The Reluctant Cinderella (6 page)

G
reg stared out his side window, not speaking, as Megan drove the rest of the way to the station. She didn't know which bothered her more, Greg's chilly silence or the fact that Irene and Rhonda had seen them together.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said flatly when she stopped to let him out.

“No problem.”

“You've got all my numbers.” He'd given her his card that first day, in the city. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“Greg, I—”

He put up a hand. “Are you about to tell me you've changed your mind?”

All she could do was shake her head.

“Then don't say anything.” He opened his door. “Bye, Megan.”

“Bye….” She didn't allow herself to watch him walk away from her. Still shaky—and absolutely miserable—she turned her car for home. She was so absorbed in thoughts of him, of what she longed to have with him, what she wasn't going to do with him, what Irene and Rhonda were going to say about seeing them, that she got all the way home before she remembered the kids.

Forgetting the kids. That had to be a first.

Thoroughly put out with herself, she started up the car again and headed for Rosewood Park, where she collected the kids, took them back to the house, changed into her comfy at-home clothes, and kid-sat until Angela arrived from work at five-forty.

It was then that Megan had to deal with her promise to Carly: a full report on how the presentation to the Banning's executives had gone. Facing poor Carly. Now there was something Megan had zero desire to do. She almost chickened out and returned to the office to get a head start on the Banning's project.

But no. She
had
promised.

Maybe a phone call….

Uh-uh. A call would be just too cowardly and small. So she grabbed the cake stand Carly had brought over on the Fourth and headed for Tara—aka the McMansion.

As Megan walked up the wide front steps between the two huge pillars, her courage deserted
her. She was just about to set the cake stand by the arched front entryway, ring the bell and make a run for it, when Carly opened the door.

“Oh! There you are.”

Caught, Megan thought, trying not to cringe.

“I've been waiting to hear how it went….” Carly grabbed her by the arm and hauled her into the soaring marble-tiled foyer. “Did you like the cake? Oh, I hope you did.”

Megan stared into Carly's hopeful face.
Say something.
She sucked in a big breath and laid on the compliments. “It was amazing. I think it actually tasted better than it looked. Which is pretty hard to believe, considering how good it did look.”

Carly took the cake stand and set it on the foyer table. “Well. I'm just glad y'all enjoyed it.”

“Oh, we did. We definitely did.”

“Come on in the den….” Carly turned. Megan, longing to be anywhere but there, stared after her until she turned back, smiled so sweetly and waved her on. “Come on….”

So Megan went where Carly led her, into the most comfortable room of the huge, overdone house. “Have a seat.” Carly gestured toward a leather recliner. Megan obediently dropped into it. “Now, what can I get you? Coffee? I made a simple little pineapple upside-down cake this morning and I can just—”

“No. Nothing. Really.”

“You're sure…?”

“Yes. Positive.”

Carly perched delicately on the edge of the couch. “Now, then.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “How did it go?”

“It, um, well, it went beautifully.”

Carly laughed and clapped her hands. “So…?”

“It's official. We got the contract.”

“Oh, my! Well, isn't that terrific?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty jazzed.”

“Oh, I'll bet. Tell me everything.”

So Megan launched into a description of the meeting in her offices. When she mentioned Gregory, Sr., Carly sat forward. “How
is
Gregory?”

“Well, he liked what we had to show him. But I can't say he's the most outgoing guy in the world.”

Carly looked serious. “Yes. It's true. He's a…difficult person to get to know.” Carly's frown deepened. She seemed vaguely distressed.

“Are you…all right, Carly?”

She blinked. “Oh, yes. Fine. Go on….”

Megan did, wrapping it up as quickly and simply as possible, ending at the point when the Banning's executives got in their limousines and headed back to the city. She totally failed to mention the central fact that Greg had stayed behind.

Instead, she waited, certain that Carly was going to ask about Greg, and promising herself that she wouldn't lie, that she'd tell the whole truth and face the music right there and then.

But Carly only said, “That's great. Really great.”

Guilty relief poured through Megan. “Thank you again. And, you know, I've really got to run…” She
felt awful. Small. Like a liar and a coward. Probably because she was both of those things.

And Carly seemed—what? Disappointed. Yes. That was it. Disappointed that Megan had nothing to volunteer about Greg. Disappointed, but apparently unwilling this time around to actually ask about him. She offered yet again, “A piece of cake? You're sure?”

“Thanks, but no.” Megan bounced to her feet and headed for the foyer. “Just wanted to, you know, tell you how it went….”

Carly rose and followed her to the door. “I'm just thrilled it turned out so well.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything. It's terrific. I'm excited.”
Oh, and did I mention I'm also a big, fat liar and a snake in the grass…?

“Glad I could help.” Carly opened the door for her and Megan escaped with a quick wave and a last, lying smile.

 

Megan hardly slept at all that night. Guilt and shame and self-disgust will do that to a person.

She lay in bed hating herself for what she had done with Greg that afternoon, and the way she had lied, by omission, to Carly. Megan despised herself—well, when she wasn't longing for the man she was never going to have.

She relived that forbidden kiss a hundred times. And each time she did so, she promised herself she was putting Greg Banning strictly out of her mind.

Out of her mind.

Interesting word choice. Oh, yeah. Because she
was
out of her mind—out of her mind with yearning for a guy she wasn't ever going to kiss again.

About five-thirty in the morning, she finally gave up all hope for sleep. Feeling stir-crazy in her little apartment, she put on her robe and slippers and crossed the breezeway to Angela's, where she brewed a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen island to watch the sunrise through the window that looked out on the backyard.

“What's up?” Angela stood in the doorway from the back hall, barefoot, in a knee-length sleep shirt, her soft blond hair tousled.

“Nothing.” Another lie. But a tiny one, a lie that was nothing compared to Megan's lies of yesterday, when she'd sat in Carly's den and told her everything but what really mattered. “Just watching the sun come up.” She gestured over her shoulder at the pot on the counter. “I made coffee….”

Angela padded over and got herself a cup. She slid onto the stool next to Megan. For a moment, the sisters stared out the window and sipped their morning coffee in companionable silence.

Megan found herself thinking of their childhood, of how she and Angela had been so close, right from the first. And then, when Megan was fourteen, right after Angela's sweet-sixteen birthday, their parents had separated—and then divorced.

Angela had been devastated. Megan, too, but not as bad as Angela. Megan had seen enough tragedy in her life by then that, to a degree, the divorce of her adoptive parents was just more of the same.

Their father, who had found another woman, vanished from their lives. Their mother became distant, wrapped up in her fury at their father's betrayal. The sisters had grown even closer through that tough time. They had each other, at least. And they'd both vowed never to lose their special bond.

Into the silence, Angela said softly, “When you want to talk about it, you know I'm here.”

Megan took another sip. She continued to watch the sunrise. “Yeah. I know. Thanks, sis….”

“Anytime.”

 

All through Tuesday and Wednesday at Design Solutions, at home in the evening and later in her apartment during the mostly sleepless nights, Megan promised herself she wouldn't even
think
about Greg.

Her promises were pointless. She did think of him. She kept waiting for the feeling that she was throwing away something wonderful to fade at least a little.

Waiting didn't help. The feeling didn't fade.

Thursday morning, she got up early again, went over to the main house and made coffee.

Angela appeared in her sleep shirt just as the coffee finished dripping. “Ready to talk about it?”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

They filled twin mugs and sat at the island. As the sun came up, Megan told Angela everything—from the private stuff Greg had shared with her in the restaurant Monday to the tour of his empty house on
Sycamore Street to the forbidden kiss. To how Rhonda and Irene had seen them, and finally to the way Megan had lied to Carly by not saying anything about any of it.

Angela waited until Megan had gotten it all out. And then she said exactly what Megan had known she would say. “Tell Carly. Tell her right away. You know you're not going to be able to live with yourself until you get things straight with her.”

“Oh, God…”

“I know how you are.” Angela sent her a look of fond exasperation. “At work, you're a dynamo. Nobody gets in your way when it comes to Design Solutions. But here at home…”

Megan finished for her. “I hate making waves.”

“Well, in this case,” Angela predicted, “there will be waves and you know it, as soon as word gets around that you and Greg Banning are seeing each other.”

Megan gaped at her sister. “But I'm not seeing Greg. Didn't you hear what I just said?”

“Every word. And I don't believe for a minute that you and Greg Banning are done with each other. You're crazy about him. You light up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July every time you mention his name. And from what you've just told me, he's gone on you, too. Why are you trying to walk away from that? I don't get it. You're both single. You have every right to take the attraction you feel for each other and run with it.”

“Well, yeah. Except for poor Carly…”

“Greg isn't Carly's anymore. It's sad she won't admit that, but still, it's a fact. Carly needs to get over Greg. And
you
need to deal with that big, fat hole in your integrity. You let Carly cry on your shoulder. That's your weakness—you know it is. In your personal life, you let people think what they want to think. People tell you all their troubles and you
let
them, you listen and you nod and make understanding noises. You hold their hands. Which is fine. Most of the time. But this time, well, it's kind of backfired on you. You held Carly's hand and you heard her long, sad story and now she trusts you. When you tell her the truth, she'll probably be very angry with you.”

“And hurt. She'll be so hurt.”

“She's already hurt. And I hope she gets past it. But you've got a problem of your own here and your problem is that you haven't been honest with her.”

 

Angela had it right. And Megan knew it.

The kids came down for breakfast. Megan went back over to her place and got ready for work.

But she didn't
go
to work.

At nine, she marched over to Carly's and rang the bell.

There was no answer—at first. But then, just as she was about to ring the bell again, the door opened a crack and Carly peeked through.

“Megan!” She sounded so happy. The knife of guilt in Megan's stomach twisted deeper. Carly pulled the door wide. “Come on in….”

Grimly resigned to get the truth out once and for all, Megan stepped inside. Carly shut the door and let out a soft, nervous giggle as she patted her sleep-mussed golden hair. “Well, as you can see…” She retied the sash of her silk robe. “I'm not up and about yet. Lately, I just seem to be a hopeless slug-abed….”

“Carly, I really need to—”

“But
you…
” Carly's eyes had gone wide. “Megan. You look terrific. You should wear bold colors all the time. This bright turquoise does wonders for your skin—not to mention those pretty green eyes of yours. It's, well, Megan, this is a whole other you.”

“Thanks. I was just, um, on my way to work….”

Carly took her by the shoulders. “Well, I am serious as a heart attack here. Get yourself some casual clothes in bright colors. Be as gorgeous at home as you are when you go to work.”

“Um. I will. I'll do that.”

“Good. Now, how about some coffee?”

“Ah, no. Thanks. I'm fine.”

A line had formed between Carly's smooth brows. “Megan. You seem…are you all right?”

She blew out a hard breath. “No. Not really. I have something to tell you. Could we maybe sit down?”

In the den, Carly took the recliner. “Now, what? Tell me what's bothering you.”

Megan realized there was no way she could sit down. So she stood a few feet from Carly's chair and made herself say that certain dangerous name. “It's about Greg.”

Carly put a hand to her slim throat. “What? Tell me? Is he…did he say something after all, on Monday? Did he tell you he's been missing me? Did he hint that he wanted to try—?”

“No.” The word came out harsh, abrupt.

Carly cringed and shrank back into her chair. “Oh. Oh, well, then…?”

“I'm sorry.” Megan put up both hands in a placating gesture. “I didn't mean to be so curt.”