“My partner?” This conversation made less and less sense every minute.
“The other mouse,” my stepsister said, sounding exasperated. “Two by two. Two lions. Two wolves. Two rabbits. Two mice. Didn’t you ever go to Sunday school?”
“This is for… Noah’s Ark?”
“Yes,” she said impatiently. “I’m Noah’s wife.”
Her disdainful look said it should have been obvious that her pink finery was that of someone trapped on a boat with hundreds of animals. I looked down so she wouldn’t see my quick smile. I’d never spent all that much time with Michelle. When her mother married my father, I was already away at college.
After the wedding, everything changed. My father took Michelle and her mother on lavish trips to Europe. They went to snooty events such as this one all the time. By the time my dad died two years ago, I wasn’t even part of the family anymore. Michelle and her mother had been center stage at the funeral, as if my dad’s death only affected them. I wondered if they would have acted quite so devastated if they’d known he had no money left to leave anyone. They’d blown through it all.
She turned to leave, and I hurried after her, my skirts swirling heavily around my legs. “What am I supposed to do until midnight?” It wasn’t like I could go back to catering. And I had no idea how anyone could sit down in this thing.
“Eleven forty-five,” she said. “Go dance, if you know how. Mingle. Find your fellow cats and rats and elephants. It’s good visibility if people see the costumes before the judging begins. But if anyone asks, tell them your name is Sarah. She’s the one who bowed out tonight. Like her grandmother won’t still be in the ICU tomorrow.”
She swept out and after exchanging a look with the makeup lady, I left, too. Navigating the grand stairwell with all those layers of skirts was a time-consuming task. My mental image of me crumpled at the bottom, in a heap of limbs and petticoats, wasn’t a comforting thought, but eventually I made it.
Moving through the ballroom this time was different, and not just because of the size of my skirts. This time, people noticed me. Smiled at me. Talked to me. I wasn’t staff anymore. Not sure if mouse was an upgrade from caterer, but I’d take it. My dad used to call me his little mouse, long before Michelle and my stepmother were in the picture. I missed the way he called me that. I missed him. So tonight, I’d do everything I could to be nice to Michelle and help her win the contest. Not for her sake but for my dad’s.
Blake
“My, my, don’t you look dashing?”
The woman in the pink dress materialized as soon as I entered the ballroom. Except for the yards of fabric, she looked much like she did when I met her for lunch once a month. Fancy. Overly made up. And high maintenance. “How’d you recognize me?”
Her eyes swept up and down my costume, lingering on my chest. A few years ago, I’d made a promise to an old friend to look after her, but lately, she’d been doing most of the looking.
“A little bird told me you were here. And after you said this wasn’t your kind of party.”
“It isn’t,” I said. “But I’m helping out a friend.”
“If your friends look anything like you, you’re bound to get a prize in the costume contest. Just not first place.” She batted enormously long fake eyelashes at me. Did they have those in whatever time period her dress was from?
“I’m sure you’ve gone all out,” I said. And I was sure of it, since occasionally some of the bills from her lavish lifestyle ended up crossing my desk. My accountant thought I was crazy, but a promise was a promise.
Michelle put her hand on her slender waist and looked at me with her sharp blue eyes. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance? I’m sure a man with your upbringing knows how to waltz.”
I did, but I wasn’t going to admit that. She was right, I had to learn all that crap when I was younger. And kids from middle class families thought they had it bad with piano lessons. “Perhaps later, Michelle. Right now, I need to go see if there are any dragons for me to slay.” I put my hand on the hilt of my sword for added effect.
“My hero,” she said coquettishly, putting her hand on my bicep, her voice sounding more southern than whatever posh accent she’d been aiming for. But then two women in identical dresses came up to greet her and I slipped away, moving quickly through the ballroom. Too bad there weren’t actually any dragons in need of slaying. Technically, this was still my vacation—my first week away from my company in over a year. It was a damn shame I couldn't spend it somewhere else.
But still, I could make do. Maybe there were maidens to rescue or at least hit on. The women around me seemed to already be partnered up, except for a gaggle over in the corner. A gorgeous young woman in a Scarlet O’Hara-type dress chatted with a man wearing a crown. Another belle of the ball tilted a glass of champagne into a knight’s mouth. Apparently, his armor was too restrictive for him to do it himself. And a willowy young woman, whose curves were accentuated by her tiny waist, listened to an older man in royal garb drone on about medieval times.
Wait a second.
She might actually be a genuine damsel in distress. That was old Tobin Crane. He’d divorced his wife of thirty-five years recently and rumor had it he was looking for some eye candy to dangle off his arm. But that man only had one thing to offer women, and it certainly wasn’t brains, looks, or charm. And from the trapped look in her eyes, this woman wasn’t interested in his money.
When I neared, Tobin was taking her through the finer points of how lice spread from peasant to peasant in medieval villages. I made a mental note to have my secretary send him a book on what not to do when trying to pick up women.
“There you are,” I said, moving to the young lady’s side. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” I tried to move in close enough to wrap my hand around her waist, but I was rebuffed by a skirt the size of Texas.
She looked up at me, rich chocolate eyes peering out from behind her mask. Even with the mask on, I could identify the expressions that played over her face, among them relief, surprise, and, if I wasn’t very much mistaken, a moment of pure old-fashioned feminine desire. Good to know I wasn’t the only one who feeling this chemistry.
Up close, she was even lovelier than I’d thought. Her skin was pale and smooth under the makeup, and her mouth was a perfect heart shape. For some reason, she had a black nose and whiskers. But that wasn’t the strangest sight I’d seen tonight by far, so I plunged on. “You promised me a dance, Milady. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Of course not," she said, and now it was clearly relief in her eyes. “I was looking for you earlier, but then Mr. Crane here started telling me the most fascinating things.”
She was quick. I liked that in a damsel in distress. “I’m sure he did,” I said, winking, and she bit her lip, holding back a smile. “If you’ll excuse us, Tobin…”
As I led her away, her shoulders sagged with relief. Once we were out of range, she turned to me. “Thank you. He just about talked my ear off.”
“He just about talks everyone’s ear off.” I took her hand.
She stared down at our linked hands for a moment and then back up at me. “What are you doing?”
“Dancing with you.” I smiled at the shocked look on her face. “What, are you going to make a liar out of me in front of my good friend Tobin?”
The corner of her mouth twitched at that. God, those lips. Unlike the wig, the mask and the dress, they were her. The real her. And they were one hundred percent kissable. They made me want to know what the rest of her looked like under all the layers.
I placed my other hand on her waist though her skirt still didn't allow me to stand very close to her. Perhaps that was the point in days of yore?
“I—I, umm, don’t know how to dance,” she said.
“That’s okay” Taking her free hand, I guided it to my upper arm. “I do. You just need to follow my lead.”
Her name was Sarah, and she was rapidly making me rethink my position on point
less society events such as this one. She claimed she’d never danced this way before, but she was a natural in my arms as I led her through the steps. The only problem was that I had to keep her at arm’s length, literally. Whatever jackass first created dresses this wide should be shot. Then again, whoever invented them was long dead. That made me feel a little better.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?”
“My mother made me learn when I was young.” We whirled across the dance floor. She was a quick study and matched my moves.
“Please tell your mother thanks from me,” she said with a disarming smile, but the warmth I felt from her smile was canceled out by the guilt I felt at the mention of my mom. When was the last time I’d visited her? It had been over a month at least.
Momentarily distracted, I almost waltzed Sarah right into a passing waiter. She glanced over her shoulder and then jumped out of the way, hurrying in the opposite direction. “Wait up,” I said, following her through the crowd.
She smiled when I caught up. “Sorry. I got turned around from all that twirling.”
“That’s why they say you should never operate heavy machinery after waltzing,” I said, and she laughed.
Her gaze moved up and down my costume, and this time it didn’t irritate me as it had when Michelle did it. “What are you supposed to be?”
“I’m hungry,” I said. Being stuck with the lamest of horsemen, Famine, did not make up for getting to use that joke which practically wrote itself.
“Oh, I can get you some of the salmon croquettes—” She broke off, a hint of redness gracing her pale cheeks. “I mean, I saw some when we passed by the buffet.”
“I’m good. See if you can guess my costume.”
She took a step back and eyed me again, taking the black riding boots that came up to my knees. The britches, shirt open at the neck, and jacket. Apparently when you added in the black mask, sword, and cape, it didn’t add up to anything she was familiar with. Her nose wrinkled in the most adorable way. “Are you Zorro?”
And suddenly, that sounded a lot simpler than explaining that I was a harbinger of malnutrition. “Got it, first try,” I said.
She smiled. “It was either that or maybe some kind of superhero.”
Damn, that would have been cooler. I should have said I was a superhero. Too bad Tyler wasn’t nearby. He was all into comic books and other nerdy pursuits. “But Zorro gets a sword,” I concluded out loud.
“Very true. Nice to meet you, Zorro.”
“You too, Milady Sarah.” She blinked up at me for a moment, and then her gaze shifted past me. A young man in black was headed toward us with a tray of champagne flutes. “Care for something to drink?”
“No, I…” she trailed off. “I’m good. I just—I’m supposed to meet someone, I just remembered.”
She was leaving? Usually I was the one trying to run out on women, not the other way around. “Don’t go. You were getting pretty good at the waltz.”
“It helps when you have a nice swirly dress like this. No one can see your feet if you do the steps wrong.” And then she looked down in an adorably bashful manner. “And it helps if you have a good partner.”
“So do me the honor of one more dance,” I said, feeling that this was something Zorro might say. “Let me get you a glass of champagne.” I turned to see where the young man with the tray was, and when I turned back, Sarah was inching away.
“I have to go prepare for the contest. It was very nice to meet you.” And with a twist of her skirts she was gone, disappearing in the crowd. Right in front of me was another young woman. Same golden dress. Same white wig. Same black mask although this woman’s mask had leopard stripes on it. She smiled up at me, but it wasn’t her that I wanted in my arms. It was Sarah.
Which was stupid because I’d only danced with her once. Only talked to her for a few minutes. But it didn’t matter. She’d already settled in my mind. I had to talk to her again. Had to see that cute but bashful way she looked up at me. Wanted to feel her hand clutching mine, and to rest my hand on her waist as I twirled us around the dance floor.
“Fuck it,” I said aloud. I plunged into the crowd after her.
Penny
Once I closed the door, I could no longer hear the music from the ballroom. I’d run up the stairs, no easy feat in this dress, and tried doors until I’d found a room that was both unlocked and empty. It appeared to be some kind of parlor with ornate love seats and antique tables. This house was considered to be a mansion, but it had looked as big as a castle when we’d driven up in the catering vans.
Moving across the room, I peeked through the doorway at the far side. It was another sitting room of some sort, and fortunately it was empty, too. Back at the couch, I sank down, only to jump right back up again when the front of my skirt popped up. Oh, right. One of the many layers under my dress was some kind of wire contraption that held its shape almost like a hula hoop. And when one end of a hoop dipped down, the other end stood up. Not good.
Two more tries and I gave up, going back to pacing around the beautiful little room. I’d wanted to sit so that I could process all that had happened. From being plucked from the kitchen by Michelle, to being made up in this costume, to dancing with the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid my eyes on.
Restlessly, I trailed the fingers of one hand along the waistline of my dress. I could still feel the warmth from his hand resting there. Dancing with him again would have been amazing, but when I’d seen Manuel approaching with the champagne, I knew I had to get out of there. If he'd recognized me in spite of the wig, mask, and fancy clothes, he would have asked me what I was doing, and that would have been really awkward.
That man—and I can’t believe I hadn’t asked his name—probably thought I belonged there. In the ballroom instead of the kitchen. It was clear he belonged there. His confidence as he led me around the dance floor. His deep, cultured voice. His utter ease in that crowed room full of wealth and privilege. Unlike me, he certainly belonged there. At least my elaborate costume had prevented him from seeing that I didn’t.
God, he was handsome. With a crooked, cocky grin that made my insides melt. I wanted to call my best friend Jana and gush about him, but my phone was in that dressing room where they’d made me into a Victorian lady. Instead, I rested my hands on the beveled edge of a table and closed my eyes. Instantly, I summoned up the image of him in my mind. Even with a mask covering the upper part of his face he’d been gorgeous. Those mesmerizing dark eyes that had gleamed when he looked at me. That sexy little goatee. His tousled chestnut hair. And the leather jacket that probably cost more than my monthly rent. It hadn’t been able to hide the muscles in his arms. Nor had the laced-up shirt hidden the smooth, tan skin of his chest. I could have danced with him all night. Me, the one who’d lived in fear of dancing my entire life. I was not all that coordinated at the best of times, so it had always seemed prudent to stay off the dance floor.
My eyes still closed, I swayed my hips back and forth, feeling the layers of fabric swirl around my legs. I imagined his hands on my waist… his head lowering to mine… his lips parting as he neared me—
“There you are.”
My eyes flew open and I whirled toward the deep voice, my elbow hitting something on the table. A split second later, there was a crashing noise. Shit.
“What was that?” The man I’d just been fantasizing about came nearer, making my heart speed up.
With effort, I tore my eyes away from his gaze and looked down. The remains of a vase were scattered on the floor at my feet. “Umm… do you think that was expensive?”
He looked pointedly around the room at the paintings, the furnishings. “Probably,” he said. “Good thing you were never here.”
“What?”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door. But just as we reached it, we heard a voice.
“I’ll check,” a crisp, cultured voice said.
Moving as quickly as I imagined
the real Zorro might, the man of my dreams reversed course and pulled me deeper into the room and then through the back door. Hearing something behind us, we hurried into the smaller room, but there was no place left to go. There was just an ornate desk and some arm chairs.
A male voice swore behind us. I turned to the far side of the room to a wall that was dominated by red velvet curtains. Zorro pulled the curtains aside, revealing a huge plate-glass window complete with a window seat. He stepped behind the curtain, gesturing for me to follow him. Once I was standing next to him, he let the curtain go. It billowed around his tall form, and I imagined it would look pretty normal from across the room. Which was not the case with my dress.
My full skirts pushed the curtain out a good two and a half feet. He caught my eye and softly patted the seat. I got the idea, but I was a little bit less clear on the execution. Having already tried to sit down once tonight, I knew how hard it was in this dress. Still, I tried. I lifted my skirt as high as I dared and set one bent knee on the window seat. So far, so good. But when I tried to lower myself down, the other side of my skirt rose up, tenting the curtain out even more.
Zorro cursed under his breath. I caught his eye and suddenly the humor of the situation overtook me. Not that I wanted to get caught, but this was pretty damn funny. He pursed his lips sternly, whispering for me to “shhhh.” Then he pushed at the hoop of my skirt causing the other side to smack against the window.
We both stilled, listening. And then I heard a noise and panicked. As quickly as I could, I gathered big handfuls of ruffled material and hugged it to my chest. He helped, folding layer upon layer up onto the seat with me, but try as we might, the dress truly wanted to spring free. Finally, in desperation, he stood directly in front of me, leaning against the edge of my dress and flattening it into submission. The curtain stilled around him and we both held our breath.
“Hello?” We both froze, and I held my breath for good measure. In the faint moonlight coming in from the window, I saw him looking down at me.
Tempting: A Cinderella Billionaire Story Page 2