Seducing Cinderella (2 page)

He heard a soft sniffle, and it set his mind to wondering what had upset her so much. Growing up he’d practically been Lucie’s second older brother, and it bothered him to know something was wrong.

Whatever it was, she was doing her best to avoid—“Ah, shit!”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, right,” he said wryly. “That was probably payback for using your floppy bunny as a lawn-dart target.”

He couldn’t see her face, but he heard the smile when she spoke. “I forgot all about that. Jackson got grounded for three days and my mom had to sew all the little holes together. She told me he was a war hero who was going through surgery to get patched up before receiving a medal from the president.”

“Your mom was always good for a story. Jax and I counted on her to give us all our background information for our pretend missions as kids.”

“Mom was something special all right. I still miss her bedtime stories.”

Lucie’s parents had died in a car accident the summer after he and Jackson graduated high school and she was just thirteen. Jackson chose to raise Lucie instead of pawning her off on another relative, which is why he wasn’t as far in his MMA career as Reid. It was an honorable thing, and it was obvious he’d done a damn fine job, too.

Just then it hit him. “It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

Her hands stilled for only a moment, but it was long enough to give him the answer he was looking for. “Is it tender when I press here?”

Like bad heartburn, an unfamiliar lividity rose up for the general male population until he could aim it at the one who deserved it. Pushing up with his left arm he swung his body around to face her.

“What are you doing? I’m not done.”

“You are until you tell me who he is and what the hell he did,” he growled.

“Reid—”

“Quid pro quo, Lu. You tell me who made you cry and why, and I promise to not find out on my own, hunt him down, and kick his teeth down his throat for putting that look on your face.”

He almost regretted throwing down the harsh threat when her face blanched, but if that was the only way he could get her to open up, then so be it. “Here, hop up on the table. We’ll switch places,” he said as he stood. When she opened her mouth to brook an argument he narrowed his gaze to show her he wasn’t kidding. With a resigned sigh she did as he wanted, albeit not happily.

“There, now you’re the patient.” Despite the pain it caused in his shoulder, he braced his hands on either side of her hips, preventing an escape should she decide it was the better alternative. “So, Miss Miller,” he said looking into her soft gray eyes, “tell me where it hurts.”

…

Lucie still couldn’t believe Reid was in her therapy room. When they were younger she’d trailed after her older brother just to be in his best friend’s presence. But since Reid had always treated her like a big brother would, much to her young heart’s dismay, she’d always looked up to both him and Jackson.

Now she was having a hard time looking
away
from him.

He’d always been toned in high school, but this was ridiculous. The man redefined Michelangelo’s idea of perfection, making the Statue of David look like a flabby wuss. His dark blond hair was cut close to his head and brushed forward and to the center, creating the tiniest of faux-hawks, and giving his model-perfect good looks a slight edge. Then there were the tattoos…good Lord, the tattoos.

Black tribal designs wove an intricate pattern around his upper right arm, over his shoulder and pectoral muscle, and snaked midway up the right side of his neck. Down the right side of his ribcage was the phrase Fight To Win in script letters, ending at the cut muscle that slashed diagonally to his—

“Lu?”

She met his discerning hazel eyes. “Hmm?”

“You gonna start talking or do I have to revert to tickle torture?”

Nice, Lucie, real smooth. Get a grip, would you? It’s just Reid.

She rolled her eyes and glanced away hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears she barely managed to hold at bay. She smiled, needing to keep the conversation light. Needing him to
not
grill her about what happened. “I’m not eight years old anymore, Reid. Pull a stunt like that I’ll slap you with a sexual harassment suit.”

Gently grasping her chin he tipped her head back to meet his gaze, and with the single use of her name, “Lucie…” the floodgates cracked to let the first tears stream down.

“God, this is so stupid. Really, it’s nothing,” she said, swiping at the tears angrily with her fingers.

“When a man makes a woman cry, it’s not nothing.”

“He didn’t mean to; he doesn’t even know he did. It’s just…” She took a deep breath and released a shaky exhale. “I’ve been in love with him for years and he’s never noticed me. Not like that anyway. Just before you showed up, he asked me for my best friend’s number. He wants to take her to the hospital charity ball.”

“Will she go?”

“No, Vanessa would never do that to me. It hurts to know he’d seen her
one time
and ever since then he’s wanted to ask her out. We’ve spent countless hours working together, but he just doesn’t
see
me.”

“Then he’s obviously a blind asshole.”

Lucie snorted and shook her head. “You don’t know Stephen. The man has more charm in his pinky than half of Reno. He’s an amazing orthopedic surgeon who always goes the extra mile for his patients. He’s smart, successful, and incredibly handsome. We’re so compatible. I know I could make him happy if he would just give me a chance.”

“So if he’s too dense to make a move, why haven’t you?”

Heat immediately flooded her cheeks, and she lowered her gaze to inspect her intertwined fingers in her lap. “I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say. And even if I did, and he by some miracle said yes, I…”

“You what?”

“I wouldn’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“Do?” He tried to think what she could mean, but came up empty. Unless…“Lucie, you’ve dated since your divorce, right?”

“This is stupid, Reid, let me down.”

He didn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No boyfriends?”

“I have to tell you, Andrews, your incredulity is not making me want to open up to you on this subject in the least, so just let me up and we’ll schedule you another appointment for next week.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms. He winced as fire shot through his shoulder. It hadn’t been his intention to upset her more than she already was. He blinked back the pain. “Hold on, what do you mean ‘next week’? Aren’t we going to have daily sessions at the very least?”

“For the most part, yes. Since it is Friday, we’ll start next week. Besides, you’re not my only patient. I have a full schedule.”

Shit, now what?
He needed a hell of a lot more attention than a couple of days a week.

“Maybe you should hire a dedicated PT. You know, someone who can be with you 24/7 to work with you and keep you from overtraining. If you’re anything like I remember, you have no concept of holding back.”

“That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I need. With that type of care I can be cage-ready by fight night.” He stepped back with a satisfied smile and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll send someone over later to pick up you and your things.”

…

She’d already hopped off the table and moved to the desk and now her head whipped around so fast he was worried she’d need her own therapy to repair the whiplash. “
What
?”

“It only makes sense if you move in with me until I’m healed, Lu. Come on, it’s not like I didn’t practically live at your place when we were younger. Then we can work on my shoulder more often and you can make sure I don’t do anything stupid. And you know I’m guaranteed to do something stupid.”

He watched as she crossed the small room to retrieve his shirt. “Even if the idea of moving in with you for two months didn’t bother me, there’s the little issue of my job.”

“I’ll pay you for your time off, of course. Double if you want—money isn’t a problem.”

She gave him the universal
get dressed
signal by slapping his shirt against his chest. “You’re absolutely right; money
isn’t
a problem. I have at least eight weeks of vacation time saved up since I never have a reason to take it. The problem is that the idea is ludicrous!”

Reid had to think quickly or he was going to lose this fight, and something deep down told him to
not lose this fight
. He needed her to get him where he wanted to be in two months. He was as sure of it as he was his own name. Suddenly the perfect lure came to him, and though the idea gave him equal parts excitement and anxiety, he cast it anyway.

“I’ll teach you how to get your doctor if you do this for me.”

Lucie had been on her way out of the exam room, all but dismissing him and his offer of being roomies, but that simple statement had her feet glued several feet before the threshold. She was hooked, now he just had to reel her in carefully, or he’d lose her and his chances for a rematch. He approached her slowly from behind as he spoke.

“I’ll show you how to act, what to say…everything you need to know to make him notice you. If there’s one thing I know, its women and what they do that turns men on to the point of utter distraction.” Her head turned to the side. Not a big movement, but enough to let him know he had her attention. “You’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand in no time. I guarantee it.”

Long moments passed in slow motion. His pulse raced in his ears as he waited for her to call him an idiot or storm off in a fit of disgust. That Jackson would skin Reid alive for teaching Lucie anything having to do with seduction should’ve made him think twice about his offer, but he couldn’t bring himself to retract it.

She shook her head as though rejecting her own thoughts. “Sorry, but—”

Before she could finish shooting him down, a dark-haired gentleman poked his head around the door frame. “Lucie, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I seem to have already rubbed off the, uh,” the man glanced at Reid and cleared his throat, “patient number you gave me earlier. Since I was on my way out I thought I could get it from you real quick. I brought paper this time.”

What. A. Douche.
It took everything in him not to pound the guy right then and there. That this guy was the one Lucie had the hots for couldn’t have been more plain if she’d introduced him as Dr. Clueless Dumbass.

Reid watched Lucie as she stared at the doctor for long moments, almost as though she was stuck in some internal monologue and forgot that time was still ticking away out here in the real world. Something about giving him the patient number had thrown her off. When the man cleared his throat and held out a small piece of paper, she blinked back into action.

“Of course, Dr. Mann.” After quickly scribbling a phone number on the paper she said, “Here you go.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll see you later.”

Reid waited. Three seconds ticked by…seven…twelve. At last Lucie squared her shoulders, spun around, and said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Three

Lucie curled into the corner of her couch, knees drawn up to her chest. She held a book in her hands, but even as her eyes scanned the lines of black type, her mind didn’t register a single word.

Her stomach was all in knots. She hadn’t eaten dinner she’d been so nervous. Which was flat-out ridiculous because it was only Reid. Her brother’s best friend. A guy who’d practically lived at her house when she was a kid. A guy who she’d mooned after for the better part of her second decade of life…A guy who was quite possibly the sexiest man she’d ever seen and whose half-naked image must have burned itself onto the underside of her eyelids because every time she closed them it was right there waiting for her and now he was staying in her home—

Whoa! Breathe, girl, breathe.
She inhaled deeply, held it, then let it out slowly, feeling marginally better.

Earlier she’d insisted that instead of her moving into his hotel suite, Reid move into her apartment. It didn’t make sense for them to both be living out of suitcases, and this way there was less chance of him being bombarded by crazy fans. He’d shown up a half hour ago, she’d shown him to the guest room, and then left him to get settled.

Suddenly a tinny rendition of “The Piña Colada Song” burst through her quiet ruminations. She snatched her cell phone off the coffee table. “Hi, Nessie, what’s up?”

“Did you seriously give Dr. Jerkface my number? Because he claims he got it from you, but I figured that can’t possibly be right. I mean, I’d like to think that if the man my best friend has been crushing on for years asked her for my phone number, she would’ve told him to go fly a kite.”

“Ness—”

“Or at the very
least
, given him an excuse as to why he couldn’t ask me out.”

Lucie squeezed her eyes shut and placed her head on her knees. With all the craziness of Reid moving in she’d completely forgotten. “What happened?”

“I told him that I was dating someone but you didn’t know about it yet because it’s so new.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I’m sorry, but he caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to say.”

“When are you going to either tell him how you feel or move on?”

“Vanessa…”

“I know you don’t like it when I bring this up, but come on. You can’t wait your whole life for this guy to up and decide one day that he likes you.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just—” Lucie heard Reid open his bedroom door down the hall. “Hey, I have to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Before her friend could argue, she closed the phone, silenced the ringer, and set it on the table.

“Whatcha reading?”

His deep voice resonating in her usually quiet, usually very male-free home sounded out of place. She watched as he crossed in front of her wearing nothing but athletic shorts hanging low—almost
indecently
low—on his hips. At some point he must’ve sat in the opposite corner of the couch, but she somehow lost those moments with the distraction of his bare torso.

“You keep your mouth open like that, Lu, and you’re bound to catch flies,” he said with a wry grin.

Snapping her jaw shut in total humiliation she cut her eyes back to the book in front of her that could’ve been written in Hebrew for all she knew. She tucked her shower-damp hair behind an ear and cleared her throat. “You should put a shirt on when we’re not doing therapy.”

“Why? The less I wear the more comfortable I am. I put the shorts on as a courtesy to your virtue.”

She gasped. When he laughed, she realized that’s exactly the reaction he’d been going for. Narrowing her sights, she chucked the book in his direction, which he easily deflected with a flick of his hand. How annoying.

“Relax, Luce. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating someone’s more appealing physical traits. In fact, that’s lesson number one.”

She snorted. “How to properly ogle someone?”

“No. How to properly get someone to ogle
you
.”

Suddenly Lucie needed a drink and practically bolted to the kitchen. She was almost positive she had a bottle of wine some—
Aha
! Grabbing the corkscrew out of a drawer, she worked quickly to open and pour a large glass of the Moscato wine, and then drained it almost just as fast. And then repoured.

“Do you have wine often?”

She jumped—again—and whirled to face him, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. “Will you stop sneaking up on me like that? And, no, I don’t usually drink wine. This was a Christmas gift from a patient.”

“I’m not sneaking. You’re jumpy. Maybe the wine isn’t such a bad idea.” He scanned her apartment for a minute, allowing her to down most of her second glass without an audience. “Do you have a full-length mirror around here?”

“In my bedroom, but—”

“Perfect. Let’s go.” He grabbed the bottle away from her and led her to her room.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, lesson number one: dress to impress.”

Lucie was afraid to ask for clarification, and instead chose to gulp some more wine. After he plopped her down on her bed he strode over to her closet and began rifling through her clothes. She thought to object, to tell him to get away from her things, but the alcohol was already easing the tension in her shoulders and she decided to see what he was up to.

“So tell me, Luey, what’s so special about this guy? Why is he our objective and not anyone else?”

“Why is that important?” she asked, wringing her hands together as she watched his back. “Can’t I just say I like him and leave it at that?”

As he moved hangars from one side to the other, occasionally pulling a garment out, only to put it back with a muttered insult, she studied the play of muscles in his shoulders and back. She’d seen Stephen in tight T-shirts when he sometimes used the PT room for a quick workout, but he didn’t look anything like Reid. Where Stephen had a runner’s body, thin with lean muscle, Reid’s body was the exact opposite. He wasn’t large or bulky like those fake wrestlers on TV, but his medium build didn’t have an ounce of fat on it, and every square inch was home to a beautifully defined muscle. It definitely wasn’t a hardship watching him do anything, no matter how mundane, in his shirtless state.

“Nope. Not good enough. You’re willing to do something incredibly unconventional and drastic to get this guy. So I want to know why him. I need to know what I’m working with here if I’m going to help you.”

She bit her lip and wondered if she dared tell him. Not even Vanessa knew, but she supposed if she could share it with anyone, it would be Reid. After all, he was in her home for the explicit reason to help her in her quest to date, and eventually marry, Stephen. Plus, he’d be gone in a couple of months so it wasn’t like he’d be around to lord her incredibly pathetic secret over her until the end of days.

Opening up her nightstand drawer she pulled out a crinkled magazine page. It was a full-page ad for a real estate company, featuring a picturesque colonial home with an idyllic family standing in front of it. The husband stood proudly by his wife, one arm around her waist, the other hand on his son’s shoulder. Younger sister stood in front of the mom who held an infant in her arms. The quintessential American couple with two-point-five kids and their faithful shih tzu at their feet.

“Here,” she said, holding out the page. “I’ve kept this for three years. This is what I want.”

Reid turned around, took the page, and studied it with a frown in his brow. “I don’t get it. Does he live in this kind of a house or something? If that’s what you’re getting at, I have to tell you, that’s not—”

“No, not the house. The whole
thing
. The perfect life. Or almost perfect because everyone knows nothing is perfect, but I’d like to get as close to perfect as I can get and that ad screams Almost Perfect.”

Reid rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Okay, I see what you’re getting at, but how does Mann fit into this?”

“Stephen is compatible with me in every way. We enjoy the same music, the same taste in movies and food. We’re in the same field, so we understand how it goes when you need to work well into the night sometimes. And that also feeds into our mutual desire to help others recover from physical injuries.”

Reid cut off her diatribe and handed the page back. “All right I got it. So, you’re compatible with each other. But a relationship is more than just liking the same board games. What about chemistry? Passion? Love?”

What about them? They were all inconsequential, that was what. She’d been down that road already and it had led her straight off a cliff.

Her ex had left her a broken woman. She’d believed he loved her and truly wanted to be with her despite all their differences. He’d said their love conquered opposition. That the occasional disagreement would bring spice to their marriage.

Apparently he’d also thought sleeping with another woman a few months after their wedding would do the same thing.

She’d never felt so hurt—so
stupid
—as when she’d walked in on him having some sort of hippie tantric sex with a woman whose dreadlocks rivaled those of Bob Marley. He hadn’t even had the decency to look guilty. No, he’d actually stretched out a welcoming hand and encouraged her to join them. She’d almost retched on the spot before fleeing the room, and ultimately the marriage.

That had been the moment she decided to never again trust that love was all a relationship needed to work. She stripped the phrase “opposites attract” from her vocabulary and vowed to not get involved with anyone who wasn’t suitably compatible with her. If love eventually entered into the equation, it would simply be a bonus.

But she couldn’t tell him all of that. He’d think she was crazy.

Looking down at the picture Lucie traced a fingertip over the dark-haired man that to her represented Stephen. He even had similar features. “We haven’t had the chance to discover those things yet.” She placed it in her drawer and pushed it closed before pinning Reid with a confident stare. “But I know that if I could just get him to
see
me…get him to give us a chance…we’ll have more chemistry than we know what to do with.”

He crossed his arms over his broad chest and held her eyes for a minute or two, as if he was waiting for her to break down and admit she didn’t really believe anything she just said. But that would never happen because she
did
believe it. Totally and utterly. Finally, he broke the awkward silence.

“Luce, no offense,” he said gesturing to her closet, “but your clothes suck.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to defend her wardrobe, but at the last second she just sighed, her shoulders slumping forward slightly. “I know. They do, don’t they?”

He scrutinized her pajamas long enough that she angled her head down, thinking something was out of place. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you always wear flannel pants and baggy tank tops to bed?”

“
Not
that it’s any of
your
business…” Ooh, her lips were starting to get numb.
Nice
. She grinned. “…but yes. I do.” A smile spread over his face, displaying a brilliant set of straight, white teeth. “Such a pretty smile,” she mused aloud.

“Pretty? I think I’ve just been emasculated. Okay, let’s go,” he said as he confiscated her wine glass.

“Hey!”

“Just a minute, I want to show you something. After that you’re welcome to finish off the bottle. If I’m lucky, you’re one of those girls who like to dance on tabletops when under the influence.”

She was too distracted by that image to resist when he took her by the hand and led her across the room. Picturing herself gyrating on top of a table without a care in the world made her bust out laughing. “No,” she said between giggles. “I think I lean more toward sleepy than crazy when I drink wine. Sorry to disappoint you.”

When they reached the antique full-length mirror in the corner, he adjusted the angle slightly so it didn’t cut him off at the neck as he stood behind her. The giddy feeling she’d had a moment ago died in her throat when she met his intense gaze in their reflection. She felt frozen in place, unable to move a single muscle, as she watched his large hands slip into her peripheral vision and make their way to the front of her body.

At first contact Lucie drew in a sharp breath. He pressed the thin cotton of her loose tank top against her stomach, the heat from his palms soaked into her skin to settle deep in her belly. Slowly his hands moved toward her lower back, his thumbs barely missing the under swells of her breasts. When they finally met at the center of her back, the material was pulled taut over her body.

“There,” he said with a slight nod. “What do you see?”

She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head. She’d never been comfortable showing off her body. She didn’t have the curves or the full breasts and hips that men were attracted to. Between that and his touch short-circuiting her brain—or maybe it was the wine—she couldn’t deign to give him an answer more than the exhale of frustration.

“Bathing suit.”

It took her a minute to respond to the randomness of his statement. If that could even be considered a statement. Maybe two words was a phrase. Or a term. Wait, what did he say? “What?”