The Danforths: Reid, Kimberly and Jake: The Cinderella Scandal / Man Beneath the Uniform / Sin City Wedding

At the sound of his father’s deep voice, Reid turned. Nicola Granville, Abraham’s new campaign manager, stood by his side. ‘‘Dad. Miss Granville.’’

‘‘Nicola, please. Nice to see you again, Reid.’’

Reid had met the tall redhead once at his father’s office in town and spoken with her twice on the phone. At thirty-seven the woman had already made quite a name for herself in image consulting and politics, and Reid thought his father had made the right choice by hiring her. She was attractive, confident and hardworking. His father and Nicola would make quite a formidable team.

‘‘Nice of you to join us,’’ Abraham said evenly.

Though there hadn’t been the slightest hint of irritation in his tone, Reid knew his father well enough to recognize a reprimand when he heard one. Reid also knew better than to offer excuses.

At fifty-five, Abraham Danforth had seasoned into a politician’s dream. With his thick, dark-brown hair, deep blue eyes, broad shoulders and the famous Danforth smile, Reid had no doubt that his father would win the upcoming election, especially under the ‘‘Honest Abe’’ campaign slogan that Nicola had worked up.

‘‘Everyone.’’ Abraham’s voice stilled the ongoing conversations in the room. ‘‘For those of you who haven’t met her already, I’d like to introduce my new campaign manager, Nicola Granville. After dinner she’ll be outlining the upcoming campaign and family protocol.’’

While Nicola circulated around the room and met the family, Reid made his way over to his cousin Jake. ‘‘Where’s Wes?’’

‘‘On a business trip.’’ Jake lifted a brow. ‘‘Or so he says. You know Wes.’’

Reid smiled. Wes had been Jake’s roommate in college, but the Danforths all thought of Wesley Brooks as one of the family. Despite Wes’s reputation as a playboy, Reid knew that he would have been here if it had been possible.

Jake snagged a cracker with cheese as Martin passed by with a tray. ‘‘I heard you’ve found a building on Drayton to rent for campaign headquarters.’’

‘‘Just the bottom floor,’’ Reid said, sipping his martini. ‘‘I’ve spoken to the owner, Ivan Alexander, but I haven’t signed anything yet. I’ll meet with him tomorrow and take a look at the inside. He also owns the building and business next door, Castle Bakery.’’

Jake nodded. ‘‘They’ve got a good reputation. I’ve been meaning to get down there myself and check it out. We’re always looking for new items on the menu at D&D’s.’’ Jake leaned in and wiggled one eyebrow. ‘‘And I’ve also heard that Ivan’s got three daughters that look tasty, too.’’

‘‘Since you’re looking for some ‘new items,’’’ Reid said with a grin, ‘‘maybe you should handle setting up the campaign headquarters.’’

‘‘And deprive you of all the fun?’’ Jake dropped a hand on Reid’s shoulder. ‘‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’’

Before Reid could reply, Joyce announced that dinner was ready. As the family made their way to the dining room, the conversation turned to campaign strategies and procedures. The election was barely one year away, and Reid knew that the next twelve months were going to be busy. No doubt, there would be obstacles along the way, some predicted, some unseen. The entire Danforth family would be challenged, collectively and individually. Reid knew that he needed to stay focused and on track if he was going to help his father become a United States senator.

The last thing he had time for, Reid thought, no matter how ‘‘tasty,’’ they might be, was Ivan Alexander’s daughters.

With a sigh, Reid took his place at the table with the rest of his family and knew it was going to be a very long year.

Tina Alexander loved days when the chaos she called her life ran smoothly. The days when she didn’t burn a single loaf of bread or an entire tray of apple Danish. The days when all the employees scheduled to work at her family’s bakery actually showed up. The days when her sister Sophia wasn’t having a man crisis and even managed to make her afternoon shift on time. The days that her other sister Rachel didn’t lock herself in the back office and hide behind computer ledgers and sales accounts.

Tina especially enjoyed the rare days her mother wasn’t busy meddling in all three of her daughters’ lives.

Today, however, was not one of those days.

‘‘Sophia went to one of those dancing clubs again last night.’’ Mariska Alexander gave a disapproving sniff while she boxed up a phone order for two dozen chocolate cupcakes. Mariska, with her aristocratic nose, strong European jaw and thick blond hair she always wore in a French twist, was definitely the queen of Castle Bakery.

‘‘She did not come home until two in the morning,’’ Mariska continued, even though Tina gave her mother no encouragement to do so. ‘‘Two o’clock! Without so much as a phone call.’’

Tina taped the lid shut on the box of Danish she’d just filled. The morning had been hectic, with only herself and their counter manager, Jason, working up front. There were customers to help, orders to fill and display cases to replenish before the noon rush hit. The last thing Tina needed right now was to listen to her mother lament her oldest daughter’s transgressions.

‘‘You placed an ad in the paper for a counter clerk,’’ Tina said in an attempt to divert her mother’s attention, then nodded at two young men sitting at a table in the corner of the bakery. The one with black spiked hair and ragged jeans appeared bored, while the one wearing a short-sleeved shirt and black slacks was reading a book. ‘‘Are you going to interview them?’’

As if she hadn’t even heard Tina’s question, Mariska pointed to her face. ‘‘Look at my eyes. They are bloodshot from waiting up for your sister.’’

Tina sighed silently and slid the box of Danish across the counter to Beverly Somersworth, the customer Tina had been helping. Like the majority of Castle Bakery customers, Beverly worked in the downtown Savannah business district. Every Thursday the plump, sixty-year-old brunette bought one dozen Danish for the legal office where she worked as a receptionist.

‘‘Sophia is twenty-eight years old, Mom,’’ Tina said as patiently as she could manage. ‘‘You don’t need to wait up for her.’’

‘‘My daughter is out until all hours of the night.’’ Mariska shifted her attention to Beverly. ‘‘How could I sleep?’’

‘‘Eight or twenty-eight, a mother worries about her children,’’ Beverly agreed as she fished around her purse for her wallet. ‘‘More than one night, I remember pacing my living room until my Eleanor came home. Thank goodness she finally got married and settled down. Have I shown you pictures of my grandchildren?’’

Only ten times, Tina wanted to say, but she didn’t, of course. She simply smiled and nodded when Beverly whipped the pictures out with the speed of a policeman flashing a badge.

‘‘Ah, so lucky you are.’’ Mariska sighed with envy. ‘‘I fear I will never be a grandmother. Sophia is dating too many young men, Rachel spends all her time at the movies and museums, and my Tina—’’ Mariska tweaked Tina’s cheek ‘‘—she is just a baby herself.’’

I’m twenty-four, for God’s sake, Tina thought and gritted her teeth. Because she was the youngest, she knew her mother saw her as the baby and, no matter what her age, probably always would. But she supposed it made no difference, anyway. Tina knew she could never accept a proposal.

Any man who would actually want to marry into the Alexander family couldn’t possibly be right in the head.

Not that she didn’t love her family. Her two sisters, mother, father and Aunt Yana were the only family she had. She loved them with all her heart.

But they were all just so…overwhelming. Her father looked and acted more like he was in collections for a loan shark than a baker. With just a look, Ivan Alexander had scared off every man who’d come to date his daughters. The ones who’d managed to survive Ivan never made it past Mariska, who asked endless questions regarding their job status, their family lineage and the question that really sent them running—did they like children?

Tina figured the only way she’d ever be able to marry was if she were witness to a mob murder and testified, then put under the witness protection program. Then, by some miracle, if she found Mr. Right, he would never be able to meet her family.

A little extreme, but it just might work.

Tina helped the next customer while her mother continued to ooh and aah over the baby pictures. When Beverly finally left, Mariska slipped off her apron and reached for her purse.

‘‘The chamber of commerce has ordered twelve dozen muffins and ten dozen Danish for a breakfast tomorrow,’’ Mariska said, pulling her sweater out from under the counter. ‘‘I have to run to the market for pecans and blueberries.’’

Tina glanced at the two young men sitting at the corner table. ‘‘But you were supposed to interview the applicants.’’

‘‘Be a good girl and do that for me, dear.’’ Mariska patted Tina’s cheek.

‘‘But—’’

‘‘Oh, and we need you to come in early tomorrow,’’ Mariska said. ‘‘We have a heavy load of orders in the morning. Your father and I could use your help.’’

It wasn’t a question, so Tina didn’t bother to answer.

‘‘I will be back shortly.’’ With a quick wave Mariska disappeared down the hallway leading to the offices and back exit.

Tina stared after her mother, then sighed. It wasn’t as if it was a problem to come in to work early. The most exciting thing going on in her life this evening was apartment-sitting for her aunt Yana while she was out of town for the next three weeks. Tina’s hot date for the night was a cat and a video copy of Sleeplessin Seattle.

‘‘Sorry I’m late, T.’’ Sophia breezed through the front entrance of the bakery. ‘‘I stopped to gas my car and darn if I didn’t break a nail, so I just had to run by and see my manicurist.’’

The two applicants took one look at Sophia dressed in her black leather skirt, low-cut sweater and tall boots, and they snapped to attention. Sophia, who’d just recently put highlights in her already-blond hair, smiled at the young men. They puffed their chests out and sucked their guts in.

Tina frowned at her sister when she came behind the counter and reached for a black apron. ‘‘Must you torture every male you see?’’