of his strong muscular body against her. His roving hands spread butterfly sensations along every nerve until she felt as though she would fly apart in all directions. She anchored her hands in the curls at his nape and crushed his lips to hers, wanting the kiss to go on forever and wanting to be something more than just refreshing.

  Her sensual elevation was not lost on Rhett, and with a growl low in his throat, he deepened his kiss into rhythmic assaults and pulled her hard up against him until her feet left the ground. The weightless sensation only fevered her wild emotions, and she tugged at him, trying to get closer still and all the while knowing she played with fire.

  The arm holding her hip swept down behind her knees and pulled her up into his arms. The movement hammered a vestige of sense into her wild and out-of-control emotions.

  Realizing he had taken a step toward her room, she pulled back and gasped, “Wait!”

  Her arms clutched around his neck, and she prayed her heart would slow down so she could think. She felt him tremble as he struggled to get his breath, and in that tender moment, she almost gave in. She glanced out over the enormous suite, almost as large as her cottage at the nursery, and she suffered a tight wave of panic.

  This suite wasn’t real.

  Rhett wasn’t real.

  This was one big fairy tale.

  Her Prince Charming operated under preconceived notions of how their relationship would work, but she wasn’t who he believed her to be. Somehow, she knew if she slept with him now, her deception would hurt him badly. Her instincts made her certain of that. Oh, why hadn’t she told him about the nursery this week? If she gave in and slept with him tonight, her deception would become even more cruel, would hurt him worse. He had to know who she really was before she took that step with Rhett.