Surprise Reunion with His Cinderella

by Rachael Stewart

‘Alone?’ It sounded sad coming from her lips. It felt sad. It didn’t matter that she too had proved over the years that her job came first. That anything serious demanded time she couldn’t give. Or was it more that she hadn’t wanted to give that time? That her mother had been right to think true love would have encouraged her to find that balance?

  That Freddie would have.

  ‘It’s the only way I know how to be.’

  His honest declaration sliced through her thoughts, chilling her through. Freddie, alone. It wasn’t him. Not the Freddie she’d grown up with, surrounded by his family, her. She wet her lips, started to say something but he got there first.

  ‘So, you broke off the engagement?’

  She bristled. She didn’t want the focus back on her, but she didn’t want the rush of guilt either, the feeling that she was the reason he now stood alone...

  ‘It must have been hard,’ he pressed. ‘You were together a while.’

  ‘Tim knew it was coming,’ she rolled on, trying to shrug it off. ‘We’d grown comfortable with one another. We still loved each other, but it was the kind you share with a best friend, not a husband.’

  ‘We were best friends once.’

  Her heart pulsed in her chest. ‘We were lovers too, Freddie.’

  A small smile touched his lips. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  A compliment?

  She frowned as his smile lifted off to one side, his brows rising, and his meaning hit home: he was more of a lover than Tim had ever been.

  ‘All right, Casanova...’ she laughed in spite of herself ‘...get back in your box.’

  He laughed too, his eyes drifting to the ocean.

  A silence descended, more marked for the laughter that had preceded it. He was lost in the view—and the past, she was sure—and she dreaded whatever was coming next. She searched for something to fill the quiet, anything to get there first...

  ‘So, has there been anyone since?’

  She started as he struck at the same nerve, his eyes coming back to her.

  ‘Are we really doing this? Going over our exes?’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  Because it was the last thing she wanted to discuss.

  She didn’t want to know about the women that had warmed his bed over the years.

  There were sure to be many. A man who looked like Freddie, with his confident and charming aura, would never be short of a willing companion.

  ‘Because it’s in the past, remember?’

  ‘I’m just curious. Past aside, it’s hard to date in general, but when you have money, it’s a different challenge altogether. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Aw, don’t tell me little Freddie Highgrove is worried women want him for his money rather than his dashing good looks...’ She was trying to deflect, to tease, but instead she’d given more away than she’d intended.

  ‘So, you still think I’m dashing?’ His dark smile was dangerous to her libido and she tried not to look at him—tried and failed.

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant...’ But the blush to her cheeks was confirmation enough and she cursed the colour of her hair for making her so transparent.

  ‘You have to admit money is a problem,’ he pressed. ‘It’s part of the reason M is so successful.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘So, has there?’

  She shook her head, exasperated. ‘No, Freddie, as it happens, there’s been no one I would call serious. Not since Tim.’

  ‘No one at all?’ She didn’t like the surprise and disbelief in his wide and far too alluring blue eyes.

  ‘Not everyone needs someone to fill their bed, Freddie. Judging by your reaction, you’re not one of those people.’

  ‘Having your bed warmed, as you so put it, is different from a serious relationship, and I’m all for the former.’

  She wasn’t sure which irked her more. The acknowledgement that Freddie’s bed had been well and truly warmed over the years, or his affirmation to stay single. One told her she was jealous, the other told her that a small part of her hoped for an impossible future together.

  Both were utterly ridiculous.

  She stabbed at her food with gusto, her eyes burning into the plate. Why should it bother her? Any of it? He’d stopped being hers long ago. She shouldn’t care. And she hardly had time for a real relationship herself. Didn’t the breakdown of her engagement with Tim prove that?

  But the fire still blazing inside simply mocked her, his dry chuckle provoking it.

  She glared at him. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You.’

  Her breath gusted out of her. There were no words. None at all.

  ‘I may not live the life of a monk...’ he took up his cutlery, releasing her from his far too astute and disturbing gaze ‘...but I never pretend to be after more.’

  ‘Well, bully for you!’ She forgot about her food, her appetite going on, off, on, off with their conversation. ‘Did you tell Madison you were only looking for a bit of fun?’

  His lips twitched with contained laughter as he met her eye for a beat. ‘I was honest enough. Now eat. You look like you could do with it.’

  His eyes flicked over her again, and this time it wasn’t with the raw hunger she’d spied there previously, or with teasing, or anger, it was...concern.

  She prickled. ‘Don’t you start.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Telling me to eat. My friends get at me enough, I don’t need it from you too.’

  He gave a small shrug. ‘There must be something in it if they’re saying it.’

  ‘I’ve already told you, I run, I exercise, and I am busy. I eat as and when I can. Satisfied?’

  She knew she was overreacting, her anger coming from the confusing mess inside. The last thing she needed was for him to send her mixed messages. The one that said they could enjoy seven days and go their separate ways again was fine. It was simple, clear, she knew where she stood.

  The one looking at her with concern softening his gaze and making her tummy flutter was not fine.

  This one suggested he cared. It confused things, and confusion could only open her heart up to trouble.

  ‘Fair enough.’ He didn’t quite meet her eyes this time. ‘I guess you no longer have easy access to Maggie’s baked goodies either.’

  She got the distinct impression he hadn’t wanted to say it, but it had come out anyway. There was a sadness, a distance to both his voice and eyes.

  ‘No.’ She studied his face, desperate to understand where his head had suddenly gone. ‘How is Maggie? Does she still cook for your parents?’

  ‘She does.’ He took a bite of his food, chewed it. ‘She’s as much a part of Highgrove as the building itself.’

  ‘She certainly made the place smell heavenly and if I’m honest...’ his eyes lifted to hers and she almost kept the rest locked inside, but ‘... I miss her hugs as much as her shortbread.’

  He gave her a small smile. ‘I think she’d say the same about you.’

  ‘Except I’m a lousy cook, so cuddles would be her lot.’

  The smile was still there, but his eyes were lost in his thoughts, and she opened her mouth to ask for them, but he cleared his throat and looked back at his plate, the moment and the pleasant memories evaporating.

  ‘Anyway, tell me more about your app. What sparked the idea?’

  It took a while for her brain to catch up with his rapid switch in focus but her company, her app, were things she could talk about in her sleep and she followed his lead, her smile coming with her words. ‘It was actually Mum that gave me the idea.’

  Not just Mum, but herself and Freddie too—their inequality due to their start in life—but she wasn’t about to tread over that ground again. She hurried on, ‘I realised that Mum had an eye for business but not for techn
ology. And, of course, every business needs a web presence in this day and age, and it can be quite a barrier to entry.’

  ‘Indeed.’ He was listening intently, and she found she liked it. Liked it a little too much. ‘It’s a necessary evil in some cases.’

  ‘And it’s not just about getting the web presence, but maintaining and updating it, keeping it simple to use. Then there’s the financial aspects, billing, accounts and so on. I built an app that would give people like my mum access to all this in one place. Not only does it manage the operational side of things, it gives them a face on the web, a means of advertising their services to garner new clients as well as advertising for vacancies too.’

  ‘Work Made Simple—it’s a catchy name too.’

  He really had read up on her...

  ‘Again, Mum.’ She smiled all the more as she remembered that particular brainstorming session.

  ‘My parents missed her when she left, you know.’

  She took a shaky breath, her fingers fluttering over her locket. ‘I’m sorry for that.’

  ‘Why are you sorry?’

  ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘It wasn’t your...well, all right, but we all had a hand in it.’

  She swallowed. So much for steering clear of their past again.

  ‘Anyway, Mum built up a business that contracted out skilled housekeepers, maids, she even had a few butlers on her books by the time...the time...’ Her voice cracked and she tried to hurry on, eager not to break down, eager not to feel the pain. ‘And then one of those butlers took over the business. It’s still doing well now. He’s my longest-running client.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He held her gaze, and she couldn’t breathe for the compassion she could see in his. ‘I meant what I said, Jas. She was a good woman. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.’

  She tried to wave down his sympathy, tried to swallow back the tears and the pain tightening up her throat. And then his hand was there, taking hers, which she was still waving between them.

  His fingers, warm and reassuring, pulsed around hers. ‘I am sorry.’

  She gave him weak smile. ‘I know.’

  She took a slow breath as she pulled her fingers away from his grasp, the physical connection too tempting to maintain, and took up her cutlery. ‘Now we should definitely eat, or this will be stone cold.’

  ‘Of course.’ His voice was husky, his eyes still on her. She had the sense there was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to do even, but then he followed her lead.

  They kept to safer topics for the rest of the meal, both of them skirting around the past that was never far from rearing up again. The food was delicious, the wines chosen to accompany each of the five courses perfect too. But the more she drank, the more she could feel herself getting lost in his eyes, the more she wanted to get lost in those eyes.

  ‘You okay, Jas?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘You’re sporting that glow.’

  She shook her head, felt the lighthouse spin around her. ‘That glow?’

  He reached out, his palm soft and warm on her cheek. Wow, so nice.

  ‘The one you used to get when you’d had one too many Bacardi Breezers.’

  Oh, no. He was right. She wasn’t used to drinking. And they’d had a glass with every course, plus the champagne, and that made...that made how many glasses?

  ‘Come on, I’ll walk you back to your room.’

  ‘How do you know where my room is?’

  ‘I was given the grand tour before your arrival.’

  ‘Oh...’

  He stood and walked around the table, offering his hand to her. She eyed it, wary and wanting to take it all the same. It had felt nice, too nice, to have him hold her hand earlier. The same again when he’d touched her cheek, offering comfort. And now...

  She looked up into his face, her smile weak with the runaway thoughts inside her. She slipped her hand into his and lowered her lashes, trying to hide the way the contact made her feel. There was no hiding the flush to her cheeks, though, and she prayed he’d put it all down to the alcohol.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She let go as soon as she was standing, her cautious side still capable of taking the driving seat as she sought to put some distance between them. But it was no use. As they walked, they seemed to get closer and closer. She wasn’t sure who was to blame. But as his scent wrapped around her, she felt her entire body thrum with awareness of his.

  They reached the head of the steps down to the main house and then she felt his palm soft on her lower back, the light contact working right the way through her.

  She didn’t dare look up at him, just kept moving, focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he kept his palm there, a connection she didn’t want to break.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, her breaths coming too fast and too loud. Surely he knew what he was doing to her? Surely he knew how much she wanted to turn into him and kiss him? Kiss him with an abandon she hadn’t felt in...in for ever.

  She barely noticed the beauty of the garden at night, the swaying palms, the flying fruit bats, the lizards in the undergrowth. She was wholly wrapped up in him and the realisation that she didn’t want to go into her room alone.

  ‘Well, we’re here.’

  ‘Hmm?’

  He gestured to her door, his smile bemused, and she blushed—of course, they were here, she could see that for herself, only...

  She looked up at him, her mouth feeling too dry to speak.

  ‘Freddie...’ It was barely audible and she wet her lips to try again, watched as his eyes fell to the movement, darkening with the same fire she could feel building inside.

  ‘Yes, Red.’

  A thrill rippled down her spine. ‘I don’t know what I want to say.’

  She knew what she wanted to do, though, and her palms pressed into his chest, almost of their own volition.

  ‘Red...’ His muscles contracted beneath her touch, his warmth teasing into her as he bowed his head and she closed her eyes... Oh, yes.

  But he bypassed her lips and as she opened her eyes, his cheek brushed ever so slightly against her heated flesh.

  ‘It is good to see you again,’ he whispered beside her ear as her breath caught. ‘Sweet dreams.’

  And then he was gone, the moment with it.

  Had she imagined it? Had it all been in her head that he’d wanted to kiss her? Was he teasing her?

  She watched him walk away, pleaded silently with him for one backward glance, just one...

  Nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  And her heart felt it as fresh as it had ten years ago, only then it had been her doing the walking.

  Was this to be her punishment now? To have him within reach for a week but his heart unattainable? Her own, on the other hand...

  She clenched her fists together and turned away. She’d just have to make sure she remembered the score, remind herself of it at every opportunity. Freddie would never be hers again, no matter what her reawakened heart was trying to say otherwise.

  And it was as it should be.

  It had been hard enough to move on ten years ago. To fall in love now when he was so set against marriage, relationships even...

  And she had a life in Edinburgh, a successful business that kept her occupied twenty-four seven. She didn’t have time for a real relationship either, Freddie dearest.

  She pushed open her bedroom door, ignoring the voices of Sadie and Izzy in her head, reminding her of why she’d needed M in the first place: to get a life.

  A life was one thing. A life with Freddie was something else entirely, and he’d made it very clear it was not, neither would it ever be, an option.

  And that was fine with her. She swung her door closed with finality. One hundred percent tickety-boo!

  CHAPTER F
IVE

  ‘OH, NO, YOU’VE got to be kidding!’

  Freddie looked up at the sound of Jasmine’s groan and tried to ignore the way his heart lurched at her arrival. And the way the sight of her slight frame still nagged at him. Or was it just that he was so much broader and muscular now that she only appeared to be worryingly slender?

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Behind her fashionably large shades, she eyed the bicycles he was crouched over.

  ‘Are we really doing this today?’

  He straightened, chuckling even as he acknowledged how she’d shaken up his trusted composure, his entire life, by turning up here. ‘Haven’t you looked over the itinerary M prepared?’

  ‘I did. I just...forgot.’

  He rubbed the back of his head as he fought the way his body warmed, every degree nothing to do with the midday sun high in the clear blue sky and everything to do with her. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to cycle?’

  ‘No—no, it’s fine.’

  She pressed her fingers to her temples and his eyes dipped to take in more of her. She’d swept some gloss over her pink lips. The freckles dusting her nose, her chest, her arms were more prominent in daylight. Her hair too gleamed as it swung freely over her shoulders. The emerald-green vest top she wore was tucked loosely into a pair of cropped white shorts that left too much of her legs on show, their toned and lightly freckled lengths teasing at him.

  She blew out a breath and his eyes shot back to her face.

  ‘Feeling a little delicate?’

  She raised her chin, her eyes glaring at him, he was sure, and he cursed the tinted barrier between him and her green eyes. He’d missed them. Until last night, he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed them.

  ‘Don’t rib me.’

  His mouth lifted to one side and he raised his hand, fighting back the urge to laugh. ‘I wouldn’t dare. It explains why I missed you at breakfast, though.’

  Not that he’d missed her missed her, because that would be foolish.

  Her brow wrinkled with her frown and she pocketed her hands, looking back towards the bright yellow bicycles.

  ‘I wasn’t hungry. And it was a long day of travelling yesterday. And sleep wasn’t exactly...’ She chewed the corner of her mouth and he wondered where her thoughts had gone. Were they with his somewhere in very non-platonic territory?