Cinderella Wore Tennis Shoes: A Novella (11 page)

“Pardon?” he asked.

Two syllables! She was getting to him. Charlie forced a smile. “Your place or mine?”

Dan turned the key in the ignition, unbuckled, and turned to face her. “This is what I was afraid of.”

“What are you afraid of, Dan? I’ve been asking myself that question since you turned to ice this morning.”

“Charlie, we said last night that we were two adults coming together for mutual pleasure.”

“And I think we can safely say we accomplished that.” Remembering Dan’s arms around her, Charlie wasn’t sure that she’d never felt such pleasure. “I’d just like to know where we’re going to accomplish it again tonight.”

“We’re not.” There was finality in his voice, and it cut at her heart.

“But—”

“Charlie.” He reached across the seat as if he was going to take her hand, but abruptly pulled back, as if touching her would burn. “Nothing serious can come of this. I’d be more than happy to seek that mutual pleasure again tonight, but we both know that’s not how you see it. You’re looking for a fairy-tale ending. Well, look close, Princess. I’m no prince.

“I’m a selfish man who likes his life just the way it is. Quiet, uncomplicated. I like my office that way too. Yet since the moment you climbed into my cab, there’s been nothing quiet or uncomplicated about any aspect of my life. I don’t want to be your grand experiment. This frog isn’t looking for some magic fairy-tale kiss that will turn him into a prince. He’s happy being a frog. He revels in being a frog.”

“You know, Dan,” Charlie whispered, “I just figured out why you’re generally so quiet.” She waited for him to respond but didn’t really expect him to. Dan’s outburst probably used up a full month’s worth of words.

When his only response was indeed silence, Charlie continued, “You save all those words up until the pressure gets too great and then spew them all over the place. And like tiny lances, they stab and cut and leave the recipient bleeding in their wake.”

“Charlie, this isn’t going to work.”

“Who asked you to be my charming prince?” she asked, anger replacing her pain. “Let me assure you it would take a better woman than me to make you charming. You don’t really like your solitude—you’re just a coward. You’re more comfortable in that quiet place where no one can hurt you because no one can touch you. You’re afraid, Dan.”

“And you?” he shot back. “You think you’re in love, then decide you’re not and leave one man at the altar. Then you realize you’re alone and scared. Right away you have to replace him. You’re so desperate that you’ll settle for whoever is handy. I don’t want anyone
settling
for me.”

“You don’t want anyone, period,” she shot back.

“You can say that again,” he muttered.

“And the saddest thing is that though you don’t think you want anyone, it’s the one thing you crave the most.”

Dan’s gray eyes were stone-cold as he pinned Charlie in his gaze. “Run away again, Cinderella. The clock’s struck midnight. You keep trying to make me Prince Charming but I’m just a frog. No amount of kissing is going to change that.”

“I think you’re mixing your fairy tales,” she whispered. Such an inane thing to say, but it was better than throwing herself at his feet and pleading with him to let her stay. It was better than embarrassing herself by proclaiming a love that was aching to be set free. Saying inane things was better than letting him hear the sound of her heart breaking.

“Run along, Cinderella. You’re not going to find your Prince Charming here.”

“If I go, I’m not coming back.” Charlie made the promise more to herself than to Dan.

“Good. We both know you should never have been here in the first place.”

“Good-bye, Dan. I never wanted a prince. I just wanted you.”
I love you
, she added silently as she climbed from the truck and started up the stairs to Doug’s apartment. It was time to go. Dan was right, she didn’t belong here.

Charlie really didn’t know if she belonged anywhere. And at the moment, she didn’t really care.

CHAPTER NINE

Homeless again. Charlie parked her Blazer at the dock. She climbed to the observation deck. She stared across the bay to the peninsula. She watched the sun slowly sink behind it and tried not to think, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Daniel Martin.

It was as if his name were branded on her very soul. How had it happened so fast?

She’d been with Winslow so much longer, and yet he’d never truly touched her. But Dan, a man of few words, spoke to her as clearly as if she’d known him all her life. If he were a different kind of man, she wouldn’t be sitting here. She’d be in his bed, in his arms right now.

But if he were a different sort of man, she wouldn’t love him.

And, oh, how she loved him.

She was homeless and jobless again, but that didn’t bother her at all. Being without Dan did more than bother her, it left a hole in the center of her being, a hole that she’d never be able to repair.

The sun sank behind the peninsula, turning the sky a brilliant pink, but it didn’t soothe her like it normally would. Erie’s beautiful sunsets could generally settle her most unsettled moments. But the sheer beauty of nature’s evening show didn’t even stir her heart. All she was left with was an overwhelming urge to cry.

What was she going to do?

Maybe she’d move to New York. Goodness knows there were enough museums there. She was bound to find a job. And with all those people, she could lose herself in the crowd and never be seen or heard from again.

New York.

The idea had as much merit as any.

She’d move somewhere away from her mother, away from her almost-husband, and away from the man she’d never stop loving.

She’d start over.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but as the evening sky grew darker, she hung on to it. Not much of a plan was better than no plan at all.

“Is this a private party?”

She whirled around and looked up. “Con? How did you find me?”

He sank to the ground next to her. “I called your house.”

“You talked to Harriet?”

“Well, I talked to her, until she hung up,” he said. “So then I went to her place.”

“You’re a brave, brave man.” Charlie could just imagine Harriet’s reaction to Con and eyed him suspiciously. “You charmed her, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Maybe just a little.”

“Is there any woman you can’t sweet-talk?”

He smiled meaningfully at her. “Only you, sweetheart, only you.”

She sighed and stared at the good-looking man sitting next to her. No walls with Con. He was gorgeous, open, and accessible, unlike Dan, the unreachable. “It might be easier if I’d fallen for you.”

“No. Truth is, I’m not the settle-down type. And Charlie, the settle-down type is what you need.”

“That’s what Dan says too, he’s not ready to commit to any woman. What is it with you guys?”

“Ah, but Dan just thinks he’s not the type, while I’m sure I’m not. I’ve always thought that one day Dan would find the perfect woman. A woman who could hear past the silences. A woman who could see over the walls he’s built and find the real man.”

“Well, it’s not me.” Saying it out loud hurt, but it was time to face the truth—she wasn’t the woman who would reach Dan Martin. And she loved him enough to hope someday he found that woman.

“He cares about you, Charlie.”

She snorted.

“He’s spent a lifetime pushing people away. He doesn’t know how to do anything else.”

“I guess when you’ve mastered a skill it’s hard not to use it.” She stared across the bay. It was dark enough that she could see headlights flash on the peninsula.

“And if he really cared about me, he wouldn’t have let me go.” Even Winslow, who she was sure didn’t love her, had come after her. Dan hadn’t and he wouldn’t.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up?” There was censure in Con’s tone.

“What else would you have me do?”

Con stared at her.

“Don’t look at me that way.” She’d tried and she’d failed. She’d grown up and didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore. There would be no happily-ever-after to this particular story.

“Come home with me,” Con said, out of the blue.

“What?”

“Not like that,” Con said with a laugh. “Do you have any place else to go?”

“I was thinking about getting a hotel room.”

“Or you can come back with me.” Before she could protest, he added, “And you can wipe that look of horror off your face. I have a guest room.”

“You hardly know me.” Who was she kidding? She hardly knew herself. Since that fight with Winslow before her wedding she’d been changing, meeting Dan had just hurried the process, and now she was someone she didn’t even recognize.

“And what I do know of you, I like, but what really matters is Dan cares about you. That says enough for me.”

“I don’t know.” Con was a part of Dan’s life, his partner and his friend. She was trying to extricate herself from Dan. Going home with Con would only prolong the process.

“It’s better than a hotel room,” Con pointed out.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

“Because I plan to convince you to try again with Dan.”

“Oh, no.” She stalked back across the observation deck.

She wasn’t going to open herself up to another rejection just because Con Estoban thought she might be able to convince Dan to . . . just what did Con hope to prove?

He grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. He gently turned her around. “Charlie, just show up, jump his bones, and while you’re jumping, jump that wall he’s built around himself. Once you’re over it, I think you’ll find he’ll thank you for it.”

“Already been there, done that, and all that jumping got me was a swift kick to the gut.”

“Love’s like that. Sometimes it takes a few kicks to work it out.”

“And sometimes all that kicking gets you is bruised,” she said.

“Just come home with me. Spend the night and think about it. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

And that, Charlie realized, was the problem. As dumb as it was, she very much wanted to do exactly what Con suggested. She might get the legs kicked out from under her, but if she didn’t at least try, she’d regret it the rest of her life.

If anyone had asked Charlie what type of house Conrad Estoban would live in, she would have said something ultramodern, something full of chrome and sleek design. Instead he lived in an ancient brick house on a quiet, tree-lined city street. He was a man of contradictions.

She’d followed him over the Bayfront Highway to the Frontier Park area, and over a few back streets to his house.

“Which case do you need for tonight?”

She pointed and he hefted it and started up the walk.

Charlie tagged behind him. Con was a kind man, she realized. “You really think just showing up at his place is the best idea?” Charlie asked as they reached his huge front porch.

Bless Con’s soul, he didn’t even blink an eye as he set down her case and fumbled with his key ring, looking for the proper key. “I’m sure. Take tonight, regroup, and then tomorrow, I’ll take you to his place and you can . . .”

“Jump. But tomorrow sounds too soon. Maybe I should wait until the weekend?”

“Tomorrow night, Charlie,” he said. “He’ll be at work, I’ll take you over, and you can be waiting for him.”

“And you won’t let him come home before five?”

“I won’t let him go home until five.”

“He’s just going to kick me out of his life again. And when he kicks me out, you’ll come pick me up, and then I’m moving to New York and—”

“Charlie, he might go into one of his stony silences, but Dan’s not going to kick you out.”

Charlie was glad one of them was sure, because she wasn’t. “Con?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “If he kicks you out, I’ll come get you and help you pack for New York.”

“And let me cry all over you?”

“You’re going to cry?” His brow knit in concern.

“If Dan really doesn’t want me and kicks me out again, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying.”

“Yes.” Resigned to his fate, Con promised, “You can cry all over my shoulder. I’ll even punch him out for you.”

“But you’re best friends.”

“If he kicks you out, then he’s too dumb to be my best anything.”

“No punching.” She wasn’t going to see Dan lose his best friend over her. Besides, if someone was going to punch the stupid man, it was going to be her.

“Not even a little punch?” he asked, hopefully.

“Not even a little one.”

Con continued to talk about all the vile things he’d do to his friend and partner if Dan rejected Charlie, as he led her into the cozy house. He deposited her bag in the foyer and led her into the kitchen, where he poured her a glass of wine and grabbed himself a beer as he continued with his recitation.

Charlie gratefully let him go on with his story. It was easier to listen to Con’s nonsense than to think about what she was about to do.

Dan had told her to go and she had vowed to never come back. Yet here she was, running back. It was either the mark of a woman with no sense whatsoever or it was the mark of a woman deeply, utterly, irrevocably in love.

She might not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but she was pretty sure it was love.

Love.

She loved Daniel Ferguson Martin enough to risk making an utter fool of herself again.

“Time for bed, Charlie. You want to be well rested, because I doubt you’ll get much sleep tomorrow.” Con’s voice dripped with suggestiveness.

“Yeah. It will be hard to sleep while I’m crying all over your shoulder on the way home.”

“He’s not going to kick you out.”

“Oh, yeah he is.”

Run along, Cinderella. You’re not going to find your Prince Charming here.
The words played again and again in her head.

What was she doing? “Con, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think, and for God’s sake, don’t say another word. Just get into bed and try to get some sleep. You’ll be in my room and I’ll be on the couch. I’ve got other bedrooms, but they don’t have any furniture.”

“First Dan, now you. Don’t you guys know how to furnish a whole house?”

“Normally, when a woman stays over, having only one bed isn’t a problem.” He waited, obviously expecting his joke to have some effect.

She tried to oblige with a small chuckle, but it sounded false to her ears. She didn’t feel like laughing. As a matter of fact, she didn’t feel like anything. She was numb. It was as if someone had injected novocaine into her heart. When the effect abated, she was afraid the pain would be too much to bear.

“Come on,” said Con. “I’ll show you to your room for the night.”

“I don’t want your bed. I said I’d take the couch.”

“Bed, Charlie.” He looked stubborn, as stubborn as Dan, who couldn’t see how good they could be together.

Men. Charlie was done taking orders from any of them.

“I don’t work for Imperial anymore, you can’t order me around.”

“You’re sleeping in that bed, with me or without me.”

“Okay, I’m going to your solitary bed and you’re going to your solitary couch. Mind if I shower first?”

“Mi casa, su casa.”

Dan wished he were drunk.

Okay, so he didn’t drink. He wished he did and that he was falling-down drunk. Maybe then he wouldn’t keep seeing Charlie’s face when he told her to leave.

Run along, Cinderella. You’re not going to find your Prince Charming here.

He’d warned her he was no prince.

A frog. That’s what he was.

A frog that no amount of kissing would ever change into a prince.

He wished Charlie were here, kissing him now. But he’d sent her away and there would be no more kissing for this frog. Cold, slimy frogs didn’t get many offers for kisses anyway. And the one princess who had claimed she had wanted to try and kiss him into princehood had been . . .

What had she been? On the rebound? Running away from home? “Damn.”

Dan sat, parked in his car in Con’s driveway. He wasn’t here for comfort. No. Dan Martin didn’t need anyone. He was simply here to talk about . . . business. He and Con needed to talk about hiring someone to take Charlie’s place at work.