Free Cinderella Wore Tennis Shoes: A Novella by Holly Jacobs Page A

abilities. She’d very much like to try again, even though she knew she shouldn’t.
    As if he could read her mind, Dan clarified, “On your pizza.”
    “Oh.” No, she wasn’t going to say she wanted to be kissed. Charlie had to settle for saying, “Cheese and mushrooms.”
    “Fine. Frank’s delivers. I’ll call you when it gets here.” He turned, dismissing her.
    Charlotte Eaton had had enough dismissals to last a lifetime. “Just give me the number and I’ll call. I can certainly handle ordering a pizza.”
    “I don’t know the number. It’s on my speed dial.”
    “You eat it that often?” She liked pizza as much as the next person, but certainly not enough to keep it on her speed dial.
    “It’s no fun cooking for one.”
    “Oh.” Charlie knew all about how dull cooking for one could be. As much as she loved cooking, she rarely had in her year with Winslow. He’d preferred eating out and she’d never cooked for family.
    “Go unpack. I’ll call you when it comes. There’s an intercom system that connects the house to the apartment.”
    “Fine.” Charlie turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Despite the fact she was done with men, she wished more than anything that Dan would stop her and kiss her senseless one more time. But he didn’t, and she was left to face unpacking all her clothes while she daydreamed about Dan Martin’s lips.

    “Well, if it isn’t His Royal Highness,” the woman at the front desk at Imperial’s office said the next morning. “You’ve decided to visit with your loyal subjects?”
    “Give it a rest, Molly,” Dan growled as he tossed some paperwork on the woman’s desk.
    The well-rounded, smiling redhead turned her attention to Charlie. “And are you the reason Prince Dan-some here played hooky?”
    Charlie liked Molly on sight. There was something comfortable, something confident, that radiated from her. From her mile-high red hair to her cat-eye-shaped glasses, Molly just felt like someone who could be a friend.
    “Dan-some?” Charlie asked.
    “Well, Con has always been Prince Charming. Have you met him yet?”
    Charlie shook her head.
    “Molly,” Dan warned.
    Obviously not in the least intimidated, the receptionist continued, “Dan plus handsome. I just sort of merged the words. He’s definitely got the looks. It’s the personality that’s lacking. No one would call Dan charming—you might have noticed that.”
    “I can’t say I have. Dan’s been very charming and very”—she searched for some princely word—“gallant. Dan’s been very gallant.”
    Handsome. Yes, that was accurate too, though she wasn’t going to admit it. And he’d been charming on occasion, just not recently.
    Last night’s dinner had been agonizingly stiff. They’d sat at Dan’s table, all their previous comfort suddenly evaporated. When they’d both reached for a piece of pizza and their hands had brushed, Dan had jumped back as if she had burned him.
    No, she might not want to let anyone talk Dan down, but she wasn’t going to admit any more than she had to.
    “Oh, that sounds like a story.” Molly rubbed her hands together, obviously looking forward to the telling.
    “I’m going back to my office,” Dan growled. “Charlie’s working here, find her something to do, and put her on the payroll.” Dan stalked down the hall, leaving the women to themselves.
    “So your name’s Charlie. Tell me how you came to know our Dan,” he heard Molly bubble.
    What the hell had he been thinking, bringing Charlie here?
    He rearranged the papers on his desk for over half an hour, rather than dealing with them.
    Charlie was innocent. It had taken her twenty-seven years to declare her independence from her mother. She was on the rebound, looking for some affirmation, looking for something new and exciting.
    Well, she didn’t belong here. Molly could corrupt a saint, and Con . . .
    He hadn’t been thinking when he’d offered to let her work for him. Charlie