Overnight Cinderella (2 page)

One hand on the open door, she reached for her presentation. “Thank you for your help, Duke.”

“You're welcome, and it might.”

“Might?”

“The world could come crashing to a halt if I smile.”

“It hasn't happened yet.”

“I haven't smiled yet.”

“I'll take that as a challenge,” she said quietly, and the doors closed before he could reply.

 

Two days later Duke found himself outside Cami's office. The day, which had been going downhill all morning, took a drastic turn for the better when he knocked on her door and stepped inside her office for their ten-thirty appointment.

Endless slim legs were displayed and a veil of brown curly hair blocked the face of the woman as she leaned forward. Her hands skimmed a shapely thigh and fastened one silk hose to a garter. Feminine attributes were as out of place in a conservative office as an orphan at a family reunion.

Duke paused in the doorway to enjoy the show. It had been a long time since he'd seen silk-and-lace-clad legs and longer still since he'd been interested in seeing more. But something about those slim thighs encased in navy silk hose and lace garters got to him.

Arousal shot through his body, bringing awareness to his every pore. Blood pounded heavily through his veins, and he felt himself grow hard. He shifted his legs, easing the pressure against his inseam, and wondered if humans really could spontaneously combust.

He wanted to close the door and lift her to the desk. To rip through her panties and take her quickly. The impulse was strong, and he hated the weakness. No one got the upper hand on Duke's control. Discipline was all he had left, and he wouldn't surrender it easily. Certainly not to some research librarian turned event coordinator.

His abrupt knock hadn't given her any warning but when he cleared his throat he got her attention. Cami gasped. She dropped her skirt without fastening the second garter. The thought of that unfastened garter hovered in his mind. This woman shouldn't wear satin-and-lace undergarments.

The dress was baggy and understated. Her low-
heeled shoes were maidenly and her hairstyle old-fashioned. She was the type of woman who should wear cotton underpants and support hose. Why wasn't she?

Duke was uncomfortable. He knew enough about sexual harassment law to know he was in for a world of hurt if he said anything, yet he couldn't keep quiet. The spectacular legs hidden under that ugly dress demanded mentioning. Was this what his body had sensed days earlier? That the ugly clothing was just camouflage for a spectacular woman?

The intensity of her blush could heat a small house in winter. She averted her gaze and refused to look at him. Her nervousness evoked a tenderness that was at odds with his arousal. Yet just as strong. She fiddled with her glasses, taking them off and wiping them clean and then putting them back on.

“I believe we have a ten-thirty meeting,” he said.

“You're a few minutes early,” she snapped.

Duke realized she intended to ignore the fact that she'd just had her skirt hiked halfway up to her waist. He forced the tantalizing image from his mind, though the loose garter remained. He didn't believe in emotional entanglements. Least of all with klutzy, average-looking women.

She held out her hand. He grasped it with the intent of releasing it as quickly as he had the other day. But her hand was soft—softer than any other he'd ever felt. Even his deceased wife's hands had
been callused from evenings spent playing volleyball.

He stroked her palm with his forefinger before he let his hand fall back to his side. He knew he shouldn't have, but that damn unfastened garter lingered in his mind and the image of her on the desk, her sexy legs encircling his waist, remained in his mind.

“Please have a seat,” she said, motioning for him to use one of the two guest chairs. They were standard office issue and looked about as comfortable as wet shoes. Yet the rest of her office welcomed him in a way he'd never before experienced.

A four-shelf bookcase overflowed with books, every tabletop surface held picture frames of large family groupings and individual members. Candle-holders and potpourri also abounded. It was the sweetest-smelling office on the floor. She had soft music with some woman chanting playing in the background.

Her office—a reflection of the woman herself—was so feminine it bothered him. There was even a lace thing on the surface of her credenza crammed with myriad little dust-collecting knickknacks. He felt uncomfortable and out of place, like a warrior returning fresh from war to find his house had been taken over by aliens. The same way he felt when he walked by those damned lingerie stores in the mall. Hell, she probably spent a good deal of her time in those stores.

“Duke, I've done some preliminary work on se
curity for the Gala, but would love to hear your ideas.”

He had some thoughts he'd love to share with her, too, but he had to keep his mind on business. Security for the Gala was crucial. With recent labor disputes, threats had been made. Since the strikers weren't anywhere close to resolving their employment issues, Duke was personally going to monitor the security.

“I've booked the Seashore Mansion on Hilton Head for the event.”

Duke shook his head, he was familiar with the five-star luxury resort and knew the layout. With its balconies and beachfront access there was little chance of good security. The resort relied on the private beach to keep intruders at bay. That wouldn't do. He'd have to do an on-site tour and then find a place that met his security needs.

“Don't shake your head. I already signed a contract with them.”

“You may have to break it.”

“No, I won't. Your job is to oversee security, not secure a location.”

“I can't do my job if I don't know what's involved. I'll call the hotel myself and see if they'll meet our needs.”

“‘Our needs'?”

“For both the event and the security.”

“Is there a security risk?”

“Nothing my team can't handle, but there have been a few threats made since the strike started.”

“I didn't realize that. I'm very good at my job, Duke. Don't let my outside packaging fool you.”

A vision of that unhooked garter wandered up from his memory. “Your undergarments are in no way average or mousy.”

She blushed. Against his will he was fascinated by the tide of peach sweeping up her cheeks. Did the color start at her breasts? He'd never met any woman who was as open in her emotions as this lady.

“You're a cad to mention that.”

“Cad?”

“Cad,” she said, and gave him a tight smile.

“A bit Victorian in our language, are we?”

“In my lifestyle, too, not that it's any of your business. I hope we don't have to change locations. The grand ballroom overlooks the ocean, and the patio for the reception is simply the best I've seen up and down the coast. We really want to do things right this year.”

“I know, but security has to be a consideration.” It was the one thing he did really well. Protect strangers, he thought.

“Very well. I have a backup location.”

Duke didn't say anything else. He admired her spunk and preplanning. She'd known her location might not work out and had a contingency plan. Despite what she'd said about being mousy and average, her personality said the opposite.

She was full of spirit, and though he admired grit, he didn't want to admire her because she was also intelligent. Two qualities he'd always found attrac
tive in a woman. Dammit. He
wasn't
attracted to her. His racing blood and arousal said differently.

“Where's the backup location?”

She told him and they discussed the other details of the event. The invited speaker was a renowned motivationalist who would also need a security detail. They even talked about checking out the workers before letting them into the ballroom the night of the Gala.

As the meeting progressed, one thing became very clear: Cami wanted to be in charge. He wondered if she had the confidence to pull off the event and the high-level meetings involved. He knew she had the skill. Her preplanning and poise in this meeting made that apparent.

He wondered what stimulation would work the best with her. He'd bet she couldn't resist a dare.

“The work you've done is great. Send all the files up to my office and I'll have my secretary book biweekly meetings for us. I'll oversee the coordination of the security details while you do the grunt work.”

He knew he shouldn't be pleased to have his theory proven but couldn't help it. She was almost beautiful when her eyes sparkled with determination.

Tapping an unpainted fingernail against the surface of her desk, she said, “Duke, you seem to have misunderstood something.”

“What's that, Cami?” he asked, deliberately using her first name to goad her.

“I'm the event coordinator. That means I'm in charge of the event—the entire event.”

He waited a beat to make sure she was focused on him. “Not anymore.”

 

Cami stared at the modern warrior sitting in her guest chair and felt her temper rise. Or at least she tried to tell herself that the tingling in her veins came from anger—and not any attraction she might be feeling.

The situation was delicate. She'd have to bring him around to her way of thinking. He obviously didn't know a thing about event planning because he thought five months out they could break their contract and find a decent space elsewhere.

She knew her looks and the way she acted invited people to walk over her, especially after the meeting earlier this week when she'd done everything but come right out and say, “I'm incompetent.” But when she was in her element, as she was in this job, people usually discovered she had enough backbone to stand her ground.

She needed all the courage she could scrape together to work with Duke Merchon. He was a very overwhelming man. He exuded confidence and self-assurance the way her older sister did. Cami realized she was tired of playing second fiddle.

She'd started this meeting off all wrong. She wished she'd just lived with the stupid run up the middle of her leg instead of deciding to change her hose. Once a man saw a woman's legs, he looked at her differently.

“If this is because I was changing my hose when you arrived—”

“It has nothing to do with your legs,” he cut her off. “I'm used to being in charge. I can handle any problem that arises. It makes sense to have one leader. Security touches all aspects of the event.”

“Ever heard of a little thing called the Equal Rights Amendment?”

He leaned forward, using all two hundred pounds and six foot two inches to intimidate her. “Ever hear ‘might makes right'?”

Cami smiled. It was so obvious this man was used to winning and being in control. But she couldn't afford to give up her position as event coordinator. This was her chance to prove herself within Pryce Enterprises, and a promotion hinged on her success. Not just a promotion but a change of life. She wouldn't be a research librarian anymore but Pryce's special events coordinator if she pulled this off. Besides, she realized suddenly, she wanted Duke to acknowledge he was wrong.

“I'm afraid I have heard the phrase, but it doesn't apply in this case.”

“Why not?”

“I'm not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

“Why?”

“Honey, a woman like you doesn't stand a chance against a man like me.”

God, she hated it when men pointed out how plain she was. Why did they start sentences with “a woman like you”? Didn't they understand she
was more than they saw?
Maybe you aren't,
a tiny voice inside her answered.

“Duke, we'll get along a lot better if you stop pointing out how unattractive I am.”

“Anyone with those legs isn't unattractive.”

She lifted both eyebrows in response to his remark. A spark of desire shot through her veins, pooling in the center of her body. She shifted in her chair and tried to remind herself they were having a meeting.

“You might not be drop-dead gorgeous but with a little effort you could be passing-pretty.”

That's it,
she thought.
I'm going to pick up the crystal paperweight and do him in.
But something in his eyes stilled her hand.

He wasn't getting the same enjoyment out of insulting her men in the past had. There seemed a deeper pain in his eyes that made her want to go to him and comfort him. That made her wish she
was
drop-dead gorgeous.

“Are you trying to make me lose my temper?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Try harder,” she said.

He almost cracked a smile. His lips twitched and he looked away from her.

“I saw that.”

He cocked his head to one side.

“You almost smiled.”

“Show me your legs again, and I'll stand up and cheer,” he said.

Cami blushed. He was a man who could be her match in the wit department but was light-years ahead of her in the sexual arena.

T
hree days later Duke was still devastated by her charisma. His life had become a cold wasteland after his wife's death six years earlier, but losing her had proven what he'd always suspected—love wasn't for him. But a ray of sunshine had penetrated the gloom—Cami Jones and her vibrant zest for life.

If only the woman possessing that energy had been a lady with loose morals. He could tempt her into an affair, take what he needed, then let her go. But those eyes of hers were innocent. And he couldn't forget those knockout legs of hers. He wanted to watch her walk across the room toward him in nothing but her silk stockings and a pair of high heels.

But as he stared across the noisy employee's cafeteria in the Pryce building, he knew Cami Jones was the decent sort. She was an oasis of quiet in the bustling metropolis of humanity swarming around her.

He grabbed his lunch container and headed for the door, not ready to confront Miss I'm Gonna Make You Smile. Her ability to make him smile would remind him he was alive. And alone. It would remind him of how long it had been since he'd really enjoyed life and living. It would remind him he wasn't the man he'd always hoped he'd be but rather the man that life had made him.

He'd almost reached the door when she looked up almost guiltily and met his gaze straight-on. Blushing, she glanced away. He should leave the room, go back to his office and work through lunch as he'd planned. But her blush was a beacon. What in the world had triggered such a reaction?

Ignoring the corporate climbers who tried to cultivate him daily, he made his way to her table. Because of his position within the company and known friendship with Max, he endured no end of politicking from his co-workers. It annoyed the hell out of him.

“Cami, may I join you?”

She wanted to say no; it was written on her face like a flashing neon sign, but she nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from her.

To rattle her, he sat next to her. The remains of a brown-bag lunch lay on the table, the trash folded
into neat little squares. A book lay face down on the far side of the Formica tabletop.

“What are you reading?”

“Just a book a friend recommended,” she said, fidgeting with her glasses, pushing them up her nose.

“
Ten Steps for Effective Presentations
?” he asked.

She gave him a wry smile. “No. It's a fiction book. Did you get the background files on the vendors I asked Shelly to forward to you?”

“Yes, but I'm still waiting for the catering files. I'd like them before our meeting today at three.”

“No problem. My secretary's copying everything for you now. I'm sorry I was so obstinate about the location in our meeting the other day.”

“No problem. I was a little heavy-handed.”

“Why?” she asked.

Because your legs were affecting me,
he thought. But he couldn't say that. He shrugged.

He opened his lunch container and took a healthy bite of his bacon cheeseburger. He ran an extra five miles at night to be able to afford the calories he ingested at lunch and, though he cursed like a sailor on the last mile, it was well worth it.

He wanted to know what had caused her to blush. She aimed him a tight little smile. The silence at their table was deafening in the noisy room. Nearby, a woman laughed loudly and Cami glanced at her.

He used the opportunity to snag her book and
saw the cover depicted a man and a woman smiling at each other while draped in a seductive pose.

“Hey, give me back my book.”

He handed it over. “Sure.”

He bit into his burger before he realized he hadn't brought anything to drink. He'd planned to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator in his office.

“What? No snide comment about how this is as close as a woman like me will ever get to a man–woman relationship.”

Obviously he'd stumbled onto one of her hot buttons. “Nope. Never read one, so I can't rightly comment on it. And I know nothing about your personal life.”

“Right, but you can take one look at me and see I'm not torrid love affair material.”

“You're not convent material, either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to assume you're an atheist.”

She bit her lower lip, and he wanted to lean over and kiss her. To take her in his arms and protect her from the cruel world, but he wasn't a good protector of innocence. And he knew that better than anyone. For the first time since Rebecca's death he regretted that.

“Sorry. I'm just not myself today.”

“No problem.” He had more than his fair share of hot buttons so he couldn't fault her. Now he knew more about her than he'd ever thought to. This woman with the naughty underwear was unsure of herself. This woman who had fought him
to the wall over control of a million-dollar event didn't trust herself on a basic man–woman level.

This woman with the average surface intrigued him in ways Rebecca never had because Rebecca had been a feminine version of himself. They'd shared everything from background to likes and dislikes. Rebecca had been a safe person to involve himself with because she'd understood about protective barriers and holding back emotion. She'd even been a cop, like him. They'd met at the police academy.

Get up,
he told himself.
Leave the table before this developing relationship goes any further.
Sure, right now all they had was a business partnership, but he wanted more. He was nothing more than a scarred ex-cop who'd grown up in an orphanage and never been adopted because he'd never talked until he was seven. According to Janie O'Malley, his early development counselor, his parents' death caused his silence. He knew nothing about building someone else's self-image. He'd developed into the man he was through blood and sweat. No tears, never tears, because tears required emotion he didn't have.

Being involved with Cami would require emotion. He sensed the tenderness she evoked when he'd watched her make her presentation was only the tip of the iceberg. Just being in the same room with her made him react—like a teenager with his first glimpse of a girlie magazine. He hadn't spent so much time acutely aroused since he'd discovered why boys and girls were different.

He closed his to-go container and stood. “See you at three.”

He walked away without looking back. How was he going to work with the woman who'd made him remember why he'd stopped caring? She was intelligent and gutsy and should think of herself as attractive. She reminded him of himself in those early days, and he didn't want anyone to ever feel that unloved.

 

Cami dreaded the Pryce Enterprises picnic because mingling wasn't her thing. She shone behind the scenes, but onstage she froze. Stone Mountain was lovely and as she parked her car under the shade of an oak tree, she watched Pryce employees and their families head toward the picnic area set up for the company.

The mid-June sun warmed the back of her neck and the scent of magnolias filled the air. The gravel under her sandals crunched as she neared the registration tables.

The one really bad thing about living across the country from your family was attending events such as this one by yourself. She checked in and received her name tag. Maybe she should go back home.

“Cami?”

Duke. The scent of his aftershave washed over her like a warm breeze on a cold winter day. He made her uncomfortable. Not in the slimy way Jess in Sales did. In a way that was entirely too personal, and involved emotions she shouldn't be having for
him. Duke was way out of her league in the man–woman dating field.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound normal. She wished she'd worn something trendy that would make her look glamorous but her simple cotton sundress was more her style.

Duke managed to look both sophisticated and comfortable in his designer shorts and polo shirt. She squinted up at him and found her own image staring back at her from the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. She reached into her pocket and removed her own glasses. They were flaky and she knew it, but part of her loved the rhinestone star-shaped sunglasses.

“Checking up on security?” she asked him.

“No. Just here to enjoy the fun.”

Funny, he sounded the way she felt. As if there was more torture than enjoyment in this event.

Somehow—Cami wasn't really sure how—Duke walked with her through the food line. Long rows of red-checked, cloth-covered tables and uncomfortable chairs were set under a large tent. Families filled most of the seats, but Cami followed Duke to a section at the back that was relatively quiet.

Cami realized how alone she was as she watched her co-workers interact with their families. She might stay that way if she didn't take some action.

An awkward silence fell between them as they both ate their chicken. Cami searched for something to say but the small talk that always came so easy with strangers wasn't easy with Duke.

“I love picnics. When I was growing up my fam
ily would go to Golden Gate Park at least once a month to fly kites and eat too much.”

Duke took a bite of his ribs. Cami watched him eat. He glanced up and caught her staring.

“Do you have a large family?” she blurted.

He swallowed. “No, do you?”

“I guess, aside from my parents and an older sister, I have about fifteen aunts and uncles and more cousins than I can count. Most of the time there's a small crowd of us at a gathering.”

“You're from California?”

“Yes.”

“Why'd you move to Atlanta?”

“The city appealed to me. You know this is Margaret Mitchell land. And I wanted to establish myself away from my family.”

“Is your family protective of you?”

“A little bit.”

“Is that why you're not torrid love affair material?”

Oh, God. He remembered what she'd said the other day at lunch.

“Sorry I overreacted.” But she hated having a good-looking man catch her reading a romance novel. He would guess she spent every Friday and Saturday night at home living one lush adventure after another from the solitary safety of her front porch. He'd know she'd never have one-tenth of the excitement, passion and drama as the characters in the books, she thought. Duke made her wish she was different.

“No problem.” He removed his sunglasses, plac
ing them on the checkered tablecloth. “I really want to know why there isn't a man in your life.”

The sun burnt the back of her neck and an ant crawled over her big toe. She stared at the ant instead of answering Duke.

“Cami?”

She shrugged. “I work all the time. And well…”

“What?” His voice was low and husky and he leaned closer to her. Encouraging her to speak the truth to him. And the truth was something she always prided herself on.

All her life she'd lived in the shadow of her gorgeous, smart sister. Moving to the East Coast from San Francisco four years ago had allowed her to escape, but that distance had left her feeling empty. She'd filled her life with books and things. She'd also fallen on old practiced habits, still hiding in the shadows of her sister though Gabriella was far away.

It had taken a long time for her to realize that she actually liked being in the background and making things happen. Though she wanted to be equal to her sister, in her mind she'd always be that shy awkward girl despite her success in a large corporation. She longed for confidence and poise but had no idea how to achieve them.

“Men like women with flash and pizzazz.”

Duke stared at her and Cami regretted her words. His eyes narrowed and he traced one blunt finger down the side of her cheek. She shivered as desire coursed through her, pooling at the center of her body.

“I've never met anyone with more pizzazz than you.”

She smiled. It was the nicest thing a man had ever said to her. But the look in his eyes as they swept down her body set fire to her veins. Her nipples hardened against the lace of her bra, and she shifted in her seat. She wondered if he felt it, too. There was a tension in the air that made her want to lean closer to him, tilt her head back and tempt him into kissing her.

“That wasn't pizzazz you saw.”

“Really, what was it?”

“My legs,” she said.

He wanted to smile. It was there on his face. She didn't know why he wouldn't smile, but there was something about this dark sexy man that got to her faster than her first sip of the gin her father hid in the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Why don't you ever smile?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don't know,” she said, but in her heart she knew it had to do with the loneliness that surrounded Duke.

“May we join you?”

Cami saw Max Williams standing across from them with a woman who could have easily been a cover model. Duke glanced at her and Cami shrugged. It was a telling moment. Not many men would turn away the CEO of the company, but Cami knew that Duke would have.

“Sure.”

Max introduced his date, Melissa Hines, and they settled into chairs across from Duke and Cami.

“Did you catch the Braves last night?” Duke asked.

Oh, my.
She hadn't realized how high up the ladder Duke was. His office wasn't on the same floor as the other executives so she'd figured he was new to the upper-management level. But his ease with the CEO was telling. She was out of her league. She shouldn't have challenged him to smile.

Cami let the conversation swirl around her, listening to Duke speak. Deep, and dark, his voice perfectly suited to the male protagonist in her romance novels. It was a voice she'd want to hear in a candlelit bedroom. His voice could stroke her into a heated frenzy with just a few words. His voice, she realized, was calling her name.

“Cami?”

“Yes?” she said. Her pulse was pounding, and she wanted to go back to her fantasy.