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

‘‘I’m the one in torture,’’ Sophia said smoothly. ‘‘So many men, so little time.’’

Tina rolled her eyes at her sister’s foolishness. They were all so different. Sophia, the gorgeous green-eyed, blond man-eater; Rachel, the pretty, though timid, hazel-eyed brunette.

And then there’s me, Tina thought.

Not blond like her mother, not dark like her father, but with her sandy-brown hair and light-brown eyes, somewhere in the middle, a mix of them both. She was the smart daughter, the level-headed daughter and—the label that Tina hated the most—the responsible daughter.

But what she really hated was the fact that it was true.

There was a crash from the kitchen, followed by a mumbled string of Hungarian curses. Sophia gnawed on her shiny, red bottom lip. ‘‘Ah, I’ll be right back. I’ve got to go ask Rachel something about, ah, reimbursement for petty cash.’’

‘‘Chicken,’’ Tina said, but Sophia merely clucked as she hurried away.

Walking into her father’s kitchen when he was in a foul mood was like entering a lion’s den. You never knew if you’d come out alive.

With a lull in the storm, Tina knew she’d have to hurry and do the interviews before the lunch crowd flowed in. Slipping out of her black apron, she looked at Jason, who was ringing up an order for a cappuccino and a chocolate muffin.

The twenty-six-year-old counter clerk had a boyish charm about him: unruly dark-blond hair, deep-blue eyes, a lean, athletic build. Teenage girls and young women had a tendency to giggle and bat their eyelashes when he waited on them, and even older women seemed flustered by the counter clerk’s good looks.

But Jason, much to Tina’s distress, had eyes for only one woman.

With a sigh, Tina forced her mind back on business and asked the applicant with the spiked hair to follow her down the hall to her father’s office.

The sidewalks in front of the narrow, three-story red-brick building were damp from the previous night’s rain. Over the wide, bevelled-glass storefront window, drops of water still clung to the forest-green awnings.

Reid stared past the For Lease sign and scanned the empty office space. The location and square footage were exactly what he’d been looking for, and the rent was in the ballpark. Public parking two doors down and heavy traffic only sweetened the deal.

And speaking of sweet—Reid glanced at the building next door. The most incredible smells were coming from Ivan Alexander’s bakery.

Based on the number of customers Reid had watched coming and going in the past few minutes, the business was doing very well. Housing his father’s campaign headquarters next to the busy bakery would not only bring a lot of foot traffic, the staff and volunteers working the campaign would have easy access to food and drink.

By the end of the day Reid intended to have a lease signed and a key in his hand.

An overhead bell tinkled when he opened the oak-framed, bevelled-glass door of Castle Bakery. The scent of warm cinnamon, rich chocolate and freshly baked bread assaulted his senses. Reid glanced at the polished display cases of neatly stacked cookies, fancy cakes and assorted fruit pastries. His mouth literally watered. The place had an old world feel to it, he thought as he closed the door behind him. Stone floor, suit of armor in the corner, framed pictures of famous castles in Europe. Glass-topped tables with wrought-iron chairs allowed seating for customers, though currently only two of the tables were occupied: a man drinking a cup of coffee and munching on a muffin while he talked on his cell phone and a teenage boy reading a physics book.

Reid approached the counter and stood behind an elderly couple who couldn’t make up their minds between prune Danish or apple tarts.

‘‘Excuse me.’’ Reid caught the counter clerk’s attention. ‘‘I’m here about Mr. Alexander’s ad for—’’

‘‘In the office—’’ the clerk raised a thumb toward a hallway ‘‘—third door on the left, across from Merlin.’’

Merlin? Reid followed the direction in which he’d been pointed and rounded the corner, then came face-to-face with a life-size statue of King Arthur’s magician. Wand in hand, dressed in deep-blue velvet and wizard’s hat, the whimsical, white-bearded figure greeted customers on their way to the rest rooms. Reid studied the realistic figure for a moment, then knocked on the office door.

‘‘I’ll be right with you.’’

The voice was distinctly female, Reid noted, and had a smooth, smoky quality. Fantasies, immediate and extremely erotic, pinballed in his brain. Reid hoped it wasn’t Mrs. Alexander; he sure as hell didn’t want to have the kind of thoughts he was having over another man’s wife. Still, he couldn’t wait to see if the voice matched the face.

Merlin seemed to glare at him.

‘‘I’m only human,’’ Reid said with a shrug, then folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

The door opened a moment later and a young man dressed in ragged jeans and a blue T-shirt that read, No Flash Photography, came out of the office.

‘‘Hours suck,’’ the guy muttered.

Lifting a brow, Reid watched him walk away, then turned back to the still-open door and stuck his head inside. A woman wearing a long-sleeved white blouse sat bent over a small, cluttered metal desk. Her sandy-brown ponytail cascaded down her long neck and skimmed one narrow shoulder. She held a pen between slender fingers while she made notes on a piece of paper.

‘‘I was looking for—’’

‘‘One second.’’ Her gaze still on her scribbling, she waved him in. ‘‘Would you mind closing the door, please?’’ Reid moved into the office and shut the door behind him. Because he couldn’t quite see the woman’s face, he studied her hands. Smooth skin. Nails short and neat. No polish, no rings.

‘‘Before I have you fill out an application,’’ she said without looking up, ‘‘I’d like to ask you—’’

That’s when her gaze lifted.

With the large-framed eyeglasses she wore, Reid might not have said that the woman was beautiful, but she was definitely pretty. Her skin was porcelain smooth over high cheekbones, her eyes wide and expressive, the color of smooth whiskey. Her lips, parted in midsentence, turned up slightly at the corners.

‘‘—a few questions,’’ she finished after a moment’s hesitation.

Though it was brief, Reid saw the unshielded surprise in the woman’s eyes, heard the breathless edge to her voice.

Just as quickly the moment was gone.

‘‘I’m Tina Alexander.’’ She straightened her shoulders and held out her hand. ‘‘Thank you for coming.’’

Tina’s heart lurched when the man’s large hand enclosed her own, and she struggled to hold on to her composure. She’d interviewed dozens of applicants before, but never one who looked quite like this.

And certainly none who’d made her brain cells turn to dust.

He was just over six foot, she assessed, and from what she could tell by the jeans, black crewneck sweater and denim jacket he wore, he was lean and muscular. Handsome was too easy a word to describe him, Tina thought. With his dark hair and good looks, he was more complicated than that simple word. Eyes so deep blue, so intense, that they had quite literally stolen her breath. Add to that a square jaw, a strong slash of brow and a firm mouth, and he had her pulse skipping.

Of course, the fact that her fingers were still enclosed in his wasn’t helping, either.

She pulled her hand away and gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk. Though she was absolutely certain she’d never met this man before, he looked strangely familiar.

She shook the thought off. No matter. She couldn’t possibly hire him, anyway. He would be too big a distraction for Sophia and, if she were going to be completely honest, for herself, as well.

But she could hardly tell him that, of course. Better to let him decide the position wouldn’t be right for him. She’d start with a few basic questions, then discourage him with a job description.

‘‘So, Mr.—’’ She hesitated, realizing she hadn’t asked him his name.

‘‘Reid Danforth,’’ he finished for her. ‘‘Reid will be fine.’’

The name was familiar, too, she thought, but she couldn’t place it. She wrote his name on the top line of the application.

‘‘Reid.’’ She pushed her glasses up with her index finger. ‘‘Do you have any problems getting to work on time or working early morning hours?’’

Confusion furrowed his brow, and it took him a beat to answer. ‘‘Not usually.’’