A Millionaire for Cinderella (4 page)

Stuart returned a few minutes later with a tray laden with food. The smell of fresh beef made her stomach rumble. Grimy location or not, Al’s did have good burgers.

She waited until they’d divided the burgers and French fries before picking up the conversation. “How is writing a prenuptial so awful?” she asked him. “It’s not like unclogging a toilet or something.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you met Grandma Gloria.”

“Harsh.”

“Not harsh enough,” he said, biting into his burger.

So Patience wasn’t the only person Stuart had issues with. Maybe he didn’t like outsiders in general. Or was it only women? “She had to have some redeeming quality. I mean if your grandfather loved her...”

“Grandpa Theodore
wanted
her. Big difference.”

“She must have wanted him too,” Patience replied. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend this Gloria person, unless it was because exonerating Gloria might improve her own standing in his mind.

“She wanted Duchenko money.” There was no mistaking the venom in his voice. “And she went after it like a heat-seeking missile. Didn’t matter who she got the money from, or who she had to hurt in the process.”

Like who? The way his face twisted with bitterness made her think he was leaving something out of the story. It certainly explained why he had issues with her befriending Ana.

“This Gloria woman sounds lovely.”

“Oh, she was a real peach. Did I mention she turned thirty-four on her last birthday?” he added abruptly.

“Thirty-four?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hasn’t your grandfather been dead for...”

“Ten years,” he supplied. My grandfather died ten years ago.”

Making Gloria...ew. Patience wrinkled her nose at the image.

“Exactly. And now I’m stuck dealing with her for the rest of eternity.”

Patience took a long sip of her cola. His comments had opened the door to a lot of questions, about many of which she had no business being curious, and yet seeing his frown, she couldn’t help herself. “Ana doesn’t talk much about her family,” she said. “Other than you, that is.

“Unfortunately, there wasn’t much love lost between Ana and Grandpa Theodore. From what I understand, they stopped speaking to each other around forty or fifty years ago. People were shocked when she traveled to his funeral. She told them it was only out of respect for me.”

“Wow.” To not speak to your sibling for decades? She couldn’t imagine going more than two or three days without talking to Piper. “That must have been some fight.”

“True. I asked Ana once, but all she said was Grandpa Theodore stole her happiness.”

“How?” Ana seemed like one of the happiest people she knew.

“Beats me. I remember my father grumbling once that he wished my grandfather would make things right this one time, so whatever happened was his fault. Unfortunately, unless Ana decides to open up, we might never know.”

“Your poor dad. Sounds like he was stuck in the middle.”

“For a little while anyway. He uh...” His eyes dropped to his half-eaten meal. “He and my mom died in a car accident when I was fourteen.”

“Oh.” Patience kicked herself for bringing up the subject. “I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Time didn’t mean anything. There was nothing worse than having the ground yanked out from under you, leaving you with no idea where you belonged, what would happen next, or who would catch you if you fell. The teenage Stuart would have held in the pain, put on a strong face. She could tell by the way he held himself now, closed and protected.

Just like her.
No one should be forced to grow up before they’re ready.

Again, it was as if she’d spoken her thoughts out loud, because Stuart looked up, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you grew up earlier than I did.”

His words twisted around her heart. If only he knew... For a crazy second, she longed to tell him everything, thinking that he, having been in her shoes, might understand. Reality quickly squashed her fantasy. He’d never understand. The two of them came from two different worlds. Rich versus poor. Clean versus dirty. Sitting here, sharing childhood losses, it was easy for that fact to slip her mind.

“It’s not really a contest I wanted to win,” she heard herself answer.

“I don’t suppose anyone ever does.” Picking up his soda, he saluted her with the paper cup. “To happier subjects.”

That was it? No questions? No probing? Patience studied his face, looking for evidence that the other shoe was about to drop. She saw nothing but sincerity in his smoky eyes.

“To happier subjects,” she repeated. She’d gotten off easy this time.

Or had she? Stuart smiled over the rim of his glass, causing her insides to flip end over end. All of a sudden, Patience didn’t feel she’d gotten off at all. More like she was falling into something very dangerous.

* * *

“Ana seemed a little more with it tonight,” Patience remarked a few hours later. They were walking along Charles Street on their way home from the hospital.

“Yes, she did,” Stuart replied. The change from this afternoon made him hopeful. Interesting, how his aunt’s improvement seemed tied to Patience’s arrival. Much as he hated to admit it, the housekeeper and his aunt had a real rapport. Patience was so, well, patient, with the older woman. Gentle, too. Getting Ana water. Making her comfortable. Everything about Patience’s behavior tonight screamed authenticity. If her kindness was an act, Patience deserved an award.

Then again, he’d seen award-worthy performances before, hadn’t he? He’d purposely brought up Gloria over dinner to gauge Patience’s reaction, thinking the topic of fortune hunters might at least cause her to reveal some kind of body language. Instead, he got sympathy, felt a connection...

“You’re frowning.” Patience remarked.

“Sorry, I was thinking how little Ana ate this evening.”

“She never eats much. You know that.”

Yes, thought Stuart, but he needed something to dodge her question.

They walked a few feet in silence. The night was balmy and clear. Combined with the warm breeze, it created an almost romantic feel to the air around them. Stuart stole a glance in Patience’s direction. She had her arms folded across her chest, and her eyes were focused on the pavement. Even so, he could still sense the undulating of her hips. It was, he realized, unconscious and natural. Otherwise, he suspected she’d attempt to downplay the sensuality the way she did her figure and her looks. Hell, maybe she was trying and failing. She certainly wasn’t having much luck minimizing the other two.

That plastic hair band was failing, too. Strands of hair had broken free, and covered her eyes. One of them needed to brush the bangs away so he could see their sparkle again.

He rubbed the back of his neck instead.

Patience must have mistaken the action for him being warm. “You can definitely tell it’s going to be the first day of summer,” she remarked.

“Longest day of the year. Did you know that after tomorrow, every day gets a few seconds shorter? Before you know it, we’ll be losing two and a half minutes a day. Sorry,” he quickly added. “I did a graph for a high school science fair. The fact kind of stuck with me.”

“In other words, you were blind, asthmatic, unathletic and a science nerd. No wonder you gave up on baseball.”

He felt his cheeks grow warm. “For the record, I’d outgrown the asthma by then.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Hey, we can’t all be homecoming queens.”

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she hugged her body a little tighter. “I didn’t go to many school dances,” she said.

Another piece to what was becoming a very confusing puzzle. One moment she was sexy and sharp-witted; the next, her eyes reminded him of a kitten—soft and innocent. What the heck was her story? He was no closer to knowing if Patience had an agenda than he was this morning. They might say you get more flies with honey, but all he got was more questions.

Along with a dangerously mounting attraction.

* * *

Cool air greeted them upon entering the brownstone. Stuart shut the front door and turned on the hallway light. Nigel, who had been sitting on a table by the front window greeted them with a loud meow before running toward the kitchen.

“For crying out loud,” Patience called after him. “It’s only been a few hours.”

At the other end of the hall, the meows grew louder and more indignant—if such a thing was possible. She rolled her eyes, earning a chuckle from Stuart. He said, “You think he’s bad, you should have met the other Nigels.”

There were more? “You mean he’s not the first.”

“Actually, he’s the third. Nigel the Second lived here while I was in law school.”

“Wow, Ana must really like the name Nigel.” Either that or the woman wasn’t very good at pet names.

“I asked her once why she gave them all the same name,’ Stuart added. “She told me it was because they all have Nigel personalities.”

“If that’s true, remind me to avoid guys named Nigel.”

Their chuckles faded to silence. Patience toed the pattern on the entryway carpet. What now? There was an awkward expectancy in the air, as if both of them knew they should do or say something. The problem was, neither knew what.

At least Nigel had stopped his meowing.

“Thank you for dinner,’ she said finally.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled. “Maybe we’ve got this being civil thing down.”

“Maybe. I have to admit, you’re not bad company when you aren’t accusing me of things.”

“Never fear, tomorrow’s another day,” he replied. Patience would have laughed, but there was too much truth to his comment. This temporary truce of theirs could break at any time.

“By the way,” he added, you’re not such bad company yourself. When you aren’t dodging questions.”

“Like you said, tomorrow’s another day.” She turned to leave only to have her left foot tangle with something warm and furry. Nigel. She maneuvered herself awkwardly, trying to avoid stepping on the darn cat. Her ankle twisted, and she pitched sideways, toward the stairway. That caused her right knee to buckle, and before she knew it, she was falling in a heap.

Stuart caught her before her bottom touched the floor. “Stupid cat,” she muttered.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Nigel on the other hand might have used up another one of his nine lives.” She looked around, but the creature was nowhere to be found.

“He ran upstairs,” Stuart replied, helping her to her feet.

“With his tail between his legs, I hope. If you didn’t believe me before about Nigel causing Ana’s fall, you have to believe me now.”

“The evidence is definitely in your favor. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Positive. My butt didn’t even hit the ground.”

“Good. Hate to see you bruise something you might need,” he said with a smile.

That’s when she realized he still held her. His arm remained wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, so that their hips were flush. The odd angle gave Patience little choice but to rest her hand on his upper arm,

They might as well have been embracing.

He smelled of soap and laundry detergent. No aftershave—a testimony to his innate maleness that he didn’t need anything more. Awareness—no, something stronger than awareness—washed over her, settling deep in the pit of her stomach.

Fingers brushed her bangs away from her temple. Barely a whisper of a touch, it shot straight to her toes. Slowly, she lifted her gaze. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he said in a voice softer than his touch.

“I—I’m growing out my bangs. That’s why they keep falling in my face.” Why did she think he wasn’t talking about her bangs?

Maybe because his attention had shifted to her mouth. Staring, studying. Patience caught her lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. All either of them needed to do was to move their head the tiniest bit and they would be close enough to kiss.

“I should check on Nigel...” She twisted from his grasp, combing her fingers through her hair in a lousy attempt to mask her abruptness. She needed to...she didn’t know what she needed to do. The blood pounding in her ears made it hard to think.

She needed space. That’s what. Turning on her heel, she headed upstairs, forcing herself to take one step at a time. She lasted until the second flight, when Stuart was out of sight, before doubling the pace.

Smooth going, Patience, she thought when she finally closed her bedroom door. Why don’t you break out in a cold sweat while you’re at it?

What on earth was wrong with her anyway? She’d dealt with literally dozens of unwanted advances over the years. Losers, pushy drunks, punks who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves And she freaks out because Stuart touched her hair? The guy didn’t even try anything.

Oh, but you wanted him to, didn’t you?
That’s why she’d bolted. In spite of everything that had gone on between them in the past twenty-four hours, she actually wanted Stuart Duchenko to kiss her.

Heaven help her, but she still did.

CHAPTER FOUR

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Patience woke up with a far clearer head. Tossing and turning for half the night did that for a person.

When she thought things through, Patience wasn’t really surprised that she was attracted to Stuart. Along with being handsome, he was the polar opposite of every man who had ever crossed her path. Sadly, that difference was exactly why she had no business kissing or doing anything else with him.

Throwing back the covers, she stretched and headed for the shower. Back in her and Piper’s old apartment, a long hot shower was her way of scrubbing away life’s dirt. The close, fiberglass stall had been her oasis. This morning, she was using Ana’s Italian marble shower to rinse away last night’s fantastical thoughts. There was probably some kind of irony in that. All she knew was she had to go back to keeping her distance before she made a fool of herself or, worse, said something she shouldn’t.

The brownstone was empty when she finally came downstairs. A quick look toward his bedroom door—because she needed to prepare breakfast, not because she was thinking about him—showed Stuart was already awake. Up and out, apparently. A good thing, Patience told herself. She still wasn’t sure how to explain her behavior last night, and Stuart’s absence gave her the space she needed to come up with one.

Nigel was sitting by the kitchen door. The food littering his mat said he’d already had breakfast. There was coffee in the coffeepot, too.

“He sure is making it hard to stay unaffected, isn’t he, Nigel?” She gave the cat a scratch behind the ear. “But we’re going to do our best.”

Just then the front door opened, signaling the end of her solitude. With a soft meow, Nigel trotted toward the entryway. “Hey, Nigel,” she heard him greet. “Told you I’d be back.”

Patience rubbed her arms, which had suddenly developed goose bumps. Amazing the way the air seemed to shift every time he entered a building. Like the atmosphere needed to announce his arrival.

And thank goodness, too. She turned to the door at the same time he entered, and if she hadn’t been forewarned, her knees would have buckled underneath her completely.

He’d lied last night. No way the man walking into the kitchen was an unathletic nerd. His thin cotton tank might as well be nonexistent, the way it clung to his sweaty body. She could see every muscle, every inch of nonexistent fat. His arms alone...were lawyers allowed to have biceps that illegal? All those thoughts she had about his being commanding and superior? They doubled. And she’d thought he might kiss her last night? Talk about being a fool.

“Good morning.” He barely looked in her direction as he made his way to the refrigerator. “Going to be a scorcher. You can feel the heat in the air already.” Grabbing a bottle of water, he downed the contents in one long drink. “Did you sleep all right?”

Clearly last night’s encounter hadn’t affected him. “Fine,” she lied, ignoring the hollow feeling threatening to take hold of her insides. “You?”

“As well as anyone with a furry bed warmer can sleep. Nigel has apparently appointed me the substitute Duchenko.”

“I noticed you fed him. And made coffee. Thank you.”

“Since I was awake first, it seemed only logical. Plus, Nigel would never have let me leave the house, and I wanted to get a run in before it got too humid.”

“I didn’t know you were a runner.”

“Grandpa Theodore’s idea. He thought it would help keep my lungs strong. The habit just sort of stuck.” As he talked, he crossed the kitchen to the side where she stood. Patience gripped the counter a little tighter. Even sweaty, his skin smelled appealing. Instead of stale and dirty, it was the fresh, clean scent of exertion.

“I called the hospital before I left. Ana had a good night,” he said, reaching into the cupboard for a mug.

He offered her a mug, as well, but Patience shook her head. Sharing coffee together felt too domestic and familiar.

“Oh, good. I was thinking of taking her some of her favorite tea and cookies when I visited her today. Since you were concerned about her eating and all... what?”

He was giving her one of those looks, where he seemed to be trying to read her mind. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Actually...” His expression turned inward. “I’m beginning not to be.”

“Thank you. I guess.” Maybe he was finally realizing she wasn’t some kind of criminal mastermind out to take his aunt’s money or whatever it was he suspected her of being. Maybe this meant he would back off and her insides could unwind.

Or maybe not, she corrected, taking in his muscular arms.

“Don’t get too comfortable. I’m still keeping an eye on you.” Damn, if the smile accompanying the remark didn’t make her insides grow squirrelly. He finished pouring his coffee and headed toward the door. “I’m planning to stop by the hospital before work this morning. If you’d like, I can give you a ride.”

“Thanks,” she replied as Stuart left to get a shower. Sitting in close quarters with him while they wove through traffic was not her idea of fun. She’d bet he had a tiny Italian sports car so their knees could bump on every turn, too.

“Like I said,” she remarked to Nigel, who had returned and was weaving in and out of her legs, “he’s making it awfully difficult.”

* * *

Stuart took the stairs two at a time. So much for the restorative powers of a good run. Five miles and his thoughts were still racing.

Not just his thoughts. All he could say was thank goodness Patience wasn’t trying to look sexy or he’d have a heart attack.

It was time he accepted the fact that he’d gone from finding the woman attractive to being attracted to her. His fate was sealed the second his arm slipped around her waist. She fit so perfectly, her hips aligning with his as though they were meant to be connected...

Giving a groan, he kicked his bedroom door shut. It was all that damn tendril’s fault. If the strand had stayed tucked in her band where it belonged, he wouldn’t have been compelled to brush the hair from her face, and if he hadn’t brushed her hair, he never would have considered kissing her.

And oh, did he consider. He owed her a thank-you for bolting upstairs. Kept him from crossing an improper line with his aunt’s employee.

Raised a few more questions, too. Mainly, what made her flee in the first place? Stuart swore that for a few seconds before Patience took flight, he saw real desire in her eyes. Did she back off because she realized the mistake they were about to make or because of something more? The lady sure had her secrets.

Maybe he could find out what they were. That is, if he could keep his attraction—and his hands—to himself.

* * *

Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly—Patience left for the hospital without him. The hastily scrawled note pinned to the coffeemaker said she needed to stop at the tea shop to buy Ana her Russian caravan tea. “A reasonable excuse,” he said to Nigel. But the tea shop was only a block away, and in the direction of the hospital. He would have gladly waited while she ran her errand.

No, more likely, she wanted to avoid being in the car with him. For him to care about her decision was silly, but care he did. Why didn’t she want to ride with him?

Unfortunately, any answer had to wait because when he arrived at the hospital, his aunt was awake. Someone had raised her bed so she was sitting upright. Patience stood by her head, brushing out her hair. Stuart watched as her arm moved with long, slow strokes, each pass banishing the tangles of hospitalization. “Do you want to leave the braid down or wear it coiled?” he heard her ask.

“Coiled,” Ana replied. “Of course.”

He smiled. His aunt always insisted on looking as regal as possible. She was wearing the serenest of expressions. Her eyes were closed and the hint of a smile played across her lips. For the first time since he’d come home, she resembled the Ana he remembered.

His chest squeezed tight, his heart and lungs suddenly too big for his body. He was afraid to cough lest he spoil his aunt’s moment.

“Good morning.” The moment ended anyway, as Dr. Tischel, Ana’s primary care physician boomed his greeting from behind his shoulder.
“Lapushka!”
Ana greeted with a smile. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. I didn’t want to disturb your beauty session.” He locked eyes with Patience only to have her break the gaze and resume brushing. “How are you this morning, Tetya?” He kissed Ana’s cheek.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “How am I, Karl?”

“Remarkably lucky, for one thing. You’re too old to be rolling down staircases. We all are.”

All the more reason not to stare at women two-thirds your age, thought Stuart. The good doctor’s gaze had locked itself to a spot below Patience’s neck. The housekeeper had angled her body toward the wall, but that didn’t stop the man’s blatant assessment.

“Will she be able to go home soon?” Stuart asked in a loud voice, drawing the man’s attention. A question to which he already knew the answer, but then he wasn’t asking because he wanted information.

“I’m afraid not,” the doctor replied. The man didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “You took a nasty fall, Ana.”

He lifted the sheet from where it covered the upper part of her legs. On the leg without a cast, a large bruise turned Ana’s kneecap purple. Dr. Tischel touched around it, causing Ana to wince.

“Knee’s pretty tender,” he said, stating the obvious. “You’re definitely going to have to stay off your feet for a little while.”

“Are we talking about a wheelchair?” Stuart asked. He was having trouble imaging his great-aunt managing crutches as the moment.

“At the very least,” the doctor replied. “For a little while anyway.”

“Don’t worry,” Patience said. “I’ll push you around the house.”

“Oh no, the brownstone has way too many stairs,” Dr. Tishcel said. “That’s what got you in trouble in the first place. The rehab hospital has a terrific orthopedics wing. They’ll take good care of you.”

“What?” In spite of her pain, Ana stiffened. “You’re sending me to another hospital? For how long?”

“Depends,” Dr. Tischel replied. “At least a couple of weeks.”

“A couple weeks!” Patience and Ana spoke at the same time, although he was pretty sure their furor was for two different reasons. Stuart tensed at the announcement himself, and he’d been expecting the news since the day Ana fell. Two weeks sharing a house with Patience. Alone.

“I’m afraid so,” Dr. Tischel replied. “We want to make sure that ankle heals properly. I’ll give them a call this afternoon and check on availability. With luck there’s a bed open and we can transfer you tomorrow.

“In the meantime,” he said, pulling the sheet back over her legs, “I want you to try and sit up in a chair for a few hours.”

Ana gave an indignant cough. “Don’t know why if I’m just going to be laid up in another hospital bed.”

“Because the movement will do you good. You don’t want to develop blood clots, do you?”

“No, she does not,” Stuart answered. Seeing the doctor was getting ready to leave, he rose from his chair, hoping to keep the man from giving Patience another once-over. Granted, he shared Dr. Tischel’s appreciation of her beauty, but the woman wasn’t standing there for his viewing pleasure. He held out a hand. “Thank you for your help.”

The gambit failed as the older man shook his hand only briefly before reaching across Ana to grasp Patience’s. “It’s my pleasure. Ana has always been one of my favorite patients.”

Ana coughed again. “Favorite, my foot,” she grumbled once the doctor left. “Stupid old fool wants to stick me in a nursing home.”

“Rehab facility, Tetya.” Stuart replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Patience wiping her hand on her jeans. Apparently, she wasn’t impressed with Dr. Tischel’s behavior this morning, either. “It’s only for a little while. You’ll be back at the brownstone before you know it.”

Ana shrugged. She looked so sad it made Stuart almost want to tell her Dr. Tischel had made a mistake. In a way, he understood. The news probably did sound like a sentence. She was losing her freedom.

He grabbed her fingers. “I’ll visit every day, I promise.”

“And me,” Patience said. “I’ll even find out if I can bring Nigel so you can see him, too.”

“Will you?” Ana’s face brightened. “I’ve been so worried about him. He acts tough, but on the inside, he’s really very sensitive.”

“I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”

Stuart watched while the two women talked about the cat, his chest squeezing tight again. The soft, caring tone in Patience’s voice mesmerized him. She sounded so genuine; it made him want so badly to trust her intentions.

Could he?

Just then, Patience reached over to brush a strand of hair from Ana’s face, sending his mind hurtling to the night before. Parts of his body stirred remembering how soft Patience’s hair had felt sliding through his fingers. How on earth was he going to spend two weeks with Patience, get to know her and keep his attraction under control?

“Oh, no!”

Ana’s cry shook him from his reverie. She sat straight, her face crumpled in distress. “What’s wrong, Tetya?” he asked.

“The humane society dinner dance. I totally forgot, but it’s tonight.”

Was that all? Stuart let out his breath. “Looks like you’ll have to miss this year’s festivities.”

“But I can’t,” Ana said. “I’m being honored as the volunteer of the year. I’m supposed to be there to accept my award.”

“I’m sure people will understand why you’re not there, Tetya. You can have your friend, Mrs. Calloway, accept on your behalf.”

“Ethyl Calloway is not my friend,” his aunt snapped.

Stuart should have remembered. Ana and Ethyl weren’t friends so much as friendly society rivals. The two of them had worked side by side at the Beacon Hill Humane Society for years, competing to see who could do more to further the organization’s good work. As a result, hundreds of homeless cats and dogs had found new homes. Personally, he thought it incredibly fitting that Ethyl accept the award on his aunt’s behalf, but what did he knew?