Charming: A Cinderella Billionaire Story

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Charming: A Cinderella Billionaire Story Page 6

by Sophie Brooks


  “Apparently, they were criminal masterminds,” I said, making a fair attempt at keeping the sarcasm out of my voice. The front doors often didn’t latch properly after people went in or out. Many of us had called to let them know that over the years, but nothing had changed. “Right now, my concern is about the new door to my apartment.”

  “Let’s see… Harry can be there on Tuesday at three o’clock.”

  “Tuesday? I can’t wait until Tuesday to get into my apartment. Can’t I just come get the key now?”

  “You don’t have a key? Was it stolen? In that case, we can send a locksmith out on Friday to change the lock. It’ll cost you $75.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. They already replaced the door this morning. I just need the key so I can get in.” Thank god it had already been installed. I couldn’t imagine waiting four days to get a new door.

  “That’s not possible. Nobody’s even told Harry yet. His daughter gave birth to a little boy last night. Six pounds, seven ounces. He’s a granddaddy.”

  “Congratulations,” I said automatically. “But if he didn’t put it in, who d—” But then I answered my own question. If they didn’t do it, then there was only one other person who could have. Ford. “Never mind.”

  Now she sounded suspicious. “Did you hire someone? Because you can’t get reimbursed for that. And you can’t get an outside person, it all has to be done through our maintenance department. We provide timely and skillful service—”

  “You know what? I found the key. It was in my pocket all along. So thanks for calling back, but I’m good.”

  “Okay. Do you still want me to send Harry on Tuesday afternoon?”

  “You tell him to enjoy spending time with his grandson,” I said. It was certainly a more productive use of his time than working for these people.

  Annoyed, I hung up and swiped at my screen until Ford’s number popped up. I couldn’t quite decide if I was mad at him or grateful. Or both. I’m not sure how he’d managed to save my butt twice in the last twenty-four hours, but I was learning that his style was to do what he thought was best whether I liked it or not. Whether I even knew about it or not. Which was something we had to talk about.

  But first, I really needed to get the key.

  10

  Ford

  There she was. I was waiting outside the restaurant, too eager to see her again to stay inside. And she didn’t disappoint. Her faded blue jeans cradled her hips and thighs as she walked toward me. It made me want to peel them off her and kiss—or lick—away all the red marks the tight seams were probably making. And that shirt. The top buttons were undone, and my fingers ached to undo the rest. I was pretty sure it was the same outfit she’d worn last night. Made sense, I guess, because she hadn’t been able to get in her apartment yet, but most women I knew would have bought a new outfit rather than wear the same one two days in a row.

  And if they were the same clothes… did that mean she’d put the teddy back on underneath? Or even better—did that mean that she was braless? The thought made my throat go dry, but I tried to stop thinking about it. She’d been through a lot, and she probably wasn’t much in the mood to see a man she’d only met once waiting for her with a huge erection tenting his pants.

  I stifled those thoughts as much as I could, but perhaps my mind wasn’t the only one in the gutter? Her creamy white skin was marred by two circles of rose on her cheeks. Was that a blush from seeing me again? Probably wishful thinking on my part. But hell, if I had the chance, I’d make her skin blush—all over. Over, and over, and over again. Shit. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t helping.

  She crossed the parking lot and stood in front of me, pushing her bouncy blonde strands back from her face. I loved the way she tilted her head to look up at me. It made me feel tall, and protective, and made me want to do indecent things to her. But pretty much everything about her made me want that.

  “Ford,” she said. “This is wrong.”

  “What?” I asked, sneaking a quick peek down at my pants to make sure I hadn’t given myself away.

  She sighed. “I mean, it’s very generous. The suite at the Plaza. The new door. It was incredibly generous. But it’s not your job to show up and fix my life like a fairy godmother in a leather jacket.”

  “Why can’t I be Prince Charming in a leather jacket?” But she was glaring up at me, so I bit back my grin.

  “The landlord fixes things like that. That’s what they’re there for.”

  “Is this the same landlord who gave you a door the thickness of two-ply toilet paper? If you’d had a decent door with a deadbolt, those guys wouldn’t have broken in in the first place.”

  “I realize that. But you can’t keep buying things for us.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… you can’t. You shouldn’t.”

  “Then you’re really not going to like this next part.”

  “What?” she asked, confusion written across her face. “What next part?”

  “The part where I buy you dinner,” I said, gesturing behind me.

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes, dinner,” I said. “You may have missed the eight-foot-wide sombrero on the roof, but the building behind me is a restaurant. A very good Mexican restaurant—don’t let its appearance deceive you.”

  “I’m not—I mean, I can see it’s a restaurant,” she said. “I thought maybe you were dining here tonight, and that’s why you wanted me to come pick up the key here.”

  “I am dining here tonight. With you.”

  “But… but I’m not dressed for dinner.”

  “You’re dressed fine for this place. More than fine for a restaurant wearing a hat. Although I do see one problem,” I said.

  “What?” she asked, automatically looking down at herself.

  “I’m going to be spending all dinner wondering if you have that teddy on under your shirt—or nothing at all.”

  Just for a moment, her eyes widened and her face flushed more. But then she returned to her all-business mode. “Ford, I just came here to get the key.”

  “And you will. After you dine with me. Next objection?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

  Autumn looked up at me, exasperation on her face warring with something I hoped was a smile trying to slip through. “Cara’s back at the hotel. I was going to pick up something for us on my way back.”

  “It’s like you’re not even trying,” I said. “Please, give me a more difficult one next time. Cara can order room service. Anything she’d like, and charge it to the room.”

  “Eating by herself?” She frowned.

  “Eating whatever she wants with hundreds of channels on a 52-inch TV screen. I don’t think she’ll feel slighted.”

  “I guess she might like that,” she conceded. “But—”

  “Why don’t we find out?” I interrupted. “Call her and ask.”

  Autumn flashed me an irritated look. She knew that her sister wouldn’t mind. She was just thrown because she hadn’t expected to eat with me tonight. At least, I hoped that was the reason she was resisting. Note to self: never meet a woman through a phone fantasy hotline; it starts things off on a weird note. Not that a burglary was a very normal way to meet in person, either.

  She was talking to her sister now, looking down at her feet and absentmindedly kicking at a small rock on the sidewalk. “So, umm, I might have dinner out. Yes, with him.”

  I plucked the phone out of her hand, ignoring her protest. “Hi Cara, it’s ‘him.’”

  “Ford!” Cara said, as warm and effusive as her sister was reluctant and suspicious. “This hotel room is so amazing. Thank you so much. Are you taking Autumn out to dinner?”

  “I’m trying to,” I said. “Is that all right with you?”

  “Of course!” Her squeal made me smile.

  “Two against one,” I said to Autumn before turning back to the phone. “Will you be all right with room service?”

  “Yes. Definitely.
I saw the menu on the desk. Only… I’ve never ordered room service before,” she said, suddenly sounding younger.

  “It’s really easy. Order anything you want. They’ll charge the food to the room. All you’ll have to do is sign for a tip.”

  “Okay. They’ll give me a thing to sign?”

  “Yep. Just add twenty percent, write your room number, and sign your name.”

  “Sounds simple.”

  “It is. And for the twenty percent, you can look at the amount for the tax and double it—” I stopped when I heard feminine laughter in stereo, coming from the phone and the young woman standing next to me. “Was I over-explaining?”

  “More like mansplaining,” Autumn said even as her younger—and apparently less sarcastic—sister assured me that she knew I was just trying to be helpful. Autumn leaned closer and spoke toward the phone. “Cara, what’s twenty percent of twenty-three dollars?”

  “Four sixty,” Cara said promptly in my ear.

  “What’s twenty percent of thirty-nine fifty?” Autumn said.

  “Seven dollars and ninety cents,” Cara said. It took me a fraction of a second longer to confirm that she was correct. That kid was fast. “Not that I’m going to spend thirty-nine dollars on dinner,” she added hastily.

  “Spend whatever you’d like,” I said. “Get whatever you’d like. Except no booze.”

  This earned another giggle from her. At least this laugh was with me, not at me. At least, I thought it was. “All set?”

  “Yes. Have fun!” This last part was loud enough for me to move the phone away from my ear.

  “Looks like we’re having dinner together,” I said, handing back Autumn’s phone and gesturing toward the restaurant entrance.

  “I guess we are,” she said.

  11

  Autumn

  It wasn’t until we’d worked our way through the first sombrero-shaped bowl of chips and salsa that I realized I was on a date. It’d been relatively easy to make small talk as Ford got us a table and convinced me to reveal that I preferred strawberry margaritas to regular ones. We’d ordered, and he’d asked about our stay at the Plaza. And we’d eaten lots of the crispy chips and tangy salsa.

  But now he was sitting across from me, attentive, watchful… and hungry. Not just for food. Not just for sex, as some guys always seemed to be. He genuinely looked eager to talk to me. To spend time with me. And it made no sense whatsoever.

  What was he even doing here? He’d completed his weekend rescue mission. He could ride off into the sunset knowing that Cara and I would be safe in our apartment behind the massive door he’d had installed. He’d handed over the keys. He should be done—so what was he still doing here with me?

  Sure, guys flirted with me from time to time. I mean, besides at Sultry Sirens where that was pretty much part of the job description. At the diner, on the street… some of them definitely seemed to like what they saw. A few indicated that they’d like to know more about me besides how I look. But no one like Ford had ever looked at me the way he was now. As if he was curious. And interested. And not going anywhere any time soon.

  It was insane. He was rich, he was handsome, funny, smart, kind. I hadn’t known guys like that existed, let alone that they might be interested in me. It was—well, somehow it was alarming. Almost too good to be true. Half of me worried about not screwing this up and scaring him off, and the other, more cynical, half wished he’d get over whatever temporary insanity had him pursuing me sooner rather than later so that I could get back to my regularly scheduled life. Because every moment with Ford seemed like a moment from a fairy tale, not the real world.

  “Last chip for your thoughts.”

  “What?” I refocused on his face, zeroing in on his devilishly handsome grin, and replayed what he’d said in my head.

  “It’s like ‘penny for your thoughts.’ Only a penny isn’t worth anything anymore, so I’m offering the last tortilla chip. It’s far more valuable.”

  “They are really good,” I said, stalling for time. Obviously, I couldn’t tell him all my thoughts, but maybe I could go with a slightly edited version. “I’m just thinking that it’s been a really strange twenty-four hours.”

  He took a long drink of his almost-empty margarita, but his eyes never left mine. “And here I thought that all your weekends were this eventful.”

  Chuckling, I shook my head. “I think this is one I’ll remember for quite some time. Yesterday, you were a voice in my ear. A man who was a friend in some ways and a total stranger in other ways. A man I never dreamed I’d give my address to and meet. Or introduce to my sister. Or go out to dinner with.”

  “So why did you? Give me your address, I mean.”

  “Because I couldn’t call the police.”

  “For all you knew, I could have been a serial killer. Way more dangerous than those two. Yet you still gave me your address.”

  I sighed. He’d been like this on the phone, too, not letting me get away with easy answers. As much as his appearance was new to me, this aspect of his personality was not. “It was like you said. I felt I knew you. Even though we’d never met. I felt I could trust you.” The intensity of his gaze made me squirm in my seat.

  After another gulp of my margarita, I spoke without thinking. “So, yeah. I didn’t know about all this,” I said, gesturing with my glass, “but I felt like I knew the important things about you.”

  He shot me a cocky grin with one eyebrow raised. “And what exactly does ‘all this’ mean?”

  My face reddened even though I willed it not to. “I just meant, the in-person version. Your fancy clothes and fancy car. Complete with a driver. Your putting us up in a hotel and fixing the door. I didn’t know those things about you.”

  “Very true, but that’s not what you meant,” Ford said, maddeningly. “You gestured at me when you said ‘all this.’ You were talking about how I look.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” I said, but I was pretty sure my blush contradicted my words. “I meant the whole package.”

  “You were talking about my package?”

  “No!” I said desperately, trying to erase the smirk from his face. “Okay, I admit it. Your appearance is part of what’s new to me. But this? Questioning, teasing, twisting my words around? This is stuff I already knew about you. This is part of the quintessential Ford experience, whether it’s on the phone or in person.”

  “Just admit you were talking about the way I look. Even better, admit that you like the way I look.”

  “Is that so much of a newsflash?” I rallied. “Don’t most women like the way you look?”

  “Most,” he said, shrugging. “But I wanted to hear it from you.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “It’s too late. You already admitted it.”

  “No, I didn’t!”

  He leaned back in his seat, looking as smug as a person possibly could. “There is one difference, though. Between prying things out of you on the phone and in person.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In person, I get to see how cute you look when you’re embarrassed. Which doesn’t bode well for you. Now that I know, I won’t be able to resist teasing you at every opportunity.”

  “Like you did a good job of resisting before,” I complained, trying hard to look stern instead of half-embarrassed, half amused.

  “Anyway, you’ve earned it. The last chip,” he said gesturing. But just as I was about to take it, the bowl disappeared out from under my hand. Our waiter was there, unloading two more margaritas and more salsa and chips. The timing made me laugh, and looking over at Ford’s twinkling eyes, I had to grin. I picked up my new drink, waited until he picked up his, and then we clinked our glasses together.

  The food was excellent. I never would’ve thought a rich guy like Ford would come to a fun but not particularly fancy place like this, but I couldn’t fault the food. It was amazing. But the decor—the sombreros on every surface and the rooms done up to look like Mexican villas straight
out of the Small World ride at Disneyland had to be a far cry from his usual dining establishment.

  “So how’d you find this place?” I asked, in between bites of incredibly tender arroz con pollo.

  He set down his forkful of beef chimichanga and looked thoughtful. “You know, I’m not really sure. I’ve been coming here since graduate school, at least. I didn’t come home often, but when I did, I always came here. The food was great, the drinks were cheap, and I knew no one from my family or their social circle would be here.”

  “And I take it that was a plus?”

  “That was a big plus.” He took a bite, somehow doing it without looking away from me.

  “So you’re not close to your family?”

  “I see my mother a few times a month. My dad passed away right after I got my MBA.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. We’d both been too young to lose a parent like that. “Were you close?”

  Now he looked away, staring at the floor beyond our table. “Not really. In fact, most of the times I saw him, we fought.”

  “And now it’s too late to make up for that,” I said as he nodded. I knew that feeling well. My mom and I had usually gotten along very well, but I wished I could take back every minor argument we’d ever had, every unkind word my teenage self had ever uttered to her.

  “I have a few regrets, yes.” He looked uncomfortable as he changed the subject. “What about your family? All I know about is your play-writing teen-aged doppelgänger.”

  “We don’t look that much alike.”

  “Close enough. Do people ever get you confused?”

  “Not unless I show up in her homeroom with her backpack or she shows up at the diner in my uniform.”

  “You wear a uniform at the diner?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “Tell me about it.”

  I grinned. Suddenly, this was just like talking on the phone. “It’s black,” I began, using my seductive Sultry Sirens voice. “And the skirt ends well above my knee… sometimes even higher when I twist and turn. And the neckline comes down to a point just above my breasts,” I said, leaning toward him, and seeing his rapt attention, “And… it’s as ugly as sin and makes me look like I’m wearing a black trash bag.”

 

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