Free Fortune's Cinderella by Karen Templeton Page A

Fortunes?”
    “Distantly, yes.” Scott set the plant on Christina’s rolling food tray, handed her the dog. “I’m from the Atlanta branch of the family.”
    “I see,” Sandra said, her voice frosting, and Christina’s face warmed. Especially when her mother shot her an all-too-familiar look.
    “So your family will be returning to Atlanta, I suppose?”
    “Tomorrow, if all goes well,” he said, and Christina breathed a sigh of relief, that he was leaving, taking her inappropriate feelings with her. Because the last thing she needed was some rich dude who kissed like he invented it and brought her stuffed hound dogs.
    And dumb balloons.
    “Well, honey,” her mother said, “you take care of yourself,” and vanished, leaving Christina wondering exactly who else she thought was going to.
    Witnessing the obvious lack of affection between Christina and her mother, Scott realized he’d take his mother’s obsessive worrying about her children any day. At least she cared.
    But if her mother’s aloofness—she hadn’t even kissed her daughter goodbye, he realized—hurt Christina, she didn’t let on. That is, until she gave Scott a bright smile that was so fake it made his chest ache. “What’s this all about?”
    “I couldn’t decide what you’d like.”
    Blushing, she cuddled the stuffed dog to her hospital-gowned chest, her gaze fixed on the top of its head as she fingered the soft plush. “You know, you’re not obligated to bring me presents just because…we, um, kissed.”
    The barest hint of melancholy in her voice turned him inside out. As though people didn’t give her gifts very often. Or kissed her.

    “Actually,” Scott said as he eased himself onto the edge of her bed, “if I think a woman’s worth kissing, I think she’s worth at least flowers. Or a box of candy.”
    “Or a stuffed animal?”
    “She has to be really special to warrant one of those.”
    Suddenly, she met his gaze, mischief tangoing with the wistfulness in her blue, blue eyes. A very strange, and oddly appealing, combination. “The kiss was that good?”
    “Amazing is the word that comes to mind.”
    “Oh, stop,” she said on a cute little giggle. Then she set the dog aside, patting it as if saying goodbye. “You’re very sweet. But you didn’t have to get me anything at all. Let alone half the gift shop. Also—” she sighed “—I have no idea how I’m gonna get all this stuff home.”
    “Then I guess I’ll have to take you.”
    Her eyes shot to his. “I can’t let you do that. You’ve got your family to think about—”
    “All under control,” he said, adding when she opened her mouth to protest, “Really. My parents are quite safe here for the night, and the others have hotel rooms. Strange as it might sound, nobody needs me.”
    Christina stared at her lap for what seemed like forever, then picked up the box of chocolates, slipping one finger underneath a seam in the cellophane and carefully peeling it away. “I wish I could say I don’t, either. Need you, I mean.” The box open, she carefully selected a piece of candy, popped it into her mouth, then held the box out to Scott, who declined. “Oh, right. You don’t like sweets.” She shrugged. “More for me, then.”
    Genuinely bewildered, Scott folded his arms. “I don’t understand.”
    “About why I wish I didn’t need you? I don’t expect you to. So…I’m simply going to say thank you for the gifts—I’m crazy about chocolate, as you can probably tell—and for offering to take me home. Since I hadn’t figured out how I was going to get there. Although…” Her forehead creased. “Fair warning—my place…it’s nothing special.”
    “And why on earth would I care about that?”
    “Because, well…we’re not exactly talking Ethan Allen here.”
    Remembering his Atlanta decorator’s horrified expression when he’d proudly shown her the Ethan Allen sofa he’d picked out all by himself for his condo’s living room, Scott