The Reluctant Cinderella (2 page)

Carly took another tissue and dabbed her eyes. “Megan. Thank you.”

“Hey. Anytime.” She started to rise.

Carly caught her arm. “Wait.”

As she sank back to the edge of the tub, Megan sent a little prayer winging heavenward that Carly wouldn't turn on the waterworks all over again. “What?”

Carly straightened her delicate shoulders and hitched up her chin. “I'm calling Greg.”

Megan blinked. “Well, if you really think you—”

“No, silly.” Carly actually smiled. “Not for me. For
you.
”

Megan wasn't following. “I don't…why?”

“Your company. What's it called? Design…?”

“Design Solutions.”

“Yeah. That's right. You're a…?”

“I'm a graphic designer.” And Design Solutions
was all hers. Megan had a staff of six—okay, five and an intern. Her office was a short train ride away, in Poughkeepsie, close to home with low overhead.

Carly was nodding. “You do, um, brochures, business cards, flyers, things like that, right?”

“Right.” Megan did a lot more than flyers and brochures. But whenever she tried to explain about the real scope of effective design, about branding and positioning and how a top designer could boost a corporation's bottom line, her neighbors tended to get glassy-eyed. As a result, except for Angela, no one in the area really understood what Megan's work was all about.

It was kind of funny, really. The neighborhood wives were always trying to help her out. They had her designing invitations to their kids' parties, making flyers for their charity yard sales, creating letterhead stationery for their own personal use, that type of thing. Then they'd slip her a fifty in payment and tell her how “talented” she was.

Megan knew they meant well, that they were only trying to be supportive. But they saw her in a certain way; she was the nice “full-figured” girl who rented the apartment over her sister's garage.

They didn't understand that she
had
owned a house three years ago, a house she'd sold so she could put all her money into starting up her business—
and
help her single-mom sister out with the kids.

Megan's business venture had taken off. In a big way. She hardly had time anymore for a good night's sleep, let alone for small jobs at nominal fees.

Carly muttered darkly, “Yeah. It's the least Greg can do….”

Megan realized she hadn't been paying attention. “Excuse me?”

“He can give you an interview. He can maybe hire you to do…the things you do.”

“Hire me?”

“For Banning's. You know. You can be their, um, graphic designer.”

Megan was all-ears by then. “You're serious.”

“Oh, yes I am.” Carly sniffed and forced a brave smile.

“Wow….” Banning's was a small but nationally known family-run chain of upscale department stores.
This
was a real opportunity. Landing the Banning's account would be a coup. And Megan would love a chance to freshen up their slightly stuffy image.

Carly reached out and patted her hand. “I'm grateful. I truly am. For those times, like now, when you've been there, to listen to me and comfort me when things have been so rough for me. You are a very sweet person, Megan, and I want to do
something
to pay you back for your kindness to me.”

Megan returned Carly's smile. “What can I say, except ‘wow' all over again?”

“I'm glad to help you out….” Carly's long lashes fluttered down and her forced smile softened. Megan knew she was thinking that asking Greg for this favor would be a good excuse to get in touch with him.

Megan also knew that Carly—and Greg Banning—would see this as strictly a mercy interview. Banning's would, of course, already have a major design firm overseeing all their graphics and company-image print work. Greg would agree, for his ex-wife's sake, to hear Megan's pitch, all the while knowing he would end up politely turning her down.

What Greg Banning didn't know was that Megan was Good—capital
G
intended. She was taking Carly's offer and she was going to knock Greg Banning's socks off.

In a purely professional sense, of course.

Megan realized that she, like Carly, was looking down. Because there
was,
after all, the little matter of…

The crush.

The embarrassing truth was that, back when Megan used to see Greg now and then around the neighborhood, before he moved out on Carly and into an apartment in the city, Megan had had a slight—very slight and totally secret—crush on him.

A crush that was completely over and didn't matter in the least. Puh-leese. In his own rich-guy-next-door way, Greg Banning was a complete hunk. He was so far out of Megan's league there was no need to even
think
about that silly crush. It wasn't as if he'd ever paid the least bit of attention to Angela Schumacher's dumpy sister. Even ordinary guys never did….

Now, wait just a minute!
The voice of the new, successful Megan Schumacher piped up in her mind.

True, before Design Solutions, Megan had often wished that she wasn't so shy, that she was prettier and thinner, that some nice guy might notice her.

Now, though?

Not so much. Lately, she was feeling much more confident on the man front. When Megan was in entrepreneur mode, dressed in the bright colored, snug power suits that she favored, men often looked twice. Some flirted, some even put moves on her.

Not that it made a whole lot of difference in her day-to-day life.

Between her booming, yet still fledgling, business and her commitment to help her sister with the kids, Megan was on the go 24-7. Even if she met someone who interested her more than her career, where would she find the time to be with the guy?

Uh-uh. Right now, romance was just not on her agenda.

And the slight—and so
over
—crush on Greg Banning would be no problem. This was business. Period. And it would be a major feather in Megan's professional cap to bring in her team and create a whole new image for Banning's, Inc.

“So, then,” said Carly. Megan turned her head to find the other woman watching her. “You do want me to do it—to give him a call for you?”

“Yes. Thank you so much. I'd love a shot at a contract with Banning's.”

“Great. I'll call him. You can consider it done.”

O
n Monday, July 3, with Independence Day looming, most of the businesses in Manhattan's financial district had gone ahead and called it a four-day weekend. At the offices of Banning's, Inc., a lone receptionist held down the fort at the desk by the elevators. And Greg Banning, president and CEO, sat alone in his bright corner office, tying up a few loose ends without the usual workday bustle and noise to distract him.

He could have been elsewhere. He'd had invitations. Since becoming a bachelor all over again, Greg had discovered that there were a lot of good-looking, smart women who were more than willing to go out with him. Hey. He was a Banning. That
meant money and influence and that made him a catch.

But Greg wanted something not just any sophisticated, beautiful woman could give him. He wanted…

Okay. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted. But he knew what he
didn't
want: a woman who was after him for his name and his bank account.

So instead of a lawn party upstate or a four-day weekend in the Hamptons, Greg had opted for the temporary quiet of the city and the pile of work always waiting on his desk. He'd given his personal assistant the day off, had a clear calendar and didn't expect to be disturbed.

But then, at eleven, his phone buzzed. Surprised, he checked the display: the security desk down in the lobby. Was the building on fire?

Frowning, he punched the talk button. “Greg Banning.”

“Mr. Banning, Megan Schumacher is here to see you.”

Megan Schumacher? Who the hell was…?

Then he remembered. Damn. Carly had called him two weeks ago and asked him to interview Angela Schumacher's sister. He'd agreed, and had gently gotten rid of Carly. And then promptly forgotten all about it. Which was why the appointment—for today, at eleven—had never made it to his calendar.

Greg scoured his brain. Megan Schumacher…

The woman lived over the Angela's garage, didn't she? And she was in…?

Graphic design. Yeah. According to Carly, she
owned a small company, the name of which escaped him. Carly had asked him to consider using Megan's little company for Banning's design work.

Greg just hadn't been able to tell her no. He felt bad for Carly. He honestly did. He felt bad and he felt guilty—which was why he'd made sure she got a nice, fat divorce settlement and why he couldn't refuse her when she asked him to interview her friend from the neighborhood.

Greg straightened his tie and shook his head. What a damn waste of time—both his and the poor Schumacher girl's. Banning's already had the services of a top-notch graphic design firm at their disposal. It was a firm Banning's had been using for over twenty years, a firm that invariably delivered a quality product on time and within budget.

So there was zero chance he would hire Megan Schumacher. And that meant all he could do right now was smile and make nice and let the poor thing down gently.

“Thanks. Send her up.” He punched the line to the receptionist's desk. “Jennifer, Megan Schumacher is coming up to see me. Show her the way to my office.”

“Of course, Mr. Banning.”

Greg hung up and went back to the flow chart he'd been studying. A few minutes later, Jennifer spoke from beyond his wide-open door.

“Mr. Banning, Ms. Schumacher is here….”

Greg clicked the program shut and glanced up. The sexiest woman he'd ever seen was standing in
the doorway. Greg blinked. “Uh. Thanks, Jennifer. That's all.” The receptionist left them.

And the incredible woman in the doorway greeted him with a glowing, dimpled smile. “Greg. How've you been?”

Simple question. But somehow, he'd temporarily forgotten how to speak.

Superlatives scrolled through his stunned brain: amazing. Outstanding. Exceptional…

Not pretty, really.
Better
than pretty.

She was full-figured in a hot-pink jacket and skirt, an outfit that hugged her generous curves. She wore one of those camisole things under the jacket; he spotted a tempting hint of black lace that matched her sleek black high-heeled shoes. Her blond hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders.

Could this possibly be Angela Schumacher's nondescript little sister?

Evidently.

He couldn't believe it. He
remembered
Megan Schumacher—or rather, he
didn't
remember her. To be brutally honest about it, all he could recall of her was a general, fuzzy impression of someone shy and plain and slightly overweight.

But
this
woman…

She literally sparkled with energy and life and…well, there was that word again:
sex.

He really needed to stop thinking about sex.

Greg was a conservative man. He kept his flirtations away from the office, never mixed business
with pleasure, had never gotten near another woman while he was married to Carly.

But right then, in the first five seconds after this new, astonishing Megan Schumacher entered his office, all of his fine principles flew right out the window. He
wanted
her. Damned if he didn't. He wanted her bad.

And he'd been sitting there gaping at her like a teenage kid with his first big-time crush. He jumped to his feet. “Megan. It's great to see you.”

She dimpled at him again. “Admit it. You barely remembered me. And I can see it in your eyes. You promised Carly you'd give me this meeting—and then you instantly forgot all about it.”

Ouch. She'd nailed him.

No point in denying it. “Okay, you got me,” he confessed as he stepped out from behind his big glass desk and crossed to meet her. She carried a large, soft briefcase and a hefty portfolio. He took the portfolio from her with his left hand and extended his right. “But now you're here and so am I. And I can't wait to hear all about what Design Solutions can do for Banning's.”

She sent him a conspiratorial glance, one that hinted she thought he was laying it on a little thick. But all she said was, “Good. Because Design Solutions has a lot to offer you.” Her perfume tempted him—flowers, plus something slightly tart. And more than the flowers and the tartness, she smelled of…

Peaches. Damned if she didn't smell like a sweet,
ripe peach. Her hand was soft and smooth and cool. He liked the feel of it cradled in his. Liked it a lot.

He had to remind himself to let go. “Your company is relatively new, isn't it?”

She nodded firmly. “Design Solutions is three years old and growing by leaps and bounds. I have two graphic artists on staff, a Web expert, an office manager, a clerk-receptionist and an intern who helps out wherever we need him. I'm looking at bringing in another artist and possibly even a second designer at the first of the year.” She gestured with one of those soft hands. “Just put the portfolio down anywhere.” With the tips of her fingers, she brushed the back of one of the two chairs that faced his desk. He wished those fingers were brushing
him.
“Sit here, beside me. I'll boot up my laptop and we can get started…”

Sitting beside her.

Excellent idea. He took the chair she'd indicated and propped her portfolio up on the floor between them, then he sat back and watched as she took a laptop the size of Cleveland from her fat briefcase and opened the thing on the outer edge of his desk.

“I'll show you some of the work we've done.” She sent him another of those captivating smiles as the big screen glowed to life. “Then I want to give you a basic idea of the many ways Design Solutions can bolster and expand on the Banning's brand. Finally, we'll take a look at a few things in the portfolio. It's always good, I think, to get a sense of textures and colors, to see firsthand how the print work is going to translate. We can do so much online and with
computer programs now, but sometimes digital images simply aren't the same as holding the finished product in your hands….”

“Excellent,” he said as she started bringing up examples of work her company had done. Each one was different from the last, and each was terrific—clear and well-organized, with colors that popped and graphics that jumped right off the screen.

As she began explaining how she would work her own particular magic on Banning's image, Greg realized he was interested—and not only in the lush, peach-scented Ms. Schumacher herself.

Her ideas for Banning's were fresh and exciting. And Greg
had
been thinking lately that the company needed an upgrade on the image front. Their trademark black-and-red graphics had once seemed sophisticated and dramatic.

Now, though, gazing at the images Megan had prepared for him, the plain black-and-red seemed a little bit tired, didn't it? A little bit
old.

“We don't want to go with different colors,” Megan suggested. “We don't want to lose your brand recognition. We just want to…update your look a little. Instead of midnight black, we'll make it just a tiny bit silvery. So the black has a certain…luster. No?”

He was nodding. She continued, “And we'll go from that slightly blue red to an even brighter, more aggressive true red….”

“I like it.”

She glanced at him. That dimpled smiled
bloomed and her green eyes danced. “I kind of figured you would.”

She spoke of launching a print campaign to make sure all of Banning's customers were aware of the fresh styles they carried now. They needed, she said, to showcase the new clothing lines they'd recently introduced, the ones that targeted a younger, trendier consumer. She took apart Bannings.com, said the pages were too slow to load, and navigation could be simpler. Her Web guy, she promised, was a genius. He could get with Banning's Web people and help them streamline the site while they worked on the various image-brand issues.

Greg listened and nodded, asked a few questions and liked the answers he got, all the while planning how he was going to get to know her better.

It might not be easy. She was direct and cheerful and friendly. But she wasn't coming on to him. Not in the least.

Still, she had to feel it, didn't she? The heat of attraction? She was only behaving appropriately, hiding her personal interest in him, keeping it strictly business, right?

Or was interest on her part no more than wishful thinking on his?

He just plain couldn't believe that he'd once lived on the same street with her and never even noticed her. She was not the kind of woman a normal, red-blooded man easily forgot.

She wrapped up her presentation, and by then he
was totally sold. He would have Design Solutions revamp the image of Banning's department stores.

But there were more steps to take before he could tell her she had it locked up. Greg's father, Gregory, Sr., chairman of the board of Banning's, Inc., would have to be convinced, as would a couple of the vice presidents. Greg had no doubt that Megan and her team would cinch it with the rest of them, but he wasn't telling her that. No way. If he told her, she might just smile that stunning, dimpled smile, say “Thank you very much,” and leave.

“I want to hear more,” he said, as she zipped up her portfolio. “It's almost one. Are you hungry?”

For the first time since she'd strolled so confidently through his office door, she looked doubtful. A slight frown formed between her smooth brows. She cleared her throat. “Well, I…” The words trailed off.

He jumped right in before she could find a way to say no. “Let me take you to lunch. You like Italian? I know a great little Italian place up on Lexington at 33rd. The food is terrific and the service is, too.”

For a moment—barely a split second—he thought she looked…what? Shocked? Wary? Slightly frantic?

But before he could decide what the look might mean, it vanished. She flashed him another of those incredible smiles of hers. “Why not?” she said. “Lunch it is.”

 

Megan was having the time of her life.

She had so aced her presentation. Soon, there
would be more meetings with more executives. She and her team would need to get right on a formal Flash presentation—one that would blow them all away.

Oh, yeah. She would get the Banning's account, she just knew it. And now here she was, sitting next to Greg on gorgeous, glove-soft black leather in a company limo.

Greg had insisted on the limo, so she could stash her big portfolio and heavy briefcase in the trunk and forget about them while they were in the restaurant. Megan enjoyed a limo ride as much as the next girl. What was not to like?

She leaned on the padded armrest and gazed out the smoked-glass window at semideserted Manhattan streets. “I love New York on days like this.”

“You mean when everyone else is gone for the holiday?”

“Exactly.” She turned to Greg, met those velvety brown eyes of his and told herself that the thrill that shimmered through her every time she looked at him didn't mean a thing. “It's so…peaceful. For a change.”

“Your offices are in Poughkeepsie, you said?”

She nodded. “Close to home and economical. You live here in the city now, don't you?”

“Yeah. I've got a loft apartment right on Broadway, two and a half blocks up from the office.”

“Convenient.”

“That's what I tell myself….” He had a great voice. Deep. Smooth as melted chocolate. But did he sound kind of…wistful?

She thought of Carly, wondered as she'd won
dered more than once in the past months just what had gone wrong there—two beautiful people with everything going for them. Two
nice
people. Really, their breakup made no sense.

Megan dared to suggest, “You sound…I don't know. As if you're not happy living in the city.”

His warm gaze cooled just a little. “I'm happy. Perfectly. And here we are….” The limo rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant and the driver got out and opened the door for them.