Cinderella's Midnight Kiss

Oops. I smiled too quickly.

If Steff had genuinely wanted her there, Cindy might have considered going, but a grudging, last-minute invitation prompted by someone else…

“Thanks, Steff, but I’ll pass if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, the last thing I need is to have Hitch and Mama on my back. Look, I’ll pick out something you can wear and leave it on my bed. Now don’t argue, I don’t have time, and besides, you know how Mama is when things don’t go according to her plans.”

Oh, yes, Cindy knew how Mama was, all right. It was easier to go along than to argue. “Then thanks, I’ll pick up the dress when I go upstairs next time.”

“Great. Is my blue suit back from the cleaners?”

“In your closet. Do you want me to pack it?”

“No, on second thought, I don’t think it’s right for Bermuda. Pack the white linen, instead. It’ll wrinkle, but they’ll have maid service.”

The gown was a sophisticated designer model with matching shoes that Steff had spent a fortune for several years ago. Complaining that the color made her look pasty, she’d worn it only a few times.

Cindy had a feeling the odd shade, somewhere between peach and ecru, wouldn’t do much for her own complexion, either. Instead of basting up the hem, which would have left marks, she shortened the straps, gave up on the waistline and had just slipped the garment over her head when Steff came in to ask which suitcase her jewelry had been packed in. “Speaking of jewelry, I guess you’ll need something. You look sort of drab.”

“A new car?”

Steff actually smiled. “Something smaller. Earrings, I guess. With all those freckles a necklace would be wasted.”

Thank you, ma’am, I really needed that.

“Try to do something with your hair, will you? You should’ve made an appointment with Wade.”

“Twenty-five bucks plus tip for a trim? No thanks.”

Her hair was impossible. She could French braid it and within minutes, curly strands would work loose. Hair spray only made it look like a fright wig. “I could wear a hat,” she said hopefully.

“Don’t you dare.” Cindy’s hats were a joke among the Stephensons, but she no longer took offense. One of these days, she promised herself. One of these fine days…

It was Maura who provided the earrings. “Steff said I had to lend you these. Don’t you dare lose them—they match my favorite ring.” She tossed a pair of sparkling diamond-and-pearl studs on the dresser and left. Evidently she’d heard that Hitch had had something to do with Cindy’s being invited to the party, and resented it.

As if Cindy would be any competition. Maura wasn’t in Steff’s league when it came to looks, but she had her own style of beauty. Compared to either of them, Cindy wasn’t even in the running.

The earrings were for pierced ears. Cindy’s weren’t. Not wanting to make an issue of it, she returned them, leaving them on Maura’s dresser beside her jewelry case, which was always kept locked.

Slipping on her tennis shoes, she hurried down the back stairs and out into the garden, cut two large pink roses and shaved off the thorns. Then, hiking her heavy satin skirt up over her knees, she dashed back upstairs and carefully fastened them to the French braid.

“At least no one can call you drab,” she told her mirror image.

Not that anyone would even spare her a glance, with the likes of Steff and Maura and all their glamorous friends around. The house was already overflowing with men in penguin suits and women in every color of the rainbow, all sparkling and laughing and flirting.

Last of all, she stepped into the shoes that matched her gown. Taking a deep breath, she carefully held up her skirt to keep from tripping, and made her wobbly way down the front stairs, half expecting Aunt S. to confront her and send her back to her room.

Chapter Three

Madam S. was everywhere, keeping an eagle eye on the wedding party, the half dozen or so servants hired for the occasion and the invited guests, who started arriving before the rehearsal was even finished. Hitch actually found himself sympathizing with the woman, who had obviously taken on more than she’d bargained for by insisting on having both the wedding and the party—she called it a ball—at home. She’d have been better served to limit the size and scope, and then turn over full control to the professionals instead of trying to oversee every phase of the production personally.

He felt sorrier still for Mac, but then, after living next door to the dragon and her two fledgling dragonettes all his life, Mac knew what he was getting into. He might look like a harmless hayseed, but he was a lot sharper than most folks gave him credit for being…which often worked to his advantage.

Nothing like being underestimated to give a guy an edge.

The house was a large one, the living room, dining room and front parlor, empty of furniture, spacious. But the space was rapidly filling up with dancers, and the linen-draped buffet was under serious siege. The air conditioner had already surrendered. A few black ties had been tugged askew and several of the ladies were noticeably glowing.

Mac was having a ball. Literally. Even Steff had unbent enough to kick off her four-inch heels and dance.

Maura came up behind Hitch and tucked her hand in his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Forgot something,” he improvised quickly. “Save me a dance later, will you?” He had to get out of here. The acoustics weren’t designed for modern amplifiers. With everyone straining to talk over the band, the effect was deafening.