by Carew, Amber
Vanessa slumped down on the desk chair. "Oh, my goodness. Is she in labor? Has she had the baby?"
"No, nothing like that, but she is suffering some complications. Her doctor has told her to take time off work, so she won’t be back until after the baby is born. What I need to know is, can you fill in for her starting Monday? It’ll be a two month contract, until the replacement we arranged for her maternity leave can start. I’ve received excellent recommendations from the other people you’ve worked for on temporary assignment here and, even though you’ve never worked directly for Mr. Powers before, they all feel you’ll be able to step in with a minimum of disruption. Can you do it?"
Vanessa couldn’t believe it. The woman had just offered her a job! "Yes. Absolutely."
She could hear the woman’s sigh of relief over the line. "Wonderful. I’ll send a contract over this afternoon for you to review. Bring it with you Monday morning and check in with security. They’ll give you a security pass and take you straight to Mr. Powers’ office. We’ll worry about the paperwork at lunch."
Vanessa grabbed the pen from the phone caddie on the desk and jotted down some notes as they discussed salary and hours.
But as she hung up the phone, her growing feeling of euphoria at finally having a job after two months of searching suddenly burst as she remembered that she’d been offered Rachel’s job.
Why hadn’t Rachel called her? She picked up the phone and checked for messages. There was one from Rachel telling Vanessa she’d been checked into the hospital and not to worry.
Vanessa quickly dialed the hospital and asked for the room number Rachel had left. Rachel answered after one ring, yawning.
"I didn’t wake you, did I?" Vanessa asked.
"No, I’m just bored," Rachel told her. "I would have called you last night, but I knew you were at the masquerade, so I tried to call this morning."
"I went out to return the costume. I’m sorry, I just got back. So what’s happening? Are you all right? You’re not having the baby, are you? You’re only seven months along."
"Thirty weeks, actually, but who’s counting?"
"So tell me!" Vanessa burst out.
"Okay. No, I’m not having the baby. The doctor told me I have to take it easy until the baby arrives. He’s going to keep me here for a week or so and then I can go home, but I’ll have to stay in bed."
"That’s why you called work and told them you’re starting your maternity leave early."
"How did you know that?"
Vanessa dragged her index finger along the side of the phone. How would Rachel take her news? "Because they called me to fill in for you."
"Really? Oh, that’s great, Vanessa."
She gripped the receiver tighter. "You don’t mind?"
"Of course, I don’t mind. I’m thrilled. Do you have a notepad handy? I know how thoroughly you like to prepare for an assignment, so I’ll tell you all about how Nick likes things."
Vanessa smiled, pleased at her friend’s generosity. She picked up the pen again and flipped the notepad to a clean page, then felt a bit guilty. "Are you sure you feel up to it? Don’t you have to rest?"
"Don’t be silly. How much effort do I expend talking?"
"Well, if you’re waving your hands around like you usually do, probably too much," Vanessa teased.
"Oh, be quiet and listen."
Vanessa scrawled down notes as fast as Rachel fired out information, telling her what time Powers usually arrived in the morning, how he liked his appointments handled, where he kept his schedule, and so on. Once she’d filled the third page, Rachel finally ran out of steam.
"If there’s anything else, just call me. I’m sure to be bored stiff."
"You won’t be bored," Vanessa said, putting the pen back in its stand. "You’ll finally knit those little baby outfits you’ve always wanted to make."
"I didn’t want to knit them. I wanted you to knit them. I don’t know how to knit, remember?"
"Well, this seems like the perfect opportunity to learn. I’ll finally have you trapped in one place long enough to teach you."
Knitting would help Rachel fill the hours she would have to spend in bed. Vanessa hoped her friend would learn to share her own passion for the craft. She took delight in spending hours designing her own patterns and then searching through flea markets and clearance sales to find the unusual materials she liked to work into them.
"Oh, all right. I’ll try," Rachel moaned. "As long as you still promise to do that christening outfit I picked out. There’s no way I’d tackle that."
Vanessa laughed, thinking of the complex patterns involved and the number of times she’d had to pull out and rework pieces of the jacket. She didn’t tell Rachel she’d already finished it. It was wrapped and waiting for the baby to arrive, along with a brightly colored outfit Rachel had crooned over one day while shopping in the mall, and one Vanessa had designed herself.
"So, how was the ball, Cinderella?" Rachel’s tone had changed to one of avid curiosity.
Vanessa’s thoughts flickered from baby outfits to elegant costumes--and a certain mystery man whom she’d dreamt about in great detail--hot steamy detail--last night. All night.
"Oh, it was fabulous, Rachel, but…."
Anxiety swelled in her chest. She had to tell Rachel she’d almost been exposed, but she didn’t know how to relate the sequence of events. How could she explain that she’d been swept away to the garden to be kissed by a handsome prince? She didn’t quite believe it herself.
Her hand came up to fiddle with her earrings and the memory of finding one of her precious glass slipper earring missing hit her like a punch to the stomach.
"But what?"
"Well, I…."
The quiver in Vanessa’s voice must have alarmed Rachel because her words came sharply when she said, "Vanessa, what is it?"
"I lost one of my earrings."
"Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Vanessa. Are they insured?"
"Yes, but…."
"I know. That won’t replace it but … well, maybe one can be made to match the one you still have."
"It wouldn’t be the same." Vanessa bit her lip, remembering her aunt’s smiling face as she presented the delicate earrings to her and how Vanessa had promised to take care of them forever.
"Maybe someone will find it."
Anger spurted through Vanessa as she realized that Fate had planned her revenge well. "And how do you suppose that will help me? I don’t exactly want anyone to know who I am, remember?"
"Vanessa, relax. I--"
"Rachel, it gets worse."
"Worse? What do you mean?"
"Someone found out I wasn’t Amy. There was a man named Kyle … and another man and … well, they were fighting over me."
"You’re kidding?" Rachel laughed in her familiar twitter. "But you’re talking as if that’s a bad thing."
"Rachel! Just listen. The man named Kyle thought I was Amy and the other man did, too, at first, but then…."
"Yes?" she drawled, obviously amused by Vanessa’s quandary.
"Well, it gets complicated."
"I bet. How did the second one find out you weren’t Amy? You didn’t take off the mask, did you?"
"No way."
"Then?"
"He…." She raked her hand through her hair. "He kissed me." The after-tremors of that kiss still reverberated through her system.
"Wow. Right in the middle of all those people?"
Vanessa fiddled with the spiral phone cord, twirling it around her finger. "No, out in the garden."
"How romantic. Are you going to see him again?"
"Of course not. Where has your mind gone, Rachel?" She tugged her finger free of the cord and watched it ricochet back and forth. "He doesn’t even know who I am."
"But he does know you’re not Amy."
She sighed. "Yes, and that’s another thing. He thought he was kissing Amy."
"At first."
She made a fist and pounded it lightly again
st her thigh. "Well, the point is, if he meant to kiss Amy, he had no business kissing me the second time."
"The second time? Hmm. This is getting more and more interesting. Did you kiss him back?"
Vanessa glared fiercely at the telephone sitting on the desk. "You ask too many questions, you know that?"
"And you love it. Well, did you?"
She puckered her lips in a tiny grin. "Maybe a little bit."
"Way to go, Vanessa," she cheered with enthusiasm. "So, you actually found your Prince Charming after all."
"No. He doesn’t know who I am--and if he did, he wouldn’t want me." She glanced at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Her short hair spiked straight up where she’d thrust her hand through it and her baggy sweatshirt and jeans had seen better days, though not in her closet. "After all, I’m not rich and sophisticated. Even if he did take me out, when he found out I’m an out-of-work secretary, he’d dump me, great sex or not."
"You had sex with him?" Rachel gasped in mock horror.
Vanessa could just imagine Rachel’s eyes widening and a mischievous grin crossing her face. "Get real. I just meant that we were … well, let’s just say that when he held me in his arms, the sparks flew big time, so I’m sure the sex would be great, if we ever did it." She patted down her errant wisps of hair, but they sprang up again. "Oh, Rachel, how did you get me down this path?"
"It wasn’t me. You went there all by yourself. And it sounds like you’ve had a great time along the way. And as for being out of work, you’re not now."
"No, you’re right." She stared at her tatty reflection in the mirror. "If only that would solve the problem," she murmured wistfully, wishing she was the woman of his dreams instead of the other way around. Then her Prince Charming would come after her and carry her off to happily-ever-after.
She sighed, knowing her fantasy was just that--a fairy tale that would never come true.
* * * *
Vanessa arrived early on Monday morning, hoping to make a good impression. She showed the security guard the letter she’d received with her contract, along with her driver’s license, then followed him as he escorted her to the executive office.
She stepped off the elevator on the twenty-first floor and drew in a quick breath at the sight of the luxurious surroundings. Glossy wood, leather furniture, and limited-edition prints on the walls all combined into one spectacular impression of elegance. As a glorious backdrop, floor to ceiling windows displayed a magnificent view of the city, the morning sunlight glinting through the glass, sending golden highlights shimmering across the office.
She felt about as out of place here as a rock among a pile of diamonds.
The security guard handed her a security pass and she clipped it to her jacket.
"I’ll leave you to it." He stepped back into the elevator, the doors closing behind him.
Vanessa crossed the plush-carpeted floor to the desk outside the executive office, resisting the temptation to kick off her shoes and sink her feet into the inviting pile. She set her briefcase beside the desk and dropped her purse in the bottom drawer, then scanned the contents of the desk, ensuring that she knew where everything was. She took a few moments to familiarize herself with the rest of the office and equipment, then she set about making coffee.
Rachel had told her Mr. Powers usually arrived at eighty-thirty and a quick glance at the clock on her desk told her she had fifteen more minutes. She grabbed the pile of folders that Rachel had mentioned needed to be returned to the file drawer in his desk and scooted over to the door to the executive office. Pushing it open, she peered inside, not surprised to find the interior even more sumptuous than the reception area. Sitting down beside his huge desk, she opened the lower drawer and started filing the folders.
Through the open door she heard the ding of the elevator and realized Mr. Powers had arrived. A tiny shudder of anticipation rippled through her at the prospect of meeting the powerful executive. As she slid the last folder into place, a familiar scent settled around her, reaching into her memories. She felt herself pulled back into the hot, velvet passion of her Prince Charming’s embrace.
Oh, God! Surely it couldn’t be him. As panic threatened, she assured herself there were hundreds--no, thousands--of men who wore that particular brand of cologne. Except that the scent seemed to blend with a healthy male tang that she knew instinctively was unique to only one man.
"Well, well. Who have we here?"
That voice! That smooth, sexy, incredibly masculine voice belonged to only one man. The man she had prayed never to see again. The man she had made love with every night in her dreams--unashamedly, eagerly, ignited by the real passion he’d stirred in her with that fiery kiss.
Slowly, fearfully, she glanced toward the source of that voice, praying she was wrong.
She wasn’t.
Although he wore a dark blue business suit with a mauve and navy tie and looked much more conservative than he had Friday night, she would recognize him anywhere as Prince Charming. Seeing his broad shoulders as he leaned lazily against the door jamb, the amused curl of his lips, she pushed the drawer closed and leaped to her feet, accidentally launching a sheaf of papers onto the floor.
"Oh, no, I…." She sucked in a deep breath and scrambled onto the floor to retrieve the mess, relieved to have the inevitable confrontation delayed for even a few moments.
As she snatched at pages, she saw his shiny black shoes step near her hand, then he knelt beside her and scooped up the remaining sheets. They stood up together, face to face, staring at each other. Did he recognize her? Amazingly, no spark of recognition flickered in his vivid blue eyes. His next question confirmed the slender hope that had started to bloom within her.
"And who might you be?" he asked, reaching out to take the stack of papers she clutched against her body like a shield.
She reluctantly surrendered them, all too conscious of his proximity … of the warmth of his body … of the answering heat of her own. He might not recognize her, but her body recognized him. If she took a tiny step forward, her breasts would brush against his chest. If she tipped her face up, and leaned toward him, their lips would touch. If….
He smiled, as if he could read her mind. Oh, Lord. The hunger in her eyes must’ve laid bare her innermost thoughts. More likely her body language, she realized, as she felt her breasts swell in helpless response to his overwhelming presence. She drew in a deep breath, trying to force her quivering emotions into some modicum of control. The action caused her breasts to rise and fall in a slow, tremulous motion, and his gaze slid down to witness the tightening of her nipples through the thin fabric of her blouse. His gaze jerked back to her face and his smile faded slightly.
Just her luck. He had to see her blatant reaction to him. Now, he probably felt embarrassed for her. In fact, for a man as drop-dead gorgeous as Nicholas Powers, fending off swooning females must be a usual occurrence.
At her silence, his sleek eyebrows arched. "You do remember, don’t you?" he asked, his voice teasing.
"Remember?" A note of panic tinged her voice. "Remember what?" Good heavens, he could only be talking about their kiss. He did remember her!
"Who you are. And why you’re here," he elaborated.
She gulped a breath of relief. "Oh, yes. I … uh…." She couldn’t keep stuttering like an idiot, but she couldn’t rid herself of the fear that had plagued her since the night of the masquerade. She desperately wanted to keep this job. If he knew she’d crashed his party, she was certain he’d fire her.
So far he didn’t seem to recognize her but … might he be toying with her? Prolonging her torment? Enjoying her helpless response to him? On the other hand, if he truly didn’t recognize her, she’d better start worrying about her professional image. If she didn’t answer his question soon, he’d think her an incompetent and quite rightly fire her.
If it wasn’t too late.
With a great deal of effort, she kept her voice steady. "Rachel … she’s having p
roblems with her pregnancy. The doctor told her she’d have to stay in bed for the rest of her term, so she had to take her leave early."
His face tightened in a look of concern. "Really? Is she all right?"
"Yes. The doctor said if she stays off her feet the baby will be fine."
"Good." His mouth curved back into a smile, his eyes warm. "So, you’re her replacement?"
"Yes, I…." She reached for her folder to pull out the contract that had been sent to her by courier, gasping when she sent his empty mug tumbling to the floor, barely missing his foot.
"Oh, damn." She bit her lower lip, realizing her choice of words was not exactly appropriate in her boss’ office. As if that was her biggest worry at the moment. "I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…."
"Tense?" he suggested with raised eyebrows.
"Clumsy," she corrected.
"Do I make you nervous?"
"N-no…."
He reached down and grabbed the mug from the floor, then placed it on the desk beside her. She leaned sideways to avoid him, knocking over a paperweight.
"Uh … maybe a little," she admitted as he reached past her again to set the sculpture upright.
His sleeve brushed against her side as he withdrew his arm. "There’s no need to be. I don’t bite."
Bite? In last night’s dream, he certainly had bitten. Delicate, electric nips, down her neck, along her collarbone. Then lower still. She tried to force her thoughts down another path, but the swell of desire flooding through her carried her along, taking her breath away.
He stepped back, staring at her with concern. "Relax. I didn’t mean anything by that, other than the fact that I’m a pretty easy boss to work for. I’m really not the intimidating type."
She realized her hands were clenched around the edge of the desk. She drew them to her sides and straightened up. He thought she was afraid of him. By her behavior, he must think she’d never worked in an executive office before. She had to pull herself together.
If only she could ignore this uncontrollable desire bursting through her that sent her heart up in flames. She wanted--needed--to close the slight distance between them and relive the wonderful passion that had burned so briefly between them in reality, but had constantly flamed through her imagination ever since.