A Millionaire for Cinderella

“No, I love it.” She was surprised he did. Al’s was a little hole-in-the-wall near the subway overpass. The kind of place you weren’t one-hundred-percent sure passed the health inspection, although it did have the most amazing burgers and roast beef sandwiches. She would have pegged Stuart as preferring something more upscale and elegant, like the wine bar up the street. “Can’t beat their barbecue special.”

“Would you like to join me?”

Join him? The hair on the back of her neck started to rise, much the way it did when he’d suggested they start over. She didn’t trust this warmer, gentler Stuart. Especially since he said he still didn’t trust her.

What was he up to?

“We both need to eat,” he replied, picking up on her hesitation. “We’re both going to the hospital. Why not go together?”

Why not? She could give a bunch of reasons, starting with the fact she should be avoiding him, not giving him an opportunity to dig for information.

“Plus, I owe you an apology for being wrong about Nigel.”

“You do owe me that,” Patience replied.

“So, is that a yes?” His expectant smile was so charming it caused her stomach to do a tiny somersault. As sure a sign as any that she should say no. Playing with fire, the voice in her head reminded her.

Except that smile was too darn hard to refuse. “Sure,” she replied. “Why not?”

* * *

She regretted her response as soon as they arrived at Al’s. Actually, she regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth and Stuart flashed a knee-buckling smile, but arriving at the restaurant sealed the deal—restaurant being a loose description. Beacon Hill types considered the banged-up booths and ketchup stains “atmosphere.” Patience considered it dirty. The place reminded her too much of the old days.

“We could do takeout if you’d rather,” Stuart said, correctly interpreting her expression. “Go eat by the river.”

Patience shook her head. “No. Here will be fine.” A picnic by the river sounded too nice, and, frankly, the situation was strange enough without the atmosphere feeling like a date.

This kinder, gentler Stuart made her nervous. They weren’t friends—not by a long shot—and she wasn’t really sure she bought his apology excuse. So why were they out to dinner together?

After placing their orders, they took seats in a booth toward the rear of the restaurant. One of the cleaner tables, if that was saying anything. Immediately, Patience took out a package of hand wipes and began cleaning the crumbs from the surface, earning a chuckle from Stuart.

“You do realize you’re off the clock, right?” he asked.

“You want to eat on a dirty table?” she shot back. She was beginning to dislike his laugh. Rich and thick, the sound slipped down her spine like warm chocolate syrup, making her insides quiver every time she heard it. Doubling down on her cleaning efforts, she did her best to wash both the crumbs and the sensation away. “I don’t even want to think about what the kitchen looks like,” she continued.

There was a splash of dried cola near the napkin dispenser. She went at it with vigor. “Piper would have a nutty if she saw this place.”

“Who’s Piper?”

Drat. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud. This really was a mistake. Not five minutes in and she’d opened the door to personal questions. Fortunately, Piper was the one personal subject she could talk about forever. “She’s my sister.”

“Let me guess, she’s into cleaning, too?”

“No, cooking.” Her chest grew full. “She’s studying to be a chef. In Paris.” She made a point of emphasizing the location.

“Is that so?”

Based on the spark in Stuart’s eye, Patience decided it was admiration and not disbelief coloring his voice, and her pride expanded some more. “She was accepted last fall. It’s always been her dream to become a famous chef.”

“You must be proud.”

“Proud doesn’t begin to cover it. I think she’s going to be the next Top Chef, she’s that talented. Ever since she was a kid, she had a knack for taking ingredients you’d never thought would go together and turning them into something delicious. Once, I came home and found her making jalapeño pancakes.”

“Were they any good?”

“Believe it or not, they were. Alhough she got flour everywhere. Took me all night to clean the film from the countertop.” A waste of time since the roaches came scrounging anyway. The thought only made her smile fade a little. As always, her pride in Piper’s talent overruled the bad.

Their conversation was interrupted by a group of college students settling into the booth behind them. Their laughter barely disguised the popping of beer cans.

“I forgot this place was BYOB,” Stuart remarked. “We could have brought a bottle of Merlot to go with our meal.”

“I’m not sure this is a Merlot kind of place,” Patience replied.

“Good point. Beer then.”

She tried and failed to stop her grimace.

“You don’t like beer?”

“I don’t like the smell.” He wouldn’t either if he’d spent years breathing sour, stale air.

Stuart was clearly curious, but thankfully he didn’t push. At least not right then. Instead, he stretched his arms along the back of the booth, the position pulling his shirt taut across his torso and emphasizing the contours beneath the cotton. Patience wondered if he realized he was the most superior-looking man in the place.

“So, your sister’s dream is to become a famous chef,” he said. “What’s yours?”

To make sure Piper’s dream came true. Patience busied herself with pulling napkins from the dispenser. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on. Surely you didn’t always want to be a housekeeper?”

He was fishing. Looking for clues about this so-called agenda he thought she had regarding his aunt. What would he think if she told him her childhood hadn’t allowed for dreams or aspirations? Or that there was a time when even being a housekeeper seemed out of her reach? Would he trust her more or less? Patience could guess the answer.

“I thought we called a truce,” she said, dodging the question.

“Hey, I was just making conversation. I didn’t realize I’d asked you to reveal a state secret.”

He had a point. Maybe she was overreacting just a little. It certainly wasn’t his fault he’d stumbled too close to a bad topic. “Teacher,” she said softly. “When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher.”

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Damn him for having a charming smile as he spoke. “What changed your mind?”

“I grew up,” she replied. The words came out sharper than she intended, causing a stunned expression. “And my mother died, leaving me to raise Piper.” She was probably telling him way too much, but she figured revealing some facts was smarter than acting prickly. “Hard to go to school and raise your kid sister.” Not that there was money for school to begin with, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry. How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“That must have been tough.”

“We managed. How about you?” She rushed to change the subject before he could ask anything further. “Did you always want to be a lawyer?”