Cinderella and The Playboy. Laura Wright

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СКАЧАТЬ They were bad news. There was also the added discomfort of having to lie and deceive people she hadn’t even met.

      But the students, the kids. That was almost worth it. “You’ll sleep in the bathtub?” she asked skeptically.

      He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

      Somehow she doubted he’d ever been a Boy Scout. “Three days?”

      He nodded. “Plus time for your makeover and your briefing.”

      “I have to get a makeover?” she stammered in bewilderment. “What briefing?”

      “You need to know all about me, Abby. My habits, likes, dislikes.” He hesitated, giving her an appraising look from the tips of her vintage saddle shoes to the top of her unruly mop of hair. “You’re a beautiful woman, Abby. God knows why you’d want to hide it. But I think I know someone who can help us with that.” He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow afternoon at one.”

      A knot formed in her stomach. “What about work?”

      “You have the next two days off.” He regarded her with serious eyes. “Courtesy of the boss. Oh, and Abby, I’d like to keep this arrangement confidential.”

      “Wait just a minute. I haven’t said I would—”

      He grinned. “Yes, you have. I saw it in your eyes when you held the keys to your new warehouse space.”

      She ground her teeth, knowing he was right and wishing with all her heart that she could just toss those keys right back at him. But the students, she thought, glancing through the window. They depended on her. And not only that, if she agreed to this farce, her children’s program could start immediately.

      She looked back at Tanner. His brown eyes practically bored straight through her. Her pulse sped up and she felt sixteen and breathless. The kind of man she’d always vowed to stay away from was going to be her “husband” for three days.

      “There will have to be some conditions,” she said firmly.

      “Of course.”

      “I’ll give you a list tomorrow.”

      “Can’t wait.” And there it was. That damn half smile again. “’Night, Abby.”

      She watched him as he walked down the hallway, cell phone to his ear. Completely unruffled and utterly pleased with himself.

      She shook her head, pretty sure she’d just made a deal with the devil. And if he took her soul, she prayed he’d leave her heart intact.

      “Are you sick or something?”

      Abby rolled her eyes at the suspicious tone in Dixie’s voice. It was lunchtime at Tanner Enterprises, and Abby had expected her friend’s call, but she hadn’t expected the overwhelming desire to tell Dixie about the upcoming weekend with their sexy boss. But unfortunately Abby knew she couldn’t say a word.

      “Abby, spill it,” Dixie demanded. “I can’t remember you ever taking a day off since you started here.”

      Abby sank deeper into her wicker chair as she stared out at the neighborhood’s midday activity from the tiny deck attached to her tiny apartment. “I have a really bad headache, that’s all,” she quickly explained. It was the truth actually. A headache that hadn’t gone away since yesterday’s mail route had taken an unusual little twist. Well, a major upset actually. And now here she was, waiting for C. K. Tanner to pick her up for a makeover.

      She was crazy to agree to this. Truly. No matter how they dolled her up, she wasn’t sophisticated or chic. She was the poor relation at best, and she wondered if she’d get through this weekend without serious damage to her self-respect.

      If she could just forget this whole thing, she would. But last night she’d told her students that their class would continue. And this morning she’d called every last parent on her waiting list to tell them that their children would have a place to study art. The deed was done.

      She was so deep in thought, she barely heard Dixie ask what she was doing for her birthday. “So, Abby, what’ll it be? Chippendales or club hopping?”

      Birthday. Oh, Lord. Sunday. She’d be in Minnesota. Thank God her parents were out of town and they’d had her birthday celebration last weekend. Having to make excuses to them would be virtually impossible.

      “I’ll be hiding under a rock,” she muttered, her mind searching in vain for another excuse when Dixie came asking again—which, of course, she would.

      Dixie snorted. “Why you hate birthdays I’ll never know. Perky people are supposed to love birthdays.”

      “I like other people’s birthdays. It’s just when I’m the one getting older—”

      “You’re turning twenty-five, for goodness sake.” Dixie sighed. “I don’t think that qualifies you for Grandma Moses status yet.”

      Abby laughed. “It’s not a vain, getting-wrinkles sorta thing, Dix. It’s a productive thing. I really wanted to have the art center up and going by now. And—”

      She halted midstream. Having her very own art center was exactly what was happening. No more excuses or feeling sorry for herself. She was going to have her dream fulfilled—and all because of C. K. Tanner.

      “You’ll get there, Abby,” Dixie was saying. “One day at a time, you know? Hey, I know what would make you feel better.”

      “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

      “A date,” Dixie exclaimed. “Better yet, a man.”

      “What’s the difference?” she couldn’t help saying.

      “A thousand miles, hon.” Dixie chuckled. “A man sticks around—he’s a boyfriend, a husband.”

      Down the street the wind kicked up leaves with a flourish, announcing the arrival of a gleaming black Mercedes that Abby could only assume was C. K. Tanner’s. This was a modest neighborhood, where understated Spanish homes sat quietly bracketed by smallish apartment complexes. It was a tan Ford kind of neighborhood, not a luxury full-size.

      Abby felt her heartbeat pick up speed as the car slowed to the curb in front of her apartment. The windows were tinted a light smoke color, but she knew it was him. The driver’s side door opened and he stepped out, looking unbelievably handsome. Damn him.

      You need a man, a husband, Dixie had said. Abby stifled a laugh. If her friend only knew that she was going to have a husband for three days, and it was none other than the mail room’s fantasy, C. K. Tanner.

      “Listen, I’d better go,” Abby said, coming to her feet and stepping back into her apartment. “I’ve got to take some, ah…some more aspirin.”

      “Will you be in tomorrow?”

      “Ah…I’ll see how I feel.”

      “Sure you don’t want me to bring you anything? I have an hour for lunch.”

      Abby’s СКАЧАТЬ