The Cinderella Obsession (12 page)

"And that would work?"

"On me it would." She drew back reluctantly from the alluring image.

"That’s good enough for me."

She looked at him uncertainly. "Are you on kissing terms with her?"

"Absolutely."

Again, his eyes shone with wickedness and Vanessa’s heart sank into a pool of icy emotion. Nick drew her hand to his mouth.

"Thanks for your help, Vanessa."

His lips pressed on her palm and her eyelids drifted closed. If only she was the lucky woman.
  [*****]

* * * *

At seven that evening, Vanessa’s doorbell rang. She plopped her knitting down beside her and hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, to her astonishment she saw a young man in a minstrel suit standing on the other side. What in heaven’s name…? Was Nick pulling some kind of prank on her? She pulled open the door.

"Miss Graham?" he inquired in an English accent.

Nice touch, she thought. "Yes."

He swept off his hat, green ostrich feather swishing through the air, and bowed deeply.

She giggled. "Are you going to break into song now?"

She couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous that Nick’s date-to-be was getting an orchid with a love note while she was getting a practical joke, but she pushed the feeling aside. The fact that Nick would go to this much trouble to thank her for helping him meant a lot to her.

He grinned. "If you don’t object, love."

She swept her hands wide. "By all means."

"Great. You’re a sport." He snapped open a guitar case lying on the threadbare carpet and slung the instrument’s leather strap around his neck. He broke into a rousing, and slightly off-key, tune.

"Downtown girl won’t you come out with me,

come out with me,

come out with me,

Downtown girl won’t you come out with me,

on this Friday night?"

He laid his guitar back in the case and closed it.

"Is that it?" she asked. Had he forgotten the roses?

He raised his eyebrows. "You want more?"

"No, not really." She grinned. "What about a message?"

"Just to tell you he wrote it himself."

"I see. Well, thanks. It’s been fun."

"Wait, I didn’t say no to your first question. There is one more thing."

He handed her a box about a foot square. "You’ve got to keep it upright."

How nice. Nick had gotten her some kind of thank you gift. She glanced at the messenger again. Good heavens, was it proper protocol to tip him? She wasn’t sure.

"Hang on, I’ll go grab my purse."

He grabbed her hand. "No, thanks, love. The pleasure’s been all mine."

He gave her a charming grin and all at once she realized just how attractive he was. His blond curls hung below his shoulders like laughing sunshine. His brown leather belt pulled tight around a trim waist and green tights outlined very muscular legs. She had no doubt that when he walked away, the back view would be well worth a second look. Probably an out of work actor, she thought, trying to make ends meet. He definitely had the charisma. His eyes glinted with mischief.

He leaned against the door frame. "Look, love. Do you mind telling me what your answer to the bloke’s tune will be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, now. Weren’t you listening to my stirring rendition? He wants you to go out with ’im on Friday. Are you going to say yes?"

"No, he doesn’t. It’s just a practical joke."

"You sure?" At her nod, he continued with a silky persuasiveness. "Well, then, how ’bout doing the town with me?"

"No, I don’t think so." She felt a flush blossom over her features. It had been a while since someone had tried to pick her up. She wasn’t used to the attention.

"I promise to dress in more suitable attire."

"No, really. Thanks anyway."

"Okay, then. Can’t blame a bloke for trying."

He turned and sauntered down the hall. Definitely worth a second look, she thought as she watched him leave. She closed the door and carried the box into the kitchen. The minstrel had taken her mind off her jealousy but now it returned with a vengeance.
Don’t be stupid. This was very sweet of Nick.

She cut the string with scissors and cradled the box to her body as she tugged at the lid. What could it be? Silk roses would be appropriate, to go along with Nick’s scenario, but the box wasn’t the right shape, unless it was an arrangement of some sort.

The lid came free and she almost dropped the box when she saw what was inside. A globe of glass with a large, mauve orchid inside. She held her breath as she plucked the card from the envelope and read:

A single bloom for the single most beautiful woman I know. Let Friday be a night of magic for us both.

No! This couldn’t mean … could Nick really be…?

How do I sign it? Love, Nick? he’d asked.

You don’t sign it. You leave it blank, then as soon as the messenger leaves, you go to her door.

She raced to the door and tore it open, then peered down the hall. No sign of Nick. She closed it slowly behind her with a quiet thump. Deflated, she walked back to the orchid and carefully lifted it from the box, then put it in the centre of her kitchen table.

The doorbell rang.

She froze. Could it be?

It rang again and she raced to open the door.

"Nick!"

He took one step forward and she took one step back, suddenly uncertain.

"Well, Vanessa?"

"Well?" She continued moving backward with Nick matching every step.

"The orchid and the note were from me."

"I figured that out."

…then sweep her into your arms and kiss her.

She stumbled over a footstool and Nick swept his arms around her to stop her from tumbling to the floor.

"Do I kiss you before or after you give me your answer?" His half-grin transformed his face into a playful boyishness. He lowered his lips to within an inch of her own. "Of course, you’ll say ‘yes’ because you already told me this would work like a charm on you."

She gulped. "Not until you tell me one thing."

He brushed her cheek with his lips. "And what’s that?"

"Are you still using me as practice?"

"Practice?" He nuzzled her neck, sending goose bumps skittering across her flesh.

"Yeah, practice before you ask your real woman."

He slid his hands across her shoulders and up her neck, his gaze drawing hers by sheer magnetism. "Vanessa, you are very real." He cupped her cheek with his palms and curled his fingers over her ears, as he pulled her face closer. "And so is this."

His lips brushed hers and she felt them quiver at the delicate touch. As his mouth played across hers, a faint tremor started deep inside her and set her heart fluttering. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders. His hair tickled her fingers as she trailed them around the back of his neck. The kiss deepened and so did her breathing. Nick’s hands swept down her back, disintegrating the distance between their bodies, the layers of their clothing the only barrier between them. A barrier that at this moment, she wished she could tear away.

As though sensing her thoughts, Nick broke the kiss and stared down at her intently.

"Vanessa, I want you, you know that. I’d like nothing better than to lower you onto that couch and slowly strip away your clothes, then make love to you
--
slowly, sensuously, awakening every part of you to my touch."

She felt a deep longing awaken at the image his words aroused. She licked her lips. "But?"

"But, I have to be honest with you. I do want you to go out with me, and not just Friday, but…." He pulled away from her and raked his hands through his hair. "Look, what I’m saying is, don’t expect forever. I want you--and I think you want me, but…." He stroked a finger along her cheek and the breath quivered from her lungs as her eyelids drooped. "Anything this white hot has to burn itself out." He brushed his lips where his fingers had been. "But it’ll be one hell of flame."

His strong hands on her shoulders held her steady. He smiled, further eroding her composure. "So, will you come out with me on Friday? It’s a charity dinner, quite a glitzy affair."

A thought swirled through her confusion like leaves caught on a fall breeze. Nick had actually asked her out!

But only for a brief fling. A temporary aberration on his part, no doubt.

She couldn’t say ‘yes’. A relationship between them--even short term--would never work. They were just too different. He wanted different things from a woman than she could offer. But she couldn’t say ‘no’, either. Not when he’d gone to so much trouble, worked so hard to please her. She’d never had anyone give her this much attention before.

"If you’re worried about having something to wear, I have the perfect thing for you--a little something in green, as I recall. The woman who helped me pick it out looked absolutely stunning in it."

Maybe … just a few dates. It couldn’t hurt and … so it wouldn’t be forever. What was wrong with a short term relationship? After all, most people started off with all the anticipation and awkwardness of not knowing where it would go. With Nick, there’d be no guessing, and no disappointment. What was wrong with making memories to last a lifetime?

She drew in a deep breath.

"Yes, Nick. I’d love to go out with you on Friday."

The next two days went by far too slowly for Vanessa. Nick behaved as a perfect gentleman while at work, giving her space, probably afraid of scaring her off. Twice she stood outside his door, on the verge of going inside and calling off the date, but courage--or sanity--failed her. On Friday afternoon at three o’clock, Nick declared the rest of the day a holiday, insisting she leave and do whatever she needed to get ready for their big night.

"Not that I think you need a lot of time to make yourself beautiful," he teased, his eyes twinkling, "but I’d like to think you want to fuss a little for me."

Once at home, she did fuss, taking a long, luxurious bath in an herbal scented tub. Relaxing with a novel in her hand--one of her favorite romance-fantasies by well-known author Tricia Wallen--she sank into the sensuality of the experience, warm, luxurious water and passionate words.

By seven o’clock she sat waiting for Nick, dressed, made-up, and ready for a romantic evening. He arrived right on time and when she opened the door, he whistled a long wolf-whistle. She twirled around in front of him.

"Do you like it? A very nice man bought it for me."

"Oh, really. I’d be jealous if I didn’t know him so well."

He stroked her bare shoulders gently and nuzzled her neck. She wanted to melt against him, feeling again the warmth of the bath and the heat of the passionate fictional lovers she’d read about. He nibbled her ear lobe and she did melt.

"Oh, Nick, don’t do that. If you keep doing that…."

He nibbled again and she felt his cheek tighten in a smile against her own.

"I … I …" Her voice dropped an octave. "… can’t be held responsible."

"Oh. I like the sound of that."

He set her on her feet and she realized she’d been clinging to his lapels. She smoothed the wrinkles from the soft wool as she drew in deep, slow breaths, trying to get her lungs to function properly again.

"Don’t worry about it," he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead, his warm breath lifting the fine hairs at her temple.

She felt the rippling effect clear down to her toes.

"You know, you do look absolutely wonderful."

"Thank you, sir." She curtsied as deeply as she could manage in the fitted dress. "So do you."

And he did. She gave him the once over, dragging her gaze up and down, noting the splendid cut of the black tuxedo, the knife-sharp pleats striping his white shirt. He’d even chosen a cummerbund and bow tie in a green to match her dress.

He cleared his throat, obviously affected by her exaggerated appraisal. "Thank you. And if you want to actually go to the party, you’d better stop doing that."

Her gaze flickered to his and she grinned. "If you insist." She walked over to the coffee table to pick up the green velvet evening bag that had been delivered with the dress.

"By the way, I’ve got something to complete your ensemble. I borrowed these for you to wear this evening," Nick said, as he snapped open a black velvet box. "What do you think?"

A huge teardrop-shaped emerald pendant, surrounded by glittering diamonds, lay nestled in a cozy bed of velvet. Vanessa stood dumb struck as he drew the diamond chain around her neck. Tingles danced along her spine when his fingers lightly brushed her nape as he fastened the clasp.

"They’re … they’re gorgeous, but I can’t wear them," she protested feebly. She dragged her fingers over the cool stones, the facets smooth under her fingertips. The necklace cozied into her collarbone in such a satisfying manner that she hated the thought of taking it off.

"Vanessa, I told you they’re just on loan. I knew you’d be uncomfortable accepting such an extravagant gift."

"True, but … what if I lost them? What if the clasp broke and they slipped off without me noticing?"

Nick’s gaze dipped down to the deep cut of her dress, a sweetheart line curving over her breasts. "There’s only one place they could go, and from what I see, they wouldn’t get too far. I’d certainly be willing to help you look for them." His eyebrows quirked up and down in a comedic imitation of Groucho Marx.

"Nick, you’re incorrigible."

Laughing, he produced the matching earrings with a flourish. She plucked one, then the other, from his hand and flicked them on.

"What about these?" she asked, flicking her jewel bedecked earlobe.

He kissed her shoulder, right beside the strand of diamonds. "Stop worrying. They’re insured."

Nick picked up the green velvet cape draped across the back of the couch, another of his gifts, and swung it around her shoulders.

They rode to the party in the back of his limousine, Vanessa’s excitement rising with each mile. When they arrived, Vanessa felt like a princess as Nick took the cape from her shoulders and gave it to the coat-check clerk. The green dress Nick had given her was every bit as lovely as the gowns the other women wore.

He offered his arm and she tucked her hand into his elbow. Nick looked devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo and she saw the admiring glances from other women as he escorted her to the banquet room.

"Nicholas, darling, how are you?" A statuesque blond in a red, figure-hugging sheath glided toward them. She clutched his upper arm and kissed his cheek, branding him with scarlet lip marks. "Oh, darling, so sorry," she said as she plucked his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the lipstick from his cheek, rubbing slowly and sensuously, pressing her breasts against his upper arm as she leaned into him. When she finished, she stroked the cloth back into his pocket.

"Erika, meet Vanessa, my date."

"Oh, yes, of course. A pleasure," she oozed in a sickly-sweet voice, giving Vanessa only a cursory glance. "She’s not one of us, is she, Nicky?"

"One of us?" Vanessa asked, appalled at the woman’s rudeness.

"Well, yes. I know anyone who’s anyone in Toronto." She placed a red-taloned hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. "Oh, don’t take it the wrong way, dear. I assume you’re new on the scene, that’s all."

"Erika, why don’t you go stir up trouble somewhere else," Nick suggested.

"Trouble? Oh, darling I haven’t really caused any trouble between you and Jesse here, have I?"

She looked a little too hopeful.

"Her name is Vanessa," Nick responded, "and, no, I don’t think you’ve done any damage I can’t undo." He looked Vanessa straight in the eye. "I hope all she’ll think is that I know some very rude people."

Nick led Vanessa away, leaving Erika with a scowl marring her carefully made-up face.

In truth, the woman’s comments had stirred up some unwelcome feelings in Vanessa. She knew she didn’t belong here, but she’d tried to push aside her feelings of inadequacy in this crowd by focusing on Nick and the attention he gave her. After all, what Nick thought was the only thing that was really important. The only problem was that the blond shark had made her feel like an impostor. How long would it take Nick to realize how badly he had chosen his date? At what point would her insecurities come out in some embarrassing way?

In contrast to her first encounter with one of Nick’s friends, the people who shared their table were very pleasant, making the dinner conversation quite enjoyable. Vanessa didn’t notice what she ate, excited at having Nick by her side, knowing she was the envy of every woman here and looking forward to the dancing afterward. She loved to dance--and she kept remembering the feel of Nick’s arms around her at the masquerade ball.

"Suzanne?" Nick addressed the woman sitting beside Vanessa. "The last time I saw you, you were telling me about a big project you were working on."

The woman plopped her knife and fork down and smiled brightly. "Oh, I haven’t told you yet, have I? I got it." She looked at Vanessa. "Nick’s talking about a deal with Pure Essence, the big perfume company. They approached our firm--I’m in advertising--and they asked specifically for me, saying they were very impressed with a campaign I did for a leading jewelry store chain."

"Oh, that’s wonderful," Vanessa praised, hoping no one would ask her what she did. So far, at this table, she’d met a bank president, a successful architect, and a plastic surgeon.

"Well, it’s a great boost for my career." The woman talked happily about her job for a while, which bored Vanessa a little but she listened attentively. "I’m sorry, I tend to get carried away sometimes," the woman apologized after a lengthy monologue. "So what do you do, Vanessa?"

Vanessa cringed. "Well, I…."

"She’s involved in various charity groups," Nick interjected, placing his arm around her shoulders. "She’s especially interested in animal groups, so be careful what you say about fur coats."

He smiled at Vanessa, a charming, heart-warming smile that should have heated her blood, but the thick layer of ice that had flash-frozen around her heart at his comment refused to melt.

Why had he said that? The only reason she could think of was that he must be embarrassed by the fact that his date was a lowly secretary. She didn’t even realize he knew about her charity involvement. But then, it could be a fabrication on his part. Charities were an acceptable, even encouraged, pastime for the wealthy. The others would assume she was rich enough that she didn’t have to work.

"Oh, Nick, you know I don’t believe in buying furs either," Suzanne responded. "Goodness, Vanessa, where do you find the time?"

"She makes the time. Vanessa is the most efficient person I know."

The band started a sensuous waltz, drawing the guests onto the dance floor.

"Vanessa, will you dance with me?" Nick asked.

He led her to the floor and, as she felt his arms go around her, she fought the waves of longing.

"Nick, why did you lie to Suzanne?"

"Lie? I didn’t lie."

"You told her I’m involved in charities and…."

"Well, you are." He swept her around the floor, swirling among the other dancers.

"How do you know?"

"I’ve seen the postings you’ve put up on the bulletin board requesting emergency donations for the Wildlife Federation, asking for volunteers to help with a craft sale for that group that helps abandoned animals, seeking people to foster sick birds, to--"

"Okay, okay, I get the idea." She felt the frozen shell over her heart crack a little. He’d actually read those postings--and noticed her name as the contact. "The thing is, you led her to believe I spend all my time doing charity work."

"I didn’t lead her to believe anything. If she jumped to that conclusion, it’s not my fault." He twirled her around, then glanced down at her face. "Vanessa, what’s really bothering you?"

"It’s just that … well, I assume you don’t want anyone to know I’m just your secretary."

"You’re not just my secretary." He pulled her close to his body, sending a thrilling heat spiraling through her. "You’re much more than that."

"But you wouldn’t want your friends to know that your date doesn’t have some exciting, high-powered career," she persisted.

"Vanessa, I only stopped you from telling Suzanne what you do for a living because I thought…." He slid his hand down her back, drawing her even closer. "I was afraid you’d be embarrassed, that you wouldn’t feel like you fit in."

"Oh, Nick," she said, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I don’t fit in."

He stopped dancing and pulled back from her, staring at her face. Suddenly, he took her hand and pulled her across the dance floor, to a dimly lit room down a quiet corridor off the main reception area.

He spun her around to face him and, hands on her shoulders, stared at her intently.

"Vanessa, you can fit in anywhere you want. You don’t think any of these people are better than you are, do you?"

"Well, I…."

"They aren’t," he stated with conviction. "The work you do is excellent and you enjoy doing it. That’s all anyone can ask of their career. Half these people can’t say the same thing."

"Nick…." She felt herself flush, pleased and embarrassed by his praise.

The fine wool of his tuxedo brushed against her bare arms and shoulders as he pulled her into his arms and held her close. "I just wanted you to enjoy this evening without having to worry about what people thought of you." His hands skimmed across the exposed skin of her back, sending trickles of pleasure down her spine. "I wanted you to feel special, Vanessa."

"Nick, you’re awfully sweet, but--"

"Because you are special." He lifted her chin and claimed her mouth in a kiss. The trickles turned to shudders, transforming her bones to supple rubber. She melted against him in a fluid wave of compliance. His legs, slightly apart, cradled hers, helping her remain upright.

When their lips finally parted, Vanessa had to catch her breath as Nick smiled at her, then nuzzled his lips across her cheek.

"I can’t seem to get enough of you, but this isn’t the time or place. Come on, let’s go back and enjoy the rest of the dance."

Nick kept her to himself for the remainder of the evening, either dancing or chatting at an intimate table. Whenever someone came to join them, he would talk for a few minutes, then politely excuse himself as he’d draw her away. He touched her constantly--an arm around her waist, a hand on her shoulder, a quick caress of her cheek. Soon people took the hint and left them alone.