by Scott, Lisa
Maybe. But he wasn’t ready to tell her yet exactly what he did. And as much as he wanted Cindi all to himself the rest of the week, he realized her adventure needed to get more exciting than just hanging out with him and visiting his mother. As wonderful as it was being around her, it also scared him like hell.
***
She woke the next morning to more gifts. She had enough designer handbags to use a new one every week for a year. If she couldn’t find a job, she could certainly raise some cash selling this stuff on eBay.
She unwrapped a beautiful necklace and sighed. Would she have been surrounded by this kind of luxury all her life if her father hadn’t died? Would she even have appreciated it? Or would she have become like Gloria, expecting her every whim to be fulfilled?
Setting the necklace aside, she wondered why she wasn’t as delighted as she thought she’d be, surrounded by all the items on her dream list.
There was a knock on her door. “It’s Henry.”
She popped up and let him in, forgetting about the baubles at her feet. Her mood improved immediately seeing him standing there. “Hi! ”
He clapped his hands together. “I decided we need to make things more interesting. I’m a boring escort.”
She flopped on the sofa in the sitting room. “No, you’re perfect.”
He shook his head. “I contacted a few celebrities interested in spending some time with the girl in the crystal shoes.”
“Celebrities? Who?”
“A few singers. Some actors. Everybody wants to hop on the publicity train. But it’ll make good highlight clips for us. People don’t want to see you hanging out with PR dude from Jiminy shoes. Not when you could be on the arm of an A-lister.” He rattled off the names of some very attractive, famous men.
She should be smiling. But hearing your crush read a list of potential dates was a definite buzz kill.
“Do any of them sound good to you?”
No. She wanted more time with him. But clearly he didn’t feel the same way if he was so willing to set her up. She had to remember this was just a PR stunt. So, she’d play along as she’d promised.
She looked over his list. Reviewing their names in her head, no one jumped out at her. This job would be perfect for Gloria, who memorized the pages of People like there was going to be a test. Especially when it came to one guy in particular. A wicked grin spread across her face. Perhaps her stepmother’s evil was contagious.
“How about Dirk Jackson?” she offered innocently. She couldn’t help smirking, as she imagined Gloria’s beady eyes narrowing in anger.
He paused. “That was a quick decision. Okay. I’ll set it up.”
***
That punk ass good for nothing Oscar nominee Dirk Jackson was way too close to Cindi as they walked down the street, the paparazzi following them. He even had the nerve to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear; the very same ear Henry longed to nuzzle and nibble. And the way she smiled up at Dirk hurt worse than a punch to Henry’s gut. He was shocked by his reaction. He’d never felt possessive like this over a woman, and certainly not over a woman who wasn’t even his.
He tried to find a bad angle from which to shoot Dirk, but there was no such thing as a bad angle of Dirk. He clenched a fist, but reminded himself to calm down. Cindi had been smiling like a fool ever since she’d announced Dirk was the one she wanted. She was enjoying this. This was her week, and it made for good buzz in the press.
And the best part? This was all his fault. He’d suggested this setup, and the boss had loved it.
***
Cindi had done a lot of fake smiling this week. She certainly was having the time of her life, but she was probably the only woman on the planet who could hang out with Dirk Jackson for a few days and not fall in lust. He was gorgeous, of course, and a total gentleman, but she’d liked this whole thing better when it was just her and Henry.
But why torment herself when Henry wasn’t interested? He’d admitted his life was all business right now. He’d even cancelled plans with his mother. The man had no time for a personal life. Even so, sometimes, when Dirk was talking to her, she’d find herself sneaking a peek at Henry.
They were out for dinner Thursday night, when Henry dashed off to the restroom. She watched him go, trying to decide if he was six foot one or six foot two.
Dirk turned to her. “You’re not really into this, are you?”
She blinked and stammered and basically cranked up her awkward quotient by a thousand. How does a girl answer that question?
He shook his head. “I have women jumping out of the closet in my hotel rooms to get near me. But you?” He just smiled at her, and lifted a shoulder. “I know. It’s him, right?”
“Henry?” She laughed. “No, no, no. Henry? No. He’s not looking for a relationship.”
He raised one of his thick, trademark eyebrows. “That doesn’t mean you’re not.”
Her lips wobbled like she was a fish out of water; which is exactly how she felt about this whole thing. “Last time I checked, it takes two.”
“But, you’re okay with us hanging out? I’ll be totally honest and tell you it’s for the publicity. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
“When Jiminy pitched the idea, my manager insisted. Ticket sales at my last movie weren’t great, and he’s still miffed I took that bad boy role when I should be concentrating on the romantic leads.” He rolled his eyes then fixed his gaze on her. “So, that’s why I need to kiss you later tonight.”
“Oh?” She blinked at him. “Oh.”
“Is that okay?”
She nodded and smiled, thinking of Gloria, locked in her room, kicking the walls like she was still twelve years old after seeing photos of that.
“Cool. And just a heads up, once this whole thing is over Saturday night….” He turned up his hands and she knew what he meant. He’d disappear just like the shoes.
“That’s fine.” She nodded, reassuring him. If only it could be a different ending with Henry, because he’d be disappearing, too. And that thought hurt the most.
Henry rejoined them at the table. “We’re all set with reservations tonight for dinner.” He turned to Cindi with a smile. “Your stepmother called her contact at Jiminy looking for tickets to the ball this weekend.”
“Ugh.” Cindi frowned. “Just be sure to keep her away from me.”
“Oh, I lied and told her, ‘Tickets are for friends and family only and you seem to be neither.’”
She covered her mouth to hold back what would certainly be an unattractive bellow of laughter.
“Then, after she groveled and whined, I told her I’d check to see if we’d have any left.” He shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind that I hung up on her when she started screaming. But it’s your decision whether you want her there.”
“I’d rather have your mother come. I think she’d love to see what you’ve made of yourself.”
He shook his head. “But what should we do about your stepmother?”
She thought about it for a moment. “I might enjoy having her see me there. Gloria, too.”
“They don’t deserve it, you know. But no swag bag for either of them,” he said, calling back the office.
And that’s when she knew she was in love.
Too bad her arm was looped around the wrong guy.
***
Just two more days of this nightmare, Henry thought. Watching the woman you’re falling in love with fall in love with someone else, sucks in a thousand different ways, he thought to himself.
Strolling through the zoo, Dirk stepped aside to make a call.
Cindi sat on a bench and looked up at Henry. “I’ve been thinking how we keep talking about how shoes can change a person’s life.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?” He sat next to her.
She nodded. “I always thought Jiminies would make me feel like a different person, more important, more fashionable, I don’t know. But I still feel like me.” She shrugged. “B
ut for some people, shoes really would change their life. I remember donating shoes for some high school project that were shipped to Africa. Some of the kids there didn’t even have any shoes.”
“There are several projects like that.”
“But Jiminy doesn’t have one?”
He pursed his lips. “Our designer shoes are hardly appropriate for poor families living in the desert.”
She grabbed his arm. “What if you started one, asking each guest to bring an appropriate pair to donate when they come to the ball this weekend? Or by offering customers a discount when they bring a pair of shoes to the store.”
He set his hand on hers and stared at her. “I think the boss is going to like this one.”
Squeezing his arm, she said, “And maybe you’d feel comfortable inviting your mother to the ball, knowing you’re doing something to help others.”
A lion roared behind them, and Henry smiled. “Why are you so intent on my mother knowing the truth about my job?”
“I’d do anything to have my mother and father alive. I have to imagine they’d be proud of me no matter what. I think you’re robbing the both of you by keeping this a secret.”
He grinned at her. “You’re a whole lot more than a set of pretty feet, Cindi.”
They stared at each other, their hands still linked, when Dirk came back. Henry took his hand away, and Dirk pulled Cindi up from the bench, snaking his arm around her. “Let’s hit the reptile house. I kind of miss the cold blooded creatures of Hollywood.”
“Just so long as it’s not feeding time.” She wrinkled her nose. “Poor mice.”
Henry shook his head, as he followed behind them. For someone so enthralled with appearances and labels, she really cared about creatures big and small. Even little mice and thirty-something fools like himself. It’s not so much that she cared about him; she thought about everyone.
Damn, he was going to miss her when this was all over.
With little enthusiasm, he followed behind them with the camera as they left the zoo. He needed new shots for the latest update on the Jiminy Shoes website. Fans were clamoring for more photos of this budding romance, and he had to feed the publicity machine. Thousands of people had registered to be the next princess for a week. He had no idea there were so many size fives in the world. But none like her.
He had to stop thinking like that. She wasn’t his, anymore than those shoes belonged to her. It was a week of magic and that was it. Or at least it had been until Dirk showed up.
Cindi and Dirk were headed for another night of dinner and then dancing at a club. But before they got back in the limo they’d been using, Dirk stopped, wrapped one hand around the back of Cindi’s head and pulled her in for a kiss.
He was so stunned, he missed the picture.
And he almost dropped the camera when he saw her huge smile.
Then, it got worse. “Guys, can you do that again? I missed the shot.”
Dirk grinned at him. “No problem. I was planning to anyway.”
Henry would need his own date later that night to get over this: Captain Morgan, meet Henry Hubbard, the stupidest man in the world.
***
Cindi spent most of Friday choosing the perfect dress for her goodbye ball Saturday night, where she’d part ways with the shoes, and Henry would announce the winner who’d get them next.
Henry was quiet as they went shopping.
“Does this mean you’ll be traveling to work with the next shoe girl?” she asked.
“No. There’s other publicity work to be done, and there’s my mother. We’ll find someone else to go. The owner is thrilled how this is unfolding.”
Cindi came out of the dressing room in a long, silky blue dress. “Does this look alright?”
He could only nod.
“Okay. I’ll get it. Can we stop and get some chocolate before I head back to the hotel?”
“Why?”
“I’m going to need a load of it for Sunday morning when it’s back to the real world.”
He set his hand on her bare shoulder and willed himself not to let it wander to other more interesting locations. “It’s not going to be your old world. Trust me, with the coverage you’ve gotten you’re going to get other offers.” And then there’s Dirk, who didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon. “This isn’t over for you yet.”
Just for us, it is.
He’d never tried chocolate therapy, but maybe he’d stock up on some, too.
***
Cindi truly felt like a princess as she got dressed Saturday night. A hair and makeup artist had been sent to get her ready. A horse and carriage waited outside the hotel to drive her to the farewell party. Dirk had stashed champagne and roses in the carriage, which he presented to her after she climbed in—with another kiss. For a fake kiss, it was not bad at all.
As the carriage pulled away, she waved to Henry standing on the sidewalk, taping the whole thing. Her heart sank as the horse pranced away from the man she would’ve rather spent the evening with.
When they arrived at the hotel, the paparazzi were lined up outside ready for her walk down the red carpet. “Show us the shoes!” they cried as she descended from the carriage.
She lifted the hem of her long dress, exposing her foot for the camera.
Dirk paused to kiss her hand, and then led her along the walkway. Cameras flashed like the Fourth of July on steroids. She walked into the ballroom, beautifully decorated with candles and white roses. Big tables were set up with collection bins for people to donate their shoes. A crowd was already gathered inside, and her stomached dropped when she saw her stepmother and Gloria rushing toward her and Henry walked in and gave Cindi a look. “I’m on it. Go enjoy yourself, Cindi.”
Dirk led her to the dance floor, and while she didn’t know how to waltz, he did a fine job leading the way.
“When the press asks why we aren’t together anymore, what are you going to say?” Cindi asked. It’s not that she’d miss him, but she didn’t want to be humiliated.
His big hands squeezed hers. “I’m going to fly out to the west coast and meet with some directors. I figure we’ll just let this fizzle out. Sound okay with you?”
“Sounds good.”
“Under different circumstances, I think something could’ve happened between us,” he said.
Not if she’d met Henry first. “Yeah, maybe.”
The song came to an end and he dipped her. Then he brought her back up, and nuzzled her cheek. “I didn’t expect to have so much fun with you this week. And you’ve really helped get me back in the papers. I hate that this is part of the job, but it is what it is. Thanks for everything.”
“Hey, don’t think I got nothing out of this. My stepsister will be jealous for the rest of her life.” She looked over where Henry had Gloria and her stepmother corralled in a corner table. Gloria waved to her, and Cindi responded by kissing Dirk.
Too bad Henry had seen it as well.
Dirk looked over at them. “I hope you get your guy.”
“Can’t have everything,” Cindi said. “Certainly not at the same time.” The shoes certainly seemed magical, but they weren’t perfect.
“I’m going to work the room. We’ll catch up before midnight,” he said, his hand slipping from hers.
Cindi wanted to talk with Henry, but she was swept away on the dance floor by guest after guest. She was nearly held captive in the ladies room by a woman with wild, blond curls who was dying to know what Dirk was really like and if he needed an apartment sitter.
“Have him call me. Goldie Lockston,” she made the universal call me sign, holding pinky to mouth and thumb to ear while passing Cindi a card.
When she left the restroom, she spotted Henry dancing with an older woman. There was no mistaking her big, brown eyes; she’d been staring at them on Henry’s face for a week now. She hurried over, unable to hold back a huge grin.
He stopped dancing and smiled. “Cindi, this is my mother, Nancy Hubbard. Mom, this is Cindi
.”
They shook hands. “So nice to meet you. What do you think of all this? Your son is a marketing genius.”
His mother squeezed his arm. “I’m so proud. I can’t believe he works for such a high falutin’ company and was keeping it a secret.” Then she whacked him with her purse. “And all of these years I could have had the most stylish shoes in town.” She lifted her foot. “My first pair of Jiminies. Don’t you love them?”
“They’re fabulous.” She smiled at Henry, and felt her heart melt for him seeing him so pleased. “And did you see he’s collecting shoes for the needy?”
“I’m not surprised. Henry looks out for everyone.” She put her hand on his cheek. “But my son needs to start looking out for himself, too. Now excuse me, I want to chase down that Dirk fellow for a dance.”
Then another guest tapped Cindi’s shoulder. As the man pulled her away, Henry caught her hand. “I’m sorry, we were just about to dance.”
Henry swirled her across the floor for several songs as the orchestra played several favorite classical tunes. If only the night could end like this, she thought. In Henry’s arms.
But duty called, and Henry led her off the dance floor. “You’re wonderful, Cindi.” And he walked away. Which was the exact opposite of being in his arms, she noted. Her wishes weren’t coming true anymore; this whole thing was really ending.
After that, she had more glasses of champagne than she could count, posed for more pictures than she had in the past ten years, and smiled so much her face hurt. Then before she knew it, the giant clock set up inside specifically for the party chimed fifteen minutes before midnight.
Her heart sank. This whirlwind was coming to an end. And in some ways she was grateful. It would be nice not to worry what her butt looked like every time Henry was behind her filming. And honestly, it would be wonderful to wear another pair of shoes. But as she looked across the room at Henry, talking on his cell phone, while directing the press to the stage where Cindi would turn over her shoes, her stomach kerplunked like a coin in a well that didn’t stand a chance of granting its wish. Or like a coin in the fountain they’d had installed right there in the ballroom for partygoers to make their own wishes. Not far from the white horse people could pose next to for a keepsake photo. And who could forget the incredible cupcake display? They’d even made sure there were some healthy options for people into that kind of thing. A pumpkin seed muffin? The Sea Goddess muffin? People would be talking about this party for a long time.