PAR FOR CINDERELLA

by MCCARTY, PETIE

  She eased closer. Her voice dropped a notch. “No last name?”

  Evidently, she still believed she was a stunner because she tried batting her eyelashes.

  “I was just leaving.” He’d get the yacht part after Casey’s tour. He wound his way back through the machinery and equipment spread around and heard Ms. Bartow’s shoes clicking along behind him. Close behind him.

  “You’re new in town. I’d remember if we had met before.”

  He didn’t turn. “We’ve never met.”

  “I’d remember a handsome face like yours.”

  The clicking picked up speed to stay with him. Flirting on the hoof. Who’d have thought? He almost made it to the open bay door when manicured nails caught hold of his elbow.

  What’s your hurry?” she asked, a little breathless.

  “What do you want?”

  She smiled. Or rather her mouth did. Her eyes didn’t. “I just thought you and I could have a drink later. I’m buying—”

  “No, thanks.”

  “—and we could talk about me thinking you were eavesdropping on Neal Riley and my husband, and you convincing me otherwise,” she went on as if he hadn’t turned her down flat.

  She eased to within inches of him, but damned if he’d step back from her. Her hand came up, and he readied to swat it away.

  “He doesn’t have time for drinks with you. He has to be at work,” Casey said from the threshold of the open bay.

  Aidan smiled at Evelyn Bartow. While he could have easily extricated himself from the woman’s clutches, he found he liked Casey doing it for him. Maybe the beauty was even a little jealous.

  The now-disgruntled Ms. Bartow shot her a glare. “Mind your own business, Casey.”

  The older woman turned back to Aidan and smiled up at him. “Now about that drink.”

  He caught her hand before it landed on his shirt and pushed it back to her.

  “This is my business,” Casey interjected. “Aidan works for me.”

  That little condescending comment he could have done without, but he watched Evelyn’s eyes go wide in surprise.

  “Really?”

  He grinned. “Really. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Unwilling to give up, Evelyn stepped in front of him. “We can go when you get off work, Aidan.”

  Casey took a few protective steps into the bay. “He’s too young for you, Evelyn.”

  The look Ms. Bartow sent Casey should have singed the poor girl’s eyebrows. Aidan readied to grab the woman if she made a move toward Casey.

  “I was going to introduce him to Deedee,” Evelyn snapped.

  Casey visibly flinched as though the woman had slapped her.

  Evelyn turned her unctuous smile back on Aidan and purred, “Deedee is my beautiful stepdaughter.”

  Maybe he’d misjudged her flirtation, though his instincts told him otherwise.

  Over her shoulder, she hissed at Casey, “At least Deedee knows how to treat a man with respect. That’s why she’s never scrounging for dates like some girls in town.”

  Casey wilted at that, and Aidan opened his mouth to put Evelyn in her place, but a red-faced Archer Bartow spurted out of Riley’s office and steamed toward his wife.

  “I thought I told you to wait in the car!”

  The man reminded Aidan of a weasel: lean frame, pointy, twitchy nose, and slicked-back two-toned hair, dark in the middle and silver on either side. His black-framed glasses made his black, beady eyes shift in size from small to smaller depending on where he looked.

  “You did, sugar, but I was just welcoming our new visitor to town.” Evelyn beamed at her rude husband.

  Bartow gave Aidan a once-over and morphed into his mayoral persona. “Welcome.” He held out a long-fingered hand. “I’m Archer Bartow, mayor of Cypress Key. Are you here on vacation, or have you decided to move here?”

  As though those were the only two possibilities–or the only possibilities he cared about–vacation money in the town’s coffers or a possible vote in his behalf. Aidan hated politicians for that very reason. Never any sincerity. And this was the politician that got him arrested. So, two strikes against Archer at the offset of their association.

  “Both,” he replied.

  Aidan glanced toward Casey, but she had disappeared. Only the two smug Bartows remained in the bay with him.

  The mayor frowned. “How can—”

  “I stopped here while on vacation, and now I’m working here,” he said, letting the edge seep into his tone.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Aidan,” he growled.

  Bartow’s eyes went wide as fast as his cheeks turned red. “You’re the bastard who assaulted my son,” he sputtered.

  Evelyn gasped in outrage. “You hurt PJ?”

  “No, and he deserved it.”

  “You’re going to jail for that!” Archer exclaimed.

  Before Aidan could fire back, Riley hollered from his doorway, “Come on back here, Aidan. I’ve got your part ready.”

  With a last glare at Bartow, Aidan headed back to Riley’s office.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure, that’d be great, Mr. Riley,” he said.

  “Call me Neal, please,” Riley said and handed him the cup he’d just filled. “Especially since you’re the one who shoved PJ into the marina yesterday.”

  The boat repairman was built like a fireplug, stocky and low to the ground, but his ready smile and affable manner made visitors to his shop feel immediately welcome.

  “Sorry Archer ambushed you. He was already mad when he left my office.” Neal filled a second cup of coffee for himself. “Have a seat while I make out your bill. I should do it for nothing since you dunked that jerk PJ, but I can’t afford it.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “That’s all right. Word sure travels fast in this town.”

  “Yup.” Neal grinned. “Man, I wish I could’ve seen you boot PJ off that dock. No one deserved that more than him. Except maybe his old man Archer.”

  “He had no business flying into the marina the way he did. He knew that wake wave would bang boats around.”

  “He don’t care about anybody’s stuff, but his own. He loves pushing people around too. Just like his dear old dad. That’s where he learned his social skills.”

  “Gee, I couldn’t tell,” Aidan said dryly.

  “Archer’s grooming the boy to take his place as mayor when he retires.”

  “Bartow’s not that old. That could be a while.”

  “Not unless someone shoots the bastard first,” Neal said, laughing. “Come on into the supply room. I’ll get your repaired ignition controller.

  Aidan followed him into the large room with floor-to-ceiling shelves, a ladder in the middle of the room, and a window at one end. Neal moved toward the shelves near the window, picked up the controller, and handed it over.

  “Is it okay with you if I bring the cash back after I deliver the part?” Aidan asked. “The yacht owner’s good for it. I swear.”

  “Sure.”

  “How much is the bill?”

  Riley gave him the amount, and Aidan made a mental note to add a couple hundred extra. He would tell Neal it was the yacht owner’s tip for rushing the repair.

  Neal wasn’t lying. He could use the money. Aidan had taken a closer look around the shop when he had tried to leave. Everything showed substantial wear and tear, from the building itself to the hoist and the tools. He hadn’t noticed last night when he and Frank swept through in a hurry.

  “Is this your slow season?” he asked Neal.

  “No, times are just tough for me. I need renovations to get more business, and I need more business before I can pay for renovations.”

  “What abou
t a bank loan?” he asked, not wanting Neal to know he overheard his conversation with Archer.

  Neal eyed him carefully before he replied, as though judging how much he should share. Aidan hoped Neal would confide in him. He found he wanted to help the guy, as well as stick it to Archer Bartow.

  “I applied for a loan and was told it would be approved,” the repairman finally said.

  Disappointed, Aidan said, “That’s great news.”

  “No, it’s not. See Archer came by to tell me the bank disapproved my loan. More like Archer’s buddy the bank president did.”

  “You think Archer had something to do with that?”

  “Absolutely. He wants to loan me the money himself.”

  “Let me guess . . . a higher interest rate.”

  “Worse.”

  Aidan raised his brows willing Neal to keep going.

  “Archer’s loan agreement has a hell of a late-penalty clause.”

  “Steep fees?”

  Neal shook his head. “If I miss a payment or am late twice during the life of the loan, I have to take Archer on as a full partner.”

  “That’s worse than steep,” Aidan exclaimed. “That’s—”

  “Extortion,” Neal finished, “or close to it.”

  “What about another bank? Another town.”

  Neal looked dejected. “I already tried that. My only chance was here in town where the loan officer knew me. Jerry Sanders is a good man.”

  “But under the bank president’s thumb.”

  Neal nodded glumly.

  “I have a friend who owes me a favor. He could make you a low-interest loan.”

  The fireplug eyed him warily. “I don’t want to get involved with any loan shark.”

  Aidan laughed. “I assure you, he isn’t a loan shark. Just a very wealthy businessman who owes me a few favors.”

  “Your yacht owner?”

  “No, although he would too.” Actually, the yacht owner was.

  “The guy’s name is Rhett Buchanan, and he’s a straight-up guy. Good as they come.”

  He’d call Rhett and tell him Cross Enterprises would wire him the loan money for Neal Riley and ask him to have BDC front the loan. His friend would want to help this business owner, particularly in the hometown of Rhett’s new development project, but Aidan wanted to take care of Neal himself.

  “How much do you need?” he asked.

  Neal grimaced as he timidly said, “Twenty-five thousand?”

  “Done.”

  The man slumped in relief. “Why would you do this for me?”

  Aidan clapped him on the shoulder. “My instincts tell me you’re a good man, and I don’t need Rhett’s loan.”

  Neal beamed at him, but a sight out the window snagged Aidan’s attention.

  He frowned at the big passenger boat up on a trailer. “That looks like Casey Stuart’s tour boat. We’re supposed to be leaving soon.”

  “It’s one of their boats,” Neal agreed. “The Stuarts own two.”

  “Why is it parked here? Needs repairs?”

  “Repairs are already done. Had a bit of dry rot among other things.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Ouch is right. Frank can’t afford the repair bill right now. I offered to let him take the boat and pay me when he can.”

  Neal’s generous nature no doubt perpetuated his own financial straits.

  “But Casey won’t take the boat until she can pay,” Neal admitted.

  “Casey won’t?”

  “She does the books for the golf course and the tour business, and she’s even more hardheaded than Frank about accepting help.”

  “No bank loans, right?”

  “Right, but good old Archer is more than happy to lend Frank money. He’s been trying to buy Frank’s golf course—more like steal it—for years.”

  “I’ll just bet.” That made it three strikes for Archer Bartow, and Aidan intended to stick around long enough to make sure Bartow struck out.

  “Aidan, I’d take a smaller loan if your friend could help Casey and Frank too.”

  “I know you would. Don’t worry about the money. The problem will be getting Frank and Casey to take the loan.”

  “You got that right. Lucky for me, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Not lucky. Smart. I’ll be back in an hour or so with the payment for the part, and Rhett will be in touch about the loan.”

  Aiden thought hard on his way outside about how he could get Frank, and especially Casey, to accept his help. Luckily, he didn’t have to go searching for her. She waited for him in the Jeep. He climbed in and handed her the ignition controller while he cranked the engine. He tried to think of something to say, hated seeing that desolate look on her face from Evelyn’s jab. More history there, he supposed. Just like with the jerk PJ.

  “You disappeared.”

  She wouldn’t look at him. Just shrugged, the expression on her face resigned. He knew he should wait to poke into whatever painful history had provoked her today, but he didn’t like her not talking.

  “You shouldn’t let a witch like Evelyn get to you.”

  “I know,” she said, her voice small. “I can’t help it.”

  This was not the charge-ahead-and-take-no-prisoners girl he had rescued.

  “Sure you can. You just ignore her. Act like she doesn’t exist.”

  She finally turned to face him, that desolate expression back and tainting her beautiful green eyes. “I can’t act like she doesn’t exist. She’s my stepmother.”

  Chapter 6

  Aidan turned in his seat to gape at Casey. Embarrassment kept her gaze straight ahead. Looking into those puppy-dog brown eyes right now might just snap her thin hold on her emotions. She had felt guilty for leaving him in Archer’s clutches, but the mayor and Evelyn had stormed out of the repair bay only moments later, so Aidan obviously could take care of himself.

  Casey hated that she had let Evelyn get to her. Again. Like always. The woman made her life’s work spitting petty and spiteful comments at Casey on a regular basis, and still Casey let the woman get to her.

  Evelyn knew tossing out Deedee’s beauty or her ability to get dates with any man she wanted was a sure winner for hurting Casey. Deedee was beautiful, had been since the two girls attended first grade together. And every grade thereafter. Deedee, the girl with everything, had made Casey as miserable as possible, made her life hell all the way through school. If Deedee wasn’t stealing friends or boyfriends from Casey, then she started ugly gossip about Casey, and Deedee was popular enough—or her father was—that everyone believed the girl.

  Casey knew she owed Aidan some type of explanation, but damn, she was so embarrassed. She wanted him to see her as a strong, independent woman not some weakling who folded up at a nasty remark. Even if he was leaving as soon as he paid back his bail.

  “I’m confused. Evelyn’s married to the mayor.”

  She owed him better than this, so she turned in her seat and looked him straight in the eyes.

  “Yes, but she was married to my father first. When he died—” Her voice cracked at the word, always did. “—she married Archer.”

  He stared for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. I was only ten when Dad died.”

  “No, I meant I’m sorry she was your stepmother.”

  Of all the possible things he could have said at this moment, that comment was perfect. She could have hugged him and kissed him. This man understood. She wouldn’t have to explain.

  “I mean, I’m really sorry about your dad too,” he was saying. “But, damn . . . to have her for a stepmother.” He did a fake but very noticeable shudder for effect.

  She smiled for him. The least she c
ould do. She felt better, stronger. “And no, I don’t want to talk about her. Ever.”

  “I wouldn’t want to either,” he muttered under his breath, and Casey fought to keep her hands to herself.

  Aidan Crosse may be the one handsome guy on the planet who wasn’t a jerk too. And that pleasant thought lasted until they reached his boss’s yacht.

  ~ ~ ~

  This was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

  Aidan had taken a quick call from Ian while he parked the Jeep, and Casey walked down the dock to check out the runabout.

  “I thought ye were coming out to the ship.”

  “We are,” Aidan said, careful to keep his voice low as he exited the vehicle and pocketed Casey’s keys. “We’re leaving now. I’ll bring the runabout out there as quick as I can.”

  “Fine. I’m looking forward to meeting your lass.” Ian sounded much too pleased.

  “Change of plans.”

  No way could he let Ian meet Casey. Ian didn’t approve of his undercover plan, so no telling what the overprotective Scot might do or say.

  “She’s not my lass,” Aidan hissed. “She’s staying on the runabout, and you’re not going to meet her.”

  “And why the devil not? Are ye afraid she has a soft spot for Highlanders?”

  “No!” he barked, and Casey’s head turned. “Look, we don’t have time to visit. You stay out of sight, so you don’t actually slip up and give away my cover.”

  “I’ll do no such thing! I can’t believe ye don’t trust me to meet yer lass,” Ian said indignantly, and Aidan felt a swift spike of guilt.

  Very swift.

  “She’s not my lass,” he hissed again.

  “Then why are ye getting so fashed?” Ian needled.

  “Better safe than sorry. Just have Joe up on deck to collect the ignition controller. Oh, and tell Joe I need a thousand dollars from petty cash for the repair work and throw in a couple hundred extra because Neal dropped what he was doing to fix the part.”