Secret Cinderella

A foot from the bottom, she kicked free and dropped. The wind had picked up, so snow would cover her tracks quickly. She scooped up her belongings and melted into the shadows of the neighboring building.

RODERICK WAS NOT in a good mood when he returned to the main ballroom. Shereen stood near the dance floor in animated conversation with Roderick’s most powerful competitor and that rarest of species—a wealthy, eligible bachelor like himself.

“Roderick!” Shereen greeted him when she spotted him. “Just look at my dress! It’s completely ruined! Some clumsy drunk dumped an entire glass of burgundy all over me! I don’t know what I’m going to do. I tried wiping the stains off in the bathroom, but I’m sure my dry cleaner will never be able to get them out completely.”

“Then it’s a good thing I brought your coat,” he told her.

Her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched. “You want to leave? Now?”

“It isn’t even midnight yet,” Larry Wilhelm protested.

“Wilhelm,” Roderick acknowledged the other man grudgingly.

“Don’t mind Roderick, he has a headache,” Shereen said with asperity. “I suggested he go take another aspirin or have another drink, but Roderick isn’t fond of parties, are you darling?”

“No,” he said tersely.

Deliberately, Wilhelm ran a knuckle down Shereen’s bare upper arm. “You know what they say about all business and no play, Laughlin.”

Shereen offered him a teasing smile. Roderick didn’t bother to conceal his annoyance with the pair. “I prefer to do my playing in private.”

Wilhelm raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Sorry, Laughlin, I didn’t realize I was treading on private property.”

The heck he didn’t.

“I am hardly anyone’s property,” Shereen stated archly.

Looking at the haughty arrogance in every line of her elegant body, Roderick realized how little he actually liked the woman underneath those superficial charms. Shereen was decorative and intelligent and extremely talented in the bedroom, but the world was filled with women like her. While they had suited each other for a surprising number of months now, he realized the relationship was no longer worth the effort.

Had he come to that realization because of Shereen’s apparent interest in Wilhelm, or because of a small, pointy face and two large eyes that had lit with an inner glow whenever that brilliant smile appeared?

It was an understatement to say the young woman he’d just helped wasn’t his type. She was short rather than statuesque, and far from model thin. And heaven knew she had no sense of style. Still, she intrigued him, and Roderick had always enjoyed a good puzzle.

“That was rather rude, darling,” Shereen told him as he led her away. “Larry was simply being nice by keeping me company while I waited for you.”

He didn’t have a chance to voice his opinion on that because just then the mayor and his wife flagged them down. Being rude to Wilhelm was one thing, but Roderick genuinely liked the young mayor and the group of people they were with. Shereen drifted away, leaving him sorely tempted to let her find her own way home. Good manners prevailed and they stayed until midnight after all. By the time he got Shereen out of the ballroom and onto the escalator, his headache was creeping close to migraine territory.

“…and I don’t know why we couldn’t take the elevator,” Shereen was complaining. “Escalators are so dirty.”

“Too crowded,” he told her shortly.

“This aversion you have for elevators is really quite annoying at times, you know that?”

He paused to regard her before crossing to the next set of moving steps. “If you want to take the elevator, Shereen, feel free,” he told her brusquely and turned away.

“You really are in a mood, aren’t you?” Shereen said waspishly as she hurried after him. “You’re still miffed because I was talking to Larry earlier. You know, just because you and Larry often find yourselves rivals at times, it wouldn’t have hurt you to make nice. Larry does move in all the right circles, you know. He was just telling me how his company got a juicy new contract working with Homeland Security. Instead of acting so rudely, you’d do well to encourage a relationship with him.”

Roderick didn’t look at her. “I’ll leave that to you.”

She inhaled audibly.

“Don’t tell me you were jealous, darling,” she purred after a moment.

“I won’t.”

He stepped off the escalator and moved across the tiled foyer ahead of her to hand the valet his parking ticket. Outside, snow had coated the roads, continuing its downward spiral with growing speed.

“I didn’t realize,” Shereen said in her most conciliatory tone of voice. “You were probably bidding on the same contract.”

Roderick didn’t bother to respond. She’d realized. They’d even discussed his plans. When RAL had bid on the contract and lost, he’d simply chalked it up to part of doing business. The loss had nothing to do with his instinctive dislike of the man.

Shereen fell silent beside him as they waited for the Mercedes to be brought around. Roderick barely noticed her. He was busy planning the phone call he would make first thing tomorrow morning to begin his search for the mystery woman. Anticipation had his thoughts moving briskly as the dark green sedan rolled to a stop. Roderick reached for his billfold.

And came up empty.

“Is something wrong?” Shereen asked.

“My wallet seems to be missing.” He checked the other pocket. Empty, as well. Not just his wallet, his keys were gone, as well.

Shereen frowned. “Maybe it fell out in your car,” she suggested. “When did you have it last?”

Roderick knew exactly when he’d had it last. He’d tipped the cloakroom attendant and replaced the wallet in his inner pocket. Then the mystery woman in the sparkly green dress had slid her arms around him—beneath the tuxedo jacket.

He swore out loud. The little witch had lifted his wallet and his keys and he’d never felt a thing. He couldn’t believe he’d been suckered by a pro.

“You could have dropped it upstairs. Maybe you left it at the table. We could go back up and have a look around.”

For someone who hadn’t wanted to leave a minute ago, she didn’t sound enthusiastic at the prospect of going back upstairs.

“I didn’t lose it upstairs,” he said tersely. Well, he had, but not in the way she meant. No wonder the little imp had been looking around so frantically. He wondered how many other men in the ballroom were going to find their faces red this evening.

“Are you going to call security?”

“No,” he said absently. “I know exactly what happened to it.” And he was generally such an excellent judge of character. “Would you mind tipping the man for me?”

Roderick was more annoyed than embarrassed to admit that he’d been suckered. He should have known better, of course, but she was a pro—and not the sort he’d thought. Well, hadn’t she told him she wasn’t what he’d thought?

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Roderick thought about calling the police, but he knew he wouldn’t and not just because he’d look foolish. He preferred to deal with the little pickpocket himself. Someone else might report her, of course, but it was a chance he was willing to take. She didn’t know it, but she’d handed him the perfect excuse to find her. And he would. She’d made it easy by taking a taxi. Taxi’s kept records.

“You’re in a perfectly foul mood this evening, you know that?” Shereen asked as he pulled carefully out into traffic.

“I suppose I am.”

Wisely, she fell silent, leaving him to concentrate on the road. His thoughts were busy conjuring up mock conversations with the imp when he located her. His imagination was enjoying the exercise when Shereen turned toward him again.

“I am sorry, darling,” she offered, laying a long-fingered hand on his thigh. “I didn’t appreciate how severe your headache must be. I guess you had a beastly night. I’ll make it up to you when we get to my place.”

“Save it, Shereen. You made your point earlier. Consider it taken. Right now I need to concentrate.”

She stiffened and withdrew. He could feel her amber eyes studying him in the glow of the dash lights, but he kept his focus on the road. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up with the falling snow.

They drove in tense silence until they reached her apartment complex. Instead of pulling into the parking garage as usual, he drove to the front of the building and stopped.

“Darling, I realize you’re annoyed with me and I’m sorry. I wasn’t really flirting with your archenemy, you know. Why don’t you come in and let me make it up to you? It’s far too treacherous to drive all the way into Virginia tonight.”

Her hand moved to his thigh and stroked upward.

“Goodbye, Shereen.”

The hand stopped moving and she frowned. “Pouting is most unbecoming.”

“So is using sex to get your own way.”

She recoiled instantly.

“Happy New Year,” he added sarcastically.

The flash of anger in her expression came and went so fast he barely had time to notice. She laid a placating hand on his sleeve, her frown of concern so patently phony he had to force his arm to be still.

“We’ll talk in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

“Don’t plan on it, Shereen.”

Her eyes widened as she studied his features. “You’re dumping me? You are! Why you arrogant bastard!”

Without another word, she exited the car. The slamming of the door shook loose a clump of snow from the roof. Manfully, the wipers struggled to cope as it cascaded over the windshield.

Roderick pulled away without a backward glance. He generally used more finesse when breaking off relationships, but he suspected subtlety would have been wasted on Shereen. He also suspected at least some of her anger was more for show than anything else. If he wasn’t mistaken, Shereen had already selected his replacement. Wilhelm’s pockets better be as deep as reported if he was planning to be the next in line to woo the beautiful model. Shereen didn’t come cheap.

The snowplows and salt trucks were operating with almost negligible results. The drive to her apartment had taken longer than it did in rush hour, and what was normally a fifteen-to twenty-minute trip to his place took nearly two nerve-wrenching hours as the weather continued to worsen. His headache was truly wicked by the time he pulled into his garage.

Roderick used the spare house key concealed there to let himself into the town house. As he switched the security panel back on for the night, he gave himself a mental reminder to change the code and have the door locks re-keyed. Shereen had both and could let herself in at any time. Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about that tonight.

His headache was reaching migraine proportions by the time he kicked off his dress shoes and crossed to the stairs. He was tired. All he wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed.

He had nearly reached the upstairs hall when a sudden prickle traveled up his back to lodge at the base of his skull. Roderick stopped moving.

There was no sound out of place. No trace of smoke. The only thing he smelled was the lingering scent of nail polish remover and the bath salts Shereen favored.

Yet something was wrong.

Adrenaline replaced his headache and exhaustion. At thirty-two, he knew better than to ignore his instincts. He backed down the steps quietly.

One touch of the button on the control panel would bring the police and a security team, but he’d feel worse than a fool if he brought anyone out on a night like this and the house was empty. His security system was state-of-the-art technology. By checking the panel he could see at a glance if the system had been breached. It should have alerted him if that had been the case, even if his sister had stopped by for some reason, but it hadn’t.

Was it possible that he was suddenly developing an imagination?

Not hardly. The thief had taken his house keys along with his identification. No doubt that had raised subconscious alarms. She couldn’t use the keys to get inside without tripping the alarm, yet the sense of wrongness persisted.

Roderick made his way to the softly glowing panel and ran a diagnostic check. The system recorded no entry prior to his, but it did show a momentary interrupt in power a couple of hours ago. A power surge or a flicker in the house current? It hadn’t lasted long enough to trip his pager and alert him, yet his unease remained.

The only sound inside the house was the ticking of the huge grandfather clock in the living room. He checked the doors and windows. All secure. His senses weren’t placated.

Roderick abhorred guns, and a knife wasn’t a particularly efficient form of defense against an unknown assailant, but he wanted something in his hand before he went upstairs again. Moving to the kitchen, he crossed the tiles in his stocking feet and quietly removed a heavy skillet. Hefting it, he tested its weight. He was tired and irritable and feeling oddly theatric, but this was his home. If someone had gotten past the system somehow, they were going to regret the action.

He strode to the staircase and promptly stumbled over the shoes he’d left at the bottom. He kept himself from falling, but he’d just lost the element of surprise if someone else was inside.

Jaw set, pan swinging, Roderick mounted the steps by twos. At the top he hit the wall switch. A stream of slightly yellow illumination cast shadows on the walls. Nothing else moved. There was no sound.

He turned toward the master bedroom. The double doors yawned wide-open the way he’d left them, yet he entered cautiously. At first glance nothing appeared disturbed. He moved toward the closet and froze. Heart-pounding adrenaline shot through his system. If he hadn’t taken off his shoes downstairs he would never have felt the dampness.

Someone had walked across the carpeting with wet feet.

He gripped the pan firmly while his heart tried to drill through his chest. His palms slicked with sweat. He gazed about slowly. The bedroom was empty. So was the spacious walk-in closet.

He crossed to the master bath. The large room was a hedonistic delight. The tub sprawled on a raised dais, twice as wide and half again as long and deep as a normal tub. Jets were built into the sides so it could be operated as a whirlpool. A sinfully appealing skylight loomed overhead and there was a separate, oversized shower with multiple heads so that water could run freely over a person from both sides—or two people could share as he and Shereen had done on more than one occasion.

An enormous double vanity filled the far wall with mirrored glass. The glass was partially fogged. His blurred image stared back at him.

Running a quick finger over the inside of the tub he discovered it had been wiped but was still damp. The unmistakable scent of Shereen’s favorite bath oil mingled in the air along with the odor of nail polish remover. That was what his subconscious had tried to alert him to when he started up the stairs. Those odors shouldn’t have been there. Shereen hadn’t used the large bathroom in more than a week.

He strode back to the bedroom. This time when he surveyed the room, he did so slowly, taking in small details. His muscles contracted the moment he spotted his wallet and key case on the tall dresser. Roderick didn’t need to open the expensive leather. It seemed inevitable that his money would all be inside.

He lowered the pan. Red-stained tissues were clumped in his wastebasket. Ridiculously, he was glad. The nail color had been all wrong on her. But how had the little thief gotten past his unbeatable security system?

His legs carried him to the large guest room. He slapped the wall switch. Nothing happened. The lamp on the nightstand must have been turned off at the base. It didn’t matter. The light from the hall was adequate.

The first thing he saw was the sparkly green material lying in a heap on the floor.

The second thing he saw was the body on the bed.

Chapter Three

Mel awoke from a dreamless sleep to adrenaline-pumping fear. A large shadowy shape loomed over her. With a startled cry, she rolled away from the threat, off the other side of the bed to land on her feet. She crouched there poised to fight or flee while her brain attempted to assimilate what was happening.

A startled masculine oath ripped from the shadow’s throat. He half raised an object in his hand defensively at her cry and Mel came all the way to consciousness as memory clicked into place. She was in the guest bedroom in the town house belonging to Roderick Laughlin III. The shadow could be no one else but her host.

Actually, as her heart continued to thud a staccato beat, she wasn’t sure which of them was the more startled by the situation. She’d been taught that taking the offensive was always the best policy so she gave vent to the panic that had clawed the back of her throat.

“You idiot! You scared the heck out of me!”

He lowered the object slowly. “What?”

“You could have given me a heart attack! You should have called out or something. Don’t you know you should never startle someone awake? I thought you were an intruder.”

Speechless, he remained unmoving.

As her vision penetrated the darkened room, his shocked expression drained the remainder of her fear. She had no idea what time it was, but it felt very late, or very early, depending on the point of view. The house was dark and Roderick Laughlin still wore his tuxedo—right down to the perfectly knotted tie at his throat. Mostly backlit by the hall light, he stood there gripping what looked like a frying pan. The image was so ludicrous, Mel couldn’t help it, she giggled.

“Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “But you look ridiculous holding that skillet. Were you going to bean me over the head or did you come to offer me breakfast? Because if you’re cooking, I’m eating.”

His eyes blinked shut for a moment. “Oh, hell. You’re a fruitcake.”

“I most certainly am not!” She aimed a finger at his chest. “Listen, buddy, I’m not the one dressed in a tuxedo holding a frying pan in my guest room in the middle of the night. It is still the middle of the night, isn’t it? What time is it? And what are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you and the model be ringing in the new year at her place all night?”

He shook his head like a fighter who’d taken one punch too many.

“How did you get in here?” he growled.

Uh-oh. Dangerous territory.

“Like any normal person. Through the front door. I, uh, sort of borrowed your keys.”

This time when he shook his head, she realized he’d recovered. He’d moved beyond shock to a deadly calm.

“How did you get past my security system?”

“Oh, that,” she stalled.

“Yes, that.”

When no suitable answer came to mind, Mel gave what she hoped was a negligent shrug and started moving around the bed. “You need a better system.”

He tensed.

“There is no better system,” he gritted out. “Who the devil are you?”

“Really?” she asked dubiously even though she knew darn well what he’d said was true. She’d never come across an alarm system quite like his before. Even her father would be impressed. The dratted thing had nearly defeated her.

“Look, if it makes you feel any better, it did take me several minutes to disconnect and reconnect without tripping the interrupt circuit.”

“That’s impossible,” he stated flatly.

Shrugging, she offered him a saucy grin. “If I were you, I’d make the company refund your money.”

His voice dropped another octave. “I own the company that created that system.”

“Oops.” And didn’t that just figure. Maybe she should try inserting her other foot. “Better send your people back to the drawing board.”

He closed his mouth with a snap. His gaze swept her with a force that was nearly tangible. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but abruptly he tensed even further.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

Mel pushed self-consciously at a flopping sleeve and glanced down at the white linen, thankful to see the material was draped decently to midthigh. Everything was properly covered so she tried for a wry smile.

“Sorry. I couldn’t find any pajamas.”

As though afraid he might be tempted to use it, he set the frying pan on the rumpled bed with exaggerated care.

“I don’t wear pajamas,” he said starkly.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured when I couldn’t find any. Normally I sleep nude, too, but I didn’t feel right doing that here…you know, being a guest in your house and all.”

“You are not a guest,” he enunciated carefully. “You are a common thief.”

And that raised her Irish once more. “I may be a lot of things, pal, but I am in no way common. And I haven’t stolen a thing from you,” she fired back. “I even replaced the ninety bucks I borrowed for cab fare.”

“Ninety dollars! What did you do, take a tour?”

“Hey! In case you’ve forgotten, it’s New Year’s Eve.”

Besides, she’d taken a series of cab rides because her car had refused to start again, but there was no point mentioning that little fact. Or how incredibly lucky she’d been to find even one cab let alone several still operating as the weather worsened.

She spread her hands. “So I was gouged, sue me. Between the holiday and the snow, I was hardly in any position to argue prices. I know I shouldn’t have borrowed your wallet and your keys, but I did return them, so no harm done.”

“And my shirt?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. It’s the middle of the night! You want it back? Fine.”

As she reached for the top button she wondered if he’d really make her take it off. Surely not. This guy was all but starched rigid. Still, the unwanted memory of their shared kiss made her usually agile fingers shake unacceptably. What if she wasn’t reading him as well as she thought?

One button.

Two.

“Stop!”

Thank heavens! One more button and she’d be wishing for a belly-button ring to distract him. She waited while he muttered something under his breath and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t believe this.”

“I know what you mean,” she agreed, redoing the buttons with a lot more speed than she’d managed to undo them.

Wearily, he rubbed his face. Mel noted his exhaustion and sympathized. Her own eyes felt gritty. Casting a quick glance around the room she picked up the dress that had fallen to the floor and then spotted her black sweatpants on the chair where she’d tossed them earlier.

She strode over and tugged the pants up under the shirt with faked nonchalance, conscious of his dark gaze following her every move. Given the situation, it was funny she didn’t feel more threatened.

“This has been quite a night, wouldn’t you say? What time is it, anyhow?”

“Past time for you to do some explaining.”

Mel could hardly miss the silky threat in his quiet tone even if she hadn’t noticed that the hands he’d dropped to his sides were fisted tightly.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“That’s right, we never did get around to introductions, did we? I’m Mel.” Nervously she rerolled the long sleeve that kept falling down to cover her hand.

“Mel.”

His lack of inflection was a rattle of warning. He regarded her with an unblinking stare as he repeated her name.

“Well, Mel, what are you doing in my house at…”

He glanced down at the expensive gold watch on his wrist she’d noticed earlier. If she’d been inclined toward a life of crime that would have made a tempting target.

“…three twenty-seven in the morning? Or is it too much for me to expect a reasonable answer to that question?”

All things considered, he was taking the situation very well. He hadn’t hit her with the frying pan and he wasn’t reaching for the telephone to call the police.

Yet.

Mel knew it was more than she deserved. Although she was scared, she knew better than to let him see her fear.