Cinderella And The Ceo

Yeah, Laurel knew all about executive trainees. She didn’t belong in their world, and they were only passing through hers. She saw the situation for what it was. If she developed anything other than friendship with any one of these guys, she would be walking irresponsibly into another heartbreak.

Grounded by those realities, Laurel climbed out of bed. Though it was a warm May morning, she slid out of her sleeveless pajamas and put on a one-piece, long-sleeved flannel pair that even had feet, then covered them with a chenille robe. In case Deke had gotten the wrong idea the night before from her concealing, but more flattering summer-weight nightclothes, she nipped that problem in the bud.

She went to the kitchen and retrieved a filter and ground coffee to make a pot so it would be ready when she got out of the shower. Unfortunately, when she turned from the cabinet to go back to her bedroom, her executive-trainee border was already in the kitchen doorway. Their eyes met for a few seconds, and then Deke’s gaze sort of tumbled from her sleep-tousled hair to her thick robe, to the legs and feet of her flannel pajamas.

Red flannel pajamas. Sprinkled with Santas. Covered by a robe so thick it could be a winter coat.

She probably looked like an idiot.

“Hey, Pajama Mama!”

Grateful for the interruption, Laurel turned toward the alcove door. “Hey, Sophia Maria,” she said, stooping and opening her arms to let blue-eyed, blond-haired Sophie jump inside for a hug.

“Are you gonna make me pancakes?” Sophie asked energetically before she gave Laurel a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want pancakes?”

Grinning happily, Sophie nodded.

“Then pancakes it is,” Laurel said, sliding her four-year-old daughter onto one of the captain’s chairs at the table. “Right after I shower.”

Accustomed to little delays and disruptions, Sophie again nodded her agreement.

After a hasty “Good morning. Help yourself to coffee when it’s ready” to Deke, Laurel scrambled out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.

When she returned a few minutes later, showered and dressed in jeans and another old T-shirt, Deke and Sophie were already eating. Laurel stopped dead in her tracks.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Deke said, indicating the pancakes with his fork. “Sophie and I were a little hungry.”

“No. No, that’s fine,” Laurel said, barely able to keep the astonishment out of her voice.

Deke winced. “You don’t sound like it’s fine.”

“I’m just surprised,” Laurel said, taking a seat at the table and fixing a plate of pancakes for herself. “The boarders I’ve taken in usually don’t cook.”

“Lots of small-town minor-league teams like to have their players room with people in the community. It’s good PR,” Deke explained, then took a bite of pancake. After he chewed and swallowed, he added, “But we weren’t supposed to let our hosts wait on us. We were supposed to try to blend in like family. That’s when I learned how to cook.”

“So you’re used to being a boarder?”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. I only did it twice, and both families I was assigned to had schedules that conflicted with mine—”

“Hey, Deke!” Audra said, entering the room. Laurel’s eight-year-old was self-sufficient to the point that she always had herself dressed for school before she came into the kitchen for breakfast. Her sleeveless shirt and jeans made her look too thin and too young to be as independent as she was.

“Hey, Audra. Ready for practice this afternoon?”

“Yeah. You make our schedule?”

“Yeah. You practice that overhand throw I showed you?”

“Yeah.”

From there the conversation turned to the softball team. With Deke and Audra talking like longtime friends, and with him having made breakfast for starving Sophie, Laurel knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this particular fast-tracking executive trainee was nothing like the other men she had housed. Certainly not like her ex-husband.

In fact, he was so unlike her usual guests that she was having trouble equating him with her ex-husband, and that, she realized, was the problem. She wasn’t a stupid woman, but she wasn’t a blind one, either. The man was gorgeous. And different. Not only was he good to Sophie and right for Audra, but he could cook. None of her executive trainees had ever—ever—volunteered to cook. She could think of only one who had even made a pot of coffee.

Laurel was losing her natural defenses, and she decided the best way to combat the latest assault on her conviction to stay away from him was the direct approach. Surely there was something wrong with this guy. Something in his past that would make him much less desirable. Once she found out what that was, she would be safe again. And because every female in the plant had been asking her questions about him, she knew exactly how to unearth it quickly, easily and so painfully he would stop giving her those sidelong glances that clearly let her know he found her attractive, red Santa pajamas and all.

Since Deke now drove himself to work, Laurel waited until they were well into the morning routine and the other Shipping and Receiving employees were occupied with their jobs in different sections of the cage before she confronted him.

“So, Deke,” she said, standing beside his desk and feigning interest in the stack of documents in front of him, “you have me completely baffled.” Pretending to be occupied with checking his workload, she asked, “How does an absolutely gorgeous man who can cook get to be thirty-three without getting married?”

Her description made Deke laugh, though he wasn’t surprised she asked. After that little rendezvous in the alcove the night before, neither of them could act as if they didn’t find the other attractive. And straightforward Laurel wouldn’t beat around the bush. Just like with those ridiculous pajamas, she would find the fastest—never mind most embarrassing—way to diffuse this problem.

“I guess I’ve never wanted to get married,” he said, glancing up at her.

Looking at her expectant face, he wished the eagerness he saw in her eyes meant that she had changed her mind about their situation and was anticipating he would tell her something that would give her the green light to pursue the attraction. But he knew better. Laurel was too practical, too blunt, too pragmatic, too honest. If she wanted to pursue him, she would just do it. She wouldn’t ask permission.

Disappointment flooded him, but he ignored it. “As silly as this is going to sound…” he began, sorting through some packing slips on his desk and feeling that they should try whatever means available to diminish the attraction. It was imprudent and irresponsible to be unhappy that she had somehow made up her mind he wasn’t worth pursuing. No matter how much electricity sizzled between them, they couldn’t have a relationship. There was no sense in being dumb about this.

“…for every one of the ten years I played minor-league ball, I thought I was going to be picked up by a major-league team.” He paused, looked into her eyes again and wasn’t surprised when the click of their gazes caused his pulse to pick up.

In fact, since she was being so strong, he decided he could relax a little and enjoy the surge of excitement just being near her gave him. Unfortunately that quickly turned into the need for a kiss, and he found himself wanting to press his palms to her cheeks, to bring her face to his so he could feel the softness of her mouth against his. Though he knew he would never kiss her in a million years, somehow the longing, the wanting, was its own reward, and he let himself savor that, too.

“But I never got the big call. I never came out of the minor leagues. I would probably still be there now, except my stepfather—”

Deke stopped himself, face-to-face with the problem he had been worrying about all along. His preoccupation with her had almost caused him to make a monumental slip. He couldn’t afford any kind of mental lapse. He was supposed to be sharp. Investigating. Not taking advantage of her discipline so he could enjoy feelings and sensations he wasn’t supposed to have.

“Your stepfather what?”

He drew a long breath and returned his attention to assembling the tasks on his desk. “My stepfather convinced me that I should find a more stable job.”

Laurel shrugged. “He was probably right.”

For the first time Deke admitted to himself that he wasn’t sure he agreed. He wanted to take over the company. He wanted his stepfather to retire and enjoy what was left of his life. But Deke missed baseball. He missed that piece of his identity; there was a part of him that felt empty and lost without it. Business gave him purpose and responsibilities, but baseball had given him heart, and maybe a soul. Coaching the girls provided a little relief, but not enough, and he still felt the loss. Part of him now wondered if that wasn’t why he was so drawn to Laurel.

“But that doesn’t explain why you’ve never married. Was it because you thought no woman would want to be stuck with a man who traveled around the country playing sports? Or did you refuse to tie yourself down to one woman?”

Deke only stared at her. Because he had taken a long mental side trip, he wasn’t surprised she’d dragged him back into the conversation. But he hadn’t expected her to be so desperate to be rid of him that she would be brutally blunt. “You really don’t mince words, do you?”

“I can’t,” Laurel said, then dropped a stack of green papers onto the desk in front of him. “I’ve already gotten a million questions from the girls at break time. Tomorrow is our one-hour lunch. I won’t survive if I don’t have some details to give them.”

“Oh,” Deke said, suddenly feeling foolish. She was asking for her friends? He couldn’t believe he’d mis-interpreted her intentions. He knew she found him attractive. He also knew from those pajamas that she didn’t want to find him attractive. Still, her reason for probing made more sense than to think she was so determined to be rid of him she would be rude. She wasn’t rude. She was sweet and kind and deliciously wonderful.

Which was exactly why he had to stay the hell away from her. Rude he could combat. Sweet, sensitive and considerate made him want to confide in her. Trust her. And that was the bottom-line problem. He wanted to trust her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trust anybody. Especially not the woman who might know exactly why Tom Baxter had sent him to this tiny factory on the edge of nowhere.

The crazy part of it was, if he told her the truth about why he hadn’t married, their chemistry wouldn’t be a problem anymore, because she would stay away from him. She might even stop being nice to him—which would probably take away his desire to confide in her.

Suddenly he realized the truth would set them both free.