Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance

Sun Chara

A division of HarperCollins
Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Greetings from southern California! I’m a teacher turned actor/writer and have appeared on stage and film in How the Other Half Loves, General Hospital, and McGee & Me. The showbiz background comes in handy with speaking engagements, judging RWA contests, and judging the Emmys. I have a Master of Arts Degree, and I'm a member of the Screen Actors Guild and Romance Writers of America. Globetrotting for lore (once, on an excursion amidst the pyramids in the Valley of the Kings, a gentleman offered fifteen camels for my hand…now had it been race horses…) while keeping tabs on Hollywood leads, I love creating stories of pure passion with global thrills!

To my sweet mom, bros Joe and Harry and family, and the beautiful people of Cyprus, England and across the globe … you shine!

A super nova thanks to my wonderful editor Charlotte Ledger who spoke words of wonder: 'I really feel it's meant to be having picked you out of SYTYCW!' Wow!

Bunches of thanks to the best ever publishing team at Harper Impulse … you are magical!

And to everyone who has a dream, Never Give Up!

'With God all things are possible.'

Cade Sloan—Manhattan’s hotshot bachelor on the brink of bankruptcy
.

Cade read the headline and hurled the newspaper into the trashcan, the taunting words searing his brain. Prowling back and forth his high-rise office, he paused mid stride and zoned in on his secretary, who sat ramrod straight, her fingers flying across the computer keyboard.

“Ms. McLow—” The words dissolved on his tongue, and he scratched his head. What was her name anyway?

“Ms. McLow—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ms.—”

“McLowsky.” She lifted a shapely brow and tossed him a glance through her coke-bottle thick lenses, a blush on her cheeks. “Nina McLowsky.”

Did she just click her tongue in disapproval?

Just his luck. She came with attitude.

“Of course.” He swiped a finger around his shirt collar, and his chest tightened. “Nina McLowsky.” Scrambling to
regroup, he seized the coffee-mate
from the counter and filled a cup with coffee.

She looked like she had walked out of a 1950s Norman Rockwell painting, the epitome of diplomacy and efficiency. He stroked his throat, and then shook his head, amazed. He was actually flirting with the idea of a merger …with her.

At least with her there’d be no emotional tantrums. The thought had him breaking out in a sweat. He never let any woman get close enough to get a glimpse beneath the surface, to know what made him tick. ‘Never trust a woman,’ was his motto.

A cab horn blared amidst the congested traffic on Madison Avenue ripped through his thoughts. He flinched in annoyance.

He hadn’t felt this out of his depth since he was a boy, and he had vowed never to feel like this again. And he was running out of options. His global real estate investments were about to tank. He had to score a mega hit or he was going to cave. Fast.

And that rankled his pride.

“Here you go.” He plopped the coffee cup on her desk, and a huff of air burst from his mouth, ruffling a wisp at her temple.

She squinted at the steaming brew, then up at him, her baby blues all innocence and perplexity. “Thank you.”

His gut flexed.
He frowned and dismissed the unsettling feeling.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

She peered at him above her thick lenses, a hint of a smile on her mouth, her fingers never missing a beat. Maybe if he focused on the dimple on her cheek, he could go through with the transaction.

“Take a moment, Ms. McLowsky.” The smell of caffeine gave him a boost, and latching onto his own mug, he shot her his killer smile.

“Sir?”

“Well…uh…” he began, words sticking in his throat. “Drink up.”

“Yes, sir.” She picked up the steaming cup, blew on the liquid and took a sip, fixing her gaze on him over the rim.

Was that a glint of amusement in her eyes?

She blinked and it was gone. “Is that it, sir?” She set the cup on the desk.

“No.” He lifted his mug to his lips, took a gulp of the black brew and scorched his tongue. He swore, a muffled sound
.

She heard, and
raised that well-defined eyebrow again.

“There’s a new position in the company.” He stepped closer and hitching up
his jean-clad leg, propped his hip on the corner of her desk. “You’re the best match.”

“What is it?”

“A merger, of sorts.”

At thirty-three, Cade was not averse to a challenge; it was the coercion tactics his uncle still used that he abhorred. His uncle. His lifelong nemesis, whom he’d booted from the boardroom, now tossed him a curve to the tune of three million—problem was the deal included a stipulation to muzzle…er… marry him off.

Cade was under no illusions that his uncle’s offer was iced with ulterior motives, but, in no position to refuse, he had to take the bait. A pittance, but it’d swing him from the red into the black, and buy him some time. He’d expand his global holdings, complete the mega development in Cyprus, triple his profits and
—
his heart turned to determined stone—catch the hacker embezzling company funds.

The con was about to demolish Cade into a heap of rubble. He had to do something.

He scrubbed the stubble on his jaw, and his gaze swerved to
her
. He’d racked his brain for the perfect candidate, and Ms. Straitlaced, now staring up at him with half parted lips, best fit the bill—no complications.

She licked her lips, and then nipped the bottom one with her teeth.

His gut got unhinged with that strange feeling again. He yanked his gaze away from her mouth and plummeted into the ocean of her eyes. He bounced off, aimed lower and got socked in the belly. Beneath her colorless dress, her breasts rose and fell with every breath she took, and he imagined—

Get a grip, man
. Oh yeah. Freud would get a big chuckle outta that.

Cade cleared his throat. “A marr—” He coughed, and forced the words out. “A marriage proposal.” A noose around his neck.

“What?” She gaped at him as though he’d gone bonkers, then her stiff discipline kicked in. “A
market
proposal, sir?”

“Nice try.” Somehow, he’d outmaneuver his uncle’s ploy to get him hitched, but first, he had to get his hands on the dough.

Matrimony.” He scowled. “It’d be a promotion. Higher salary … perks … company car … me.”

She laughed, but there was a nervous tingle in it. “I don’t qualify, sir.”

“Indeed, you do.” He’d checked her out and she came out squeaky clean. Lived with her cat, bicycled in Central Park on weekends, no boyfriend, a mother in Los Angeles. Her father, a former employee of the company before Cade’s takeover, unaccounted for. He curled his lip in distaste. Divorce, no doubt.

“Marry…you?!”

Heck, did she have to sound so shocked? Plenty of sophisticates would snatch at his proposal. He palmed his nape. But this business model called for specific criteria—and he was looking at her. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because—”

“I don’t even like you.”

That cut through his thick hide and pricked his pride. He shrugged.

“You don’t have to.”

She giggled, and the sound booted him with a delicious zap.

“Strictly a business transaction.” He pointed to himself then to her.

“Mutually beneficial.”

“No, thank you.”

Aww, man, there she went barricading herself behind her prim and proper façade. He had to knock her defenses down and clinch the deal.

“Would a percentage of three million change your mind?”

“Very funny.” She shifted in her chair and resumed typing.

“Okay.” He slid off the desk. “If you change your mind—”

The phone rang.

Nina picked up the receiver and sized him up over the rim of her glasses. Sexual energy vibrated from him, a catalyst to her own. Good reason to keep her distance. “I’ll see if Mr. Sloan’s avail—”

He grabbed the phone from her so quickly, a whoosh of hot air singed the back of her hand.

“Sloan,” he barked, making the room shrink. “No way in hell.” He paced the floor, the muscles in his back contracting. A scowl creased his otherwise handsome features. It was a face that had women lining up and gossip hounds salivating after him.

A shiver shimmied up her spine.

Cade Sloan gobbled girls like her for appetizers, spat them out and moved onto the entrée. Breath whipped from her lips, and she twitched her nose.
No way would she be another notch on this stud’s belt.

Nina had her life mapped out. And it did not include her sexy boss who had just propositioned her. She fiddled with her pearl earring, and her gaze strayed back to him.

“Not my type,” she murmured beneath her breath.

He heard and cocked a brow, his eyes shuttering.

Heat—his searing hot attraction – grabbed hold of her. Perspiration dampened her skin and a droplet meandered between her breasts. She pulled a tissue from the Kleenex box and dabbed her upper lip.

He was much too dangerous.

Lethal…to her.

What if he was behind her father’s disappearance? Her father was a former employee.

“I need more time.” Already having dismissed her, he glanced over her head at the New York skyline visible through the wide expanse of glass of one wall. “Three days.” Gold flecks in his eyes glittered, then he crashed the phone down, tension riddling his broad shoulders as he let out a deep breath of frustration. He strode to the door, paused, and tossed over his shoulder. “Think it over, Ms. McLowsky.”

“Why?”

“Because … er … you’ve got the stellar qualifications stipulated for the position.”

She shook her head, and a curl dared play fickle at her temple. She batted it away with the back of her hand, and resisted the temptation he dangled before her. “I’m flattered, but—”

“No flattery intended.” He laughed. It sounded like a snort and made her bristle with indignation. “Cold, hard cash. Plenty of it.” About to step across the threshold, he paused in stride, one foo
t
firmly set on her turf, the other about to land in his office.

“How much?” Nina blushed to the roots of her hair knotted at her nape. Had she actually uttered those words? She swallowed. Okay, he was serving up a deal that didn’t cross a girl’s desk every day.

Wouldn’t hurt to get the particulars, would it? It could be her ticket out of a nine to five and enable her to open her lingerie boutique before her thirtieth birthday which was just months away. She’d achieve financial independence and go full force after the creepola who lured her father away, leaving her mother a broken heap.

Nina took a breath and shook herself from her lapse into the past. Removing her glasses, she blinked at Cade’s back, and a funny sensation fluttered in her stomach. She ignored it. Mustn’t skip lunch again.

Working through lunch and after hours afforded her time to search for answers. Now, here was the boss handing her a prime opportunity to get them. She propped her eyeglasses back on her nose. Being linked to Cade Sloan would give her access to confidential files that might give her the coup to her father’s whereabouts.

Would she dare? And if she did, could she go through with it?

Her palms grew moist, and she swiped them on her loose fitting dress.

A nervous giggle slipped between her lips. Would it be so awful, if it got her closer to her goal?

But what if you fall for him?
She rolled her eyes. Not a chance in hell.

“Fifty thousand.” Cade turned, setting both feet on the floorboards, and held her gaze.

“Wha-at?” Her mind filled with possibilities before his words had her clambering to refocus.

“Fifty grand.”

“That’s pocket change.” She retorted, surprising herself. She must be dimwitted to even debate this with him. It could explode in her face. But if she sampled, he’d have to up the stakes big time. She did a quick calculation. “That’s not even two per cent of the purse.”

“Name your cut.” He circled her desk like an opponent in the ring, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave. Cool spice.

A rush of air filled her lungs, and she let it hurl out in a miniature tornado. “Half the take, no sex, and I’m gone right after the ceremony.”

He eyed her like he was going for her jugular. “Sex is a non-negotiable item in this deal.” A guffaw ripped from deep in his throat. “A real marriage is the backer’s price.”

Nina grasped the mug between her hands, gulped several mouthfuls of the now lukewarm coffee and plunked it back on the coaster. The black brew sloshed the sides of the cup, but didn’t spill. She picked up a pencil and tapped it on the desktop. She hadn’t worked for Cade Sloan without learning a thing or two about savvy —make that cutthroat—business wheeling and dealing. She cleared her throat. “Fifty percent, one night of s-s-se—”

“With me.” He grinned, and from her vantage it looked like a leer.

She ignored the hit. “
After
the ring’s on my finger, one night with y-y-ou, and then I’m gone.”

“
Hasta la vista
, babe?” He winked. She nodded. She couldn’t speak.

Her heart squeezed itself into a fist. She must be nuts to engage in this deal with him. She had to find another way to fund her search…support her mother, herself, pay the PI, get answers, find her father.

“Works for me.” He rolled up his sleeves and flexed his arms.

“It does?” She let herself consider her future husband-to-be. He was well built and tanned…must be all that trekking around constructions sites. The August heat branded his brown hair with sunlight, and she wondered how soft—

She paled in comparison, being cooped indoors with the air conditioning. Add to that her frumpy clothes, chunky shoes, eyeglasses and a hairstyle that’d gone out with the wagon train, and no one would give her a second look.

A quiver of a smile brushed her mouth. Beneath her outer garments, lace and silk sheathed her curves, but that was her secret. And that’s how she liked it, how she planned it.

“Mmm,” Cade murmured, a predator cornering his prey. No sweat with this deal. He’d charm the money from her, which was technically his anyway, and then unload her.

Cade dismissed the stab of his conscience.

For her trouble, she’d be tripping along with pocketfuls of cash as per his original offer. A slight easing around his heart. She’d collect on the rings too. She’d be set to go.

You schmuck
. He shrugged. He’d been called worse.

“No regrets?” he asked, wondering why he bothered to voice the query.

“I’ll let you know.” She toyed with the pencil between her fingers, not meeting his eyes.

Chuckling, he bridged the distance between them and set his coffee mug next to hers. He was back on the playing field. Rebuilding the company would save hundreds of jobs and create new ones on the home front and overseas. He had nothing to feel guilty about, did he?

He loomed over her, so close he could smell her perfume—exotic blossoms of some kind. It knocked his senses into gear. “Take a memo, Ms. McLowsky.”

She adjusted her eyeglasses and risked a peek at him from above the lenses.