Manhattan Millionaire’s Cinderella

She jutted her chin and shook her head, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “You?”

Cade chuckled. “Not a chance.”

He had to concede to his uncle’s terms, even if it felt like a crowbar in his chest. If he didn’t play along, the international bankers would hammer locks onto his businesses. With barely enough to cut expenses next month, he’d be shoveling gravel himself at the luxury condo development in Westchester.

The idea soured in his stomach.

The sudden clanging of an alarm clock yanked him from his dark thoughts, and he scowled at his intended.

“Oops, sorry.” Nina slapped the clock quiet, and didn’t even bother looking his way. “I use the timer to pace my page count.”

“Carry on.” He circled her desk.

Cade had built his company into the billion dollar global economic force it was today virtually with his bare hands and a knack of hitting the bull’s-eye on a construction deal. To have his life’s work on the edge of destruction scoured his insides and pumped him into battle.

A distressing noise invaded his thoughts, and he refocused on Nina, slamming her coffee mug on the desk and muffling a cough with her hand.

“We-ent down the wrong way,” she wheezed, reaching for a Kleenex.

“You want some water?” He patted her back and when a crackle of electricity singed his fingers, he pulled away. Static from her dress, he concluded, but the sensation shot into his arm and spread through him.

Hot. Arousing.

He frowned. Unusual.

“No-o.” She shook her head, and a curl fell over her brow. “I’m fine, thanks.” A flick of her fingers, and she smoothed it back in place.

“Are you always so efficient?”

“Excuse me?” she murmured, her attention on the computer screen.

“Nothing,” he muttered, stepping away from her.

All this week until dawn today, he’d racked his brains for another solution to his dilemma. But this morning, he’d rolled out of bed, his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips and, scrubbing his unshaven jaw raw, trudging barefoot to the kitchen of his Park Avenue penthouse, while his lack of options mocked him. Seizing the percolator from the counter, he had splashed stale coffee in a mug and taken a swig in hope of reviving his senses. Scratching his chest, he slogged to the living room, and sank on the sofa, the mug warming his palms.

A flutter in Monte Carlo or Las Vegas might dig him out if lady luck was on his side. A dim memory of his father turning a card at the gaming tables and online casinos surfaced. Cade had taken a gulp of the brew and the bitter taste grated his tongue. On a winning streak, William Sloan had strutted; but on a losing spiral—

Cade then hauled himself up and walked to the wall of window, squinting at the sun rising over the Manhattan skyline, his eyes stinging from his sleepless night. Out in New York Harbor, shrouded by early morning mist he could just about see Lady Liberty standing strong and sure. A wry twist cracked his mouth. A toss of the dice was too risky…a fool’s folly. He needed a sure hit.

A rumble erupted from deep in his chest, and he dumped half the coffee down his throat. In the distance a foghorn sounded, signaling it was time to get his butt to the office and face his creditors…and his secretary. Still he hesitated. He could sell out and liquidate his assets or refinance and cash out. But with real estate shifting from a sellers’ to a buyers’ market, he’d still be short by three million.

How had his uncle known the exact amount?

“Oh darn.” The muffled exclamation and the scraping of a chair across the floor zoomed him back to the frontlines…and to her. Ms. McLowsky had already yanked out the mangled document from the printer, inserted new paper and resumed her stiff pose at the computer.

He skimmed her head, barely noticing the highlights glinting on her hair from the sunbeam filtering through the windowpane. His gaze bounced off the graceful line of her neck to her mouth, now pursed in concentration, her fingers tapping the keys. He had to buy himself some time, even if it meant being forced to the altar with her.

The growl in his throat sounded, and Nina snapped her head up, her huge eyes mirrored through the lenses.

A pinprick to his heart, but he set his jaw and steeled every muscle in his body.

Collateral damage.

He was engaging in a battle on the global economic field to recoup his losses—little Nina McLowsky was simply collateral damage. He grunted.

“Is that part of the memo, sir?”

Snooty Ms. McLowsky? Well, well… he curved his mouth in a bemused smile. Might turn out to be the best fun he’d had in a long time.

“Very funny, Ms. McLows…er…Nina.” Her name skimmed across his tongue like Southern Comfort, smooth, hot, sensuous. “Let’s dispense with formality, shall we?” He loosened his tie. “Since we’re about to tie the knot.” He clicked his tongue. “For better or worse.”

“Worse is what I’m thinking,” she mumbled beneath her breath.

“What was that, Ms.…er…Nina?”

******

Nina sat strapped in the seat of Century Corp’s private Lear plane beside her husband and stared out the window at rain battering the runway. The summer storm had turned the day dismal, reflecting her thoughts. She twisted the gold band around her finger. Three hours. She’d been married to Cade Sloan all of three hours, and she was now about to jet across the globe for their honeymoon. She curled her fingers so tightly, her pink tipped nails bit into her palm. Moisture beaded her upper lip.

She glanced at him, slouched in his seat and snoozing like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Her temples throbbed.

When the plane taxied down the runway of John F Kennedy International Airport, she clutched the seat arms and held her breath.

The aircraft picked up speed and then they were airborne.

A sigh of relief forced its way from her tight throat, and she unclenched her hands. She lifted a stray curl off her moist brow, patted the dampness with a tissue from her purse, and crumpled it between her fingers.

Her stomach rolled.

Gulping down nausea, she leaned her head to the side and shut her eyes, but that made it worse. She opened her eyes wide and collided with the intensity of his gaze. It socked her breast, shot into her heart and scrambled her vitals. She sucked in oxygen, desperately, and he bolted upright.

“You okay?”

She nodded, and then shook her head, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Here, lie back.” He reclined the chair, placed his hand on her shoulder and eased her down. When he stretched across to adjust the light blanket over her, he accidentally bumped her breasts, sending an electrical sizzle into her body.

She held her breath. He expelled his.

The subtle mint of his breath brushed her hot cheek, alerting her senses.He stayed near for another second. It seemed endless. Her pulse skyrocketed.

Thankfully, that took her mind off the tornado in her stomach.

Then he pulled away.

Pent up air in her lungs shot forth through her lips as she sighed in relief.