Sinclair drew in a deep, hard breath. He was getting carried away. Better just to pull on the oars and keep going, and let the future take care of itself.
“Do I look okay?” Annie turned to him as they drew nearer to the shore, fingers tucking her hair back into its bun.
“You look ravishing.” She was even more beautiful with the final polish gone from her dress and makeup. More natural and sexy. “I hope no one will realize that I’ve been ravishing you this whole time.”
She gave him a seductive smile. “That will be our secret. I don’t think anyone ever needs to know we were such rude guests.” She gasped. “We never even went to the island!”
“Never mind. We’ll tell them we got lost.”
In a way, that was how he felt. He’d wandered off the usual course of his life, got lost in Annie, and found himself in a wondrous new land of possibilities.
“I can’t wait to get lost again.”
“Me, either.” But he frowned. He couldn’t shed the nagging doubt that this wild and perfect evening might be his last taste of paradise on earth.
You don’t know how to live. His second wife’s words echoed in his brain. You’re always worrying about your duties and responsibilities. You have no idea how to have fun. She’d have been horrified to leave the “fun” of the party for the secret world of the waterfront pavilion. He suddenly wanted to laugh at the realization that he’d come to this party out of obligation. Much like the stupid croquet game he’d played to humor his mom and help her recovery. And she’d thrust Annie on him in her borrowed finery, knowing his sense of duty would make him take her to the party.
Sometimes a sense of duty could be a beautiful thing.
* * *
When they got home, Annie immediately crept back to her bedroom like one of the twelve dancing princesses. If this affair with Sinclair was about to turn into a real relationship, then everyone would know about it sooner or later, but four in the morning was not the best time to declare their newfound passion.
She frowned. Why did the princesses in the fairy tale have to be so secretive and sneak off to their princes every night? Why couldn’t they just marry them and live happily ever after? She didn’t remember ever seeing a good explanation for that in the story. Maybe they weren’t princesses at all, but housekeepers who had to get up early and scrub the floors before dawn, and who’d be in trouble if anyone found out they were skimping on sleep while wearing out their shoes.
Sinclair had made the evening so perfect. From the moment he’d been surprised with her as his partner for the evening, he’d been romantic, charming and adorable. He’d treated her like a princess and made her fall even more hopelessly in love with him.
When they stepped out of their accustomed roles, he was so easy to talk to, and so much more interesting than the men she’d been on dates with. He seemed to know at least a little about everything under the sun, which allowed her to stretch her own mind. She tried her best to fill in the gaps in her education by devouring books and magazines on every subject, and it was fun to realize that he’d acquired a lot of his knowledge the same way. Maybe they weren’t so different after all?
Annie smiled as she read a message she found on her pillow: Don’t you dare get up until noon! Katherine Drummond had signed it Kate in an intimate flourish. She set the piece of monogrammed notepaper on the nightstand with a sigh and slid beneath her covers. Sinclair unleashed something absolutely wild inside her, and filled her with hope for a future she’d never dared to reach for. Would they tell everyone tomorrow at breakfast? Would he pledge his undying love for her in front of his mom and Vicki over her handmade omelets?
She couldn’t help a strange, nagging feeling that something entirely different would happen.
Nine
Annie came very close to obeying the command in Katherine’s note. Though she’d set her alarm for seven, she had no recollection of switching it off when she finally woke again near eleven-thirty.
She sat upright. Had she really made love with Sinclair again last night? It grew hard to separate dreams from reality lately. Or nightmares. What kind of crazy person slept with her boss for no good reason other than that he was gorgeous and she couldn’t resist him?
The champagne was at least partly to blame, but what happened to her self-control when she was alone with him? She groaned. She could remember word for word the intimate and romantic conversations they’d had afterward, but now their sentiments seemed fanciful. The kind of thing that sounds perfectly reasonable by moonlight but silly in the cold light of day.
I won’t regret this. She’d said it then, and believed it completely. But now, as she lowered her feet onto the cold wood floor and pondered how he’d react when he saw her, she wasn’t so sure.
She showered and dressed, wondering what everyone had eaten for breakfast. At least now she could busy herself with lunch and stay hidden in the kitchen for a while. Heart thudding, she let herself out of her room and walked quickly down the corridor.
“Back in your khakis already.” Vicki’s voice made her jump. She turned to see Vicki marching along the hall behind her brandishing a newspaper. “What would the editors at Women’s Wear Daily think?”
“I doubt they’d have any thoughts on the subject.” She tried to sound casual yet polite, and it came out sounding forced. Women’s Wear Daily was just one of several papers that filled the mailbox since Vicki’s arrival.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Vicki swept past her into the kitchen and spread the paper out on the kitchen island.
Annie froze at the sight of a double-page spread with three huge pictures of her at the dance last night. “What?” She squinted at them. The headline jumped out at her. “Mystery Woman in Mystery Dress.” “Why would they print this?”
“Because you had everyone talking last night.” She crossed her arms and looked triumphant. “And apparently you and Sinclair missed dinner.”
Dinner? She hadn’t even noticed that they never ate it. They went right from oysters to… She could see how the aphrodisiac rumors got started.
“This being the fashion press, they’re even more curious about who designed your gown than who was in it.”
“Whoever designed it is long dead.” Annie moved closer, increasingly fascinated by the pictures. One showed her dancing with Sinclair, his arms around her waist and her skirt in a whirl that showed how big the skirt was, even without a crinoline. Another showed them walking across the terrace. Then there was a three-quarter picture showing Sinclair with his arm around her waist, which seemed poured into the fitted gown.
“They don’t know that. They’re thinking it’s by the next Balenciaga.” She laughed loudly. “This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”
“Where’s Sinclair?” She said it softly. Had he seen these pictures that boldly proclaimed their romantic liaison to the world?
“He’s been on the phone most of the morning. Work, I suppose. He’s such a stick-in-the-mud. But it looks like you shook him loose last night. He’s almost radiant in that last picture.”
Annie’s breath caught as she saw the expression on his face. A close-up of them dancing, her dress floating out behind her and her arms on his shoulders. And an expression of…rapture on his handsome face.
“We had a really good time.” She said it so quietly that it sounded eerie, like an apology.
“I can see that.” Vicki grabbed a glass from a shelf and filled it with iced water from the dispenser on the fridge. “Exactly as I intended.”
“You faked the headache, didn’t you?”
She laughed. “I’m a martyr to them, and don’t you tell anyone otherwise. You needed to go to that ball, young lady. I had a ball waving my magic wand over you, and look how well it turned out.” She beamed with such obvious good cheer that Annie almost began to like her. “And this won’t be the last of it. I bet you’re on Page Six as well. You’ll be the talk of all New York.”
Annie blinked. How would Si
nclair react to all this? Like the old-school aristocrat he was, he seemed skilled at avoiding publicity, despite his illustrious career and many high-profile friends. She’d searched online for him more than once, when he hadn’t visited the house in a while and she just felt like seeing his face. A few photos from parties and a corporate portrait were all she found. She didn’t imagine he’d be happy to see these pictures plastered all over the papers.
Especially once they figured out that the woman in his arms was his own housekeeper. “Sinclair is going to be upset.”
“Who cares? He needs to live a little. And I think the two of you make an adorable couple.” She tapped the picture of them dancing. “Tell me that isn’t romantic.”
Annie’s heart squeezed at the image of herself and Sinclair, staring intently at each other as they whirled around the dance floor as if no one else existed and the music was being played only for them. Last night they had found their own little world together, and inhabited it so fully they forgot about the consequences.
“I hope he won’t be embarrassed.” She chewed her nail absently for a moment, then pulled her hand back. “I think we both got carried away by the atmosphere of the evening.”
“Good. Sinclair needs to get carried away more often. I’ll make sure his mom and I are out late tonight.” She gave Annie a knowing look and swept out of the room, leaving the pages open on the island. Annie quickly closed the paper and tucked it out of sight in the pantry. She didn’t want anyone—especially Sinclair—to come in and think she’d been gloating over it.
Heavy footfalls on the stairs made her hands shake as she shredded chicken into a salad. Given that Katherine and Vicki were both built and moved like gazelles, it could be only one person. Heart bumping, she quickly dried her hands and tucked a stray lock of hair into her bun.
Last night had been so magical, so breathtaking. It was a dream come true in every sense of the word, and even the pictures in the paper had captured that. Would electricity jump between them as he entered the room? She felt her temperature rise, and started to take off her light sweater when he entered the doorway. How should she greet him? With a cheery hello? Maybe even a kiss…?
His expression stopped her cold. The angles of his chiseled face looked harder than she’d ever seen them. He filled the door frame, all broad shoulders and hard planes. His onyx gaze met hers with the force of a blow.
She swallowed. Her romantic fantasies shriveled up and went to hide under the island. “I had a really nice time last night.” She was going to say how she felt, damn it, and not let mystery and suspense rule the air. She wasn’t going to let him sweep their fantasy evening under the rug this time. If nothing else, they’d at least talk about it. “But I’m guessing you don’t feel the same.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. It looked as if he’d done that a few times already. “Annie.” He came into the kitchen and closed the door. Which could have been an intimate gesture, but his tense physique and stony expression made it unsettling instead. He hesitated, as if searching his brain for what to say.
“Don’t tell me to forget last night happened. I won’t do it again.” She heard the tone of desperation in her own voice. “I can’t.” She gripped her sweater in her fist, digging her nails into the fabric.
“Last night was…” His broad brow furrowed. “It was wonderful.” He met her gaze, and the pain in his dark eyes rooted her to the spot.
“Then why do you look so unhappy?” Part of her wanted to rush to him and throw her arms around him. The other, more experienced and sensible part, wanted to wrap her arms around herself and shield her heart from whatever was coming.
“Something’s happened.”
“Is it your mom?” Panic rushed her. She hadn’t seen Katherine yet, and had just assumed she was up and out of the house already. “What’s wrong?”
“Not my mom.” His frown deepened. “My ex-wife, Diana.”
She blinked. He hadn’t even spoken to her in months, as far as she knew. They’d had an acrimonious divorce, with lawyers and angry words, despite the short duration of their marriage. “Is she ill?”
“No.” He inhaled and blew it out. “She’s pregnant.”
“Oh.” The word fell from Annie’s lips as her heart sank a full inch in her chest. “And it’s yours.” Why else would it be such a big deal?
“Yes. She’s due to give birth any day now. She said she didn’t want to tell me, since our marriage was ending, but now that she’s drawing close to delivery she felt the need to tell the truth.”
Or the need to apply for child support. Annie kept her unkind thought to herself. But she couldn’t help saying another. “Hasn’t she been involved with someone else?” The gossip was that his wife had cheated on him. She didn’t know the whole story. “Couldn’t it be the other man’s baby?” She braced herself for Sinclair’s reaction. It wasn’t a kind thing to suggest.
“I just spoke to her on the phone. She swears the story was just an excuse for the divorce, and that the baby is mine.”
“She wants to reconcile?” She couldn’t help doubt creeping into her voice.
Sinclair’s pained expression gave her the answer. “No, she doesn’t. But she’s due any day now. If it is my baby, I need to be there for the birth.”
A tiny flame of hope leaped in her chest at the word if. Obviously he wasn’t entirely sure the child was his.
“Why didn’t she tell you before now, if she’s so far along?”
Sinclair frowned. “She said she didn’t want me to know about it.” The hurt in his eyes stole her breath. “That she wanted to raise it on her own.”
Frustration rose in Annie’s craw. “So why don’t you let her do that?”
“I’d never forgive myself if our child grew up in a broken family without me making every effort to fix it.”
“You don’t have to marry her again to make it okay. Plenty of people live in separate households and play a full role in raising their children.” Was he really going to walk away from her after all their declarations of last night?
“I know. But it’s who I am, I suppose.” That inscrutable dark gaze met hers. “I have to try.”
“I understand.” Of course he’d want to do the “right thing” and be an old-fashioned Leave It to Beaver dad. He was hardly the type to feel fulfilled by taking the kids out for pizza and a movie twice a month. “I hope it all works out.” That last part was a lie. But maybe in time she’d have the generosity of spirit to truly wish that for him. Right now she wanted to curl into a ball and sob.
Sinclair shoved a hand through his hair. “I just got off the phone with her. She’s living in Santa Barbara right now. I’m going to fly there this afternoon.”
“Oh.” So much for their evening of romance tonight, with Vicki whisking Katherine away. Annie cursed herself for the selfish thought. Sinclair’s life would be thrown into turmoil by this, no matter what happened.
And her own life?
No one cared about that very much.
“I’m so sorry this had to happen, especially now.” Sinclair looked genuinely agitated. “I’d never have…taken advantage of you again last night if I’d had any idea.”
His words cut her like a dagger. “You didn’t take advantage of me.” She tried to keep her voice cool. “I was a willing participant.” More fool, me. Then again, it wasn’t his fault this had happened. Or was it? He didn’t have to rush to his ex-wife’s side and try to rekindle their romance. He could just as easily have explained it all, then given her a big romantic kiss.
But life didn’t work like that. At least, hers didn’t. She pulled the paper out of the pantry. “Did you see this?” She flipped to the double-page spread of their romantic evening.
Sinclair snatched it from her. “Damn.”
Annie shriveled a little bit more. “I didn’t notice them taking the pictures.” She was too wrapped up in their oh-so-temporary romance.
“Me, either.” He flipped to the front cover. “What k
ind of paper is this, anyway?”
“It’s a fashion thing. Vicki gave it to me. She gets a copy every day.”
“She would.” He put it down, folded so their pictures were hidden. “Let’s hope the story doesn’t leak to the mainstream press.”
“Yeah.” It was hard to even speak. He really did want to sweep their glorious evening under the rug. Pain welled up inside her. She could only pray that he’d leave before it spilled out as tears.
“I’ll go pack. Don’t bother making me lunch. I’m leaving for the airport in ten minutes.”
Already they were back to a business relationship. She nodded, keeping her mouth shut tight. Inside she was slowly dying.
“I’m sorry, Annie.” His voice was gruff, a little stiff. She wasn’t sure whether he was trying to put on a brave front or whether he simply didn’t feel anything. She was beginning to suspect the latter.
“Me, too.” She folded the paper and put it back into the pantry, glad to get away from that cold, dark stare. When she turned back, he was gone.
She leaned on the island, trying to catch her breath after holding in her emotions so tightly. She wanted to scream, to cry out in pain and frustration. But she didn’t. She’d dared to live the dream for one beautiful night. She should be proud of herself for being bold and brave enough to live life to the fullest. Expecting more was just greedy.
She took her sweet time making the salad, anxious to be sure Sinclair was gone before she ventured out of the kitchen to set the table or call the others to lunch.
“Oh, crap.” Vicki’s voice made her jump so violently she spilled some of the sea salt she was sprinkling on the garlic bread. “Sinclair blows it again.”
Annie shrugged. Didn’t turn around. She didn’t want Vicki to know how hurt she was. She didn’t understand at all why Vicki kept trying to push her and Sinclair together. Right now she felt like a mouse that had been played with too hard and long by a cat. She wasn’t in the mood to provide any more entertainment.
The Cinderella Act Page 12