A Millionaire for Cinderella (8 page)

Took guts, what she’d done. And strength. Real strength. She was barely an adult and yet she’d kept her family together.

If her story was true, that is, and not some ploy for sympathy.

Immediately, he shook the distrust from his head. Damn, but he’d become such a skeptical jerk. Patience was telling the truth. He saw it in her eyes. At least he wanted to believe that’s what he was seeing. He wanted to believe her as badly as he wanted to hold her. Which, he thought, washing a hand over his face, was pretty damn bad.

They were two very scary realizations.

* * *

“Nigel, why do you insist on being in the one place that makes doing my job difficult?” Patience narrowed her eyes at the cat, who, as usual, was ignoring her question. He was too busy poking at imaginary enemies in Ana’s dresser drawer.

It’d been twelve long days since the dinner dance, and she was finally starting to believe that she was keeping her job. Stuart hadn’t brought up the confession again. Of course, he also made himself as scarce as possible. He was on his way out the door when she woke up, and away until she went to bed. Except for that first morning when they’d recapped the dance for Ana, he’d even taken to keeping a different visiting schedule. None of his avoidance surprised her. Understanding was one thing, wanting to associate with her was another.

Back at the club, they had a saying: Prince Charming ain’t walking through that door. No matter how good-looking or how amazing some guy might seem, the two of you weren’t going to ride off into the sunset on his white horse. She was smart enough to know the same rule applied to housekeepers and their bosses. Say she and Stuart had slept together that night. It wouldn’t have been anything more than a short-term fling, right? Being help with benefits wasn’t her style. What self-respect she had, she’d like to keep, thank you very much.

So Stuart avoiding her was a good thing. Honestly.

“Will you quit it?” She found a way out of her thoughts in time to catch Nigel snagging the lace on a pair of Ana’s undergarments. “I’m pretty sure Ana wants her clothes unmolested,” she said. The cat pawed at the air as she took the panties away and refolded them. Feeling bad that she’d disturbed his fun, Patience scratched behind his ear. She had a feeling part of Nigel’s more-than-usual peskiness was because he missed Ana. Their promise to bring him for visits, it turned out, had been a bad idea. Nigel treated the rehab facility as he did the brownstone and wandered at will. It had taken her almost an hour to find out what room he had moved into for naptime.

“Ana will be home in another few days. In the meantime, how about you give me ten more minutes, and then we’ll have a good long petting session.”

As usual, Nigel wasn’t interested in bargaining. He wanted his attention and he wanted it now. Somehow he managed to wedge his head and paws into the drawer opening, and began chewing on something.

Patience rolled her eyes. “What are you doing now? Please tell me you’re not trying to eat Ana’s underwear.” She opened the drawer and saw that the cat had found a box and was attempting to bite the corner of the cover. Her sorting and taking things the past few days must have unearthed it from the bottom of the drawer.

“You really do want to eat everything in sight, don’t you?” Lifting them both free, she plopped Nigel on the bed before placing the box on the bureau. As soon as she was finished, she’d put the box back safely at the bottom of the drawer.

A knock sounded behind her. “Somehow I didn’t picture you as a granny panties kind of girl,” Stuart said. The sound of his voice made her stomach tumble. Swallowing back the reaction, she glanced over her shoulder. “I’m putting away Ana’s laundry and packing some new items. You know, for a woman with expensive tastes, she has the most disorganized drawers I’ve ever seen.”

It didn’t skip Patience’s notice that only a week before, he would have questioned what she was doing rather than make a joke. While she was touched by the show of trust, she sort of missed the protection her defensiveness gave her. When he was nice, it made keeping her distance that much harder.

“Surprised to see you here so early,” she said. Here at all, really.

“We closed shop early for the holiday, and since Ana takes her post Physical Therapy nap around this time, I figured I’d work at home.”

“That’s right, tomorrow’s Fourth of July.” With all the coming and going, she’d forgotten the date. “Ana told me once how she usually has a barbecue on the roof deck.”

“Barbecue in the sense that she has a caterer bring in barbecued chicken,” Stuart replied. “She and her humane society buddies have been doing it for years.”

“She must be devastated to have to cancel.”

“Not as much as you’d think. Last I heard, Ethyl was moving the event to the rehab hospital.”

Patience envisioned Ana, Ethyl and the others invading the rehab terrace with their catered dinner and cocktails. “Maybe I should be devastated on behalf of the hospital.”

“Don’t be. I’m sure there’s a donation involved.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. It was the longest and closest they’d been together since the dance. Patience studied the hands clasped between his legs. All too clear was the memory of those hands holding her close. Fingers burning a hole in the fabric of her dress. She turned back to the underwear drawer.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much lately. Work has been slamming,” he said.

Even the weekends? “You don’t have to explain your schedule to me.” Or make excuses, for that matter.

“I know, but...” The mattress made a settling noise, and she imagined him shrugging. “But I didn’t want you to think that after the other night, I was...well, you know.”

“Yeah.” She knew. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she knew.

“Anyway, I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow.”

Patience’s stomach dropped. He was going to tell her he was hosting some kind of event himself, wasn’t he? If she wanted a distance reminder, being asked to wait on his friends would certainly fit the bill. “It’s a normal paid day off,” she told him, “but if you are planning something...”

“Actually, I was wondering if you would mind checking out a condominium with me.”

“What?”

“You know the new luxury tower they built near the Leather District? One of our clients is the developer. Sounds like a pretty awesome property.”

“I’m sure it is.” Weren’t most million-dollar properties? Patience tried to ignore the pang in her chest. From the very start, Stuart had said this living arrangement was temporary. Now that Ana was close to being discharged, there was no reason for him not to look for a place of his own. What did the decision have to do with her, though?

“I was hoping you’d check out the property with me. Give me your opinion.”

“The housekeeper’s point of view?”

He grinned. “I was thinking more of a female point of view, but if you want to weigh in on how difficult the place will be to keep clean, feel free. Don’t feel like you have to though. I know it’s your day off, but if you do say yes, I’d make it worth your while.”

“Worth my while, eh?” Talk about loaded language. She shivered at the potential prospects. “How?”

“I will personally show you the best seat in all of Boston for watching the fireworks.”

Patience chewed the inside of her mouth. Goodness, but it was impossible to say no. Especially when the idea of sitting with him beneath the stars was so seductive.

“Sure.” There’d be plenty of time to kick herself for the decision later. “What time?”

“After lunch. I figured we’d go see Ana, then meet up with Nikko. He’s the developer.”

“It’s a—plan.” She almost slipped and called it a date. Luckily she caught herself at the last moment.

What she should have been trying to catch was Nigel. Tired of being ignored, he leaped from the bed to the bureau. Problem was, he miscalculated the distance. His front paws connected with the box she’d set on the bureau, flipping it end over end. Off flew the cover, sending the contents flying.

“Bad kitty,” she said. The admonishment was useless since Nigel had already bolted from the room in embarrassment.

“Here, let me help you.” Stuart crouched by her on the floor, his unique Stuart scent filling the space between them. Patience had to struggle not to close her eyes and inhale. “The box was in Ana’s drawer,” she explained. “Nigel started chewing the cover so I moved it to the bureau.” To keep it out of his reach. So much for that idea.

“Looks like a bunch of photographs.”

Mementos was more like it. Patience spied newspaper clippings, tickets, playbills, what looked like drawings scribbled on napkins. Piper had kept a similar box when she was a kid.

She picked up one of the newspaper clippings. The article was written in a foreign language.

“French,” Stuart said when she showed him.

“Don’t suppose you can read it?”

“Sorry. Russian.”

And she’d barely made it through Spanish. “This is where we need Piper.”

The date said it was from the early fifties. Ana would have been just out of high school. Patience couldn’t help wondering what had made her hold on to the article. The photo accompanying the article featured a trio of men standing together in front of a painting. Nothing very exciting. She was about to put the clipping in the box when one of the names jumped from the page.

“Stuart, look.” She pointed to the caption. “One of the men is named Nigel Rougeau. Think it’s a coincidence?”

“I don’t know. The name Nigel had to come from somewhere.” He slipped the clipping from her fingers and studied it closer. Like a lawyer examining evidence, Patience thought. “Looks like this was taken at some kind of art show. The wall is lined with paintings.”

“But which one is Nigel?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but based on the names listed in the caption, I’d say the one in the middle.” He pointed to the bearded man with intense, dark eyes. “In fact...” He picked up one of the scattered photographs. “Here he is.”

Sure enough, it was the same bearded man, only this time he was leaning against a motorbike. There were other photos, too. Nigel on the beach. In a café. One showed him standing in what looked to be an artist’s studio, looking very serious and artistic as he dabbed paint on a canvas. Whoever he was, he’d obviously played a very important role in Ana’s life. Important and personal.

“We should put these away,” she said. It didn’t feel right, poking through Ana’s past. “This is obviously something very private or she wouldn’t have stashed the box in her underwear drawer.”

“You’re right. This is none of our business.” One of the pictures had fluttered a few feet away. Leaning forward, Stuart picked it up and was about to add it to the box when he froze. “Well, I’ll be,” he muttered.

“What?” Patience looked over his shoulder. It was another studio photo, not very different from the other one, except for maybe a few additional paintings on the wall.

“Check out the painting to the left of the easel.”

It was nude portrait. A large one featuring a woman sprawled on a sofa. She was smiling at the artist, as if they shared a secret. Even in the background of a snapshot she could feel the intimacy. But why did Stuart want her to look?

“Don’t you recognize the face. The smile?”

Patience studied it closer. “No way...” The smile was the same one that had greeted her the day she took the job. “Ana modeled for him?”

“More than modeled, I’d say. Which,” he said, dropping the photograph into the box, “has me feeling extra slimy for poking around.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Looked like Ana had her own secrets. Patience could respect that.

With the items collected, she reached for the box cover only to have Stuart reach at the same time. Their hands collided, his fingers skimming the tops of hers. Patience stilled. It was but a whisper of a touch, but it brought her skin to life with a tingling sensation that enveloped her entire body.

For most of her adult life, Patience had avoided physical contact. Look, don’t touch. That was the rule. But with Stuart, even the lightest of touches had her craving more. She longed for him to take her hand. Pull her into his arms and hold her like he had the night of the dance.

She needed to back away before she lost her head. One look at Stuart’s eyes said he was fighting the same battle.

“I’d better put this away before the contents spill again,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“Good idea.”

They stayed put, each waiting for the other to move.

“I—”

“Yeah,” Stuart completed for her. He pushed himself to his feet, then offered a hand to help her up. Patience declined. Better she stand on her own two feet.

“I’ll let you know what time we’re going to meet Nikko tomorrow.”

Who? The condominium. How could she forget. “I’ll be here,” she told him.

Stuart looked about to say something, only to think better of it. With one last look, he turned and left the room.

She didn’t realize how badly she wanted him to stay until his footsteps had faded away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“W
E
APPRECIATE
YOU
opening the office for us on a holiday, Nikko. I hope we didn’t screw up your plans.”

“Are you kidding? My wife’s got her sisters at the beach house for the weekend. I’d rather do this than deal with holiday traffic any day.”

Stuart and Patience shared a smile as the realtor herded them onto the elevator. While Nikko chose the floor, Stuart made a point of positioning himself in the middle. It was no secret that his client had a roving eye. The man had already stolen a glance at Patience’s behind. Stuart wasn’t going to let him steal another.

From the start, it had bothered him to see men checking her out. Knowing her secret, however, added a layer of protectiveness. He felt compelled to keep her from being objectified. Especially by men like Nikko Popolous.

Okay, perhaps he was doubly compelled to protect her from Nikko, whose silver hair and good looks had half the women at the firm sighing with longing.

For her part, Patience dressed in her usual nondescript style. Flowing sleeveless top and cropped jeans. He wished he knew a way to tell her that disguising her figure wasn’t working. It wasn’t her figure that turned men’s heads—it was the whole package.

He ran his thumb across his fingertips remembering how close he’d come to kissing her yesterday. Clearly a dozen days of keeping his distance had done nothing to kill his attraction. Like that was a surprise.

But wouldn’t acting on his desire make him no better than Karl Tischel and the other creeps? Worse actually, since a week ago he’d been telling her he didn’t trust her. She deserved more respect than that.

“This is one of our prime corner units,” Nikko was saying as he unlocked the door. “The natural lighting is out of this world.”

Patience let out a small gasp as they stepped inside. “This place is amazing!” A poker-faced negotiator, she was not.

She was right, though. The condo was nice. Hardwood floors, tons of windows.

“The open floor plan makes this a great place for entertaining,” Nikko told them.

Stuart was more entertained by the sparkle in Patience’s eyes as she ran a hand across the top of the kitchen island. “Everything is so clean and new.”

“Top-of-the-line, too,” Nikko told her. “The cabinets are solid cherry.”

“There’s a double oven! And a wine cooler.” She smiled at Stuart. “Piper would go crazy if she saw this place.”

“You need to check out the terrace. Wraps around the whole unit. Gives you another two hundred square feet. And the best part is, you don’t have to share with the other tenants.” The realtor slid open one of the window panels and stepped outside. “Check out this view,” he said to Patience.

Stuart guided Patience out into the hot, humid air, resisting the urge to place his hand against the small of her back. The way her shirt fluttered when she walked suggested the material was light and thin. If he touched her back, he’d feel straight through to her skin and that would open up far too many problems.

“Great view, huh?”

It was nice; you could see Boston Common in the distance.

“Bet it’s great at night,” Patience remarked.

“Oh, at night it’s spectacular,” Nikko said. “There’s another door that leads out here from the master bedroom. You think the kitchen was a nice setup, wait till you see the bathroom. My own bathroom isn’t this fancy.”

The sales patter continued while Nikko led him back into the condo and down the hall. Stuart didn’t listen. A sales pitch was a sales pitch. All he wanted was a place to sleep that accrued a good return on investment.

Damn, but he’d grown jaded.

Once upon a time, he might have hunted for a home instead of an investment. When he was younger. Someplace like what he remembered sharing with his parents.

Of course, maybe things would be different if he were condo shopping with someone. Someone whose eyes sparkled with excitement.

The bathroom was impressive. Designer vanities, giant sunken tub in thecorner. “Beat’s Ana’s claw-foot tub, doesn’t it?” he said to Patience.

There was no answer.

“I think she stayed on the terrace,” Nikko remarked.

Indeed, when Stuart stepped through the bedroom slider, he found her in the same place as before, her attention fixed on some faraway point.

He had to stop and grab the railing as desire rolled through him. Why was keeping his distance a bad idea again?

It wasn’t until he walked closer that he saw the sadness behind the faraway gaze. “Everything all right?”

“Great,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

He settled in next to her. “You tell me. You looked a million miles away.”

“I was thinking how you could fit my old apartment into this place’s living room.”

“It’s the lack of furniture. Makes the space seem bigger.”

“No, our apartment was that small.”

There was regret in her voice that didn’t belong. “Bet it was easy to clean,” he teased.

He got the smile he was hoping for. “Didn’t take long, for sure.”

Nor, Stuart bet, did the apartment ever feel empty and cold. “And, you had your sister.”

“True. I’d pick small over losing her in a second, even if she did take over the bathroom when she hit high school. There was only one electrical plug that could handle a blow-dryer,” she said when he chuckled. “For four years, I was lucky to get my hair dried in time for work.”

Patience would never believe him, but he envied her. Her closeness with her sister, that is. Despite everything the two of them had endured, they’d always had each other to cling to. He wished he had that kind of support. Sure, he had Ana, but their closeness hadn’t really developed until he came east for law school. Before that...well, no wonder Gloria was able to charm him blind.

Looking to the ground, he concentrated on plowing little piles of grit and dirt with his shoe. “My grandfather’s house was big,” after a moment. “It actually had wings.”

“You mean like in west wing, east wing—that sort of thing?”

“Uh-huh.” Though his attention remained on the ground, he imagined her eyes widening. “There were literally days when I wouldn’t see Grandpa Theodore even though we were in the same house.”

“Not at all?”

“Not unless I went looking for him.” Attempts that were met with varying degrees of success.

“I’m sorry.”

No, he didn’t want her sympathy any more than she did. “He was...busy,” he said too, to steal her word.

Patience slid her hand to the left until their fingers aligned, her little finger flush with his. “I understand.”

Yeah, she did, thought Stuart, but then he’d known as much for a while. Same way he knew that as lonely as his teenage years had been, they were a cakewalk compared to hers.

He itched to cover her hand with his and entwine their fingers. Would she pull away if he did?

“The view is irresistible, isn’t it?” Nikko stepped onto the terrace, making the decision for him. The realtor waved his phone. “Sorry. My wife couldn’t find the air pump. Don’t know why—the thing’s right in the center of the garage.”

“Are you telling this guy he needs to buy?” Nikko asked Patience.

She laughed. “I think that’s up to him.”

“Maybe, but I did bring you here for input. What do you think?”

“I think this is the most amazing apartment I’ve ever seen outside of Ana’s brownstone.”

“Those brownstones are great, but they come with their headaches. Like parking. Brownstones don’t come with parking,” Nikko said. “And did you see the cedar closet in the laundry area? Solid cedar, not veneer. A moth would need a drill to get at your winter wardrobe. To put something like that in custom would cost you a fortune.”

As opposed to spending a fortune on a condominium that already had one. Stuart was about to reply when he realized Nikko had been directing his remarks to Patience. He was assuming it would be her wardrobe hanging in the cedar closet.

Patience, staying here. The idea didn’t strike him nearly as improbable as it should. On the contrary, the longing from earlier reared again, tendrils spreading up and across his chest. He hadn’t realized until just now that when he left Ana’s brownstone, he would be leaving Patience behind. Strange as it seemed, he’d grown used to sharing a space with her. He would miss her presence. That’s what the ache in his chest was all about. He was going to miss having company.

* * *

“All I’m saying is that most people would have at least slept on the decision,” Patience said when they got back to the brownstone.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You said yourself the place was amazing.”

“It is. But I didn’t mean for you to whip out your checkbook and write a down payment.” Last thing she wanted was the responsibility of having influenced his decision. Picking up Nigel’s dish, she headed to the cupboard. “How do you know there isn’t someplace better out there?” she asked, pulling out a can of Salmon Delight.

“There might be, and if I were looking for the perfect apartment, that would be important, but I’m not. This place is close to my office, and a good investment. I had pretty much made up my mind to buy if the space was halfway decent.”

If that was so, why invite her?

“I really did want a second opinion,” he replied when she asked. “If both of us liked the space, then I knew the condo was a winner.”

“Oh, sure, because I’ve so much experience buying luxury property. You do realize when I said it was the most amazing place outside of the brownstone that it was also the only other high-end place I’ve ever looked at.”

“You sell yourself short. You zoned right in on the areas I wanted an opinion on. The laundry room, the kitchen, the living space.”

All the cleaning woman areas of expertise. She winced and tried to take the compliment the way he meant. “The kitchen was nice.”

“So I could tell by the way your eyes lit up.” Okay, now she was blushing. He was studying her eyes?

“Here I thought I was being so calm and sophisticated.”

“You were being yourself, which—before you make a comment—is exactly what I wanted. You’ll argue otherwise, but you’re not very good when it comes to hiding your thoughts.”

“I’m not?” Impossible. She’d spent years cultivating her stone face. She knew how to block out the audience with the best of them.

However, she had been off her game since Stuart moved in. Did that mean he knew how badly she’d been struggling to keep her attraction at arm’s length?

Luckily, Stuart couldn’t see her face or he’d really be able to read her feelings. The overheated cheeks were a dead giveaway.

“How else do you think I figured out you were keeping secrets? Your eyes gave you away. They always do,” he said. “I see it all the time in depositions. Body language is a killer. Although in this case...you weren’t exactly hiding your enthusiasm.”

“I did gush a little, didn’t I?”

“A little?” Patience didn’t have to be a body language expert to read the amusement on his face.

“Okay, a lot,” she conceded. “That didn’t mean you had to buy the place. I don’t think I could be that impulsive.” She had trouble buying anything on a whim. What if you needed the cash later on?

“I told you, I had already decided—”

“Before we got there. I know what you said, but this afternoon was still the first time you saw the place. That, to me, is impulsive. How do you know you got the best place?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a condominum.”

“Just?” His comment made it sound as if he was settling, and while Patience wasn’t expecting him to gush about the place like her, she had expected him to at least care about where he lived.

“I work seventy to eighty hours a week,” he explained. “I’m hardly ever home. As long as the place is close to my office and can fit a bed, that’s all I care about.”

So he was settling. Patience wasn’t sure what saddened her more: that or how little he had in his life. Something Karl Tischel said at the dinner dance popped into her head.
The one whose girlfriend dumped him.
Was work the reason? Or did he work because he’d been dumped? Either way, his life sounded lonely. Correction. He sounded lonely, Patience realized.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t hide her emotions.

Even so, she shouldn’t want to reach out and comfort him the way she did. Certainly not after watching him spend a million dollars without blinking an eye. What more proof did she need that they were from different worlds?

And yet his loneliness spoke to a place deep inside her, making her feel closer to him than ever.

“What’s with the take-out bag?” In Stuart’s hand was a large white paper bag with handles. On the way home, he’d insisted they stop at the local market. He made her wait outside while he went in, only to return a few minutes later with a bag of food. Patience had been curious then, and she was doubly curious now. She leaped on the topic as the perfect change of conversation.

“Dinner,” he replied. “I seem to recall promising you a picnic and fireworks.”

“Yes, you did. The best seats in Boston, you said.”

“Trust me, they are.”

Nigel sauntered into the kitchen and crouched by his empty food dish, waiting for Patience to fill it. The minute Patience crossed his path, he began weaving around and between her legs. “You’re lucky we aren’t on the stairs,” she told him.

“Don’t you mean
you’re
lucky?” Stuart replied. “As far as I can tell, Nigel isn’t the one who gets hurt.”

“True.” Patience thought of the photographs they’d found yesterday. Ana had once said Nigel had a “Nigel personality.” If the original was as pesky as his namesake, that might explain why he wasn’t around anymore.

Behind her, Stuart was unpacking the tote bag. She saw containers loaded with potato salad, fried chicken, fruit and chocolate cake—enough to feed a full army. “So where is this awesome picnic spot?” she asked. “Near the Boston Esplanade?”

“Nope. The roof.”

“Ana’s roof?”

“Sure. That’s why the humane society insists she throw the summer barbeques here. You won’t find a better view, not even on the Esplanade.”

He pointed to the utility closet in the corner of the kitchen. “Is the portable radio still on the shelf?”