Sassy Cinderella

JONATHAN ACTUALLY FELT a bit sorry for Sherry as he watched her bustle around the kitchen, frying his eggs and toasting an English muffin. She was trying, he’d give her that. She might be a skilled nurse, but she obviously wasn’t going to fit in here. He should have listened to Jeff.

He’d wait until after the wedding reception, he decided, then he would let her go.

With that decision made, Jonathan felt much more mellow. He went easier on Sherry, thanking her for breakfast and telling her it was good, even though she’d made his eggs too runny and the muffin too dark. No need to correct her. This was the last breakfast she would cook for him.

Pete and the kids got off to the wedding without further incident. Sherry stood at the front door and waved to them. “Bye, good luck, Pete.” Then the real fun began. Sally’s two best friends, Gussie and Reenie, arrived with flowers and garlands, a wedding cake in the shape of a cowboy hat and enough food to feed a third-world country.

Sherry was obviously in her element. Gussie and Reenie, who thought of themselves as Cottonwood’s social directors, were a little suspicious of her at first. From the recliner in the living room, where he pretended to read, Jonathan could see the two septuagenarians whispering to each other whenever Sherry stepped out of the room and shaking their heads disapprovingly.

But Sherry worked tirelessly, ironing a small wrinkle out of a tablecloth, rifling through cabinet after cabinet to find a punchbowl, quickly polishing a silver candelabra, pinching a brown leaf off a flower arrangement. She did whatever the two older women requested of her with a smile, complimented Gussie’s horrific hat and even asked for Reenie’s crab salad recipe.

Pretty soon the three women worked as a team, chattering and laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Sherry did have a way about her, Jonathan conceded. She could drive him crazy in thirty seconds, but anyone could see she meant well. She didn’t seem to have a malicious bone in her body.

Her very sexy body.

The way she was dressed, Jonathan couldn’t help but notice her physical assets. She’d changed out of her earlier outfit and into a white, ruffly blouse that showed two inches of cleavage, paired with a red miniskirt and a wide black belt that made her waist look minuscule. Her legs were encased in black stockings, her feet in black spike heels with red polka-dots. She even had a red polka-dot bow in her hair, which cascaded around her shoulders and down her back in a waterfall of blond curls.

Her lips and fingernails, of course, were bright red, too.

When Sherry leaned down to pick up a runaway olive, she very nearly showed him her panties. Were they color-coordinated, too? Determinedly he buried his face in his book. It was useless to entertain fantasies about Sherry. Even if she wasn’t going to be out of his life soon, she wasn’t the type of woman he wanted to involve himself with. If he’d learned one thing from his marriage, it was that what turned him on wasn’t what he needed to be happy.

Did that mean there was a type he would become involved with?

Good question. After his divorce from Rita, he swore he was done with women for good. But he supposed that was a pretty normal reaction. He didn’t hate women. His brothers had managed to catch a couple of good ones. In fact, he’d been on a date not too long ago with Allison. He’d done it strictly to make Jeff jealous, but he’d found her company more pleasurable than he’d expected and that night he realized he missed female companionship.

But if he were to start dating again, he wouldn’t date someone like Sherry. He would look for a country girl with simple tastes, one who understood and loved ranch life. Judging from the few comments she’d made, Sherry didn’t know a steer from a bull. He would look for a woman who was good with children. Hard as she tried, Jonathan suspected Sherry had zero maternal instincts. His children were usually pretty easy to get along with, yet she’d managed to upset them somehow.

He would look for a woman who wasn’t ashamed to buy clothes at Wal-Mart, one who didn’t agonize over breaking a fingernail, one who didn’t crave champagne and five-star dining experiences on a daily basis. The casual comment Sherry had made about credit card bills was a red flag. She was probably a shopaholic, like Rita.

Not that he minded an occasional shopping trip in Dallas or a special dinner out at a fancy steak-house. He wasn’t cheap, and before his marriage he’d actually enjoyed treating a woman to special things now and then.

But Rita had wanted those treats in her life every day. She’d thought nothing of spending two hundred dollars on a pair of pants and then never wearing them. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford her, the ranch made good money, but their priorities simply hadn’t meshed.

When she’d suggested they hire a full-time nanny for the children, Jonathan had flatly refused. There was no practical need for professional child care. Rita didn’t work outside the home and Pete would watch the kids virtually any time Rita asked. But all of her Dallas and New Orleans friends had nannies, so she wanted to keep up.

She’d left him soon after that argument.

Jonathan sneaked another look at Sherry. High maintenance, that one. Don’t even think about it.

Then, there wasn’t time to think about anything because the wedding guests started to arrive—hundreds of them, or so it seemed. Each and every one of them had to pay his respects to Jonathan and ask all about the accident. He repeated the story so many times it became rote. Then people kept bringing him plates of food, precious little stuffed mushrooms, tiny quiches and pimento-cheese minisandwiches. He would have preferred some real food, like a roast beef sandwich. But his hired nurse was too busy playing hostess to see to his needs.

“You look like you swallowed an olive pit.” This comment came from Jonathan’s father. Edward perched on the arm of his recliner. “Is all this matrimonial bliss getting to you? First Wade and now Pete. In December it’ll be Jeff and Allison.”

That was as good an excuse as any. “Yeah, looks like you and me are the last hold-outs. You ever think about finding a woman?”

Edward laughed. “Me? Too set in my ways.”

“That’s what Pete used to say.”

Edward sobered. “I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Every woman I meet, I compare her to your mother and find her lacking.”

“Mom was special, all right.”

“You’re not thinking of—”

“No, not me. All the good women in Cottonwood have been taken.”

“Is that why we’ve started importing new ones?” Edward’s gaze followed Sherry as she bustled around the room with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a plate of hors d’oeuvres in the other, refilling glasses and making sure everyone had everything they needed.

“No exotic imports for me,” Jonathan said with an exaggerated shiver of revulsion. “Been there, done that.”

By the time Pete and Sally had left for their honeymoon and the last guest had finally departed, Jonathan felt exhausted. He couldn’t imagine why. All he’d done was sit in this blasted chair. He supposed small talk required more of an effort from him than most people. Being pleasant to casual acquaintances sapped his energy. He’d much rather spend time with his horses and cows, which didn’t require conversation.

Sherry moved around the room with a trash bag, scooping up paper napkins, plates and plastic champagne glasses. “Well, I’d say that was a success.”

“You would?” He looked at the devastation the party had wrought on his house.

“Oh, don’t worry about the mess. I’ll clean it up in a jiffy.” She kicked off her high heels and continued her efforts. “It was just so nice, getting to meet everybody. Now when I see them in town, I won’t be a stranger. Of course, I’m not sure all of them liked me. Anne’s mother, Deborah Chatsworth, I thought was going to flip her wig when I pulled a champagne cork out with my teeth.”

“Deborah Chatsworth is something of a snob and her husband is worse. They wanted Anne to marry Jeff, have a doctor in the family. Instead, she went for Wade, an itinerant rodeo cowboy. But once they realized Anne and Wade were really in love, they accepted him. They’re okay once you get to know them.” Jonathan didn’t add that Sherry wouldn’t get that chance. She’d be gone.

“And Reverend Crane, Allison’s father,” she said. “I burned my hand on a hot plate and I sort of let out a little curse. He turned so red I thought I was going to have to perform CPR on the spot.”

“You burned your hand?”

She held out one elegant, pale hand toward him, showing him a red mark on the outside of her little finger. “No big deal, but it hurt like hell—I mean, heck.” She cast worried glances around, but the children were nowhere in the vicinity. “Shoot, where are those kids? I hope they changed clothes before running down to the barn to play with their frogs.”

“I doubt they did.”

“They’re not mad at me anymore.”

Jonathan already knew that. Once she’d told them they could have all the cake and punch they wanted, since it was a special occasion and all, she’d instantly become their friend. He thought a nurse should know better.

She stopped halfway to the kitchen. “Jonathan, is there anything I can get for you? I’ve kind of ignored you these past few hours.”

Nice of you to notice. “I could use some lunch.”

She looked shocked. “How could you be hungry? I saw all those adoring women bringing you plates of food.”

“Finger food. Itty-bitty pastries. Not enough to keep a mouse alive.”

“Gee, I’m so stuffed I won’t eat for a—” She stopped. “Of course, I’m not you. What would you like? There’s leftover Frito-chili pie—oh, no, of course you wouldn’t want that, it almost poisoned you. I could make you a sandwich or soup.”

He hoped never to see that Frito-chili pie again. “Is there any roast beef?”

“I think so. Anne and Allison stocked the fridge pretty thoroughly.”