The Cinderella Seduction: A Suddenly Cinderella Novel (Entangled Indulgence) (7 page)

“A few minutes, ha! Honey, I’ve got the rest of my life. What do you want to know?”

Stefanie opened her mouth, but this time Nick cut her off before she could get the first word out. “Perhaps you would be so good as to take me through a typical day?”

She blinked. “A typical day?” Clearly his question must mean going off script.

Nick nodded. “Yes, in your own words, if you please.” He darted Stefanie a deliberate look. Really, she must think him a fool.

Mona pursed her lips. “Well, we keep retirement hours, so we usually don’t get up in the mornings until around nine. We have our coffee, read the paper, and fiddle on Facebook and e-mail. If it’s a nice day, I’ll pack us a lunch and we’ll take the folding chairs and head to the beach for a few hours. We both just love living on the water, as you can probably tell.” She stretched out a wiry arm in evidence.

Nick glanced back to Stefanie, busy biting the lipstick from her lower lip. Addressing Mrs. G, he quizzed, “You carry your own chairs from home and back? But I thought the plan called for providing rental-free beach chairs and umbrellas to residents and their guests?” He stared past her to Stefanie.

“We haven’t quite finished construction on the cabana,” she admitted, shoulders drooping.

“And the snack bar?” he asked purposefully.

“Actually, that was reimagined as a food truck—mine.” Her wistful look told him that much, at least, was sincere. “The menu would be—
will
be—Greek street food—gyros, krokets, tyropitas—all made with heart healthy recipes and ingredients. The idea was—
is
—to start by having it on weekends and then expanding into weekdays, assuming the interest is here.”

“It all sounds wonderful, honey, it really does,” Mona broke in. “And once the festival hall is finished, you can maybe set up a food cart inside, too.” Her gaze flickered to Nick. “This year again we drove back to Baltimore for the annual Greek Festival and Parade. The kids and grandkids met us on the steps of our church, Saint Nicholas.”

“That sounds nice,” Nick said, wondering where she was leading.

“Oh, it was,” she agreed. “We had a ball.” Smile dimming, she added, “Only my Constantine’s eyesight isn’t what it used to be, so we left earlier than we would have liked to get back before dark. Next year we hope to be able to invite the family out here to celebrate at the new festival hall.”

Everyone’s gazes veered back to the crater. So far only the foundation had been laid.

An awkward silence descended. Mona broke it, swinging her gaze around to Nick. “Do you want to hear the rest of my typical day?”

Watching Stefanie out of the corner of his eye, Nick shook his head. “Thank you but that will not be necessary. We have diverted you from your walk long enough.”

Mona hesitated. “All right then, I’ll be on my way. Toodles.”

They stood side by side watching Mona wind her way up the path at an impressive pace. “Would you uh…like to see the taverna next?” Stefanie asked in a pained voice.

“Is it unfinished, too?” he asked, surmising the answer. She looked so downtrodden that despite the attempted setup, Nick found it hard not to feel for her.

Turning away to look out toward the beach, she admitted, “Actually it is un-started.”

Although a generously built woman, she suddenly looked achingly small and fragile, swathed in her borrowed construction hat and boots standing amidst the ruins of her family’s failing legacy. The impulse to reach out to her, to take her hand as she had earlier taken his, nearly overwhelmed him—nearly, but not quite. As her pathetically transparent attempt to deceive him had demonstrated, her allegiance was all to her father. That was as it should be. But Nick too had a father and a family legacy to uphold as well as his pledge—his word of honor—to the mother superior that he would build a new orphanage.

And then there was that other vow he’d made, this one to himself, to put his player days behind him and be the father Mara deserved. He didn’t intend to weaken, even if his hostess did have the lush, buxom body of an Aphrodite and the most soul-stirring eyes he’d ever stared into.

Forcing his hands to remain at his sides, Nick shook his head. “I have seen enough. Let us start back and face this fierce traffic of which you speak. Mara will be missing me.”

…

Stefanie acknowledged she’d blown the visit to Acropolis Village—badly. The mud and standing water had made everything look that much bleaker and unfinished. Slogging Nick through field upon field of fallow dreams had brought home just how rough the site still was. By now it shouldn’t be a site at all but a bustling community. She couldn’t even find it in her heart to be miffed at Mona—even the most energetic cheerleader had to put down her pom-poms at some point.

Beyond how badly her plans had backfired, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d lost hard won ground with Nick. The drive back to DC had been a quiet one. Beyond the radio, there’d been little talking—and absolutely no flirting.

Fortunately the following day was Friday, July Fourth, and the party at Macie and Ross’s. Several of Macie’s friends from New York were driving down for the holiday and, as she’d promised her pop, she’d be bringing Nick. After Mona’s bungled testimonial, she’d braced herself for his refusal or at the very least some serious hemming and hawing. Instead he’d graciously agreed to go, provided he could bring Mara. Relieved, she’d assured him the gathering would be totally kid-friendly. She only hoped that some of the party spirit would wear off on him.

In the interim, between preparing for Macie’s and the congressman’s barbecues, she was kept too busy to do much brooding. Sending her assistant off to MacLean in her spare van packed with party platters, she hurried to get herself ready. Acknowledging that she needed to get her seduction plan back on track and fast, she shoved aside the last of her modesty and reached for the V-neck, paisley-patterned halter top she’d sworn to Macie she’d never ever wear in public. Staring at her reflection with a critical eye, still she had to admit that Macie had been right. The skimpy top looked pretty damned good on her.

True, her stomach might not be the flattest but her arms were worth showing off, her biceps sculpted not from Pilates but from years of lifting heavy coolers and packed market bags. And then there were her other…assets. She hesitated and then dropped a second button from the front.
In for a penny, in for a pound
or so her mother had been fond of saying.

Given that her pop was in to Nick for a hell of a lot of pounds—2.5 million of them—flashing him a glimpse of the girls felt justified. She supposed she could always e-mail Gloria Steinham and ask for absolution once Olympia was restored to solvency and safely in family hands. Until then, feminism felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford.

When Nick pulled up in front of her house, Mara occupying the front passenger’s seat, she was just pulling up the zipper on her new low-rise jeans and slipping her feet into white patent-leather strappy sandals.

There was no way that her coolers and myriad thermal food sleeves were going to fit into a Ferrari. Fortunately, for once she’d found street parking close by. Watching him load everything into her Good Enuf to Eat van and then slip behind the wheel decimated any remaining determination to see him as a spoiled international party boy. One-Percenter status notwithstanding, Nick was a really decent guy. The business deal their fathers had forged, and her former fiancé’s scam, had put them both in a seriously stinky situation—a situation that Stefanie was committed to helping her pop turn around if at all possible.

But today was a holiday, America’s birthday, and when Nick made no mention of her father or the flu, Stefanie allowed herself to feel a measure of relief. Nor did she miss how his gaze kept edging over to the front passenger’s seat. Steeling herself not to squirm or slouch, she forced her shoulders back and held her head high, even experimenting by tossing in the little hair-flicking gesture she’d seen Lena and Lettie use to great effect. Certainly Nick was substantially more sophisticated than the recent college grads her stepsisters dated and yet despite the quiet in the car she flattered herself that he wasn’t unaffected.

Now that she knew what an excellent driver he was, Stefanie found that she actually enjoyed being chauffeured. Standing in the hallway outside Macie and Ross’s, she admitted she was actually looking forward to the day. Even though she was, technically speaking, “working” the party, she couldn’t imagine a better group with which to celebrate—or a hotter “date” to bring. Enemy or not, Nick was breath stealing. Until now, she hadn’t realized his arms were so…big, but then this was her first time seeing him in anything other than a long-sleeved dress shirt. The wine-colored Ralph Lauren polo showed off his bulging biceps to perfection. Imagining what it would be like to run her hands along that smooth expanse of tanned, rock-hard flesh, she turned her flushing face away to the car window.

She’d been worried about traffic and blocked-off streets but Nick managed to get them to the Watergate in impressive time. Emptying the van took several trips. Once they did, Nick left Stefanie in the lobby and went to park in the garage. He returned and with the help of the doorman, they loaded up a luggage rack with the coolers and handled bags and headed into the elevator.

Following Nick as he rolled the cart up to Macie and Ross’s apartment door, Stefanie felt a thrill of anticipation. After all the years of showing up dateless and later dragging a grudging Pete along, she was looking forward to her friends’ reaction.

Macie must have been waiting since the doorman first buzzed them in. Standing on the open threshold, she stared from Stefanie to Nick, a smile breaking over her face. “Wow, you must be…
wow
.”

Ross appeared in the doorway behind his wife. Tall, sandy-haired, and seemingly unflappable, he smiled at Stefanie and shoved a broad-backed hand toward Nick. “Welcome to our home,” he said in a pronounced Texas twang. “I’m Ross, and this here is my wife, Macie.” He looked beyond them to the full cart. “First things first, put us to work.”

They spent the next hour ferrying food and drinks up to the building’s rooftop. The deck would afford a bird’s-eye view of the national fireworks, a civilized alternative to camping out on the crowded Capitol lawn. Fortunately Ross had already brought up several folding tables and chairs. Even Ross’s teenage daughter, Samantha, stepped up to help, keeping Mara entertained with her iPad while the adults set up.

“You two are the most chill clients ever,” Stefanie remarked as they finished up in the condo’s kitchen. “But really, you didn’t have to stockpile disposables. I always bring flatware, serving utensils, and cutlery and take them away at the end of the event. It’s part of the service.”

Standing at the sink arranging a bouquet of red, white, and blue carnations for a centerpiece, Macie looked back over her shoulder. “No way am I sending you home on a holiday loaded down with our dirty dishes. You have better things to do with your evening,” she added, cutting a look to Nick, busy emptying another bag of ice into the standing cooler.

Mesmerized by his broad back and tight butt, Stefanie managed a mute nod. At times such as this she had to remind herself that he was the enemy—and she the one in control.

“Don’t worry,” Macie went on. “It’s all 100 percent recyclable.” She glanced over to Nick. “I work for an environmental magazine. If my coworkers caught wind that I was going less than full-throttle green, they’d have
my
hide.”

Chuckling, he straightened and turned toward them. “Your rubbish secrets are safe with me.”

Momentarily overcome by his hotness, Stefanie quickly averted her gaze. Addressing Macie, she conceded, “Okay, so long as you didn’t cook, too.”

Carrying the centerpiece out into the main room, Macie snorted. “Ha! Other than huevos rancheros and grilled cheese and tuna-fish sandwiches, I don’t know how to make anything.”

“Huevos rancheros?” Nick asked, darting a look between them.

“Don’t ask,” Ross warned him with a grin.

“It’s sort of an inside joke,” Stefanie admitted.

If Nick was offended at being left out, he gave no sign of it. “Perhaps, Stefanie, you will share the story with me…later?”

Was he hinting that their evening might continue beyond the party? Or was she maybe reading too much into his casual remark? Feeling flushed despite the AC running at full blast, she nodded. “S-sure.”

He smiled, the tanned skin bracketing his eyes crinkling. “Good, then I shall—how is it you say?—hold you to it.”

God, but he was good-humored. And hot, so very hot. A beep brought her back to sanity—and her iPhone. Picking it up from the counter, she saw the text message from her assistant, and her heart dove into her stomach. Luckily, though, the text wasn’t to report any calamity. Instead it confirmed the congressman’s event was unfolding exactly as planned. Even better, his wife was so impressed with the food and service that she wanted to hire Good Enuf to Eat for her family dinners as well. Stefanie typed a quick “
Awesome!!!
” and put the phone away. Thinking of all the holidays and vacations she’d missed since she’d begun the business, she wondered if she really needed to remain 100 percent hands-on. She had two good people working for her and with the addition of the new clients, including the congressman’s family, she could probably afford to hire a third. If she took some time to train one of them as a manager, she could finally take that trip to Greece she’d spent the past eight years postponing.

Immersed in envisioning herself wading in sky blue waters, sighing over stunning sunsets, and eating beautiful food—all alongside Nick—she lost track of time. She’d just pulled the plastic wrap off the last of the platters when the first set of guests arrived. Ross’s ex, British-born fashion photographer Francesca, breezed in with her Silicon Valley CEO boyfriend, Greg. From Macie, Stefanie knew that the two had fallen in love on the set of an LA reality TV show where Greg was the ugly duckling contestant and Francesca his “fairy god mentor.”