Fairy Tale Weddings (10 page)

She leaned across the small table, her eyes spitting fire. “For more than an hour I waited in the cold and wind. You let me stand there while you…entertained another woman. You're right, Thorne, you're no Prince Charming.”

“At the moment there isn't the faintest resemblance between you and Cinderella, either.”

She ignored that. “If I had any magic left in me, I'd turn you into a frog.”

“Then I'd make you kiss me.” He loved her. They were actually arguing, laying their feelings on the table, being honest—even if they were talking the language of fairy tales.

“I don't think it would do any good,” Cindy said hotly. “Me kissing you, I mean. You'd still be a frog.”

“Possibly,” he told her with a grin, “but I doubt it.”

Cindy bit her lip. Thorne seemed to think this witty exchange was fun while she was devastated. He was so casual about it, and that hurt.

Thorne immediately sensed the change in Cindy. “I didn't want to be with Sheila,” he said, his eyes dark and serious. “I begrudged every minute I wasn't with you.”

Cindy didn't know what to believe anymore.

“Then why…”

“I was trapped,” he said, and his eyes pleaded for understanding. “I would've given anything to welcome the New Year with you. God willing, I will next year.”

Hours later, when she crawled into bed, she wasn't any more confident than she'd been in the restaurant. They'd both ordered lobster and talked for hours, their earlier dispute shelved because their time together was too precious to waste. Cindy was astonished by the way they could talk. They liked the same things, shared the same interests, exchanged ideas and lingered over coffee so long that the waitress grew restless. Only then had Cindy and Thorne noticed that they were the only couple left in the restaurant.

“When can I see you again?” he'd asked.

“Soon,” she'd promised, buttoning her coat. “I'll contact you.”

He hadn't liked that, Cindy could tell. Before they parted, he'd made her promise that she'd get in touch with him. She would.

Now, as early-morning shadows flitted across the walls, Cindy lay in her bed undecided. Because she'd given Thorne her word, she would meet him, but this had to be the end of it. Oh, heavens, how often had she said that? Too often. And each time, walking away from him had become more difficult. Despite their feelings, despite their similarities of preferences and opinions, their worlds were simply too different.

He was so wonderfully good for her and so disastrously bad for her. She didn't know what she should do anymore. Desire was at war with common sense.

 

Thorne stood on the dock as large sea gulls circled overhead. The Staten Island ferry, filled with crowds of tourists who'd wanted a closer view of the Statue of Liberty, was slowly advancing toward the pier.

Cindy had said she'd meet him here. She hadn't shown up yet, but it was still too early to be worried. It had been a week since he'd seen her. His fault, not hers. He'd been out of town on business and had returned home to find a note taped to his apartment door. She'd set the time and place for this meeting. How she'd known he'd be free this afternoon was beyond him. But where she got her information no longer concerned him. Seeing her, being with her—that was what mattered. Nothing else did.

He had to find a way to assure her that she was the most important person in his life. The incident with Sheila had been left unsettled between them. Thorne could tell from Cindy's taut features that she wanted to believe that whatever he'd shared with Sheila was over. But he knew she had her doubts, and he couldn't blame her.

Briefly he thought about the large diamond he kept in the safe at his office. He wanted it on her finger, wanted her promise to be his wife, but he couldn't ask her yet. The timing had to be right. When she completely trusted him, when she opened up to him and told him everything about her life, then he could offer her his.

For now, all he could do was love her and dispel her doubts, one at a time. Today he'd come up with a way of doing that.

“Hi.” Cindy joined him on the dock. Her hands were in her pockets as she stood there, looking out at the water.

Slow, grateful relief poured over Thorne. She'd come to him. He could relax and smile again.

“Hi, yourself,” he responded with a smile, resisting the urge to take her in his arms.

“How was Kansas City?”

He smiled, because she'd surprised him again. She'd known where he'd been and for how long. “Dull. I wanted to get back to you. Did you miss me?”

Cindy nodded, although she'd rather not admit it. The week they'd spent apart had seemed like a lifetime. For seven days she'd told herself she'd better get used to living without him as the focal point of her existence. “School started again, so I've been busy.”

“But you still thought about me?”

Every minute of every day. “Yes,” she answered.

The ferry docked and they stood and watched silently as the passengers disembarked.

“I haven't been to the Statue of Liberty in years,” he said. “Have you?” It was obvious that something was troubling her. Cindy wasn't this quiet this long, unless she felt anxious or upset.

“No.” The wind swirled her hair around her face and she lifted a strand from her cheek.

Thorne studied her. She looked so troubled, so uncertain that he gently pulled her into his embrace, holding her close.

She sighed and leaned against him, relishing his touch after seven long days without him. She wouldn't be the same after Thorne. She'd go on with her life, but she'd never be the same.

“Are you ready to talk?” he asked, raising her chin so she'd meet his eyes.

At one time she had been, but not anymore. They
seemed to take one step forward, then quickly retreat two. Just when she was beginning to feel secure about loving him, he'd left her waiting while he was with Sheila. Although he'd repeatedly claimed the other woman meant nothing to him, he continued to keep her picture on his desk. And recently, quite by accident, she'd discovered a receipt from Tiffany's for a diamond ring. If she'd been insecure about her position in Thorne's life before, now she was paranoid.

“Cindy?” he prompted.

Sadly she shook her head, then brightened. “Shall we walk along the water to get in line for the ferry?”

“No.”

“You don't want to go?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Her heart rocketed to her throat.

He reached for her hand. “We're going someplace special today.”

“Where?”

“That's the surprise.” He smiled at her and tightened his hand on hers. “My car's down the street.”

“Your car?”

“We can't get to…this place by subway.”

Despite her reservations, Cindy laughed. “I don't really like surprises.”

“This one you will.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I promise.” After today, Cindy would be sure of her position in his life.

“Is this…someplace I want to go?”

“Now, that may be in question, but you've already agreed.”

“I did? When?”

Thorne kissed the tip of her nose. “The night we met.”

Cindy shuffled through her memories and came up blank. “I don't recall agreeing to anything.”

Thorne pretended shock, then shook his head in mock despair. “How quickly they forget.”

“Thorne!” He led her up the street.

“This isn't anyplace fancy, is it?” She wore jeans, a pink turtleneck sweater and loafers with hot pink socks.

“You're perfect no matter what you wear.”

“I suppose this is some fancy restaurant where everyone else will be dressed up.”

“No restaurant.”

“But we are eating?” She hoped they were. As usual, she was starving.

She walked trustfully beside him, despite her reservations about his “surprise.” Why, oh, why did it always happen like this? She'd be so uneasy, so certain nothing would ever work between them, and after ten minutes with Thorne, she'd gladly hand over her soul. The thought of being separated from him was unthinkable. She was crazy in love with this man.

“Are you worried about your stomach again?”

“Don't worry, it's something lobster will cure,” she joked and was rewarded with a smile.

Cindy would've bet Thorne drove a Mercedes in a subdued shade of gray or steely blue. She was wrong—his car was a Corvette, bright red and so uncharacteristic of him that she stood with her hands on her hips and shook her head.

“I bought it on impulse,” he said a bit sheepishly, holding open the passenger door.

She climbed inside, and when she had trouble with the
seat belt, Thorne leaned over and snapped it in place. He teased her unmercifully about her lack of mechanical ability, then kissed her soundly when she blushed.

Once they were on the Jersey turnpike, Cindy grew all the more curious. “Just how many days will we be traveling?”

“Forty-five minutes,” he answered.

“That long, huh? Aren't you going to give me any clues?”

“Nope. Not any more than I already have.”

He was in such a good mood that it was impossible to be serious. Soon they were both laughing, and Cindy didn't notice when he exited the freeway. He drove confidently through a neighborhood of luxurious homes.

“This must be quite some place.”

“Oh, it is,” he said.

When he turned into a long circular driveway that curved around a huge water fountain, Cindy's curiosity was even sharper. She'd never seen a more opulent home. Huge white pillars dominated the entrance. It looked like something out of
Architectural Digest
.

“Wow.” She couldn't find any other word to describe it.

The front door opened and a lovely gray-haired woman came out to greet Thorne. The older woman's gaze rested on Cindy, and although she revealed little emotion, Cindy had the impression the woman disapproved of her.

Thorne got out of the car and hurried over to kiss the woman on the cheek.

A rock settled in the pit of Cindy's stomach as Thorne opened her door and offered his hand to help her out.

“Cindy,” he said, “I'd like you to meet my mother.”

C
indy's introduction to Thorne's parents was strained at best. She was enraged that he'd bring her to his family home without any warning or preparation. Even worse, he'd informed her that what she was wearing was perfectly fine. He couldn't have been more wrong. Jeans and a turtleneck sweater weren't acceptable if Gwendolyn Prince's frown told Cindy anything. Cindy would've been more comfortable being granted an unexpected audience with the pope.

Seated beside Thorne in the extravagant living room, Cindy held the stem of a crystal wineglass between her fingers. Although Thorne's mother was subtle about it, Cindy could feel the other woman studying her. His father's gray eyes sparkled with undisguised delight. He, at least, seemed to be enjoying this farce.

“Where was it you said you met?” the elder Thorne asked.

“The company Christmas party.”

Cindy let Thorne answer for her. Her mouth was dry, and she wasn't sure her tongue would cooperate if she tried to speak.

“So you're employed by Oakes-Jenning?”

This time the question was shot directly at Cindy.

“Dad,” Thorne interrupted smoothly. “I think I'd like a refill.” He held out his glass to his father, who stood and poured the wine.

The elder Prince held the bottle out to Cindy, but she refused with a shake of her head. If there was ever a time she needed to keep her wits about her, it was now. The minute she was alone with Thorne, she'd let him know what she thought of his “surprise.”

“I don't believe I caught your last name,” his mother said smoothly.

“Territo. Cindy Territo.” Her voice came out more like a croak.

“That sounds ethnic,” Thorne's mother commented.

“It's…” Cindy began.

“Italian,” Thorne finished.

“I see.” His mother obviously didn't.

Cindy watched as the older woman downed the remainder of her wine. She appeared to be as uneasy as Cindy.

“Thorne tells me you're a student?” His father continued the inquisition.

“Yes, I'm studying computer programming.”

This, too, was news to Thorne. He knew Cindy was uncomfortable answering all these questions. He'd asked his parents to make her feel welcome, but he should've known better than to suggest they not intimidate her with rounds of inquiries. His father was too cagey to let the opportunity pass. Thorne reached for Cindy's hand and was astonished to discover that her fingers were cold as ice.

“I'm sure Cindy is equally curious about us,” Thorne
said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Why don't we ask what she'd like to know about us?”

“I…know everything I need to,” she murmured with a feeble smile. The instant the words were out, Cindy wanted to grab them back, realizing she'd said the wrong thing. She'd made it sound as if all she cared about was Thorne's money. Nothing could be less true. She would've fallen in love with Thorne had he sold newspapers on a street corner. Now, in addition to being ill at ease, she was acutely embarrassed.

Dinner didn't help. They sat at a long table with a crystal chandelier she suspected was worth more than her uncle's limousine. Thorne was across from her, making her feel even more alone. His parents were at either end of the long table.

A large goblet of ice stood in front of Cindy, and her mouth was so uncomfortably dry that she picked it up, disappointed to find so little water inside. Thorne's mother gave her a pitying glance and instantly Cindy knew she'd committed some terrible faux pas. Her mortification reached its peak when the maid brought a shrimp cocktail, placing the appetizer inside the glass of ice. She dared not look at Thorne, certain he'd find the entire incident amusing.

“What does your father do?” Gwendolyn asked between bites of succulent shrimp.

Briefly Cindy closed her eyes to gather her composure. She'd already disgraced Thorne with her lack of finesse once and she was afraid she'd do it again. “I'm sorry, but I don't know. He deserted my mother and me shortly after I was born.”

“Oh, my dear! How terrible for your mother.”

“She's gone as well, isn't she?” Thorne asked. His loving gaze caressed her, his brow furrowed with concern.

“She died when I was five.”

“Who raised you?” It was the elder Thorne who questioned her now. From the looks they were giving her, one would've thought she'd been beaten daily and survived on dry bread crumbs tossed under the table.

“My aunt and uncle were kind enough to raise me.” Thorne's parents exchanged sympathetic glances. “Believe me,” Cindy hurried to add, “there's no need to feel sorry for me. They loved me as they would their own daughter. We're a close-knit family with lots of cousins and other relatives.” Her aunt and uncle, however, wouldn't dream of interrogating Thorne the way his parents were questioning her…. Then again, maybe they would. Cindy felt slightly better musing about how her uncle Sal would react to meeting Thorne. The first hint of amusement touched the edges of her mouth. She raised her eyes to meet Thorne's and they shared a brief smile.

Dinner couldn't be over soon enough for Cindy. She ate a sufficient amount to ensure that no one would comment. The prime rib rested like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. Dessert, a frothy concoction of lime and whipped cream, was a cool respite, and she managed to consume a larger portion of that.

“While the women have their coffee, let me show you my new nine iron.” The elder Prince addressed his son.

Thorne turned to Cindy. She nodded, assuring him that she'd be fine alone with his mother. She was confident that Gwendolyn Prince had arranged this time so they could speak frankly, and Cindy was prepared to do exactly that.

The men left the table.

Cindy took a sip of coffee and braced herself. She saw that Gwendolyn's hand trembled slightly and she was reassured to realize that the older woman was just as nervous.

Neither spoke for a long moment.

“Mrs. Prince—”

“Cindy—”

They both began at the same instant and laughed, flustered and uneasy.

“You first, dear,” Gwendolyn said.

Cindy straightened the linen napkin on her lap. “I wanted to apologize for drinking out of the wrong glass—” She paused, drew in a deep, steadying breath, deciding to do away with small talk and get to the point. “I believe I know what you want to say, and I couldn't agree with you more. You're absolutely right about me. It's perfectly obvious that Thorne and I aren't suited.”

If the older woman's hand had trembled before, now it positively shook. “Why, Cindy, what makes you suggest such a thing?”

“You mean other than my drinking from the shrimp glass?”

The first indication that Thorne's mother was capable of a smile showed on her well-preserved face. “My dear girl, shall I tell you about the time I drank too much wine and told Thorndike's mother that she was a cantankerous old biddy?”

Cindy raised the napkin to her mouth to disguise her laugh. “You actually said that?”

“And he proposed the next day. He told me he needed a wife who could stand up to his mother. I'd been crazy about him for years, you see, and I didn't think he knew I was alive. We'd started dating off and on—mostly off—
and our relationship seemed to be moving sideways. That Sunday dinner with his family was the turning point in our courtship.”

“And you've enjoyed a happy marriage.” Cindy made it a statement.

“For over forty years now.”

Silence followed.

“I want you to know that very little of what Thorndike and I say will influence our son. He's always been his own man, and he hasn't brought you here for our approval.”

Cindy nodded, agreeing that Thorne wouldn't be intimidated by his family's reservations regarding her. “You don't need to say any more. I understand.”

“But I'm afraid that you don't,” Gwendolyn said hurriedly. “It's just that Thorne and Sheila seemed to be such an item that both Thorndike and I assumed…well, we naturally thought that he and Sheila…oh, dear, I do seem to be making a mess of this.”

“It would only seem natural that they'd get married,” Cindy said, understanding completely.

“And then out of the blue, Thorne mentioned meeting you.” Gwendolyn looked away and reached for her coffee.

Cindy dropped her gaze. The Christmas Ball and her little charade had clearly upset the family's expectations.

“Thorne thinks very highly of you,” Gwendolyn added.

“You and your husband must be special people to have raised a son as wonderful as Thorne.” Cindy meant that sincerely. “He's touched my life in ways I'll always value.”

“I believe you mean that.”

“I do, but I realized early on that I'm not the woman for him. He needs a different type.” Although she would've given anything to be wrong, she knew she wasn't.

Gwendolyn's cup clanked against the saucer when she set it down. “I don't suppose you've told Thorne that?”

“Not yet.”

“He won't give up on you so easily.”

Cindy agreed, remembering the detective he'd hired. “He can be as stubborn as an ornery mule.”

Gwendolyn laughed outright. “He's quite a bit like his father.”

“I'm doing a poor job of expressing myself,” Cindy said, not hiding her pain. “I want to reassure you that I won't upset you or your family further by complicating Thorne's life.”

“Oh, dear.” Gwendolyn looked startled. “Now that I've met you, I was rather hoping you would.”

The words were a soothing balm to Cindy. “Thank you.”

“Oh, my.” Gwendolyn touched her face with her fingertips. “I wonder if I'm making an idiot of myself again. Thorndike swears I should never drink wine.”

“He married you because of it,” Cindy reminded the older woman, and they exchanged a smile.

“Thorne would never forgive me if I offended you.”

“You haven't.”

The men joined them a minute later and Thorne's searching gaze sought out Cindy's. She told him with a smile that everything had gone well between her and his mother and she saw him relax visibly. He'd been worried for nothing. She hadn't been raised in a large family without learning how to hold her own.

Thorne gave his parents a vague excuse and they left shortly afterward. Instead of heading toward the freeway, Thorne drove into a church parking lot and turned off the engine.

“My father was impressed with you.”

“I can't imagine why,” Cindy told him truthfully.

He ignored that. “What did my mother have to say?”

“What I expected.”

“Which was?” he probed.

Cindy shook her head. “We came to an understanding.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good. I like her, Thorne. She's straightforward and honest.”

He rubbed his hand along the back of her neck. “So are you, my love,” he said softly and directed her mouth to his, kissing her hungrily.

“So, Cindy Territo, it wasn't such a hard thing to reveal your name, was it?” He brushed his mouth over hers.

“No.” Nothing was difficult when she was in his arms. Since the Christmas Ball, she'd allowed his touch to confuse the issue. She'd be so certain of what she had to do, and then he'd kiss her and she'd fall at his feet. It wasn't fair that he had such an overwhelming effect on her. She wasn't weak-willed, nor was her character lacking. She hadn't once suspected that love would do this to a person.

 

Her aunt was knitting in front of the television set when Cindy let herself into the apartment. Cindy glanced at her, said nothing and moved into the kitchen. Theresa put down the yarn and needles and followed her niece.

“So how was the Statue of Liberty?”

“We didn't go there.” Her voice was strained with emotion.

“Oh.” Her aunt opened the oven door and basted the turkey roasting inside. “So where'd you go?”

“Thorne took me to meet his family.”

Surprised, Theresa let the oven door close with a bang. “His family? You must mean a great deal to him. So how did the introductions go?”

Cindy took a pitcher of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass, but not because she was thirsty. She was merely looking for something, anything, to occupy her hands. “I met his mother and father and…nothing.”

“‘Nothing'? What do you mean?”

Theresa knew her too well for Cindy to try to fool her. She set the glass of juice on the kitchen table and slumped into a chair, burying her face in her hands.

Theresa patted her shoulder gently. “Love hurts, doesn't it, honey?”

“I've been fooling myself…. It's just not going to work. I made such an idiot of myself—and everyone was so nice. Thorne pretended not to notice, and his mother told me she'd done silly things in her life, too, and his father just looked at me like I was this amusing alien from outer space. I could have died.”