Sassy Cinderella

“Sam hates baths and will go to any lengths to avoid them,” Allison said with a chuckle. “Don’t let him con you.”

Sherry started to worry. What other idiosyncrasies did this family have, and what would they forget to tell her? She’d never done private-practice nursing before. She’d always worked in a hospital or doctor’s office, where there were plenty of people around if she had any questions or problems.

“Why doesn’t everybody stay for dinner?” Sherry asked. “I can make a Frito-chili pie that’s out of this world.”

JONATHAN COULDN’T BELIEVE his ears. The woman had been in his house for, what, fifteen minutes? And already she acted like she owned the place, inviting people to dinner. He wanted everyone to go home. He was in no shape to entertain guests.

At least he wouldn’t have to go to the table. He planned to take his meals right here on a TV tray.

But the aggravating woman messed up those plans, too. Realizing Jonathan would have to eat his dinner alone if everyone else sat in the dining room, she announced she would serve dinner in the living room. “The kids can sit on the floor in front of the coffee table and everyone else can eat on TV trays. You have TV trays, right?” She looked at Jonathan.

He was forced to smile and tell her where the trays were kept.

Frito-chili pie. Jonathan knew it was a Texas tradition, but he wasn’t fond of Mexican food of any kind. He liked his meat and potatoes. But the smell coming from the kitchen as Sherry cooked wasn’t too bad.

Allison got out the trays, and Kristin helped her set places for everyone. Anne put some lively zydeco music on the CD player, while Sally turned on every light and lamp in the house. Pretty soon it was like a party.

A party was the last thing Jonathan needed. Couldn’t his family see that? And Sherry—didn’t she know injured people needed peace and quiet? What kind of nurse was she?

In less than an hour she had dinner ready. He had to give her credit for efficiency. The steaming square of casserole on his plate didn’t cheer him, though. He would have preferred a nice pork chop.

“Do you normally have a blessing?” Sherry asked as everyone got settled in with their plates and drinks.

“Usually only when my father’s here,” Allison said. “I think I told you before, he’s a minister. I suppose we should bless the meal. Would you like to do it, Sherry?”

“Oh, um, sure.” She bowed her head. Jonathan would have done the same, but he was too entranced watching how Sherry’s curls fell over one shoulder and breast, the very end teasing her cleavage. “Thank you, Lord, for this food,” she said, “and for giving me a temporary job so the credit card companies don’t come get me, and for Jonathan being on the road to a full recovery.”

“Amen.”

“Let’s eat!” Sam said, picking up his fork and digging in. Everyone else followed suit.

From his first bite, Jonathan thought his mouth had caught fire. He somehow managed to swallow, chasing the bite down with a gulp of milk, but he coughed afterward. Looking around, he noticed he wasn’t the only one experiencing difficulty with the meal. Jeff’s eyes were watering, Edward had covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes were bulging, and Anne was gasping for breath.

Kristin was less polite. She spit out her first bite. “This is too hot!” she announced.

“No kidding,” Sam said, staring at his food as if it were a poisonous snake.

Sherry looked at the children with concern. “Is it? I put peppers in the pie—I found them in the fridge, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Pete chuckled. “Those’re my peppers. I put ’em on everything, but these other tenderfoots don’t like ’em.” Pete took a second bite of the casserole, obviously not bothered by the piquant flavor.

“Daddy, can I have a peanut butter sandwich?” Kristin asked.

One by one everyone except Pete and Sherry found an alternate dinner. They tried to tell Sherry it wasn’t her fault, but she was obviously embarrassed.

“What about you, Jonathan?” she asked. “Can I fix you something else?”

“I’m really not hungry,” he announced. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

Sherry dropped the sponge she was using to clean spills off the coffee table. “I’ll help you.”

He held up a hand to halt her approach. “I can manage, thanks.” But, to his humiliation, he couldn’t. He was stuck in the recliner.

Ignoring his objections, Sherry went to work levering him out of the chair, helping him balance on his good leg while he situated the crutches.

“I’ve got it now, thanks.”

But the infernal woman hovered over him as he limped toward his room. “It’s always hardest the first day on crutches,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of using them soon. Of course, you shouldn’t walk much at all these first few days.”

“I don’t plan to—what in the name of all that’s holy is that thing?” Jonathan stopped at the doorway to his bedroom, staring at this monstrous flowered balloon-looking thing on his bed.

“It’s an inflatable bed-chair,” Sherry said cheerfully, sliding into the room ahead of him. “It’s great for bolstering yourself up while confined to a bed. Because you don’t want to lie flat all the—”

“I’m not confined to a bed,” he grated out. “I am not an invalid.”

She plucked the offending object off the bed and shoved it aside. “I like to use it when I sit up reading at night,” she said, still cheerful despite his rebuff. “Now then, where do you keep your pajamas?”

She started opening and closing the dresser drawers as if she had the perfect right.

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

“Oh. All right, then.” She pulled the covers back on his double bed. “Sit down, and I’ll help you—”

“Damn it, woman,” he roared, “can’t you see I don’t want any help?”

She stared at him a moment, then looked down at the floor. “Yes,” she said softly, “that’s been obvious since I got here. It’s also obvious to me that whether you want it or not you need some assistance.”

“In case I haven’t made myself clear yet, let me try again. You are to confine yourself to cooking, cleaning and caring for my children. I can take care of myself.”

She picked up the bed-chair and pulled its plug. It made an awful noise as she squeezed the air out of it. “If that’s what you wish.” She didn’t seem perturbed at all. “I’m only here to make things easier. If you need anything, call.”

Jonathan could still smell her perfume after she left. Damn. He hadn’t meant to be so rude. He knew she was only trying to do the job she’d been hired for. But the sight of her in his bedroom had made him snap. Having a woman like her anywhere near his bed was asking for trouble.

Besides, if she’d helped him undress, she’d have discovered exactly the effect she had on him. It would be highly embarrassing for Sherry to know she could turn him on just by walking across the room.

He allowed himself a brief fantasy—Sherry undressing him, cool, detached, her elegant hands touching him with a nurse’s practical manner, those long nails lightly raking his skin. He let out an involuntary groan and hoped everyone in the house hadn’t heard.

“I’M SORRY JONATHAN’S being such a bear,” Allison said as she helped Sherry in the kitchen. “He’s normally very nice, just reserved. But he’s not used to being so helpless.”

“Can you blame him, after I just about poisoned the whole family?”

“It was an honest mistake.”

“Well, I’ll remember from now on. No spicy food for the Hardisons.” Sherry smiled, trying to get over the humiliation of ruining her very first meal here. “Listen, I know how some men are when they’re injured. They feel weak, powerless, and they compensate by bullying everybody that crosses their paths. I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me.” Although it did, a little. It was always important to her to do a good job, but she also wanted her patients to like her. Jonathan, she suspected, couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Well, she’d always enjoyed a challenge.

“Maybe when the rest of us go, he’ll simmer down some,” Allison said.