Free Sleeping with Beauty by Donna Kauffman Page A

We are the best. Do what we ask of you, and you’ll see I’m right.” She grinned and it almost looked a bit mischievous. “I usually am. Just don’t tell Vivian. She’ll want to think this is all her idea.”
    “‘This’?” Lucy asked, beginning to wonder just what kind of “tea” Aurora had been sipping.
    “It’s exciting, isn’t it? You’ve taken destiny into your own hands, dear.”
    That proclamation probably wasn’t intended to fill her with dread.
    She was gently nudged into the office. Aurora remained out in the hallway. The soft
click
of the door shutting behind her echoed in her mind as loudly as the jarring sound of a jail cell clanking shut.
    Don’t worry so much.
    “Sure,” she muttered under her breath. “Easy for you to say.”
    With a deep breath, pasting a fake confident smile on her face, she squared her shoulders and prepared herself to take her destiny like a big girl.

Chapter 4
                                                                                                                                       
    L ucy rubbed damp palms on the sides of her khaki trousers and pushed up her glasses. Day two at Glass Slipper and she’d yet to have the first eyebrow hair plucked.
    She twisted the antique crystal knob and opened yet another walnut-and-stained-glass door. This time, instead of one of the godmothers, or Audrey, her personal cheerleader, there was a shrink waiting for her on the other side. Her purpose today was to delve into the reasons behind Lucy’s desire to change her appearance.
    Oh, goody. It just kept getting better and better.
    Who wanted to spend their morning talking about why they were a perennial wallflower? Wasn’t it obvious what kind of help she needed? Did they really have to sit around and discuss it?
    “Welcome, Lucy,” a familiar voice greeted her cheerfully.
    Lucy stopped short just inside the door, surprised. “Aurora, I mean, Ms. Favreaux.”
    Aurora lifted one perfectly stenciled brow.
    “Aurora,” Lucy corrected herself again, gave a nervous smile. “I, uh, you surprised me. I thought I was meeting with Dr. Sullivan.” She leaned in and looked around to see if maybe this was to be another one of those panel type of discussions. But Aurora was the only one in the beautifully appointed room.
    “Phoebe was called away. Family matter.” She smiled and that reassuring godmother twinkle emerged once again.
    Assuming Phoebe was Dr. Sullivan, Lucy tried not to collapse in immediate relief. But all she could think was,
Oh, thank God, no alien mind probe today!
“What a shame, I’m sor-sorry,” she stuttered, the lie not coming easily. “Has the appointment been rescheduled?” She did her best not to look too hopeful.
    Aurora motioned for Lucy to sit down, the stack of bracelets on her wrist jangling at the motion. “Why don’t you sit down.”
    Not an encouraging sign. Lucy stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She’d expected some kind of tasteful office decor geared toward exerting a calming influence on those forced to enter. Instead, it looked more like the sitting room off an elaborate boudoir.
    It was small, or perhaps it was the illusion created by the fact that the walls were covered in a wine-colored linen with a raised-velvet fleur-de-lis print. The floor was carpeted with two colorful, densely woven Oriental rugs, topped with a collection of overstuffed, brocade-covered, antique chairs, all grouped to face one another around a beautifully restored teak tea table. Lighting was soft, provided by several standing lamps, each with dark cream-colored antique shades and elaborate pull chains sporting crystal knobs at the end.
    The sensual decor exuded a warmth and coziness that went at least a short way toward soothing her nerves. Definitely more so than in the clinical feng shui setup