Cinderella and the Major

by VanRooy, Cynthia

Conn laughed. “Been there, done that.”

  Harmony’s focus moved over his face and shoulders before meeting his eyes again. “I seriously doubt that.”

  “If I’m going to participate in this discussion, you’re going to have to tell me what the hell we’re talking about.” He took a swig of his beer and waited, thoroughly intrigued by that point.

  She grimaced and pushed her glasses further up on her nose. “I need—no, I want an escort for my ten-year high school class reunion. A friend was supposed to go with me, but he suddenly had other plans and can’t. I could go alone, but then there’d be no point in going at all. It would look like nothing had changed and so much has. Really.”

  She said it like she was trying to convince herself. Before he could comment, she took a breath and kept going. “I’m successful. I’m rich.”

  Was he arguing? “I kind of figured you were pretty comfortable. That was not a paltry bid.”

  She twitched a shoulder like the topic was unimportant.

  “I’m getting the distinct impression,” he said, “you have something to prove.”

  “That pretty much sums up the situation.”

  “And I’m supposed to be part of this whatever-it-is you’re trying to prove?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “And if I did, Amanda’s Place would be out five thousand?”

  She gave a defeated-sounding sigh. “No, of course not. I’ll give them the money. I told you I was having second thoughts. It sounds crazy. Who would believe we were actually together anyway?”

  He looked into those lagoon-blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face and wondered why she found the idea so inconceivable. He took another swig of his beer. “Give me some details about this whole reunion thing.”

  “The condensed version? My mother died of breast cancer when I was five. Dad remarried when I was twelve. My step-mother Jolene has a daughter Brittany just my age. Everyone thought it would be a great idea to put me in the same private school Brittany attended. Brittany was and is gorgeous, while I’m . . .” she waved a negligent hand, “not.”

  Conn frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

  “It just got worse in high school. Brittany became a cheerleader. I joined the science and technology club—along with the other eight misfits who were members. Are you getting the picture? Brittany was voted most likely to become a celebrity. I was voted most likely to become a celebrity’s virtual assistant.”

  He winced. After looking at Harmony’s discouraged expression and thinking about her problem, he reminded himself he had been looking for a distraction. His own situation was with him constantly, and the worry never left his mind. What she wanted from him would certainly provide a distraction. And being able to hold this over Sam’s head was just a bonus.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Chapter Three

  “Really?” Harmony took a moment to enjoy the sweet relief. Soon enough, she’d have to deal with his likely reaction when he learned the rest, but for just this moment, she was going to savor the picture of the two of them walking into that reunion.

  “Yes, really.” He seemed amused by her reaction. “I don’t remember your saying where or when.”

  So much for savoring. “About that—you may want to rethink that ‘yes’ when you hear the details. Did I mention it’s not in San Diego?” Of course she hadn’t mentioned it. Stupid, she wasn’t. She even had the paperwork to prove it.

  He stopped with his beer bottle halfway to his mouth. “No-o-o, you didn’t. Where, exactly, is this reunion?”

  “Bradly.” She grimaced and braced for an unpleasant reaction.

  She got one. “Bradly!” His brows took a nosedive. “That’s over a three-hour drive. Each way.”

  “Yes.” She gave a defeated sigh. “Or not. Want to back out? I won’t blame you. Honestly. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  He completed the action of raising his beer to his mouth. He appeared to consider what she had just said as he swallowed.

  She watched his throat, tan against his light-blue open-collar shirt, as she waited for his answer. Hard not to notice again how good-looking he was. Brittany would have loved him.

  Since she hadn’t gotten an immediate no she pushed her case. “I’ll pick up the expenses, of course. We would go up early the day of the reunion, stay overnight at the hotel where it’s being held, and drive back the next day. And as I said, I’ll pay all the expenses.”

  He heaved a breath, blew it out, and set down his beer. “What the hell, why not. I’ll go.”

  “Thank you.” She hadn’t really believed he’d agree, and her relieved smile flashed briefly. “This means a lot to me.”

  She lost her smile and chewed on her lip as she considered the best approach to her next request. She couldn’t think of anything clever, was never good at clever conversation until long after the fact. May as well just come out with it.

  “There’s just one more thing. This is a chi-chi private school. The occasion is black-tie.”

  “Not a problem. I have a tux.”

  “That wasn’t what I was leading up to.”

  His brows arched. “Oh?”

  “Could you wear your uniform? Please?”

  His expression cooled. “Why?”

  What could she say that didn’t make her sound hopelessly shallow? Nothing. Honesty was easier. “Because you’ll look impressive and you’ll be my date.” He’d be impressive with or without the uniform, but the uniform was frosting on the cake.

  His eyes cooled even further, and he looked away from her. “Another one?” The quietly muttered statement seemed directed more at himself than her. “Spare me.” He picked up his beer and drank deeply.

  “Excuse me?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.” His mouth took on a sardonic twist. “Sure, I can wear my uniform. It’s a little unconventional, but not that big a deal.”

  “Oh, thank you.” Her gratitude was heartfelt. Her former female classmates, AKA the mean girls, were going to eat their

  hearts out. She hoped the male classmates who had never asked her out, never invited her to be their date for the prom were totally intimated by Major Conner Talbot.

  “No problem. God knows, I’ve been on tougher missions.”

  She was feeling more confident about the reunion by the minute. “You don’t understand.” Her voice reflected her determination. “This time, Cinderella is going to the ball.”

  His laugh was jaundiced. “What does that make me? Prince Charming?”

  She paused, surprised by his comment. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I supposed so. It seems appropriate. Do you mind?”

  “Like I said, I’ve been on tougher missions. So, it sounds like we’re back to that something-to-prove. What exactly is it that you’re trying to prove?”

  Her mouth tightened. “That I’m not a loser.”

  She certainly had his attention now. His expression was still reserved, but warming up. “That’s an interesting proposition. Maybe you’d better fill me in on a few more details, so I don’t inadvertently screw up my part of it.”

  Harmony stared at the wine in her glass before coming to a decision. As Major Talbot, Conn, would say, what the hell. Why not? She would never see him again after the reunion.

  She raised her gaze to meet his. “There were three girls in my class without a date to the prom. One was still in the hospital after a car accident, one was on suspension after being caught shoplifting. And me.”

  The sympathy in his eyes was almost her undoing. She looked back down at her wine quickly.

  “You probably think I’m being silly. A part of me thinks that, too. I don’t even know why I care. I haven’t seen any of those people since graduation, well, except for Brittany, and I probably won’t see them again after the reunion.”

  She looked back up at him. “Why does it matter?” She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so plaintive.

  He leaned forward, his forearms braced on his knees, the bee
r bottle held loosely between his hands. His golden-brown eyes searched hers as he appeared to be thinking over her question.

  “I’m no psychologist, you understand, but I think a lot of our self-image is formed in high school, our coming-of-age time, if you will. We impose a lot of stuff on other people, thoughts and opinions they might not actually have, but if we think they do, then for us it’s real. And pretty soon, because we’re sending that message out subconsciously, it becomes real for them, too. It’s like people become mirrors reflecting back to us the image we’ve created.”

  Wow. And people called her smart.

  He sipped his beer as though what he had just said wasn’t eye-opening. “I think you’re looking to create a different reflection,” he added, “a different image.”

  She stared at the chandelier across the room while she contemplated his words. Meeting his gaze again, she nodded slowly. “I think you’re right.”

  “Since it all starts with you, shouldn’t you be focused more on what you think about yourself and the message you’re telegraphing than the date you’re bringing?”

  * * *

  Conn watched that kissy mouth twitch with a smile she was attempting to hold back. A twinkle that looked naughty sparkled in her eyes. “I am focusing on me. If I think I have the hottest date in the room, I’ll be projecting a mighty fine message.”

  Conn laughed. He couldn’t help it. Her mousy appearance was so at odds with her words. “Thank you, I think. That’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “You’re a Marine. I expect you’re up to a little responsibility.”

  Conn grinned at her and winked. “Damn straight.”

  Harmony glanced at her watch. “If we’ve got the big stuff worked out, I need to be going. I have to get home to feed Cookie.”

  “Cookie?”

  “My cat.”

  It took him a moment to make the connection, and he gave a short laugh. “Cute. You’re a computer−” he stopped himself just in time, “whiz so . . .”

  “Most people don’t get it right away. I have to explain it and even then, well. . .” She shrugged. Tilting her head, she said, “You were going to say computer nerd just then, weren’t you?”

  He struggled for an out, but gave up the attempt, and shot her an abashed look. “Actually I was going to say geek. Sorry. We need a new expression. I certainly didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Truthfully, I’m blown away by what you can do. Sam filled me in on a little of it.”

  “But now you see my problem with respect to the way other people think about me.”

  “Okay, I get what you’re saying. But I think we might be back to the whole how-do-you-see-yourself thing. You’re seeing your smarts as some kind of liability or social handicap. I see it as fascinating. And kind of sexy.”

  “Really?” She directed a startled gaze at him.

  He gazed back at her and realized it was true. Her intelligence intrigued him. His mouth slanted in a smile. “Really. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He started to stand, thinking more about Harmony and less about his actions, and put too much weight on his left leg. His quadriceps immediately punished him for his inattention by going into spasm. The pain had him sucking a hiss through his teeth as he dropped back into the chair. He clutched at his thigh, trying to massage the cramping muscle into relaxing again.

  “Conn! What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Muscle cramp.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he focused on pressing the heel of his hand in long strokes down the length of the muscle. “It’ll be okay in a few minutes.” He hoped.

  He opened his eyes and saw her concern. “Honest.”

  She sat down again and regarded him doubtfully. “Has this happened to you before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Often?”

  “Couple of times a week.” Which was an improvement, but not nearly the recovery he needed to stay in the Marines.

  “A couple of times a week?” She sounded incredulous. “Have you seen a doctor about it?”

  His answer was a derisive snort. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Do they know what’s causing this?”

  “Again, oh yeah.”

  “Well, what do they say?”

  He debated lying because the truth sounded so much like a line from a bad movie. By now he should have come up with a more original story. He was in too much pain at the moment, however, for creativity.

  “It’s from a gunshot wound,” he muttered through teeth that were still clenched.

  “What?” Her eyes widened further. “What happened?” She held up a palm. “Sorry, never mind, none of my business. What can I do to help right now?”

  “Nothing. It just has to work itself out.”

  Harmony knotted her fingers together as she watched him work the muscle, then unknotted them, clearly at a loss. He took pity on her and volunteered, “You can just talk to me.”

  “Um, I’m not sure what . . . Was it from action overseas? Do you mind talking about it? Don’t, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “No, it’s all right. I was a month away from coming home from my second tour in Afghanistan when I was hit by a sniper. Fortunately for me, a not-very-good one, or I wouldn’t even be here.”

  “How awful! Were you badly injured?” She closed her eyes. “Sorry. Talk about stupid questions.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Relative to what the damage could have been? Not so much. The bullet shattered the femur. The surgeons were able to piece it back together, with a lot of help from technology. Now I’m working on getting the soft tissue—the muscles, tendons, and ligaments—to heal correctly.” And working was the operative word. He’d never worked so hard in his life.

  “I’m actually lucky. The military has some of the best trauma surgeons in the country.”

  “Hm. Your idea of luck and mine are a little different.”

  “No doubt. I’m trying to find something in the situation to be grateful for.” The muscle was beginning to relax, and he took a deep breath at the relief.

  A thoughtful frown creased her forehead. “As a pilot, how did you get shot?”

  “I’m not a pilot. What gave you that idea?”

  “The Blue Angels. I thought that’s how you were able to offer the time with them.”

  He gave a short laugh. “No way. I hate flying. My roommate from the Naval Academy is one of their wingmen. That’s my in. Even getting shot at, I feel safer on the ground.”

  A tiny smile lit her eyes behind the large lenses. “And here I thought all you military heroes were fearless.”

  “Not hardly.”

  And the scariest thing was thinking about what the hell he would do if he couldn’t get back into good enough shape. The fitness standards required for full-duty status were pretty stringent. The limited-duty he was on at the moment was temporary and pretty much as Sam had described—pushing papers and answering the phone. Excruciatingly boring and frustrating.

  The fear that the medical evaluation board would rule against allowing him to remain on active duty was always there, behind every thought. If he couldn’t be a Marine, who would he be?

  “Conn?”

  What had she said? Oh, yeah, fearless. “Far from it. Fearless people lack the intelligence and imagination to know all the things that can go wrong. There isn’t a serviceperson alive who doesn’t know just how really wrong a situation can go.”

  He opened his hand in a gesture. “Take tonight for instance. I don’t think I can walk you to your car without my leg messing up again. I have a cane in my car, but left it there, thinking I could manage the evening without it. Stupid.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get my car and then drive back here and pick you up and take you to wherever you’re parked. Will that work?”

  “It’ll have to. Thanks.” And didn’t it just supercharge his masculinity sitting here on his butt while the little woman arranged for his transportation.

  Chapter Four

  Harmony pull
ed her Toyota up to the hotel entrance, turned off the engine, and reached behind her to grab the umbrella from the backseat. She got out and assured the bellman she was picking someone up and would be right back. Hurrying inside, she saw Conn sitting where she had left him, expression grim.

  “Hi. I’m back.”

  His expression cleared as he turned to her, and she wondered if she had imagined the tight lips and narrowed eyes. He glanced at the umbrella she held. “Is it raining outside?”

  “You had mentioned leaving a cane in your car. I always have an umbrella in mine and thought it might do as a substitute. It’s pretty sturdy.” She extended it to him.

  “Hey, that was good thinking. Thanks.” He took it from her and tested its strength. After seeming to assure himself it was strong enough to support him, he straightened slowly, using the umbrella as a prop.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s all good. Let’s get out of here.” He grasped her elbow and steered her toward the door.

  At his urging, she balked. “What’s your hurry? Common sense tells me you should probably take it easy.”

  “I’m tired of being stared at. What kind of man lets his date walk back by herself to get the car while he languishes with a beer?”

  Harmony felt an unaccustomed flush of pleasure at the reference to her as his date, even though it was a stretch. She glanced around the lobby, feeling confused. The two employees at the counter, a man and a woman, were busy checking guests in. The waitstaff in the lounge were focused on delivering drinks to the customers who were chatting with each other or checking their cell phones.

  “No one is staring at you.”

  “Whatever.” He continued to steer her toward the door.

  Once outside, they were greeted by the bellman she had spoken to who immediately opened the passenger door of the car. Conn’s gaze took in the white Toyota Corolla. “This is your car?”

  “Yes. You seem surprised.”

  Conn dropped into the car and slid the umbrella alongside the seat. The bellman shut the door as Harmony walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side. The bellman hurried around the front and was in time to open Harmony’s door. She smiled her thanks, slid in, and started the engine. Conn had stretched out his left leg and was rubbing the top of his thigh. She hoped it wasn’t giving him pain again.