Cinderella's Tycoon

by Caroline Cross

  The kicker was, he was in danger of doing just that thanks to the downright overpowering physical attraction he felt for her.

  And Susan definitely wasn’t helping any. It was bad enough she was so pretty. But her offer to take Clarry’s puppy had also made it clear she had a kind heart and the courage to act on her instincts. Added to that, she was also darn good company. Bottom line, he’d enjoyed himself today—except for those instances when he’d caught her staring at him like a schoolgirl who’d just discovered her sexuality. Then she’d about driven him crazy.

  Even so, he didn’t doubt for an instant that if he told her there’d been somebody else, she’d back off in an instant and give him some space to get over his “loss.”

  Yet as their gazes meshed, he knew he wasn’t going to do it. No matter how imperative he felt it was to take things slow and easy, he simply couldn’t take advantage of her good nature that way. And though he’d no doubt regret it later—hell. who was he kidding? He was regretting it already—he didn’t want to start off their marriage with that kind of lie. He’d just have to suck it in, act like a man and find the strength to do the right thing. And he’d better start now, before he changed his mind.

  “If you’re asking me if I had to break off with someone to marry you, the answer is no,” he said, getting it over with.

  “Oh.” She hesitated a second, then smiled, looking relieved. “I guess it’s not very noble of me, but I’m glad. This whole situation is hard enough as it is.”

  The understatement of the century. He took a sip of coffee, more than ready to change the subject. “You given any thought to a name for the puppy?”

  “Heavens, no. I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes.”

  He told himself it was childish to be pleased, but he was anyway. “I’ll think about it.” A new thought struck him. “What about the baby?”

  “What about it?”

  “You have any names picked out?”

  Her expression suddenly turned shy. “Actually I did sort of think that if it’s a girl, I’d like to call her Maggie, after my mom. But then, that was before you and I got together. I certainly wouldn’t want to slight your mother or make her feel left out.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to name the baby after my mother,” he said flatly.

  Her eyes widened a little. Yet with the sensitivity he was beginning to realize was an integral part of her nature, she didn’t press. “All right.”

  “It’s just not the sort of thing she cares about,” he went on, not sure why he felt compelled to say more. “Maggie is fine.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good. That’s settled.” They’d worry about a name for a boy later, he thought, relieved as another waitress came bustling up.

  Plucking a pencil from above her ear, the woman, a stout brunette in her fifties, flipped open her order book and scowled at them. “You folks know what you want?”

  Sterling raised an eyebrow at Susan in question.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking from him to the waitress. “I haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet. It’ll only take me a second to decide, though, and in the meantime I’d really appreciate a glass of ice water—”

  “Fine,” the woman snapped. She rammed the pencil back into her hair, shoved the order pad back in her pocket and glared belligerently at Sterling. “What about you? You want water, too?”

  He stiffened, not much liking her attitude. “No. More coffee, please.”

  “Figures.” She spun on her heel and stomped over to the busing station, where she noisily scooped ice into a glass, added water, then snatched up the coffeepot and marched back. She slapped down the glass and filled his coffee cup to the brim in a trice. Then, smacking the pot down on the tabletop, she retrieved pencil and pad and stared impatiently at them. “Well?”

  Sterling had about had enough. “Susan?” he said quietly.

  “I’ll have the turkey sandwich, with some fruit and a glass of milk.”

  “You want that on white or wheat?”

  “White.”

  “Humph,” the waitress muttered disapprovingly before turning her beady eyes on Sterling.

  He met her disagreeable gaze with a steely one of his own. “I’d like the chicken-fried steak,” he said in a tone that dared her to comment.

  Not about to be cowed, she reached out and snatched up the menus. “Whatever.” With that, she grabbed the coffeepot and stormed toward the kitchen, ignoring several other customers’ frantic signals for service.

  Sterling couldn’t believe it. Holding onto his temper by a thread, he glanced at Susan, who was watching the waitress’s progress across the room with obvious astonishment.

  As if she felt his gaze, she looked his way. “Oh, my.” Her lips twitched with amusement. “I hope she isn’t expecting a tip.”

  He stared at her, incredulous.

  She glanced down at the table. “Sorry.” She swallowed and looked back up. “But if you could just see your face—” She clapped a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle.

  Damned if that muted sound wasn’t contagious. Against his will, Sterling felt the corners of his own mouth quiver as the absurdity of the encounter caught up with him. He sat there a long moment, listening to her struggle for control. Just as she seemed to get it, he said solemnly, “Susan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Just for the record...my mother’s name is Hortense.”

  “It is?”

  He nodded. “And her middle name is Hedwig.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  He made a face. “Yeah.”

  It was too much for her. She lost it, albeit demurely.

  With a rusty chuckle. Sterling joined in, unable to remember the last time he’d laughed.

  Yet underlying his mirth, he felt a sort of good-natured despair. Because for the umpteenth time that day, his whole body felt hot and tight.

  When it came to Susan, it seemed even laughter was an aphrodisiac.

  Six

  Susan slicked back her wet hair as she climbed from the pool. Although she’d swum only a half-dozen laps, it still felt good to get some exercise. With a contented sigh, she picked up the oversize beach towel she’d left on the deck, dried herself off, then padded over and settled into one of the half-dozen chaises that faced the water.

  There was something deliciously decadent about having an entire pool all to yourself, she thought as she closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the sun. Just as there was something wonderfully lazy about lying around at ten on a Saturday morning. She wouldn’t want to do it every day, of course—she firmly believed that everyone needed responsibilities and a purpose in life—but at the moment it sure felt nice.

  Particularly since she wasn’t sleeping very well at night.

  She made a face, acknowledging that her insomnia didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Thanks to the switch from full- to part-time at work, and the luxury of getting to drive to the library in air-conditioned comfort instead of having to get there under her own power, she was feeling a lot better lately. Adding to her sense of wellbeing, Maxine was seeing to it that she was eating better, too.

  As for Sterling, the past week had seen a steady improvement in their relationship. She wasn’t sure what had made the difference, whether it was her offer to take on the puppy, that moment of shared laughter at the diner, or simply her original appeal to his reason, but he was no longer avoiding her. On the contrary, he was making a real effort to include her in his daily life, while treating her with all the courtesy and respect that befitted the mother of his child.

  Not that he’d done a complete about-face. At times he still tended to be prickly. And cool, contained, remote and reserved if it suited him. And he was never going to win any prizes for being an easy conversationalist.

  Yet for all of that, it hadn’t taken her long to realize he was the kind of man you could depend on. And though he downplayed his many ki
ndnesses, beneath his tough facade he clearly cared about doing right by others, whether it was something as minor as buying boots for his new wife’s feet or something as major as protecting a little girl’s feelings.

  Then again, he didn’t make such insights easy; despite their burgeoning friendship, Sterling continued to maintain a wall of reserve Susan couldn’t get past. It was especially true of his past, particularly when it came to his mother and his first marriage. But it also applied more broadly to the present. She hadn’t missed the way he’d tensed when she’d asked him about that striking blond waitress at the Royal Diner. And though she didn’t doubt he’d told her the truth since there was no reason not to, it was just further proof that he wasn’t a man given to easy confidences.

  Even so, she liked him. And when she thought about it rationally, she knew she should be sleeping like a log.

  But she wasn’t. Instead she was starting to dread bedtime, since it seemed all she did was toss and turn for hours, plagued by a vague longing for something she couldn’t identify.

  Oh, she knew what part of the problem was—she wasn’t that naive. She was physically attracted to Sterling, and had been from the day they met. Whether it was a matter of chemistry, or simply some strange twist of her pregnancy, she found him incredibly exciting. She wanted to experience his touch and touch him back and do all sorts of daring, delicious, scandalous things. And the more she tried to block that heated need from her mind, the harder it got not to think about it all the time.

  Yet there was also something more. A longing that was even stronger, deeper, more compelling than just sex...

  Suddenly she felt exhausted. Typical of her pregnancy, tiredness seemed to roll over her like an incoming tide, making it impossible to think. Yawning, she settled more comfortably into the chaise, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good to fight it. She’d just rest for a minute...

  She must have drifted off. Because the next time she opened her eyes, she was no longer alone. Sterling was standing on the opposite end of the yard, inside the fence, grooming one of the horses. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she realized he appeared more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.

  She sat up. And though the old Susan, the shy, unassertive one, urged her to stay put, the new, adventurous Susan insisted it would be rude not to say hi, and it wasn’t long before she’d climbed to her feet. Drawing on the short cotton shirt that served as her swimsuit cover, she crossed the pool deck, went up the steps and across the flagstone terrace to the lawn.

  She stopped a few feet short of the fence, the cool grass tickling her bare feet. But before she could say a word, Sterling abruptly turned, as if he’d sensed her presence. For one long moment as his gaze swept over her he seemed gripped by an indefinable tension, but it disappeared so quickly she was sure she’d imagined it.

  “Hi,” she said lightly.

  “’Morning. Been for swim?”

  “Yes. I thought I’d do it before it got too hot.”

  He twisted back around and resumed brushing the horse’s shiny brown coat. “Good idea.”

  Her stomach hollowed as she watched his broad shoulders flex under his old black T-shirt. “You’re certainly hard at work.”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  She swallowed. “Do you do this kind of chore often?”

  He ducked under the rope anchoring the horse to the fence and began brushing its other side, starting at the neck and working his way back. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  He glanced at her over the horse’s back, his gaze touching briefly on her bare legs before he brought his eyes to her face. “My schedule. The weather. Different things.”

  “I thought Kenny and Ernesto took care of the horses.” The two men were part of a small army of people Sterling employed to take care of various things on the estate.

  “They do. But I like to keep my hand in.”

  “I see.” And she did. The more she got to know him, the more she realized that he had a highly developed sense of responsibility.

  As if to prove her point, his gaze flicked over her again and he frowned. “You’d better be careful or you’ll get sunburned.” He ran the brush over the horse’s rump and down its haunch. “It may be almost October but the sun’s still plenty hot.”

  “Don’t worry,” she replied, warmed by his concern. “I never go out without sunscreen. Although—” she examined her arm, pleased to see a faint blush of color instead of her usual milky paleness “—it does look like I’ve managed to get a little bit of a tan.”

  “Well, don’t get too much.” Stepping away from the horse, he moved up to the fence, gesturing her closer. “Can you put this in the carry-all—” he handed her the brush and indicated a yellow plastic container near her feet “—and get me the hoof pick? That’s it on the bottom, that metal hook with the red handle.”

  “Sure.” Happy to oblige, she set down the brush, found the desired tool and cautiously moved forward to hand it to him, only to gasp as the horse he’d been brushing abruptly stretched out its neck and thrust its nose at her. “Oh!” Startled, she scrambled backward, the hoof pick dropping from her nerveless fingers.

  “Susan? What’s wrong?” Sending her a puzzled glance, Sterling bent down to retrieve the pick.

  “Nothing. That is—I—it—Oh!” She watched in alarm as another horse, this one an enormous gray, came up behind him. “Watch out!”

  He straightened, calmly pushing the animal away. “Relax. It’s just Rockaway.” He gave the gray an affectionate slap on the shoulder. “He wouldn’t hurt a mouse. Neither would Cassie here.” He indicated the horse he’d been brushing. “She probably thought you had a treat for her or something.”

  “Oh.” She let out her breath, feeling foolish. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He considered her a moment, totally at ease as the gray rubbed its head against his shoulder. “You have a bad experience with a horse or something?”

  She shook her head. “No. They’re just so big. I guess they make me a little nervous.” She smiled apologetically. “There aren’t a lot of horses in libraries.”

  “I suppose not.”

  She sighed, wishing she were braver. “I guess now that I live someplace where they’re everywhere, I need to learn to relax, don’t I?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. After all, our baby deserves better than a ’fraidy-cat for a mother.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess.”

  She recalled how content he’d looked earlier, before she’d interrupted. As much as she’d like to ask for his help, she hated to intrude on even more of his private time. “I suppose I could check out some books on horses when I go into work today,” she said, thinking out loud. “Then later, if it’s okay with you, I could ask Ernesto to let me help out at the stables until I feel more comfortable.”

  Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to stiffen. “You don’t have to do that. I can show you whatever you need to know.”

  “That’s really nice of you, Sterling, but I don’t want to bother you.”

  “Fine. I guess I can’t blame you if you’d rather learn from Ernesto.”

  Oh, dear. She had hurt his feelings. Instantly contrite, she said hastily, “Oh, it’s not that—”

  “Good. Because I don’t want you working in the stable, wearing yourself out. Not in your condition.”

  To her shock, she felt an undeniable burst of irritation. She knew he was merely trying to be nice, but it stung nonetheless that he was only making the offer because she was pregnant, not because he wanted to be with her for herself.

  Except that he was under no obligation to feel that way, she reminded herself sharply, ashamed of her uncharitable thoughts. And he had every right to be concerned about their child. “You’re right,” she said quietly.

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll start this afternoon.” Shooing away the affectionate Rockaway, he turned his back to her, lea
ned against the bay’s shoulder and gave the animal some sort of mysterious signal that caused it to raise its foot.

  Susan stared at his backside. She knew she ought to count her blessings and be glad that he so obviously cared about the baby. Yet as the breeze came up and ruffled his dark hair, making her suddenly yearn to touch him herself, she found herself thinking it wasn’t enough.

  Not by a long shot.

  “So where’d this little fellow come from?” Sterling asked his friend Becky Sullivan as he unlatched the back of her ancient horse trailer.

  She tucked a loose strand of bright red hair behind her ear. Swinging open the trailer doors, she stepped up into the dim interior with the easy confidence of someone who’d spent her whole life around livestock. “I got a call a few weeks ago from an elderly lady with a few acres up near Big Spring,” she said over her shoulder. “Lou Verstadt—” she named a local veterinarian “—gave her my name because you were out of town. She’d sold her place and was going to live with her daughter in Austin, and she couldn’t stand the thought of having Shorty here put down.”

  “Huh.” He stepped to one side, getting out of the way as Becky competently backed a compact pinto pony out into the yard in front of his stable.

  “I can’t say that I blame her.” She stood still a moment, letting the animal, which was brown and white and had bright little eyes and a comically bushy mane and tail, get his land legs. “I’ve had him over at my place the past few days, and he’s a character. Twice he’s unlatched the corral gate, moseyed on up to the house and stood by the back door as if he expected to be let in.” Her green eyes softened beneath the brim of her hat. “Truth to tell, he’s so cute I almost let him.”

  “Oh, that’s just what you need,” Sterling chided, knowing she already had more horses than she could easily handle. “You’ll both be better off with him here. What did you say his name was?” Leading the way, he walked into the stable and toward one of the roomy box stalls with the attached corral that would be the newcomer’s home for the next few days.

  “It’s Shortcake. Shorty for short. I’ve got his paperwork out in the truck.” She led the pony into the stall, unclipped the lead line and joined Sterling in the corridor, watching as he shut the lower half of the double door and secured the latch. With the ease of the old friends they were, the two of them stood in relaxed silence, observing the diminutive pinto as it checked out its new surroundings.