She smiled, making it a hopeful invitation to him to do the same. “Just yesterday I hired you as my attorney. And today…”
Today, she was standing barefoot on his patio in the soft, sweet-smelling morning, dressed only in one of his old bathrobes. And the man she’d envisioned last night as Cinderella’s Prince was facing her not ten feet away, not armored in elegant evening clothes, but rather endearingly rumpled and unshaven in a navy blue robe that she knew must be silk, with his hair falling over one patrician eyebrow in the sort of disarray she thought novelists must be describing when they employed the word
Poor Cinderella, she thought as she swallowed, drymouthed. What a shock it must have been for you, waking up that first morning in the Prince’s palace, to see your polished and graceful royal suitor for the first time as…a man. Did your heart pound like this? Did your mouth suddenly taste like dust?
She took a deep breath and just managed to hold on to the smile. “This seems…really, really strange.”
Yes, and what was this sudden preoccupation with Cinderella, anyway? It never had been one of her favorite stories-oh, well, except for when she was a little girl and had identified so strongly with the way she’d taken care of the animals, and those adorable little mice… But now that she was grown up-well, actually, she
“Strange…” Riley’s voice rumbled, bringing her back to the here and now with a start. He gave a snort of irony and looked away, scrubbed a hand over his face, then shook his head. She was more than relieved when he finally faced her again, this time wearing his version of her own smile-a bit wry, more than a little bemused. “Yeah, I guess it is, at that. Well, I don’t imagine either one of us planned on this happening. Since it has…as I said last night, I don’t see we had any other choice. For right now, anyway. You’ll be safe here until we can come up with a more comfortable arrangement for you. Meanwhile-”
He was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream.
Chapter 6
Bloodcurdling. Earsplitting. And hair-raising. Riley could actually feel the goose bumps rising up on his arms and the back of his neck.
He exclaimed “Good God!” just as Summer was murmuring in heartfelt dismay, “Oh, no…” She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. Riley said acidly, “I take it that’s…” and held up his bandaged finger.
She nodded, then winced as two more screams shattered the morning’s peace, issuing from almost directly overhead. “I’m so sorry-the children must have uncovered her carrier. She’s just feeling left out. Parrots need a lot of attention. And they tend to vocalize when they’re unhappy. As soon as I find a nice central location for her, I’m sure she’ll settle down.”
A nice…central…location. A dark cloud seemed to drift across Riley’s sun. Which one would that be? he wondered, gloomily running several possibilities through his mind. The morning room, just off the kitchen, full of light and flowering plants, where he so enjoyed taking his morning cup of coffee? Or maybe the informal living room that opened onto the pool and waterfall with its shade plants and cool green ferns, and the soothing sounds of water, so relaxing after a tense day in court. Not the kitchen! God help him if Mrs. Abernathy should arrive to find a bird in her immaculate domain!
“Ah,” he said, and left it at that, then raised his voice several notches. “Perhaps if we go inside…?” And he nearly tripped over Beatle, who was trying her best to crawl inside his pajama legs. “What the hell?”
The pink in Summer’s cheeks darkened as if he’d slapped her. “Oh, gosh-I’m sorry. Here-let me.” She dropped to her heels at his feet. He felt her hair brush his knees as she rose again, cradling the trembling dog in her arms, breathlessly trying to explain. “I’m so sorry-she’s terrified of Cleo.”
Riley’s estimation of the dog’s intelligence rose considerably, but he made no comment as he took Summer’s elbow and steered her through the French doors, which he shut firmly behind them. The screams, muffled by the walls of the house, seemed to diminish slightly in volume, if not frequency. He drew a breath, then exhaled it as he said, “Coffee. I could sure use a cup-how about you?”
She threw him a grateful look. “Oh, that would be great. I’ll make it, if you’ll just show me where everything is.”
“Should already be made. It’s on a timer. My housekeeper generally sets it up before she leaves in the evening.” He paused, frowning. “Reminds me,” he said after a moment, taking care to keep it to a businesslike drawl that carried no trace of the regret he was feeling. “I guess I’d better call Mrs. Abernathy and tell her the good news.” Summer glanced at him, her eyes asking the question. He answered it with a wry smile; Lord, but he was going to miss Soon-Li Abernathy’s cooking, an eccentric combination of Deep Southern and classic Chinese that he realized he’d never fully appreciated until now. “That she’s about to get a vacation of unspecified duration,” he explained. “With pay, of course.”
Summer’s expressive mouth formed an O of dismay. He stopped the anticipated apology with a shake of his head and a touch on her elbow, which he then used to guide her through the swinging door and into the kitchen.
“Can’t be helped-the fewer people know you’re here, the better,” he said briskly, as the aroma of fine Colombian bade him a reassuring welcome. Riley liked his coffee as most things, simple, straightforward and rich.
He opened a cupboard while Summer set Beatle down on the floor. He gave the dog a sideways look, then decided he’d best just ignore it. “Here you go-cups are in here.” He indicated the one that had been set out ready for him as he took another from the cupboard. “Why don’t you go ahead and help yourself. What can I get you? Take anything in it?”
“Thanks-just some nonfat milk, if you have it. And artificial sweetener.”
That threw him. Already halfway to the refrigerator, he halted and lifted a shoulder in apology. “Uh…I don’t believe I have either one of those.”
“That’s okay-just some sugar’ll be fine.” He got out the sugar bowl while she poured coffee for them both. Then he picked his up and sipped it while he watched her spoon sugar and stir. After a moment, without raising her head, she said, “I can make the coffee from now on, if you like-and anything else I can do to fill in for your housekeeper…if you’ll just…I don’t know, give me a list-”
Riley snapped his fingers. “Speaking of which-you need to make me a list of everything you can think of that you’re going to be needing-you and the kids. That’s including food-you already mentioned sweetener and skim milk. I don’t know what the kids like.” He thought fleetingly, and with longing, of the Cantonese delicacies Mrs. Abernathy was in the habit of preparing and leaving for him to reheat for his evening meal, on those rare occasions he ate at home. Ah, well… It’s temporary, he reminded himself. A few days at the most. “And,” he added, “anything else you need-clothing, of course.”
“I thought…the Red Cross…”
He let a snort tell her what he thought of that idea. “You just write down the sizes for me and I’ll have my secretary pick up what you need.” Danell had a couple of kids and would no doubt know where to go. He seemed to recall having heard her mention some sort of
Summer didn’t reply, but held her cup with both hands while she blew, then sipped. Above the line of the cup he watched the familiar lines of worry form between her eyes.
He knew what she was thinking, and that her pride was wrestling with her need…and losing. Compassion crowded his chest, bumping aside the confusion about where she belonged and how he was supposed to treat her. All he knew was that he wanted to spare her even one more moment’s humiliation. That he wanted her smiling and confident again. He was trying to think of a way to make it all right for her, to tell her he’d add the expenses to the bill she was going to work off for him, if that’s what she wanted. But just then, as if allowing that one thought about the child into his head had caused them to materialize, suddenly here they came. Following a brief but noisy overture that included the clatter and thump of footsteps and childish exclamations and giggles, both children burst through the swinging door and into the kitchen.
