Cinderella Christmas

by Shelley Galloway

  "What?"

  "It turns out she cleaned Caroline's house the night of her last party. Brooke Anne saw me there and came up with the idea that I live in Indian Hill, date my cousin and attend soirees on a regular basis."

  "Guess you both made a couple of wrong assumptions."

  That had a good ring to it. It reminded him that he wasn't the only one who'd made a mistake.

  "So why are you sending her flowers?" Breva asked.

  Morgan shrugged. "I went to her apartment on Saturday."

  Breva stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall. "What? How did that happen?"

  "I found her address and stopped by." He smiled at the memory. "It was great."

  "Was it really? Hasn't your mother ever told you never to stop by a woman's house unannounced?"

  "No, but I'm glad I did. We talked...and I'm going with her to a choir concert next weekend. I thought I might send her roses in the meantime, so she won't forget about me."

  "I must say I didn't know you had it in you to be so romantic," Breva commented.

  "I'm not. Do you think it's a good idea, though?"

  "At this point, I think anything would help," she replied. "And flowers always do. Send them off, Morgan Carmichael." Breva glanced behind him and nodded to some people walking by. "Now, get ready to discuss next year's budget. We have to be alert or another department's going to try and take some of our money."

  The anticipation of a good fight made him grin.

  After lunch, Morgan called a local florist and had one dozen roses and a box of chocolates sent to Miss Brooke Anne Kressler. Along with a note that said,

  Looking forward to Saturday night. Maybe this time we'll both be sitting at the end of the meal. I'm glad we talked.

  Morgan

  There. That was a good note - ball was in her court now -a whole three sentences.

  ******

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Brooke Anne read the note and smiled. Then she set the card down carefully and buried her face in the fragrant blooms. The pink and white roses, nestled in a bouquet of baby's breath and ferns, were lovely, and the designer chocolates that had accompanied them tasted delicious - at least the four she'd eaten.

  And the card...it said it all. It was good they'd talked.

  They needed to communicate more. There was an undeniable pull between them, a pull that had begun the moment they'd spied each other in the foyer of the hotel. They'd relied on attraction and chemistry instead of mutual interests and priorities to get them this far.

  Not that that was necessarily a bad thing.

  They'd certainly both been quick to jump to conclusions in the past. Morgan shouldn't have left to go talk to Sheri without telling her, but she'd let the gossip of one stranger guide her thinking.

  Just as she was the one who'd automatically assumed, when she'd seen Morgan at Caroline's, that he must live next door and date the woman he'd come in with.

  And with regard to their conversation at Skip's, Brooke Anne knew she'd let her temper get the best of her, when Morgan had just been trying to explain himself. She was so prickly about her business and her lack of funds that she'd overreacted to his comments.

  It wasn't his fault that she was constantly worried about being a good boss and managing the company while operating on a shoestring budget.

  It wasn't Morgan's fault that neither she nor Tomasina had told him that she was the owner of Jovial Janitors. And she was kidding herself if she thought being the owner didn't matter. She'd worked darn hard to achieve so much. Despite what she might have said to Morgan, she was extremely proud to be the owner of her company.

  As she mulled over things she'd said, and others she wished she had, Brooke Anne knew it was time to face some hard truths. The other night she'd taken offense where none had been given, and had left the restaurant without even thanking Morgan for the meal. She felt guilty.

  No one deserved that type of behavior. Her mother had taught her better. The least she could have done was thank him for dinner.

  All morning she'd wondered what she should do. Tried to think of a way to start over with him. On an even footing.

  But when she'd opened the door to the courier and received the bouquet and the chocolate...her heart had swelled up. He was looking forward to Tomi's concert.

  Even though Tomi had been nothing but prickly toward him.

  Earlier that morning she'd been thinking that maybe it was a little weird to expect a real relationship when all she and Morgan had done so far was dance to a few songs, exchange a couple of extremely extraordinary kisses...and then try to figure out what was going on between the two of them for the remainder of the time they'd known each other.

  But the fact was she wanted to be around Morgan Carmichael. On a regular basis. She wanted to get to know him better. She was slowly falling...if not in love...then seriously in like with him. She thought about him while cleaning. She dreamed about his kisses at night.

  She thought about things she hoped they'd do one day. Things that involved silky sheets and hours alone together.

  There had to be a reason he was still in her thoughts after the ball. Surely he'd remained there because she had no desire for him to leave.

  Morgan made her feel alive when she was with him, and she liked that feeling very much.

  Floating on that emotion, she pulled out his business card, picked up the phone and dialed his number. She was going to thank him for the flowers. And then she was going to talk to him about their upcoming date.

  And maybe even ask about going out another night, too?

  After following the automated prompts to enter his extension, Brooke Anne took a deep breath as she heard the phone ringing.

  A woman answered. "Good afternoon. Morgan Carmichael's office."

  "Hello. May I speak with him, please?" Brooke Anne rubbed her free hand against her thigh. She was nervous. Did her voice give it away?

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Carmichael is in a meeting. May I take a message?"

  "Oh.. .all right. This is Brooke Anne Kressler. Would you please tell him I called?"

  The secretary's voice instantly became friendlier and less businesslike. "Brooke Anne, this is Breva. We met at the ball, remember?"

  "Yes," she replied hesitantly, wondering what Breva thought about everything that had been going on between Morgan and her. "Um, how are you?"

  "I'm fine. Getting ready for the holidays. Dealing with Morgan."

  Brooke Anne gripped the phone. "Is anything wrong?"

  "I'm not sure, to tell you the truth. He might not even know himself," Breva said with a chuckle. "But I can tell you one thing-ever since he's met you, he's been a different person."

  Something about Breva inspired Brooke Anne to speak frankly. "I feel different, too."

  "Different good? Or different bad?"

  Brooke Anne thought about that one. How did she feel? Her heart was beating faster, Morgan's ruddy good looks preyed on her mind like nobody's business.. .and things seemed brighter in her life, even though nothing in it was going smoothly. "Different good, I guess," she said finally. "Sometimes it's hard to tell, though."

  "I know the feeling. Did you get your flowers?"

  "Yes, I did." Brooke Anne felt vaguely uncomfortable that the woman knew about them. Obviously, Breva was conversant with what had been happening between her and Morgan. "How did you hear about them?"

  "M.C. wanted to know my opinion about roses. I told him they were always in good taste. Well, what did you think? Did you like the colors?"

  "They're beautiful - I like pink and white roses very much." Brooke Anne glanced at the bouquet again, caressed a soft petal. "It's been a long time since I've received flowers."

  "That's terrific. He was worried about sending both the chocolate and the flowers, but I said why not? Come to think of it, I should get Morgan to give my husband a few hints."

  Brooke Anne chuckled. "I was just phoning to thank him. Do you know when he'll be back?"

 
"Within an hour, I'm guessing. Oh, he's going to be sorry he missed you," Breva said, amusement lacing her voice. "I'll have him give you a call."

  "Thanks," Brooke Anne replied, and hung up, feeling suspiciously like she did whenever she hung up the phone with her mother: as if she'd given away more information than she'd intended to.

  When Morgan got out of his meeting, Breva was sitting on the corner of her desk, smiling like a stuffed canary. Instantly he went on alert. "What happened?"

  "Why would you think something happened?"

  "You've got a look on your face that says you know something I don't." Mentally, he clicked through the projects they'd been working on. Shoot. The questionnaires.

  "What happened?" he asked again, a feeling of doom settling in his stomach. "Brownlee said no to our recommendations and we have to do them all over again."

  "Bite your tongue! There is no way on earth I'm going to go through those questionnaires one more time."

  What else could it be? Warily, he scanned Breva's face. "You didn't get a promotion, did you?"

  "No, I didn't, though that's a fine way to ask. Don't you want me to be promoted?"

  Morgan didn't answer her. "You're pregnant and you just found out?"

  "M.C, I'm almost sixty!" Shaking her head, she said, "This has nothing to do with work, or me."

  That left...him.

  Slowly realization dawned. There was only one thing at the moment that he'd been concerned about that didn't have anything to do with Royal Hotels. She was spunky, petite and liked to waltz. "Brooke Anne?"

  Breva's eyes shone. "She called."

  A lump formed in Morgan's throat. "What did she say?"

  "Not much. She was looking for you. I told her you were in a meeting, so she left you her cell number. She says no one ever answers the Jovial Janitors main line."

  He could vouch for that.

  "So, how did she sound?"

  Breva crossed her legs, one clog swinging lazily from her outstretched foot. "She sounded good."

  "Really?"

  "Really. She liked the flowers, by the way. I told you they were a good idea."

  "You're indispensable, Breva. Thanks."

  "No problem," she said as she hopped off her desk and practically pushed him into his office. "Now, go call her."

  As soon as she closed the door behind him, he did exactly that. Brooke Anne answered on the second ring.

  He'd know her sweet voice anywhere. "Hello, Brooke Anne. It's Morgan."

  "Hi."

  Did she sound hesitant? Pleased? "I heard you called earlier."

  "I did. To thank you for the flowers. They're lovely."

  "And my note?"

  "I really liked your note."

  Really sounded good. "I'm looking forward to Tomi's concert. That's in five days, right?"

  "Right."

  Was he imagining it, or did she sound a little disappointed that their date was so far away? "Any chance you might want to grab a bite to eat sometime sooner?"

  "Tonight?"

  Morgan had to smile at her suggestion. He scanned his calendar quickly and realized there wasn't a thing he had to do that he couldn't get out of. "Dinner?"

  "Okay. You want to come to my place? We could order Chinese."

  "I'll be there at seven," he said, before she could even think about saying no.

  "Great."

  Still smiling, Morgan analyzed the way she'd said that. She'd sounded breathless. Expectant. Good.

  Kind of the way he was feeling himself.

  "See you in a little while."

  "All right," she said. "Bye."

  Morgan hung up, already anticipating how their night might go. Maybe they'd kiss again.

  He was looking forward to that. Thinking back to the evening of the ball, he recalled how he'd been dying to kiss her lips from the minute they'd started dancing. They'd looked so soft and lush, and he'd been anxious to taste them. Taste her.

  He hadn't been disappointed. She'd been so fresh. So honest in her responses to him. He couldn't wait to be with her.

  Morgan leaned back in his chair and pictured her petite body. She was so small and feminine. Her breasts weren't overly large, just perfectly proportioned. She had a slim waist and a backside right out of his dreams. Firm. Compact.

  It must be from all the cleaning she did, he mused. She looked toned and healthy, and he was ready to get reacquainted with every part of her.

  If she'd give him the chance.

  *****

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After slipping on a silvery-blue zip-up sweater and gray flannel slacks, Brooke Anne put a bottle of wine in the freezer to chill, placed her beautiful roses on her coffee table and sat down to work on her Christmas puzzle.

  She was too excited about seeing Morgan to fuss with dusting and cleaning the bathroom, or to worry about her decorating style.

  All that mattered to her at the moment was that they would be together - and without a heavy load of baggage between them this time. He would be seeing her exactly for who she was, with no wrong notions to muddy his perception.

  If he was disappointed, then so be it. At least he'd be disappointed with her, not someone he thought she was.

  She wondered if Morgan had any idea how often she thought about him - which it seemed she did constantly. She hoped it didn't show on her face. If it did, he'd realize that she was much more attracted to him than she'd ever let on.

  When she heard his knock, Brooke Anne forced herself to wait three seconds before opening the door. There was no reason for him to know just how anxious she was to see him.

  He stood in her doorway, looking debonair in khakis and an olive-green shirt. A tie printed with some kind of designer-looking fish hung loosely at his collar.

  And he seemed very happy to see her.

  "Hi."

  "Hi," she said, then stood there dumbly. Her mind had gone completely blank. Even walking seemed like it was going to take some effort. "Um, come on in," she finally added, moving aside to allow him to enter. "I was about to get the phone book and place an order. Do you like anything in particular?"

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he was privy to some secret joke. "Anything is fine," he said. "If we're talking about Chinese food."

  Her heart stilled. She tucked her hair behind her ears and pasted a bright smile on her face. "I have your flowers here."

  His gaze cascaded down her form, and she thought she spied a look of approval. Then Morgan finally glanced toward her living room. "They're pretty, aren't they?" he asked in a pleased tone.

  "Yes." Before she lost her nerve, Brooke Anne took a step toward him and started talking fast. "Listen, I'm glad you came over the other day. On Saturday."

  "I am, too."

  "I'm not really sure what's going on between us, but I think it's been all mixed up," she continued. "At the diner, I let my mouth get the best of me, when I should have been trying to see things from your side, as well as mine."

  Morgan shrugged. "How could you? We've barely had any time together. Passing notes doesn't count for much."

  "I don't know," she said wistfully. "I kind of liked those notes. I sort of felt like a kid again - I got the same rush of adrenaline I used to get when I'd find out the boy I liked liked me."

  Morgan closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with interest. "Is that how you've been feeling?"

  She'd been babbling so much, she honestly couldn't recall what she'd been talking about. "I...yes?"

  He cupped her shoulders with his palms, his thumbs making lazy circles as he did so. "What? You mean you don't know?"

  "I'm not entirely sure," she corrected, hardly able to keep track of their conversation because his hands had shifted to her back as he edged even closer. Tenderly, they massaged her tense body, and she slowly became enveloped in his arms.

  Her fingers reached for his chest. Held herself steady.

  He pressed her toward him. The next thing she knew, they were standing f
ace-to-face, as close together as if they'd been dancing. Except she had a feeling that Morgan was far from thinking about fancy footwork.

  What to do? Part of her wanted to pull from his embrace, yank him closer and feel his mouth against hers.

  But she panicked. "Morgan?" she asked in a small voice. "About dinner -"

  "Anything. I'll take anything," he replied. Then he kissed her.

  His lips felt just as good as she remembered. He nibbled and teased, and chewed on her bottom lip when she gasped. Then he plunged his tongue deeper, making her forget all about gentleness and sweetness.

  Suddenly, there was only the present. Nothing that had happened before mattered.

  Neither did their future.

  All that mattered was Morgan's lips against hers, the feel of his warm hands on the small of her back and the exquisite way his body molded to hers.

  Visions of the two of them together, making love on her down comforter, filled her mind. She knew they would fit well together then, too. He would entice her with kisses, tease her with slow caresses, charm her with sweet words and tender requests.

  There was a new level of intimacy to their kisses now - as if the last barrier between them had fallen. "Brooke, you're so sweet," Morgan murmured, punctuating each word with feath-erlight brushes of his lips along her neck...the base of her throat...her breast.

  He lowered her zipper a few inches and slipped his hand inside her sweater. The contrast between his warm skin and the cool metal made her inhale sharply.

  "I love this," she breathed.

  Morgan must have felt the same way because her zipper was edging down her sternum, past her waist. Finally, he unfastened it and smoothed apart the soft fabric.

  "Look at you," he said quietly, appreciation evident in his voice.

  Tilting her head back, she glanced at him questioningly.

  But his attention had settled on her lavender bra, with the plastic-flower clasp in the front. With a flick of his fingers, he opened it, freeing her to his steady gaze.

  He met her eyes. "You're lovely, Brooke Anne."