His Reluctant Cinderella

by Jessica Gilmore

  ‘If he goes back,’ Raff’s grandfather said, his eyes fixed on Clara, the intent gaze eerily similar to that of his grandson, ‘what about you?’

  Clara’s mouth dried. She had kind of got used to having him around, sitting on her desk disrupting her, whispering highly libellous biographies of the people they met, raising an approving eyebrow as she made small talk.

  She had got used to those moments when their hands brushed, the sensation that time was slowing and that all she could see or hear was him. The swell that seemed to roar upwards, filling her full of awareness of his every movement, his every gesture.

  ‘We’ve managed so far,’ she said as lightly as she could. ‘Skype, letters, it works really well. We’re both so busy that time apart gives us a chance to breathe. Excuse me for a moment.’

  The tent seemed so bright, so loud. The chatter and the music competing with each other, driving up the noise level to a deafening shriek. Each of the myriad lights seemed to shine directly into her eyes, the heat making her stomach roll. She needed air and quiet and dark. She needed some space.

  Clara moved quickly across the tent, swerving to avoid the clustered groups, making sure she didn’t catch anyone’s eye as the announcer returned to the stage to announce the start of the auction. Thankfully, she reached the marquee entrance and slipped out into the grounds.

  What was wrong with her? It had been a highly successful night. Raff’s presentation had been sensational, the guests all looked ready to start spending and donating lavishly and if Clara had read him correctly then Raff’s grandfather looked ready to do the right thing and give the company to Polly.

  Even better, she had made some great contacts and, if she dared, was in a great position to expand out of Hopeford.

  If she dared. Was that it? Was that the reason for this melancholy that had fallen on her like a damp dusk? Because starting the business had been absurdly simple; it had all fallen into place with surprising ease. But taking it into the big city meant taking risks and that was something Clara just didn’t do any more.

  Or was it because this adventure was nearly over? She’d thought that she was finished with adventures but maybe that part of her wasn’t as dead and buried as she liked to think. As she had hoped. Compared to backpacking around the world it was a tame adventure, true, but a part of her was thrilling to the unpredictability.

  And Raff. Clara sighed, feeling the truth exhale out of her with her heavy breath. There it was. Like a fool she was allowing the pretence to take over. Just because they pretended it was a relationship, acted as if it were a relationship, did not make it one. He didn’t want or need ties here; he was doing his best to sever the ones he already had.

  There was nothing long term for her. She should be sensible. Just as she always was.

  ‘Here you are.’ Clara’s heart gave an absurd skip at the low voice; clearly the sensible memo hadn’t reached it yet. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘A little hot.’ That wasn’t a lie. ‘Shouldn’t you be inside for the auction?’

  ‘There’s not much call for exotic villas or cases of fine wine out in the field,’ he said, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. All thoughts of caution, of taking a step back, fled at his touch. ‘I did purchase an obscene amount of raffle tickets, though. You?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any point in me competing against any of those platinum cards.’ There had been some amazing items on the auction list but the guide prices alone had made Clara take a hasty gulp of her wine. ‘I think your grandfather was planning to bid. Maybe we should go back in.’

  ‘He’s quite capable of spending a lot of money without my help.’ Raff’s arms tightened a little, his breath hot on her neck, burning her, branding her, sending heat flaming through her veins. ‘I’m looking forward to spending some time off duty.’ He turned her unresisting body round, cupping her face with his hand. ‘I just want a night with no more work talk, a beautiful woman on my arm, in my arms. Music, wine, fun. Are you in? Because...’ his voice was low, intimate ‘...there’s no one else I want to be with.’

  She had spent the last ten years building up a reputation, one she was proud of. She was often called driven, reliable, honest—and she was proud of those attributes. But beautiful? Fun?

  Raff thought she was both of them. And tonight, just tonight, Clara thought she might think so too.

  ‘Just one night?’ That was what he had said, right? Was it enough? It had to be.

  ‘Is that all you want?’

  ‘Yes.’ That was the right answer, wasn’t it? She searched his face for answers but he was giving nothing away. Only his eyes showed any expression: heat, want, need. What was she waiting for? ‘No. I don’t know. You’re going away.’

  ‘I work away,’ he corrected her.

  She stared at him, confused. ‘What are you saying?’

  He smiled at her, dangerous and sweet. ‘I’m saying there’s no need to plan ahead.’ His hand slid down her shoulder, moved to caress the exposed skin on her back.

  Clara felt her stomach drop, her knees literally weaken; she had never realised that could actually happen in real life. Any second now she was going to have to grab hold of him just to keep herself upright.

  ‘Chemistry like this doesn’t come along often...’ his hand was drifting up and down, scorching a blazing trail along her spine ‘...but it’s more than chemistry. I like you, Clara. A lot. I like how we are together. I like who I am when I’m with you. I think we should stop fighting it and go with it.’ He paused, his gaze moving down to linger on her mouth. ‘See where it takes us.’

  See where it takes us. Somewhere new, somewhere dangerous. But there had been a flash of something in his eyes when he said he liked her. Something heartfelt.

  And she liked him too. More than she wanted to admit to herself. He didn’t fit any of the criteria she had painstakingly typed into the internet dating sites. He wasn’t local, didn’t have a steady job, wasn’t family orientated. But he made her laugh, made her feel safe—and he made her tremble with need.

  Was that enough?

  She was over-thinking it. She had said she wanted to try dating again and here was this gorgeous man ready and waiting.

  Waiting for her to say yes.

  She had to say yes. Raff had never before put himself on the line like that, not for anybody. He didn’t know what would happen when he was back out in the field, where they would be this time next year, but he didn’t care. Even the thought that they might be somewhere next year didn’t trigger his usual flight reflexes.

  Slowly, his eyes on hers, searching for consent, he reached out and trailed a finger along the feline curve of her cheek, down to her full bottom lip. She stared up at him, eyes wide, endlessly green, questioning.

  Whatever she was asking he obviously supplied the right answer because she moved. One small step closer, bringing her full body into contact with his. Raff moved his finger, reluctantly, off the smooth, full lip and followed the curve of her jaw, her skin silky under his touch. He reached the tip of that pointed little chin and slid his finger under, tilting her face up towards him.

  He waited for one torturous second, giving her plenty of time to change her mind before allowing himself to dip his head towards hers for a soft, barely there, sweet leisurely kiss, her mouth opened under his, soft, yielding.

  ‘What do you say, Clara?’ he whispered against her mouth. ‘Will you come back with me tonight? Come back with me now?’

  She leant in and claimed his mouth with hers. ‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘I say yes.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I’d find you here. Afraid you’d turn into a pumpkin if you didn’t get home before sunrise?’ Was that anger in his voice? Clara swallowed, reaching for the hole punch on her desk, settling it back into a perfect line.r />
  ‘I didn’t want anyone to see me leaving.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes as she answered him. It was the truth, but only half the truth.

  She had woken up in the early hours, nestled in his arms, and for one blissful moment had felt happy, sated. Safe. Tempted to wake him up to see if it could be as magical a third or fourth time.

  And then reality intruded. How could she face the next morning? The intimacy of early morning conversation, coffee, breakfast—followed by the walk of shame in strappy heels and yesterday’s dress. She wasn’t sure which scared her more.

  She didn’t want to be that woman, sneaking out of a bedroom in the dark, shoes in one hand, balled up tights in the other, and yet somehow there she was, tiptoeing through the dark streets until she reached the sanctuary of home and a sleepless night alone in her own cold and empty bed.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d mind,’ she said in the end. ‘I mean, it’s midday and you’ve only just turned up.’ She wanted to recall the words as soon as she’d said them. She didn’t want him to know that she’d been watching the door, her phone, her email, half desperately hoping that he would be doing his utmost to track her down.

  Half hoping he’d stay well away.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I didn’t think you were the kind of woman to play games, Clara.’

  Ouch. ‘I’m not.’ Not usually anyway. ‘But last night was...’ amazing, magical, the best night of her life ‘...like a fairy tale. I wasn’t sure either of us knew what we were doing. Not really.’

  They’d spent so much time together, shared so many secrets, danced around the attraction they felt for so long, it was easy to be swept up in the romance. The thought of waking up to regret and apology on his face—or conversely to expectation and hope—was more than she could bear. Far better to run.

  She’d never thought of herself as a coward before.

  ‘I knew exactly what I was doing,’ he said silkily and she flushed at the sarcastic tone. ‘I thought I made it very clear to you that I was in this. With you. But if you can’t trust me then there’s not really any point, is there?’

  ‘I do trust you.’ It was herself she didn’t trust; she had got it so very wrong before.

  He laughed, a short, hard sound, running his hand through his hair as he shook his head. ‘You won’t let me in, Clara. You don’t want people around here to see us together, to know you stayed over. I haven’t met your parents or your daughter. Seriously, when I said I was in, it wasn’t as your bit on the side.’

  ‘That isn’t fair.’ Clara jumped up, sending her chair skittering backwards. ‘You told me you liked me yesterday. Yesterday! What does that mean, anyway? We’re not in school any more.’

  ‘No, that’s why I thought we could try and have an adult relationship.’ He sighed. ‘Come on, Clara, what do you want? I’m not the kind of guy to offer you hearts and flowers and big romantic gestures. This is new to me too. I thought we could take it one day at a time, find our way into this thing. But if you won’t let me in then there’s no way it’s ever going to work.’

  Feel our way in? One day at a time? It was hardly a grand declaration but it was the best he had. Raff wanted this thing, whatever it was, to be honest from the start. His father had treated his mother like a princess, splurged expensive gifts and holidays on her, never allowed her to shoulder a single responsibility. And then the second she had needed to step up she had disintegrated. If Raff was going to try something more serious than a simple fling then it had to be equal.

  * * *

  And that meant honesty.

  Damn, he knew relationships were hard but he hadn’t expected to feel as bereft as he had this morning. Waking up to find her side of the bed empty, her clothes gone. If it weren’t for the faint scent of her perfume in the air he would have thought he had imagined the whole thing.

  ‘I do want to let you in.’ She was still standing behind her desk, a physical as well as an emotional barrier between them. ‘I’m just not sure how. My parents, Summer, I don’t want to let them down again.’

  ‘You think I’ll let them down?’ Was that really her opinion of him?

  ‘You said yourself one day at a time. How can I risk my daughter’s happiness on that?’

  Raff huffed out an exasperated laugh. ‘All relationships are one day at a time, Clara. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar and a fool.’

  He took a deep breath, trying to steady his pulse. ‘You want to know why I didn’t come rushing round here this morning?’ Apart from needing time to calm down before facing her. ‘I went to visit my grandfather. To tell him that as much as I love him and appreciate him I can’t be who he wants me to be, do what he wants me to do.’

  ‘So you are going back?’ She wasn’t looking at him, straightening the few items on her desk over and over. He wanted to walk over, remove the stapler and ruler and make her listen. Instead he hung back by the door.

  ‘I was always going back.’ He had made that clear right from the start, from the first moment of attraction. ‘But it’s not full time. We are only ever allowed to do short-term contracts. I could be back in the UK for four months of the year. I’ve offered to stay on the board at Rafferty’s but that’s it.’

  It hadn’t been easy; his grandfather had known all too well what Raff was going to say and had put up some resistance—he wouldn’t be Charles Rafferty if he didn’t—but in the end he had gracefully bowed down to the inevitable.

  It had been a massive relief. Raff didn’t want to cut all his ties with his family; imperfect and demanding as they were, they were all he had.

  But it didn’t have to be that way—if Clara would just allow him in, let them try. Four months a year wasn’t a huge amount, he knew that. But it was all he had right now. It was a start.

  ‘And Polly?’

  ‘The company’s hers, so all we need is the lady herself. I guess this is when we find out if you’ve been holding out on me after all.’ He meant the words to sound light but they came out dark. Bitter.

  Her head shot up. ‘Is that what you think?’

  ‘Clara, I don’t know what to think.’

  She looked stricken, her eyes full of hurt. ‘I haven’t lied, Raff. All I have is an email address. But she did say to use it if I needed to get in touch so I can send a message letting her know what’s happened. If you want me to.’

  This could be the moment when he turned around and walked away. He could head back to Jordan completely free. No Rafferty’s, no family expectations, no Clara.

  Freedom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  Slowly he moved across the room, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘We can do better than this.’ His voice was low. ‘I wish I could promise you it will all work out but I can’t.’

  He had reached the side of her desk and held out his hand to her. After a long moment’s deliberation she took it, allowing him to draw her out. ‘I won’t lie to you, Clara. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I know four months a year isn’t very much. But I think we could be good, if we just tried. If you wanted to.’

  ‘I do want to,’ she whispered.

  He didn’t want to fight with her, didn’t want to argue about the future. He just wanted the here and now, to enjoy the present.

  He stepped closer, one hand slipping around her waist, the other slipping through the silky tendrils of hair as he finally kissed her good morning. It wasn’t the lazy waking-up kiss he had hoped for but right now all he wanted was to taste her, reassure her.

  Her mouth was warm and honey sweet; her hands fastened around the nape of his neck, light and cool yet capable of igniting with just one touch. Raff buried one hand in the smooth strands of her hair, anchoring himself to her.

  He kept the kiss light, using every ounce of his control to tantalisingly nibble along her bottom lip, resisting her attempts to deepen it, t
o push it further, harder. Hotter.

  His hand splayed out along her waist, tracing the faint outline of her ribs, enjoying knowing that just a couple of inches higher and he would brush against the fullness of her breast, a couple of inches further down and he would brush over the curve of her hips round to her pert bottom. The urge to rush nearly overwhelmed him but he held back with superhuman restraint.

  It would be easy, so easy and, oh, so tempting to pick her up, allow those shapely legs to wrap around him, to carry her across the room, lock the door and drop her on one of those plump, inviting sofas.

  So tempting. But there was no need to rush. Because part of being an adult meant learning that anticipation was part of the game—and it made the end result all the sweeter.

  Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled back. Clara’s eyes were glazed, heavy-lidded, her mouth swollen. ‘Good morning,’ he whispered and was rewarded by a slow, sweet smile.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Shall we start again?’

  Her eyes clouded over. It wasn’t an encouraging sign. ‘Raff...’

  Whatever she was going to say was cut short as the front door was flung open, banging against the wall.

  Clara jumped back and resumed her official face in less time than it took Raff to register the sound.

  ‘Summer.’ She sounded shocked and the look she threw Raff was a mixture of apology and warning. ‘What are you doing home?’

  Raff turned round and saw a slim girl aged about ten, the pointed chin and high cheekbones clearly marking her kinship to Clara although the dark eyes and hair were her only legacy from her absent father. A stab of anger hit him that Byron had chosen money over fatherhood. The merry-faced girl deserved more.

  Every child deserved more.

  ‘Half day.’ Summer dropped her satchel onto the sofa. ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Wasn’t Grandma picking you up?’ Clara wasn’t even looking at him.

  ‘Yes, she dropped me back here though, as I didn’t see you yesterday. Who’s this?’