The Reluctant Cinderella

He passed her his card, the one with all his numbers on it—office, cell and home. “Next Monday.”

She took the card. “Ten o’clock.” Those lips of hers seemed to beg for a kiss.

“Gotcha.” He tore his gaze from her mouth to keep himself from doing something completely unacceptable. “Till then…”

She nodded and rolled up the window. He tapped on the passenger window. Jerry rolled it down. Greg passed the chauffeur another big tip. “Take Megan upstate. She’ll tell you where.”

“Will do, Mr. Banning.”

Greg stepped back from the car. The limo rolled away from the curb. He stood staring after it until it turned the corner.

As the hot afternoon faded into a muggy evening, Greg began to wonder what the hell had gotten into him. Damned if he hadn’t gone completely gaga over Angela Schumacher’s sister. He’d come that close to dragging Megan out of that limousine and into his arms. That close to kissing her—a hard, long, wet kiss—right there on the street.

Maybe it was the wine….

But he knew it wasn’t. He’d been long-gone over the woman from the moment he’d glanced up from his computer and found her standing in the doorway to his office. There’d been no wine then. He’d been stone-cold sober.

Unbelievable. Unacceptable. And impossible.

He was never going to go out with Megan Schumacher. She was from the neighborhood, for pity’s sake. She lived three houses up from Carly….

No way. Couldn’t happen. If he and Megan started seeing each other, there would be talk. And Carly would be hurt even more than he’d already hurt her.

Greg would never go back to Carly. It was over between them and had been for a long time. He did, however, feel a certain…tenderness toward her. A certain responsibility. She was a good woman, just not the woman for him. Somehow, sweet Carly Alderson had turned out to be the perfect wife. Greg didn’t want perfect. He’d never wanted perfect. He’d grown up with perfect and it was a cold, sterile way to live.

He knew that Carly had yet to accept that it was over. But in time, she would. Until then, though, he owed it to her to stay away, to keep himself the hell out of her life—which meant not dating someone she considered her friend. Whatever had happened to him at the sight of sexy Megan Schumacher, it couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

Greg stood in the darkness of his apartment and stared out at the Manhattan night and considered calling Megan to tell her he’d changed his mind about using Design Solutions.

But no. That would not only be a bad business decision for Banning’s, it wouldn’t be right. Her work was top-notch. Her ideas were brilliant. She’d never been anything but strictly professional during the meeting and the lunch that followed. He was the one who’d come within an inch of stepping over the line.

Megan deserved this opportunity. And he had zero doubt that once his father and the others saw what she could do, she would get the contract. They’d be lucky to have her.

Uh-uh. It wasn’t Megan Schumacher’s fault that Greg Banning had gone crazy over her. It was Greg’s problem and he would handle it.

From now on, when it came to Megan, Greg was keeping his mind on business and business alone.

In Rosewood late that night, Megan lay in her bed and stared at the silvery half-moon out the window and thought the same things that Greg was thinking seventy-five miles away.

How could this have happened? She’d truly believed that the silly crush she’d once had on Carly’s husband was over. And yet, since she’d left Greg on the street outside the restaurant, she couldn’t stop thinking of him. His name played over and over in an endless loop inside her head: Greg, Greg, Greg…

Which was dumb, dumb, dumb. She didn’t need a boyfriend. She didn’t have time for a boyfriend. Her life was jam-packed and then some. She hardly had time to get her legs waxed. There wasn’t a minute left over for romance—especially not for a romance with Carly Alderson’s ex.

This was bad. Megan was way too attracted. Much more attracted than she’d been back when Greg and Carly were married. Then, it had only been a kind of now-and-then dreamy fantasy of what it might be like if…

And now? Well, to reiterate: Greg, Greg, Greg…

But it didn’t matter. This crazy feeling she had for him was going nowhere. When she saw him next Monday, she’d make sure it was business and only business.

Period. End of story.

“Pancakes, pancakes. I love pancakes….” Michael sang the words and then poked a great big wad of pancake, dripping syrup, into his mouth.

“Eeww,” remarked Olivia. “You’ve got syrup on your chin and it’s rude to sing at the table.”

“We’re not at the table,” Michael corrected with the pure and literal logic of a five-year-old, the words mushy with that mouthful of pancake. He swallowed. Hard. “We’re at the breakfast counter.” Angela’s roomy kitchen had an L-shaped eating area along one section of the main counter.

“It’s the same,” insisted Olivia. “The breakfast counter is the same as the table when it comes to singing—so you just quit it.”

“Pancakes, pancakes,” Michael sang some more.

“Mo-om. He’s sing-ing.” Olivia turned on her stool to stick her chin out at her mother, who stood by the electric griddle down at the end of the counter, flipping another batch of blueberry pancakes.

“Eat your breakfast, honey,” said her mother. “And Michael, stop singing and finish eating.”

“Humph.” Michael forked up another huge bite and shoved it in his mouth. Olivia flounced around to face front again and delicately picked up her own fork. Anthony ate in silence, staring at his plate.

The doorbell rang. Anthony’s head jerked up. “It’s Dad!” he crowed, brown eyes suddenly alight. “He’s early.” Jerome was due at ten to take the kids to the Catskills for the day.

“Dad!” echoed Michael around a half-chewed lump of pancake.

“Gross,” muttered Olivia.

And then, in unison, all three kids announced, “I’ll get it.”

“Stay put.” Megan slid her napkin beside her half-empty plate. “All of you.”

Olivia groaned. Michael shrugged. Anthony let out a big, fat sigh. But they all remained on their stools.

In the foyer, Megan pulled open the door and found Carly on the front porch looking absolutely gorgeous. Her blond hair fell in soft, perfect waves around her beautiful face, which glowed with just a touch of blusher and a dab of lip gloss. She was dressed in the spirit of the day, in trim, royal-blue capris and a curve-hugging white shirt. On her perfectly manicured feet she wore a pair of strappy red sandals. She carried a layer cake on a crystal cake stand.

The cake was almost as stunning as Carly, a good eight inches high and slathered in ivory-colored swirls of buttercream frosting, with an accurate depiction of an American flag drawn in colored icing across the top.

“Wow.” Megan was so impressed with the cake she almost forgot to feel guilty about going love-wacko over Greg. “That is beautiful.”

Carly blushed and smiled her prettiest smile. “I baked it for you and Angela and the kids. It’s a red velvet cake. And if I do say so myself, it is delish. Where I come from, we would always have red velvet cake on Independence Day.”

Megan ushered her inside and shut the door. “Come on back to the kitchen. We’re having blueberry pancakes. There’s plenty. Join us.”

“Oh. No. Really. I can’t. All I have to do is look at a pancake and I put on five pounds.”

Megan, who always did a lot more than look at her pancakes, only shrugged and offered, “Coffee, then?”

“I’d love a cup. Yes.”

They went on to the kitchen, where Angela spotted the cake and said, “Oh, Carly, you shouldn’t have….” Even the kids got all wide-eyed over it—well, except for Anthony, who only got wide-eyed lately when his mostly absent dad was at the door.

Carly took a stool, accepted a cup of black coffee and talked to each of the children in turn, asking them how they were doing and what their plans were for the day. Michael peppered her with a volley of questions. Olivia, whose rock collection was her pride and joy, solemnly explained that her grandpa had sent her a real quartz crystal, a big one, all the way from Arkansas. Even Anthony opened up to her a little. He said his dad was coming and they were going to the Catskills Game Park and maybe there would be fireworks after dark.

Carly was good with kids. Megan couldn’t help wondering why she and Greg had never had any.

Not that she would ask. Oh, no. Not going there. No way…

The kids finished their breakfast, cleared their places and ran upstairs to get ready to go. Angela served herself the final stack of flapjacks and sat at the counter while Megan got the coffeepot and gave all three of them refills.

Carly, sitting between Angela and Megan, sipped and said how good the coffee was, and asked Angela how her job managing that dentist’s office was going.

Angela said it was great. “And I get holidays. All the good ones. What more can I ask for?”

Regular support checks from Jerome would be nice, Megan thought. But of course, her sister would never say that.

Megan knew what was coming. After a moment, it did.

Carly turned to her and sweetly scolded, “You didn’t call me yesterday to tell me how it went. Did Greg hire you?”

Keeping her expression totally noncommittal, Megan shrugged. “Not yet. That was just the preliminary meeting. There will be a more formal presentation at my office next week, with my whole team involved. There’ll also be Gregory, Sr., and a few vice presidents, I think.”

Carly let out a cry of delight. “Look at you. So calm and collected. I mean, you just said ‘Not yet.’ Why, he is going to hire you, isn’t he?”

“Surprised?” Megan couldn’t help teasing.

“Well, I…I just…”

Megan smiled. “Hey. It’s okay. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your setting up that interview.” Too bad I went and fell for the guy you’re still in love with….

“Oh, well.” Carly’s thick lashes swooped down. “I was happy to do it.”

“I’m very grateful. The chance to land the Banning’s account, that’s a big deal for me.”

Carly sipped more coffee. “So tell me. How is Greg?” Her cheeks were pinker than ever and those Delft-blue eyes glittered with a frantic kind of hope.

“Well, of course, it was a business meeting,” Megan hedged, and felt like a low-down, backstabbing creep. “But he seemed well. You know, healthy. All that…”

On Carly’s other side, Angela looked up sharply from her plate of pancakes. She’d always had a sixth sense about what was going on with Megan. Megan lifted an eyebrow and Angela lifted one right back.

Carly was oblivious to the sisterly signals. “Did he seem too thin? I worry, you know? That he’s not eating right…”

“Uh. No. He looked okay. Fine. Really.”

“What did he say about me?”

Good googly moogly. Megan honestly couldn’t recall his mentioning Carly’s name once. “Nothing. Really.” Carly’s face fell. And Megan heard herself adding, “He sends his regards, of course.” Liar, liar, pants on fire…

“His regards…” Carly mulled that over for a moment, her full lower lip quivering just a little.

“Yes,” Megan said, so cheerfully it set her own teeth on edge.

Carly pasted on a smile. “Well. That’s something. I guess….” She popped off the stool as if she’d been ejected from it. “And you know what?” She tugged on the hem of her crisp white shirt. “I really do have to get going. I only meant to stay for just a moment. My, how the time does fly.” She was halfway across the kitchen already.

“Bye, Carly,” said Angela, with another sharp look at Megan. “Thanks again for the amazing cake. We will totally enjoy it.”

“My pleasure.” Carly’s voice was tight. She ducked out through the dining room.

Megan trailed her to the door, where Carly paused, swallowed back the tears that were shining in her eyes, and asked, “Your next meeting with Greg and his dad and the executives, when is that?”

“Monday.”

“Well, you’d better call me afterward this time. Promise?”

“I will.”

She reached up to smooth her perfect hair. “I want to hear all about it, now. I mean it.”

Since the meeting next Monday was going to be business and nothing but, Megan told herself, she had zero to worry about. “You bet.”

Carly’s forced smile widened. “Good luck.”

Megan thanked her again, and at last she left.

Back in the kitchen, big sister was waiting. “Okay.” Angela pushed her plate to the side and picked up her coffee cup. “What the heck is going on?”

Megan picked up her own cup and leaned against the counter. “Absolutely nothing.”

Angela gave a tiny snort. “Liar.”

Megan scowled at her sister. Leave it to Angela to cut right to the chase. “Really. It’s nothing.” Because I’m not letting it become something.

Angela wasn’t buying. “Something happened. With Greg Banning…” Megan winced—and her sister had one of those lightbulb moments. “Oh. My. Gosh.” She sent a glance over her shoulder, as if checking to see if Rhonda Johnson or Irene Dare or some other neighborhood busybody might be lurking there. And then she whispered, “You and Greg…?”

Megan plunked her cup down and crossed her arms over her midsection. “No. That’s not so. I’m telling you, nothing happened.”

Angela patted the stool that Carly had vacated. “Sit. Now.”

With a put-upon sigh, Megan took the stool. “What?”

“Exactly what happened while nothing was happening?”

“I gave the presentation. I was terrific.”

“Of course you were.”

“He said he wanted to hear more….”

“Yeah, and?”

“He asked me to lunch—and don’t get that look. Nothing was said, you know? He didn’t…make any moves or ask me out or anything.”

“Well, he asked you to lunch.”

“Angela. Come on. Sometimes Dr. Zefflinger takes you to lunch. Does that mean he’s putting a move on you?”

“Dr. Zefflinger is happily married, not to mention almost sixty.”

Megan blew out a breath. “Not my point.”

“Oh, really?”

“Ange. Business colleagues go to lunch all the time. It’s perfectly acceptable—in fact, a nice lunch is a good way to get to know the people you’re working with. It doesn’t have to be a man-woman thing.”

Angela looked at her long and hard. Then she nodded. “Right. It doesn’t have to be. But this is.”

Megan lowered her head and groaned. “Why is this happening?”

Angela waited until she raised her eyes again. “You really like him. I mean, you really, really like him.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you need to talk about it.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes, you do—and you said he didn’t ask you out?”

“He didn’t. I don’t believe he will. I believe he’s going to think it over, the way I’ve been thinking it over, and decide that it’s a terrible idea for him and me to ever…get together.”

Angela frowned. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Well, what did he do to let you know he was interested? I mean, if taking you to lunch doesn’t count. If he didn’t say anything or do anything, if he didn’t come on to you…”

“Oh, please. You know how it is, the little things a guy does, the…electricity in the air, when there’s attraction.”

Angela made a face. “I’m a single mom with almost no free time. I wouldn’t know a date if it fell on me. I work for a pediatric dentist who, as I just pointed out, is sixty and very married to his wife of forty years. Let’s just say I’ve forgotten, okay? Refresh my memory.”

“Arrgh.”

“Come on. Fill me in.”

“He…um, well, in the restaurant, he put his hand over mine when I told him about how my birth parents died—and then he didn’t take it away. I had to kind of slide my own hand out from under it. And earlier…that first moment when I walked in his office. Oh, Ange.” Megan put her hand against her fast-beating heart. “You should have seen his face. Shocked. Amazed. Awestruck. Thrilled. Excited. All of the above. And I felt the same way. But I covered it. Pretty well, I think. I was the soul of professionalism.”

“Oh, I know you were.”

“…Until those last few moments outside the restaurant, before he sent me home in the limo.”

“He gave you his limo—to come all the way to Rosewood from Manhattan?”

“Farther. To Poughkeepsie. I went on up to the office. I tried to give the driver a big tip, but he only shook his head and said that Mr. Banning had already taken care of it.”

Angela’s eyes were saucer-wide. “Well, okay. I’m convinced. I mean, his limo…”

“Exactly.”

“So what happened? On the sidewalk, before the limo?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Megan’s cheeks were flaming. She pressed her hands to them to cool them a little. “It was just…I just knew he was going to kiss me. And oh, did I ever want him to do that. He grabbed my hand again. And, same as in the restaurant, he didn’t let go. I considered just, you know, kind of throwing myself against him. But I controlled myself. Thank God for that.”

“And you’ll see him again next Monday?”

“Yeah.”

“And if he asks you out then…?”

“He won’t.”

“Go with me here. What if he does?”

“Well, I’ll have to say no, of course.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on. You know why. Because it wouldn’t be fair to Carly. Because it would be so cruel.”

“Megan. The fact is, Carly and Greg are divorced. Not separated. Not getting a divorce. They are no longer married and they aren’t together in any way. They’re through.”

“But Carly hopes—”

“It’s not your fault what Carly hopes. Greg hasn’t been on Danbury Way since she threw him out of Tara.” The rest of the houses on the street were colonials. But Carly’s huge house, with its tall pillars and wide front veranda, looked like something out of Gone with the Wind. The neighbors referred to it either as Tara or, more commonly, the McMansion. “He’s not coming back. Carly needs to accept that her marriage is finished, and get going on the rest of her life. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and outside. And it’s a shame that she’s throwing her life away waiting for a man who’s gone for good. You’re not doing her any favors by turning Greg down for her sake.”

“But…you know how people talk. She’d be mortified. And even worse than all the gossip, she’d think I went behind her back and went after him when she was so sweet and got me the interview in the first place.”

“So don’t go behind her back. If he asks you out and you decide to go for it, the classy way to handle the situation would be to speak frankly to Carly about it.”

Megan’s stomach felt as if a big, hard fist was squeezing it. “To tell her that I’m dating Greg….”

“That’s right,” said Angela.

Megan cringed and Angela saw it. She spoke more gently. “It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing for you, either, you know? If for once in your life you went after what you wanted instead of always going along with what everyone else wants.”

“I go after what I want.”

“In your work, yes. But on Danbury Way…?” Angela answered her own question with a shake of her golden head. “Look. Just think about it, okay?”

“I can’t, Ange. I won’t. I’m not getting anything going with Greg Banning, so there’s no reason for me to ever talk to Carly about it.”

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