Manhattan Cinderella

by Kate O'Keeffe

  I locate the list of jobs Sylvia has left for me, stuff it in my jeans pocket, and make a break for the front door. I know Britney’s secret has been discovered when Sylvia’s shrill scream echoes down the hall.

  “Get out! Get out!”

  I take the gamble and slip past Britney’s room. I almost make it when Sylvia spots me out of the corner of her eye. “Where the hell are you going?” she growls at me.

  I pull the list from my pocket and wave it in the air. “Your list.”

  She waves me away with an irritated flick of her wrist. I peer through the door to see Naked Guy now hopping around the room as he pulls on a sock, his jeans unbuttoned, his long hair in a tangled mess. Britney and her mom are so busy glaring at one another, he may as well be invisible.

  I snatch my purse from the circular hallway table and race out of the penthouse, my heart banging against my ribs. I wait impatiently by the doors of the elevator. I must have pressed the “down” button fifty times before the doors finally slide open and present me with my escape. As they close behind me, I lean against the wall and let out a long, relieved breath. Light-headed, a giggle bubbles up inside me as the tension diffuses.

  Poor Britney.

  I examine Sylvia’s list. The last item is for me to meet her and the girls at one o’clock for their rehearsal. I glance at my watch. If I can tick the other items off the list quickly, I’ll have time to sneak back home and practice my songs.

  I check my phone to see if Cole’s responded to my text. When I see his reply, hope rises in me like a hot air balloon.

  Sad-sack tourist reporting in. Whatcha up to?

  I quickly type a reply.

  Barely escaping with my life. You?

  I add a scream emoji for effect. His response is fast.

  Sounds like a story. You okay?

  I’m not about to tell him what just went down. That would mean admitting Sylvia is more than my band manager, and that she has power over me and Cece. I don’t want Cole to see me that way.

  Let’s just say I could do with some time out.

  Want to hang out?

  Happy at his request, I glance at my list. I know Sylvia will make my life hell if I don’t get to the pharmacy to pick up her hormone prescription. That woman lives in mortal fear of growing chin hairs, so that I will get done for sure. But Cole is my way to a new life, away from Sylvia and her stupid, endless lists. I fire off my reply.

  Absolutely. More tourist stuff?

  I stare at my screen as the elevator reaches the ground floor.

  I’m in my hotel room. Want to come meet me here?

  I chew on my lip, wrestling with a mixture of emotions: excitement to fear, and a whole lot in between. I know enough to understand what being invited to Cole’s hotel room could mean. But, God, I have got to protect my heart. Not let him in. Chains, fences, and a highly sensitive alarm system should do the job.

  I can do that. No problem. Sure, he’s hot as heck and I could so go there with him, but if I keep my distance—emotionally, at least—I won’t put anything at risk.

  And, he won’t be able to hurt me when he leaves.

  My text response is swift, before I have the chance to back down, before I have the chance to change my mind. To make the sensible decision I know I should be making.

  Text me your room number. I’m on my way.

  Chapter 14

  Cole

  I sit on the oversize hotel bed and wait for Gabby’s reply. I tell myself it’s no big deal whether she comes or not. She’s a busy assistant to a successful band about to perform at Madison Square Garden. She’s not waiting around for a text from me.

  And anyway, I told her she was nothing more than a distraction earlier today. She’s hardly going to rush to see me after that little doozy. No matter how much I may want her to.

  My phone pings. I read Gabby’s text and my belly does a flip. She’s coming here. We’ll be alone, in private, for the first time.

  Any pretense I’d been hanging onto that I don’t want her has well and truly packed its bags and left the building. Who am I kidding? I want her and I want her bad—more than I’ve wanted any other woman before.

  I sprint through a scrub down in the shower and wrap one of the fluffy hotel towels around my waist before wiping the steam from the bathroom mirror. I run a comb through my hair, trying to make it look half decent. My mind turns to what Rex said in the coffee shop earlier today. That I might not have been looking for her, but I found her anyway.

  Was he right? Beyond wanting her, was Gabby becoming more to me than I planned? I know I’m not here for a girl, but she’s still in there, in my head. And I can’t seem to get her out.

  Hell, I don’t want to get her out.

  I grab the bags of clothes Nashville brought from Rex, which I’d left scattered on the bed and stuff them into a chest of drawers. I look around the room. It’s tidy and looks pretty much like a fancy hotel suite in mid-town Manhattan, about as familiar to me as Mars. I haven’t measured it, but I reckon my entire house back home could fit into this suite, with room for a porch.

  My phone pings. With an expectant rush of anticipation, I pick it up. Maybe Gabby’s down in the lobby already?

  It’s not from Gabby.

  Cole, please. Let me explain. I promise to tell you everything.

  My muscles tense as I read my mom’s repeated plea. I’ve lost count how many times she’s texted, how many times she’s said she’s sorry, how many times she’s asked me to allow her to explain her actions. Explain away how she’s been lying to me all my life.

  I don’t reply. I drop the phone on the nightstand. I’m here to get to know Rex, and from what I’ve seen of him so far, he’s worth getting to know. I made the right call to come here, and she’ll just have to live with the consequences.

  There’s a soft knock at the door. It pulls me out of my downward spiral. I open it to see Gabby standing at my door. Her smile is tentative, and the intensity in her eyes almost knocks me sideways.

  I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to look more beautiful every time I see her. Any thought of deceit and lies evaporate from my mind. My immediate impulse is to pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless.

  But I don’t want to rush. This needs to be taken slow. She deserves it. Not just because she’s a gorgeous girl who’s fun and flirty and smart. She’s all those things and so much more. She’s got this spark, this way of looking at the world that drew me in from the moment we met. And knowing she feels even just a chunk of what I feel for her right now is more than enough for me.

  “Kermit,” I say with a flirty smile.

  “Tennessee.” Her big, green eyes sparkle with mischief and playfulness. And my God, mischief and playfulness are exactly what I need.

  We stand in the doorway and grin at one another like a couple of idiots until I finally come to my senses. I stand back and invite her in.

  She breezes past me into the room, and I inhale her light, feminine scent. As I close the door, I watch as she looks around the suite. She wanders over to the large window on the other side of the room—my no-go zone.

  She looks back at me. “Well, Tennessee, you surprise me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “This,” she opens her arms wide, “is not what I’d expected.”

  I’m a total idiot! Why didn’t I think about the fact my suite makes me look some kind of high-flying go-getter? I try to make light with, “Are you telling me not all construction workers from the South have New York hotel rooms like this?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  I take a couple of steps closer to her, but there’s no way I’m going anywhere near that damn window. “It’s all part of me being that special import, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. The expensive wine. This is all courtesy of Rex Randall, huh?”

  I nod. “I guess he’s a generous guy.” I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’s going to dig any further. Because, if she does, I ma
y be forced to lie to her again.

  And I do not want to lie to this woman.

  “You sure are lucky.” She smiles before turning back to look out the window once more. I clench my hands that rest at my sides. “This is quite some view.”

  Not having spent anywhere near enough time by those windows to study the view, I mumble, “Yeah, it is,” as I will her to move back to where I’m standing.

  “Oh, look, down there. I can see the pond where I took you yesterday.” She turns back to look at me. “Remember the guy with the duck you loved so much?” Sarcasm rings in her voice.

  I don’t budge. “The guy with the duck was fine, I just didn’t get why you’d want to read a book to a bird. And anyway, it meant a lot to you, so I liked it.”

  “You did?” Her sarcasm disappears, and a warm but shy smile transforms her mouth into something I want to taste. Something stirs inside my chest, a feeling I’ve not had for, well, ever.

  She walks over to me until she’s standing so close we could touch if I leaned forward the smallest amount. “You’re amazing, you know that?” she tells me.

  “I get that all the time.”

  “I bet you do,” she says with a light laugh. “What I mean is you’re staying on the fortieth-something floor and you’re afraid of heights. That makes you totally amazing.”

  “Or a masochist. Whatever I am, there aren’t a lot of single-level motels in Manhattan.”

  “Thank God for that. So, what did you do after I left you earlier? More touristy stuff? Got a Statue of Liberty foam hat in that suitcase of yours over there?”

  I risk telling her the truth. “I saw Rex, actually.”

  Her face lights up. “You did? Were you rehearsing that song you’re going to play together?”

  “We went for a run. Through the park.”

  She blinks at me. “You went for a run with Rex Randall through Central Park? What are you, his new prodigy?”

  Something like that.

  I shrug. “Right place, right time, I guess.”

  “Do you think anyone recognized him out on the run? Will I see photos of Rex and this hot mystery guy splashed across the Internet?”

  “A hot mystery guy, huh?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She licks her full, luscious lips, and I swear all the blood in my body directs itself to my crotch.

  As though reading my mind, she reaches up, cups my face, and pulls me down to her. She presses her sweet lips against mine and kisses me softly. And what a kiss. Just like the one in Times Square, just like the one on Brooklyn Bridge. Only better. Those kisses only felt like it was just her and me. This time it is just her and me, and I can focus all my want, all my need, all my everything on her.

  She clears her throat, her face flushed. “I hope you didn’t mind me doing that.”

  “Mind you doing that? Shit, Gabby, don’t you know how much I want you?” I pull her closer to feel her soft body conform to mine. As an explosion of need burns through me, I crush my lips against hers once more.

  We kiss and we kiss, our hands roving across one another’s bodies like we couldn’t ever get enough of one another if we tried.

  And man, are we trying.

  She breaks the kiss and pulls away from me, her breath shallow and fast. And I miss her, I actually miss her.

  “We should talk before, well, before we do anything more.” Her beautiful breasts heave up and down under that T-shirt of hers, and the ache in me grows.

  “Talking is so overrated. I prefer doing what we were doing.” I pull her back into me and kiss her, to prove my point. And I think I’m pretty convincing, if the little sounds she’s emitting as I run my hands over her back and down to cup her perfect ass are anything to go by.

  “We should t-talk,” she repeats, only with less conviction this time.

  I smile to myself at how hard she’s finding it to string a sentence together.

  “Cole?”

  To Cole Junior’s utter frustration, I give in. She clearly needs to say something, and I’m not going to stand in her way. “Talk about what?” Holding her with one arm, I pull the tie from her ponytail and let her gorgeous hair fall loose. I run my fingers up her neck and bury them in her hair.

  I know I’m not playing fair, but man, she’s driving me crazy here. I pause my hand.

  “This thing between us,” she manages. “You said I was a distraction.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry about that. It was a jerk move.”

  She shakes her head. “You were right. We need to keep this thing casual. You know, just for fun.”

  “Aren’t you having fun? ’Cause I sure am.” I trail kisses down her neck, feeling her body squirm beneath my hands, noticing the little hairs on her neck stand on end.

  “I’m serious.”

  I pause in my rather delectable neck kissing. “Okay, you got my attention. What is it?”

  “This . . . thing between us, whatever it is, it can’t go anywhere.”

  I try to ignore the unexpected sting of disappointment that hits my chest. I may have begun to want more from her, but no matter what I might feel, my rational brain tells me what she’s saying is right. Neither of us can afford to get in too deep.

  And anyway, right now, with Cole Junior calling the shots, she could tell me to dance down Wall Street in a pink tutu and tiara and I’d agree with total enthusiasm.

  “I get it. We’ve both got other crap going on.”

  She lets out a rush of air, and her face breaks into a relieved smile. “So, this will be two consensual adults, having some fun together, with no strings?”

  “No strings.” I run my finger along the bottom edge of her T-shirt. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but how about we make a no clothes rule, too?”

  Her eyes gleam with unspoken lust. “I could get on board with that rule, but I think we should see how that would work first. Don’t you? Kind of like a test run.”

  “It would be foolish to commit to a rule we can’t honor.”

  She kisses me on the mouth. “So foolish.”

  When it comes to Gabby Davis, I’m not a man who needs to be told twice. I tug her T-shirt up, and she lifts her arms so I can pull it over her head. I let it drop to the floor so I can admire the view. She’s wearing exactly the kind of bra I expected: perfect, plain white, devoid of lace or any extra unnecessary bits bras seem to have.

  As perfect as it may be, like the T-shirt, it’s gotta go.

  I reach behind her, unhook the bra, and she glides it down her arms, releasing her pert breasts. “God,” I murmur as I reach out and cup them in my hands. I brush my thumbs over her nipples, and she moans and throws her head back—exactly the way I want her to.

  “I can’t believe you were hiding this incredible body under layers of green goop. You’re so beautiful,” I murmur.

  “I thought I was a Muppet?” she teases. “Kermit the Frog isn’t exactly known as a sex symbol.”

  “Try telling Miss Piggy that.”

  As she reaches inside my T-shirt and skims her fingers across my abs, I tense from my increased need for her. Her fingers find the waistband of my jeans.

  “Now it’s your turn. I believe the agreed rule was that we’re both naked.” She lifts my T and I tug it over my head. And then her hands are all over my chest, my back, and my abs, driving me close to the edge—and she hasn’t even got to the real business end yet.

  I’m trying hard to pace myself, to make sure she’s as turned on as I am. It’s proving hard, so much harder than it has ever before. I’ve had other women—I’m no saint—but Gabby, well, Gabby’s a whole other ball game.

  I pick her up in my arms and carry her to the bed. I place her carefully down. As she kicks her sneakers onto the floor and quickly pulls her jeans off, I do the same. We remove every item of clothing until we’re both completely naked.

  Ready.

  I lie on the bed next to her and run my eyes over her body. “You are so incredible, Gabby, do you know that?” I don’
t wait for a response. I kiss her again on her luscious lips and then begin to work my way down her body, pausing at her breasts to worship them in all their glory. Because breasts like hers deserve to be worshiped, and I am absolutely the man for the job.

  “Condom,” she says between shallow breaths.

  “Good point.” I oblige with one from the wallet in my jeans, dropped carelessly on the floor beside the bed.

  Once I’m fully armored up, I kiss her once more, savoring everything about her: her taste, her scent, the way she feels under my hands. The newness of her is intoxicating, in a way I’ve not experienced before—and I’ve got to fight to contain my arousal.

  And then, finally, I’m inside her, her body beneath mine, and my God, does she feel incredible. My mind is full of her, and everything else is forgotten, gone. Like there’s only her and me, and no one else. All I can think about is how I never want this to end, how I want to be with her, like this, our limbs entwined, our bodies connected. Together.

  She is everything I imagined her to be, and something more. Something I’ve not found in a bedmate before. There’s a connectedness. It’s new and exciting. Whatever it is, I don’t want to focus on it. I need to live in the moment. And as far as moments go, this moment is pretty damn fantastic.

  We move in perfect unity, my need building and building until we both reach our bodily Nirvana. And then we lie together, wet with sweat, our hearts pounding, our breath mingled.

  And it feels nothing short of extraordinary.

  “That was,” she begins between breaths, “incredible.”

  I cup her face in my hands and kiss her on the lips, my body spent. “It was.” I want to add that it’s her, she’s the one who’s incredible, that I could so easily lose myself in her. But I don’t. We’re keeping this casual. I can’t go feeling things like that, things I can’t control.

  I pull the bedsheets up over our naked bodies and pull her into me. She snuggles her head against my chest, and I can feel her heartbeat slowing against my ribs.

  “You know what?” I kiss the top of her head. “You know how you said you want to keep this thing just fun?” She nods. “Well, I think that was more than just fun. What we just did was quite possibly the Disneyland of fun.”