The Cinderella List

“Your father and his friend were just in here looking for you,” the lovely caterer informed him, as she expertly packed used glasses in carrying containers.

“Alfred? Did he have a little girl in tow? Alfred dotes on that grandchild of his, as I’m sure you noticed. He would do anything for her. The Dorchesters know how to pamper their women.” Sometimes a little too much. Sabrina, who was accustomed to having her own way, had not appreciated being sent home.

He straddled one of the stools at the counter much as he might swing his leg over the back of a horse, in no hurry to leave the kitchen. “My father and Alfred have been close friends for years. Since Dad doesn’t have any grandchildren of his own, he’s grand-parenting vicariously through Alfred.”

“No grandchildren?” Marlo sounded surprised. He didn’t blame her. A house this size should have a covey of them. He’d thought it many times himself, in fact. But he needed a wife for that, and so far he’d effectively eluded matrimony, despite everyone’s hopes to the contrary.

“I’m an only child,” Jake assured her. “I can guarantee it.” He enjoyed seeing a pink flush spread across those high, finely shaped cheekbones, but didn’t give her time to be embarrassed. “Is there anything I can do to help you clean up? If you have any crates or boxes you’d like me to carry…”

He liked the way her eyes lit at the offer, even though she promptly refused his help. She was independent, that was obvious, but still seemed to appreciate being treated like a lady.

Jake felt an unexpected reluctance to leave the kitchen. These women had made it feel cozy and inviting. It took a special sort of magic that didn’t often happen in his home. It was too big and the staff too part-time for it to ever become more than a lavish hotel of sorts, luxurious, comfortable and rather sterile. It was the kind of house good for entertaining large groups of people, which he did often, so it served its purpose well. Still, Jake would have preferred a home that was comfy and welcoming, the way the kitchen felt tonight. Not only that, it was a relief to escape the one-up-manship that often happened in crowds of wealthy people. He had grown tired of hearing about the latest cruise or land acquisition or jewelry purchase.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the tall, dark-haired one staring at him as if his presence were slightly disconcerting. Her vivid blue eyes were curious and her short cropped hair was standing on end as if she’d been pulling at its tips. Apparently, caterers were usually left alone to clear up their messes.

“Thoughtful,” he thought her heard her mutter under her breath but he wasn’t sure. “Check.” To him, she said, “It’s what you pay for—not having to tote or carry.” She flushed to the roots of her hair before adding, “You’d better be careful, offering to help us carry crates of dirty goblets. That’s as appealing to us as it would be to tell your wife she needs to gain a few pounds because there would be more of her to love.”

Jake felt laughter bubble in his throat. Beautiful, quirky and unexpected. Nice.

“Coffee then? I make a mean espresso, and my lattes are pretty good, too.”

The woman seemed to enjoy talking to herself. She muttered something about being hospitable before saying in a louder voice, “Thanks, but no. We don’t normally…”

“But I insist.” He enjoyed watching Marlo’s open, expressive face. Every thought and emotion she had seemed to pass across her features. It was easy to see what was on her mind without her uttering a word. And she appeared to be thinking he was an eccentric millionaire, emphasis on eccentric, for wanting to spend time with the caterer.

She clasped her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do with them. Guileless and transparent, she showed her nervousness. That, too, was in her favor, Jake thought. He liked a woman who didn’t put on airs—one like Bette.

“We’d love to,” Lucy answered for both of them. “There’s plenty of coffee still hot.” And when she thought he wasn’t looking, she made a face at Marlo, as if to say, “What are our chances of ever doing this again?”

“Come into the library. It’s more comfortable.” He removed three hefty mugs from a cupboard, poured coffee and put them on a wooden serving tray while Lucy picked up what was left of the minicheesecakes. He indicated that Marlo should go first, as they made their way through the house toward a large, closed, wood-paneled door.

He watched her as she walked. Long, shapely legs, a straight back, head held high…she’d be a natural in the saddle, Jake deduced. He could imagine her on a filly that was fifteen-and-a-half or sixteen-hands high, or perhaps an even bigger horse.

The foyer through which they walked was larger than some entire houses, Jake thought, as their footsteps tapped against the marble floor. A richly carved table, weighed down with an enormous vase of fresh flowers, filled the center of the circular room from which doors led into other parts of the house. A vast staircase spiraled upward. Jake rarely noticed the luxury in which he lived, but imagining it through the lovely caterer’s eyes, he wondered if it appeared pretentious, extravagant and over the top.

He led them into the library which was behind the first closed door. The door opened onto a vignette of ox blood–leather wing chairs, ottomans, a lavish area rug that covered most of the cherrywood floor. A gas fireplace burned brightly in the dimness in the room. Leather-bound books marched in neat rows down the shelves, collectors’ items, mostly. The only ones that really got used were a basket of Bibles and history books. The others he never picked up. Artfully arranged on the shelves were carvings of horses, interspersed with Hammond family photos.

Normally, he didn’t pay any attention to those photos, but tonight he realized that Sabrina had made her way into several of them, usually cuddling so close to him she could have been a second skin. In a closed glass case along one wall were dozens of gleaming trophies, decorated, again, with horses.

“I’ve been transported to a movie set,” Marlo blurted, as she gazed around the room with huge eyes, her pink mouth puckered into a little bow of astonishment.

“Glad you like it.” He put the tray onto a vast ottoman, gestured for them to sit down. “I want to personally thank you. The guests raved about the food. I gave your cards to several individuals. I’m sure you’ll be getting calls. This crowd loves to entertain.”

“And just what kind of ‘crowd’ is that?” Marlo asked.

He smiled at her. “A horsey crowd. Clients. Friends of the family. The people my father and grandfather deal with. Studs, you know.”

Marlo’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t notice that many good-looking, younger men in that group. Ow!” Then she glared at Lucy, who’d kicked her in the ankle.

Hammond spewed coffee back into his cup and burst out laughing. “Not that kind of stud. The horse kind. Stallions, standing at stud. My father and grandfather have owned a lot of good mares over the years. That’s how Hammond Stables got started—with brood mares, very expensive ones, and valuable stallions. We’re breeders. A lot of prizewinners have come out of our barn.”

Marlo’s face grew so red that Jake thought it might ignite. She didn’t burst into flames but it was obviously a very close call. Jake realized that he liked a woman who blushed.

Dying on the spot would have been useful for hiding her embarrassment but Marlo couldn’t manage it, here in gorgeous Jake Hammond’s library. She considered crawling under the rug but decided tough it out. Fortunately, the man was obviously a well-bred gentleman who didn’t make a big deal of her blunder.

Marlo liked that. In fact, there weren’t many things about Jake Hammond that she didn’t like. He came eerily close to fulfilling the requirements of her youthful list of romantic qualifications. Too bad he was already taken. By what she had deduced, Sabrina, Randall and Alfred already considered the union a done deal.

It was just as well. She was a poor match for the wealthy, refined man before her.

Lucy filled in the conversational gaps while Marlo gathered her wits about her again. They were talking about training horses when she finally felt confident enough to enter the discussion.

“It’s something I enjoy, but I don’t have enough time in my day to be as active as I’d like,” Jake was saying. “I prefer working with the animals, but the buyers come first. Without them, we’d have no reason to raise horses in the first place.”

“How did you learn to do it?” Marlo asked.

“From my grandfather. I was attached to his side like a tick to a dog when I was young. And what he didn’t teach me, my father did. The Hammond family has been raising horses for generations, so maybe I learned by osmosis.” He smiled and his eyes did that thing again that made Marlo’s heart flutter. She almost wished he’d quit doing whatever it was that was making her have this reaction. No one like Jake would be interested in a girl like her.

Lucy gave a mouselike squeak as she looked at her watch. “Marlo, I have to get home. I promised I’d call my brother tonight, and it’s getting late, even on the West Coast.”

“You are welcome to use the phone in the library.”

“I’m supposed to give him some phone numbers and addresses that I have on my computer at home. I’d better get going.”

Marlo started to rise from her chair but Lucy waved her back. “No use both of us leaving.”

“But we drove together,” Marlo protested.

“I can call Marlo a cab,” Jake offered, “if you need to leave in a hurry.”

“Good idea. Thanks so much. Marlo, honey, call me in the morning.” Without so much as a goodbye, Lucy shot out of the library. In moments, they heard the van fire up and pull away.

Marlo wanted to strangle Lucy with her bare hands, she decided, as her means of escape roared away. She knew exactly what Lucy was doing—giving her extra time with Jake, because she assumed he was a perfect fit for the List. Well, it wasn’t going to work. The List indicated that the ideal man should “earn a good living” not be preposterously wealthy. She didn’t know how to relate to people with money like that, even though he made it easier than she’d expected.

“More coffee?” Jake bent near her, carafe in hand. She smelled the woodsy cologne he wore and saw the fine weave of the arm of his jacket.

“I’d better not. I won’t sleep all night.” Not that she would, anyway, after this heady experience. She turned her eyes up toward his and became conscious of how close he was. “I have to apologize for my friend.”

He stepped back, poured himself another cup and sat down. “Why?”

“Because those ‘names and numbers’ she had to give her brother were probably fictional.”

He cocked his head to one side and a lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. Couldn’t the man be unattractive from any angle at all?

“Lucy is playing matchmaker. I hope you’ll excuse her. Sometimes she just doesn’t think things through. Now, if you’ll call me a cab…”

“Matchmaker?” He sounded amused, even pleased. To Marlo’s amazement, he didn’t appear to think the idea was ludicrous, just entertaining. She supposed that was a compliment, but it didn’t undo her friend’s machinations. Maybe she wouldn’t wait until morning to throttle Lucy; perhaps she should stop at her house on the way home.

“Besides, there’s no hurry. Where do you live?”