Fairy Tale Weddings (8 page)

“You say that now,” she snapped.

“I mean that. I'm falling in love with a girl named Cindy, not a fairy-tale figure who magically appeared in my life. She's bright and funny and loving.”

Falling in love with her!
Cindy's heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness. Then she realized—once again—the impossibility of an enduring relationship between them. Dejectedly she lowered her gaze. “Please don't say that.”

“What? That I'm falling in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“It's true.”

“But you hardly know me,” she said. Yet that hadn't deterred
her
from falling head over heels for him.

The taxi came to a stop in the heavy traffic, and the driver told them, “Central Park is on your left.”

“Central Park?” Cindy echoed, pleased at his choice of locations to do their talking. She hadn't paid attention to where they were going.

“I thought we should return here and start over again.”

She got out as Thorne paid the driver. A moment later, he joined Cindy on the sidewalk. He placed her
hand in the crook of his arm and smiled seductively down on her.

Her returning smile was feeble at best.

“Hello, there,” he said softly. “I'm Thorne, which is short for Thorndike, which was my father's name and his father's before him.”

“I'm a first-generation Cindy.”

“Well, Cindy, now that we've been properly introduced, will you have dinner with me tonight?”

“I…can't.” She hated to refuse, but she couldn't spend time with him when she was paid to clean his office. As it was, she was due there within half an hour.

His face tightened briefly. “Can't or won't?”

“Can't.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“But it's New Year's Eve.” Surely he had other places to go and more important people to spend the evening with. Arguments clustered in her mind and were dispelled with one enticing look from Thorne.

“New Year's Eve or not, I'll pick you up and we'll paint the town.” He felt Cindy tense and guessed why. Quickly he amended his suggestion. “I'll meet you somewhere. Anyplace you say.”

“In front of Oakes-Jenning.” Although it was a holiday, she'd be working; she couldn't afford to turn down time and a half. “I…won't be available until after eleven-thirty.”

“Fine, I'll be there.”

 

“You're late,” Vanessa said unnecessarily when Cindy ran breathlessly into the basement supply room.

“I know.”

“Where were you?”

“Central Park.” She made busy work filling her cart with the needed supplies. She'd left after promising Thorne she'd meet him the following night. His gaze had pleaded with her to give him something to hold on to—a phone number, a name, anything. But Cindy had given him something of far greater value—her word. Letting her go had been a measure of his trust. She could see that he wasn't pleased, but he hadn't drilled her with questions or made any other demands.

What he'd said was true. Neither of them could continue playing the role of someone they weren't. Cinderella was now Cindy and Prince Charming had gone back to being Thorne. They'd been a bit awkward with each other at first, but gradually that unease had evaporated.

Cindy was beginning to believe that although there were many obstacles blocking their path, together they might be able to overcome them. There hadn't been time to say the things she needed to say because she'd had to rush to work. She hadn't explained that to Thorne and saw jealousy appear on his face.

“What are you thinking?” Vanessa asked, studying her.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” her friend complained. “Give me a break! Are we back to that?”

Cindy relented. “I'm seeing Thorne tomorrow night.”

“You are?” Even Vanessa sounded shocked. “But it's New Year's Eve…oh, heavens, did you forget we have to work?”

“No…I told him I wouldn't be ready until after eleven-thirty.”

“And he didn't ask for any explanation?”

“Not really.” The questions had been there, in his eyes,
but he hadn't voiced a single one. Cindy felt her friend regarding her thoughtfully and busied herself with the cart, making sure she had everything she needed before heading for the upper floor.

She only hoped she was doing the right thing. Thorne kept insisting that who she was didn't matter to him. She was going to test that and in the process wager her heart and her future happiness.

 

“Thorne, I've been trying to reach you.”

Thorne frowned at the telephone receiver. He could tell by the slight edge to his mother's voice that she was going to bring up an unpleasant subject—Sheila. The other woman was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. No pun intended.

“Yes, Mother,” he returned obediently, throwing his magazine on the coffee table. This conversation would require his full attention.

“Your father and I are having a New Year's Eve party tomorrow night and we'd like you to attend.”

He'd never enjoyed parties, which was one reason his mother had been so keen on Sheila, who loved to socialize. Sheila would be good for his career, his father had once told him. At the time, Thorne had considered that an important factor in choosing a wife. Not anymore.

“I apologize, Mother, but I'll have to decline, I've already made plans.”

“But Sheila said—”

“I won't be with Sheila,” he responded shortly.

“Oh, dear, is it that Cheryl woman again? I'd thought that was over.”

“Cindy,” he corrected, swallowing a laugh. He knew his
mother—she remembered Cindy's name as well as she did her own.

“I see,” his mother said, her voice sharpening with disapproval. “Then you haven't said anything to Sheila.”

“As I recall, you advised me against it,” he reminded her.

“But, Thorne, the dear girl is beside herself with worry. And what's this about you chasing a strange woman down some sidewalk? Really, Thorne, what's gotten into you?”

“I'm in love.”

The horrified silence that followed his announcement nearly made him laugh into the phone. His parents had been waiting years for him to announce that he'd chosen a wife, and now that he was in love, they acted as if he'd committed a terrible crime. However, Thorne was positive that once his parents met Cindy, they'd understand, and love her, too.

“Are you claiming to love a woman you hardly know?”

“That's right, Mother.”

“What about her family?”

“What about them?”

“Thorne!”

His mother sounded aghast, which only increased Thorne's amusement. “Would you feel better if you could meet her?”

“I'm not sure…I suppose it would help.”

“Dinner, then, the first part of next week. I'll clear it with Cindy and get back to you.”

“Fine.” But she didn't seem enthusiastic. “In the meantime, would you talk to Sheila? She hasn't heard from you all week.”

“What do you suggest I say to her?”

“Tell her…tell her you need a few days to think things over. That should appease her for now. Once I've had a chance to…meet your Cheryl, I'll have a better sense of the situation.”

“Yes, Mother,” he said obediently and replaced the receiver. Family had always been important to Thorne, but he wouldn't allow his mother or anyone else to rule his life.

Leaning back, Thorne folded his arms behind his head. He felt good, wonderful. He'd never looked forward to anything more than tomorrow night. New Year's Eve with Cindy. And with it, the promise of spending every year together for the rest of his life.

The following day, Thorne worked until noon. He did some errands, ate a light dinner around six, showered and dressed casually. The television killed several hours, but he found himself glancing at his watch every few minutes. He'd leave around eleven, he figured. That would give him plenty of time to get to Oakes-Jenning, and from there he'd take Cindy to Times Square. It was something he'd always wanted to do, but had never had the chance. They could lose themselves in the crowd and he'd have every excuse to keep her close.

The doorbell chimed around eight, and Thorne hurried to answer, convinced it was Cindy. Somehow, some way, she'd come to him early. His excitement died when he saw Sheila standing in the hallway.

“Sheila.”

“Hello, Thorne.” She peered up at him through seductively thick lashes. “May I come in?”

He stepped aside. “Sure.”

“You're looking very casual.” She entered the apart
ment, removed her coat and sat on the sofa. Wearing a slinky, low-cut black dress, she looked anything
but
casual.

“This is a surprise.” He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, hands buried in his pockets.

“I haven't heard from you since our luncheon date and thought I'd stop in unannounced. I hope you don't mind?”

Thorne would have preferred her to choose another day, but since she'd come, he might as well use the opportunity to tell her about Cindy. “I'm glad you did.” At the happiness that flashed in her eyes, Thorne regretted his poor choice of words.

She folded her hands in her lap and regarded him with such adoration that Thorne felt his stomach knot.

“Sometimes I do such a terrible job of explaining my feelings,” she said softly, lowering her gaze to her hands. “I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

The knot in Thorne's stomach worked its way up to his chest. “I treasure your friendship, as well.”

She arched her brows. “I thought we were more than simply friends. Much more.”

Thorne sat on the ottoman and rolled it toward Sheila so that he sat directly in front of her. “This isn't easy.”

“Don't.” She shook her head. “I already know what you're going to say…. You've met someone else.”

“I don't want to hurt you.” They'd been seeing each other steadily for months, and although he'd come to realize how mismatched they were, Sheila hadn't seen it yet, and he honestly wished to spare her any pain.

“But, darling, you don't need to. I understand about these things.”

“You do?” Thorne hadn't the foggiest notion what there was for her to understand.

“A woman has to accept this sort of thing from her husband. I know Daddy's had his women on the side. Mother's aware of it, too.”

Thorne surged to his feet. “You're saying you expect me to have an
affair?
”

“Just to get her out of your system. I want you to know I understand.”

Years of discipline tempered Thorne's response. He was so furious that it took all his restraint to continue being civil after Sheila's announcement. He marched to the plate-glass window and looked out, afraid to speak for fear of what he'd say. Instead he analyzed his anger.

“Thorne, you look upset.”

“I am.” He realized he was so outraged because Sheila's seeming generosity had insulted Cindy by suggesting she belonged on some back street.

“But why?”

“Cindy isn't that kind of woman,” he said, and turned around. “And neither are you.”

A gush of feminine tears followed. Embarrassed, Thorne retrieved a box of tissues and held Sheila gently in his arms until she'd finished weeping.

Dabbing her eyes, Sheila said she needed something to drink and nodded approvingly when Thorne brought out a bottle of expensive French wine he knew she liked. He had plenty of time to soothe her wounded ego. Cindy wouldn't be available until almost midnight.

Once Sheila had dried her eyes, she was good company, chatting about the fun times they'd shared over the months they'd been seeing each other and getting slightly tipsy in the process.

Slowly, Thorne felt his anger evaporate. Sheila did most
of the talking, and when she suggested they have a cocktail at the Carlyle, Thorne agreed. It was still two hours before he could meet Cindy.

The Carlyle was crowded, as were two of Sheila's other favorite hangouts where they stopped for drinks.

“Let's drop in at your parents',” she said casually, swirling the ice in her empty glass.

“I can't. I'm meeting Cindy.” He raised his arm to look at his watch and the air left his lungs in one disbelieving gasp. “I'm late.”

“But, Thorne…”

It was already eleven forty-five and he was at least another fifteen minutes from Oakes-Jenning. And his cell phone was useless—he had no number for her, no surname, nothing. The regret seared through him.