Saved By His Cinderella

‘I don’t. So dance with me anyway,’ he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

‘If you have bruised toes tomorrow, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she said.

He laughed. ‘Somehow, I think my toes will be just fine.’

And then Jane discovered that Prince Charming could dance. Really dance. Moving round the floor with him was like floating. Effortless. He was guiding her, so her footwork couldn’t possibly go wrong. She’d never, ever danced like this before, and it was a revelation. This was what it was like not to be clumsy.

When the music changed to a slower number, he didn’t let her go. It felt completely natural to move closer. To dance cheek to cheek with him.

His skin was soft against hers, with no hint of stubble—clearly he’d shaved just before coming out tonight—and she could smell the citrus tang of his aftershave. She closed her eyes, giving herself up to the moment. Right now she really could imagine herself as Cinderella, dancing with her Prince Charming as he spun her round the floor.

And then she felt him move slightly. His lips brushed against the corner of her mouth.

If she pulled away, she knew he’d stop. All her instincts told her that her gorgeous stranger was a gentleman.

But what if she moved closer? Would he kiss her properly?

Even the idea of it made her pulse rate speed up and her breathing become shallower.

And then she did it. Moved just a little bit closer.

His arms tightened round hers, and his mouth brushed against hers. Sweet, tempting, promising: and it sent a shiver all the way through her. It had been way too long since she’d been kissed; she couldn’t help responding, tipping her head back just the tiniest bit to give him better access to her mouth.

She kept her eyes closed, concentrating purely on the touch of his lips against hers. The way it made her skin feel super-sensitised; the way he coaxed her into responding, kissing him back. Tiny, sweet, nibbling kisses, almost like a dance in itself, leading each other further and further on.

She couldn’t help opening her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. And either that glass of champagne had seriously gone to her head, or Prince-Charming-meets-James-Bond was the most amazing kisser she’d ever met, because he made her feel as if she were floating. As if there was nobody else in the room, just the two of them and the music.

He kissed her through the rest of the song. And maybe the next, too, because when he broke the kiss she realised that it was a fast dance, and they were swaying together, locked in each other’s arms as if it were still a slow dance, even though the band was playing something uptempo.

He blinked then, as if he were just as shocked.

‘Wow. It’s been a long time since someone’s had that effect on me, Cinders,’ he said softly.

‘You’re telling me.’ She couldn’t remember reacting like this to anyone, ever. Even to the man she’d once planned to marry.

He leaned forward and stole a kiss. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Leave a ballroom where she knew most of the people there, to go to some unspecified place with a complete stranger she’d only just met and whose name she didn’t even know? She’d have to be crazy.

Or very, very angry and hurt. Enough to think that going off with the most gorgeous-looking man she’d ever seen—a man who’d kissed her to the point where she’d forgotten where she was—would make her feel much, much better.

‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked.

‘I have a room here,’ he said. ‘So I was thinking room service. More champagne. Freshly squeezed orange juice. And a toasted cheese sandwich.’

If he’d said caviar or lobster, she would’ve said no. But the homeliness of a toasted cheese sandwich…Now that was seriously tempting. ‘Yes. On condition.’

‘Condition?’

‘No names. No questions.’

His eyes widened. ‘Just one night? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Yes.’ Tomorrow morning she’d be back to being Plain Jane, Super-Brain. Well, not quite, because she was off duty and she’d actually be Plain Jane who needed to catch up with cleaning her flat. But he’d just made her feel beautiful. Cherished. And she wasn’t quite ready to let that feeling go. ‘One night.’

‘Allow me one question. You’re not involved with anyone?’

That was an easy one to answer. ‘No.’ Though she appreciated the fact that he’d asked, because she needed to know the same thing. The fact that he’d asked first made it easy for her. ‘Are you?’

‘No.’ He caught her lower lip briefly between his. ‘Then let’s go.’

She walked with him into the hotel reception; while he collected his key, she texted Sorcha. Bit of a headache, having an early night. Enjoy the rest of the ball, J xx

It wasn’t that far from the truth. She was having an early night. Just…not at home. And the headache excuse was enough to make sure that Sorcha didn’t ring the flat to see how she was and worry when there was no answer.

‘Everything all right?’ Prince Charming asked.

‘Fine.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Just texting my best friend to say I’m leaving, so she doesn’t worry that I’ve disappeared.’

‘Which means you’re all mine. Good.’

CHAPTER TWO

ED USHERED his Cinderella over to the lifts. Her face was incredibly expressive; as the doors closed behind them, he could see that she was starting to have second thoughts. And third.

She was definitely the responsible, thoughtful type, because she’d made sure that her best friend wasn’t worrying about her rather than disappearing without a word. And she was clearly wondering whether she was doing the right thing now.

He took her hand, pressed a reassuring kiss into her palm and curled her fingers over the imprint of his lips. ‘Stop worrying,’ he said softly. ‘You can say no and it won’t be a problem. Just come and have a drink with me.’

‘I don’t normally do this sort of thing,’ she muttered, and more colour flooded into her face.

‘Me, neither,’ he said. ‘How shockingly bold of us.’

To his relief, she responded to the teasing note in his voice and smiled back. ‘I guess so.’ And she made no protest when he unlocked his room and gestured for her to go inside.

‘Take a seat,’ he said. Though he wasn’t surprised that she pulled the chair out from under the dressing table rather than sitting on the bed. ‘Shall I order some champagne?’

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I think I’ve already had enough. So unless you’re planning to drink the whole bottle yourself…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Probably not.’

‘You spilled most of your glass over me,’ he pointed out.

She winced. ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t intending to make you grovel, just pointing out that you haven’t had a drink tonight.’

‘Actually, I have.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound terrible, but I drank one glass straight down before the one I spilled over you.’

Now that did surprise him. She’d looked slightly vulnerable when she’d first met him, but he’d assumed that was simply embarrassment at spilling her champagne over him. ‘Why? Didn’t you want to come to the party?’

‘No, it’s not that. The hospital ball’s always fun.’ She blew out a breath. ‘We said no questions, remember.’

He shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’ Though he still wondered. Why would a woman with such beautiful eyes and such a perfect mouth need to bolster her courage with champagne?

‘Why do you have a room here?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘And who was it who just reminded me, “no questions”?’

‘Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’m not much good at this. I never go off with complete strangers whose name I don’t even know.’

Neither did he. But then again, he hadn’t responded so powerfully to someone for a long time; if he was honest, he hadn’t felt like that about his wife. And he’d avoided dating since his marriage had disintegrated.

His sisters were all nagging him to have some fun and start dating again. And the way Cinderella had kissed him back on the dance floor had really stirred his blood. He had the feeling that this was something they both needed. Except she was clearly worried about him being a stranger. ‘That’s an easy one to sort. My name’s—’ he began.

‘No,’ she cut in. ‘We’re at a charity ball for the hospital. So the chances are, if you were a complete snake, you wouldn’t be here. Or else someone would’ve warned me about you beforehand and I’d know to avoid you.’

He blinked. ‘The grapevine’s that fast?’

‘Yup.’

‘So you work at the hospital,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘No questions,’ she reminded him.

He smiled. ‘It wasn’t a question. It was a logical deduction. This is a charity ball for the hospital, and you clearly know people, plus you’ve been to the ball before and you know how fast the grapevine works. QED.’

‘And you had an expensive education.’ She smiled at his raised eyebrow. ‘Again a logical deduction. Most people don’t use Latin abbreviations in everyday speech.’

‘So the fact you recognise it says the same about you,’ he parried.

‘Not necessarily. I might be a crossword addict.’

‘I like fencing with you,’ he said. ‘Almost as much as I like dancing with you.’ His gaze held hers. ‘And almost as much as I like kissing you.’

Colour bloomed in her face, but this time it wasn’t shyness. The way her lips parted slightly and her pupils grew larger told him that she liked remembering the way they’d kissed, too.

He took her hand; this time, instead of kissing her palm, he kissed her wrist right where her pulse was beating madly. The longer his mouth lingered, the more her pulse sped up. Her skin was so soft. And she smelled gorgeous—some floral scent he couldn’t quite place, mixed with something else. Soft and sweet and gentle. Irresistible.

‘You do things to me, Cinders,’ he said softly. ‘But I’m not going to push you. Do you mind if I…?’ He ran his finger round the collar of his shirt and grimaced.

‘Slip into something more comfortable?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. ‘Hardly. I just want to feel a bit less—well—formal.’

‘Sure.’

‘Thank you.’ He stood up and removed his jacket, hanging it in the wardrobe. Then he undid his bow tie and the top button of his shirt and let the tie hang loose, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.

She sucked in a breath.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Forget Prince Charming. You’re all James Bond,’ she said.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a good thing?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice was husky. ‘My best friend and I saw the last film three times at the cinema.’

‘Well, just for the record, I hate martinis.’

She smiled. ‘So do I.’

‘And I don’t have a licence to kill.’

She spread her hands. ‘The only licence I have is a driving licence.’

He laughed. ‘Snap. I like you, Cinderella.’ His voice deepened, softened. ‘Come here.’ It was an invitation, not an order. She paused, clearly weighing it up, then nodded, stood up and crossed the short distance between them.

He cupped her face with both hands. ‘A perfect heart shape,’ he said softly. ‘And right now I really, really want to kiss you. May I?’

‘Yes.’

Ed smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. Teasing, enticing, more of those little nibbling kisses that had her twining her fingers through his hair and opening her mouth so he could deepen the kiss.

And, just like it had been between them on the dance floor, he felt desire lance through him.

He pulled away slightly, spun her round and undid the zip of her dress. She arched back as he stroked his way down the bare skin he uncovered. Her skin was so soft; and touching her like this wasn’t enough. He wanted more. A hell of a lot more.

Gently, he slid the dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He drew her back against him, his hands splayed across her midriff and his thumbs stroking the undersides of her breasts through the lace of her bra.

‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘I want to be with you, skin to skin.’

‘Me, too.’ The admission was low and throaty, and sent a kick of sheer need through him.

She turned to face him, untucked his shirt from his trousers and undid the rest of the buttons of his shirt. Her hands were gentle and yet sure as she slid her palms across his pecs. ‘Nice,’ she said appreciatively.

‘Thank you.’ He inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment. ‘I like it when you touch me.’

She smiled back, and pushed the cotton from his shoulders; his shirt pooled on the floor next to her dress. She traced the line of his collarbone with one finger.

Good, but not enough. He needed more. He kissed her again, his mouth teasing and demanding at the same time.

He unsnapped her bra, tossed the lace to the floor and then cupped her breasts properly. ‘You’re beautiful, Cinders.’

No, I’m not. Her thoughts were written all over her face.

Someone—presumably her ex—had really done a number on her. Just as much as Camilla had made him wary of trusting anyone.

‘Whoever he was,’ Ed said softly, ‘he was an idiot.’

‘Who?’

‘Whoever put that look in your eyes.’

She shrugged. ‘You’re wearing too much.’

She’d said ‘no questions’. And now he had a pretty good idea why. This was starting to look like rebound sex. For both of them.

But they’d agreed from the start that this was one night only. A night out of time. The new hospital was big enough for their paths never to cross again. And if he could make her feel good about herself again tonight, the way she was making him feel good about himself, then that would be a bonus for both of them.

He took her hands and drew them down to his belt. ‘Since you think I’m wearing too much, why don’t you even things up?’ he invited.

Her hands were shaking slightly as she undid his belt, then the button of his formal trousers, and slid the zipper down.

‘You are beautiful, you know,’ he said softly. ‘Your eyes—I’m not sure if they’re green or grey or brown. The colour keeps shifting, and it makes me want to know what colour they are when you’re really aroused. And your mouth.’ He traced her lower lip with one fingertip. ‘It’s a perfect cupid’s bow. It makes me want to kiss you until we’re both dizzy. And here…’ He dipped his head and took one hardened nipple into his mouth.

She gave a sharp intake of breath and tipped her head back in pleasure.

Part of Jane knew that this was a seriously bad idea. He was a stranger. And she’d never had a one-night stand before.

Then again, this wasn’t a relationship. She didn’t have to take the risk of trusting him and then discovering that he had feet of clay, the way she had with Shaun. In a weird kind of way, this was safe—because this man wasn’t going to get close enough to her heart to break it.

His mouth teased her lower lip, demanding and getting a response. Jane wasn’t sure which of them finished undressing whom, but then he’d lifted her and was carrying her to the bed. She felt the bed dip with his weight, and then the mattress shifted again as he climbed off. She opened her eyes.

‘Condom,’ he said in answer to her unspoken question.

At least one of them was being sensible. It hadn’t even occurred to her. How reckless and stupid was that?

He rummaged in his trousers for his wallet, took out the foil wrapper and placed it on the bedside table.

‘You look worried.’ He stroked her face. ‘If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll understand. I’ve never forced a woman, and I don’t intend to start now.’

‘I just…’ She hadn’t even dated anyone since Shaun’s betrayal, let alone slept with anyone. She’d turned down the couple of offers she’d had, not wanting to risk the same thing happening all over again. ‘I’m not used to this kind of thing,’ she admitted.

‘Then let’s get used to it together.’ He bent his head to kiss her again; his mouth was gentle and promising, rather than demanding. Until she responded, when suddenly the kiss turned hot, turning her into a mass of sheer aching need.

This time, when he touched her, the shyness was gone. She gave herself up to the sensation as he stroked her, teased her, let her touch him in return.

His hand slid between her thighs and she gasped in pleasure.

It really shouldn’t be this good for a first time. They didn’t even know each other’s names, for pity’s sake. But it felt as if Prince Charming knew exactly where she liked being touched, exactly how to make her respond to him.

She was near to babbling when she heard the rip of the foil packet and the snap as he rolled on the condom to protect her. Then he eased, oh, so slowly into her. And it was heaven. This was a man who knew exactly what to do—how to give pleasure, how to take her right to the edge and keep her there until she was practically hyperventilating.

And then wave after wave of pleasure surged through her as her climax hit. He held her tightly, and she felt the answering surge of his own body against hers.

Gently, he withdrew. ‘I’d better deal with the condom. Excuse me a moment,’ he said softly.

Jane pulled the sheet back over her, the pleasure replaced by a rush of awkwardness. What did you do on a one-night stand? Did you stay for the whole night, or did you get dressed and leave straight after having sex? She didn’t have a clue. She’d never done this kind of thing before; she’d always hung out with the nerdy students, not the wild ones.

He reappeared from the bathroom—still naked, and looking completely unembarrassed about the situation. Clearly he had some idea of the rules; whereas she felt totally at sea.

He climbed into bed beside her and drew her against him. ‘What’s wrong?’

She sighed. ‘If you really want to know, I don’t have a clue what the rules are. What you’re supposed to do next on a one-night stand.’

‘Once you’ve had sex, you mean?’ He stroked her hair. ‘I don’t think there are any rules. What we do next is entirely up to you.’ He smiled. ‘Though my vote would be for you to stay a bit longer and for us to order something from room service.’

‘Your toasted cheese sandwich?’

He shrugged. ‘Or whatever you like from the menu.’

Funny how something so homely could make her feel so much more at ease. ‘Toasted sandwiches would be lovely, thank you. And orange juice.’ She smiled at him. ‘And can I be really greedy and ask for coffee as well?’ The champagne she’d gulped down was still fizzing through her and she really didn’t want to spend the next day with a hangover. OK, so she was a lightweight, hardly ever drinking more than a single glass of wine; but she didn’t need alcohol to have a good time.

He smiled back at her. ‘Coffee sounds great to me.’

‘And of course I’ll pay my half,’ she added.

He shook his head. ‘My room, my idea and my bill. Don’t argue.’

There wasn’t much she could say to that, unless she offered to treat him some other night. Which would definitely be breaking the rules—by definition, a one-night stand was for one night only. ‘Then thank you,’ she said.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘when I came out tonight, didn’t think I was going to end up sitting in bed with a perfect stranger, eating comfort food. But I’m really glad I met you, Cinders.’

‘Me, too,’ she said softly, meaning it.

The sandwiches, when they arrived, were gorgeous. The orange juice was freshly squeezed. And the coffee was among the best she’d ever tasted.

‘That was fabulous. Thank you,’ she said when they’d finished.

‘My pleasure.’

He really was gorgeous. Those piercing blue eyes made her heart skip a beat.

But she didn’t want to overstay her welcome. ‘And I guess this is my cue to leave.’

‘If that’s what you really want.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Or you could…’ He paused. ‘Stay. Tonight.’

The heat was back in his expression. How could she resist? ‘Yes.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE next morning, Jane woke with a start. She was in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with a body curled protectively round hers.

For a moment she thought she was having some peculiarly vivid dream, remembering what it was like being part of a couple and waking up in her man’s arms. But then the body next to hers shifted and pulled her closer.

She was definitely in bed with someone else. And she’d split up with Shaun eight months ago. Which meant that the body curled round hers belonged to…She swallowed hard. She was still in bed with the handsome stranger she’d spilled champagne over last night.

Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire. What a stupid thing to do: spending the night with a complete stranger, without telling anyone where she was. Even if he did have lovely manners and had given her more pleasure in one night than her ex-fiancé had given her in two years, he was still a stranger. Anything could’ve happened.

Oh, for pity’s sake. Dr Jane Cooper was known for being ultra-sensible. She didn’t do this sort of thing.

Except…she just had.

At least she hadn’t told him her name. Hopefully their paths wouldn’t cross so they could avoid an embarrassing situation. Even if they both worked at the London Victoria, the hospital was big enough for her not to know at least half the staff; and she definitely hadn’t met him before, or she would’ve remembered those beautiful eyes.

She’d needed practically no persuasion to spend the whole night with him. And they’d spent most of the night making love. They’d actually run out of condoms, and she’d felt like the bad girl she’d never actually been.

It wasn’t that she had regrets about last night—how could she regret the way he’d made her feel?—but she really didn’t have a clue how to face him this morning. What to say. How to deal with the situation. Plus she needed to be somewhere. So the best thing she could do would be to slip quietly away before he woke. It would avoid embarrassment on all sides. Gradually, she worked her way out of his arms; when he moved to pull her back again, she gave him the warm pillow she’d been lying on, and he cuddled that closer.

Cute.

Jane smiled regretfully. Maybe if they’d met under other circumstances… But there was no point dwelling on it, and she really needed to check on a patient and talk to her boss.

She picked up her clothes from the floor and quickly dragged them on, rescued her handbag and her shoes, tiptoed over to the door, and unlocked it very quietly. When she glanced back towards the bed, she could see that he was still sleeping. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed silently. ‘For making me feel beautiful.’

Then she remembered. His jacket. Considering it had been her fault, the least she could do was pick up the dry cleaning bill.

There was a leather folder on top of the dressing table, with the hotel’s crest stamped on it. Just as she’d hoped, it contained paper and a pencil. She slid the top sheet quietly out of the folder and scribbled a quick note on it. Then she took some money from her purse and left it on top of the note, then put the pencil on top of the banknotes to weigh them down. Finally, she closed the door behind her and fled.

Back at her flat, Jane showered—trying not to think about what Prince Charming had done with her in his shower last night—and changed into jeans and a plain T-shirt. Once she’d downed a mug of coffee, she flicked into her phone and read the article again, just to be sure that she wasn’t making a fuss over nothing.

She wasn’t.

She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. There was no point in trying to call Jenna to task over it. Her twin would simply open her big brown eyes and claim innocence, say it wasn’t her fault the journalist had written it that way. And then somehow their mother would get wind of the row and she’d have a panic attack; and the blame for that would be laid firmly at Jane’s door. Been there, done that, worn the T-shirt until it was in rags.