The Cinderella Scandal Read online

  Walking into her father's kitchen when he was in a foul mood was like entering a lion's den. You never knew if you'd come out alive.

  With a lull in the storm, Tina knew she'd have to hurry and do the interviews before the lunch crowd flowed in. Slipping out of her black apron, she looked at Jason, who was ringing up an order for a cappuccino and a chocolate muffin.

  The twenty-six-year-old counter clerk had a boyish charm about him: unruly dark-blond hair, deep-blue eyes, a lean, athletic build. Teenage girls and young women had a tendency to giggle and bat their eyelashes when he waited on them, and even older women seemed flustered by the counter clerk's good looks.

  But Jason, much to Tina's distress, had eyes for only one woman.

  With a sigh, Tina forced her mind back on business and asked the applicant with the spiked hair to follow her down the hall to her father's office.

  * * *

  The sidewalks in front of the narrow, three-story red-brick building were damp from the previous night's rain. Over the wide, bevelled-glass storefront window, drops of water still clung to the forest-green awnings.

  Reid stared past the For Lease sign and scanned the empty office space. The location and square footage were exactly what he'd been looking for, and the rent was in the ballpark. Public parking two doors down and heavy traffic only sweetened the deal.

  And speaking of sweet—Reid glanced at the building next door. The most incredible smells were coming from Ivan Alexander's bakery.

  Based on the number of customers Reid had watched coming and going in the past few minutes, the business was doing very well. Housing his father's campaign headquarters next to the busy bakery would not only bring a lot of foot traffic, the staff and volunteers working the campaign would have easy access to food and drink.

  By the end of the day Reid intended to have a lease signed and a key in his hand.

  An overhead bell tinkled when he opened the oak-framed, bevelled-glass door of Castle Bakery. The scent of warm cinnamon, rich chocolate and freshly baked bread assaulted his senses. Reid glanced at the polished display cases of neatly stacked cookies, fancy cakes and assorted fruit pastries. His mouth literally watered. The place had an old world feel to it, he thought as he closed the door behind him. Stone floor, suit of armor in the corner, framed pictures of famous castles in Europe. Glass-topped tables with wrought-iron chairs allowed seating for customers, though currently only two of the tables were occupied: a man drinking a cup of coffee and munching on a muffin while he talked on his cell phone and a teenage boy reading a physics book.

  Reid approached the counter and stood behind an elderly couple who couldn't make up their minds between prune Danish or apple tarts.

  "Excuse me." Reid caught the counter clerk's attention. "I'm here about Mr. Alexander's ad for—"

  "In the office—" the clerk raised a thumb toward a hallway "—third door on the left, across from Merlin."

  Merlin? Reid followed the direction in which he'd been pointed and rounded the corner, then came face-to-face with a life-size statue of King Arthur's magician. Wand in hand, dressed in deep-blue velvet and wizard's hat, the whimsical, white-bearded figure greeted customers on their way to the rest rooms. Reid studied the realistic figure for a moment, then knocked on the office door.

  "I'll be right with you."

  The voice was distinctly female, Reid noted, and had a smooth, smoky quality. Fantasies, immediate and extremely erotic, pinballed in his brain. Reid hoped it wasn't Mrs. Alexander; he sure as hell didn't want to have the kind of thoughts he was having over another man's wife. Still, he couldn't wait to see if the voice matched the face.

  Merlin seemed to glare at him.

  "I'm only human," Reid said with a shrug, then folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

  The door opened a moment later and a young man dressed in ragged jeans and a blue T-shirt that read, No Flash Photography, came out of the office.

  "Hours suck," the guy muttered.

  Lifting a brow, Reid watched him walk away, then turned back to the still-open door and stuck his head inside. A woman wearing a long-sleeved white blouse sat bent over a small, cluttered metal desk. Her sandy-brown ponytail cascaded down her long neck and skimmed one narrow shoulder. She held a pen between slender fingers while she made notes on a piece of paper.

  "I was looking for—"

  "One second." Her gaze still on her scribbling, she waved him in. "Would you mind closing the door, please?"

  Reid moved into the office and shut the door behind him. Because he couldn't quite see the woman's face, he studied her hands. Smooth skin. Nails short and neat. No polish, no rings.

  "Before I have you fill out an application," she said without looking up, "I'd like to ask you—"

  That's when her gaze lifted.

  With the large-framed eyeglasses she wore, Reid might not have said that the woman was beautiful, but she was definitely pretty. Her skin was porcelain smooth over high cheekbones, her eyes wide and expressive, the color of smooth whiskey. Her lips, parted in midsentence, turned up slightly at the corners.

  "—a few questions," she finished after a moment's hesitation.

  Though it was brief, Reid saw the unshielded surprise in the woman's eyes, heard the breathless edge to her voice.

  Just as quickly the moment was gone.

  "I'm Tina Alexander." She straightened her shoulders and held out her hand. "Thank you for coming."

  Tina's heart lurched when the man's large hand enclosed her own, and she struggled to hold on to her composure. She'd interviewed dozens of applicants before, but never one who looked quite like this.

  And certainly none who'd made her brain cells turn to dust.

  He was just over six foot, she assessed, and from what she could tell by the jeans, black crewneck sweater and denim jacket he wore, he was lean and muscular. Handsome was too easy a word to describe him, Tina thought. With his dark hair and good looks, he was more complicated than that simple word. Eyes so deep blue, so intense, that they had quite literally stolen her breath. Add to that a square jaw, a strong slash of brow and a firm mouth, and he had her pulse skipping.

  Of course, the fact that her fingers were still enclosed in his wasn't helping, either.

  She pulled her hand away and gestured to a chair on the other side of the desk. Though she was absolutely certain she'd never met this man before, he looked strangely familiar.

  She shook the thought off. No matter. She couldn't possibly hire him, anyway. He would be too big a distraction for Sophia and, if she were going to be completely honest, for herself, as well.

  But she could hardly tell him that, of course. Better to let him decide the position wouldn't be right for him. She'd start with a few basic questions, then discourage him with a job description.

  "So, Mr.—" She hesitated, realizing she hadn't asked him his name.

  "Reid Danforth," he finished for her. "Reid will be fine."

  The name was familiar, too, she thought, but she couldn't place it. She wrote his name on the top line of the application.

  "Reid." She pushed her glasses up with her index finger. "Do you have any problems getting to work on time or working early morning hours?"

  Confusion furrowed his brow, and it took him a beat to answer. "Not usually."

  "Do you have any medical conditions that prohibit you from lifting or doing physical labor?"

  He narrowed his eyes. "No."

  She made a note on the application that he was in good physical condition. As if she hadn't already noticed. Darn it, though. She'd been hoping for an easy way out.

  She moved on to the next question. "Do you have any experience working in sales or with a cash register?"

  He stared at her for a long moment, then one corner of his mouth slowly turned upward. It was really quite annoying what that casual half smile did to her stomach.

  "I have some experience in sales," he said with a nod. "I've never worked a cash register, but I'm a fast learner."
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  I'm sure you are, Tina nearly said out loud. She also had no doubt that he would be quite good at sales. Lord knew she'd certainly want to buy something from him.

  They hadn't talked about wages, she realized. Though the job was good pocket money for a teenager or college student, it was hardly enough for a more mature man to live on. "Is the hourly wage we advertised acceptable?"

  To her discomfort, he leaned forward and leveled his gaze with hers. She caught the faint, spicy scent of his aftershave, and could hear her pulse beating in her ears.

  "Let me just ask you this," he said, his voice smooth and deep and edged with amusement, "if I said the wage was irrelevant, would you hire me?"

  Her first instinct was to say yes, but Tina knew it would be wasting her time and his to give him false hope or continue this interview. "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because—" she hesitated "—for one thing, you're … a little older than most of our applicants."

  Irritation narrowed his eyes. "I'm too old for you?"

  "Of course you're not too old for me," she said, then quickly tried to sidestep. "I mean, you're not too old." Oh, hell. She'd certainly gotten herself into a comer on this. There were laws against age discrimination. "It's just that we mostly hire teenagers and college students, that's all."

  "You wouldn't hire me because I'm not a teenager or college student." He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at her. "So what else is wrong with me?"

  "It's not that there's anything wrong with you." She chewed on her bottom lip. "Exactly."

  He lifted a brow. "Exactly?"

  "Well, there's also my sister, Sophia."

  "What about her?"

  "She is easily—" Tina searched for the right word "—distracted by good-looking men and vice versa."

  "So you think I'm too old and too good-looking," he said dryly. "What else?"

  When he repeated it all back, Tina knew it sounded absurd. She cursed herself for not having had him just fill out an application and leave. "You're overqualified."

  "How do you know that?"

  "You're obviously educated," she said. "You speak well, exude confidence, and you look like you just stepped off the cover of Fortune 500 or—"

  It felt as if a lightbulb had flashed on.

  Danforth. Of the Savannah Danforths. Shipping magnates. Big estate. Lots and lots of money. There'd been rumors that Abraham Danforth would be running for the Senate.

  Everyone who lived in Savannah, and most everyone who didn't, had heard of the Danforth family.

  Unable to speak, Tina continued to stare at Reid. That's why he looked so familiar. He had been on the cover of a magazine, Savannah Business. The issue Reid's face was on had been sitting in the customer magazine rack of the bakery for the past three months.

  "You—" her voice was a ragged whisper "—you're … Abraham Danforth's…"

  "Son," he finished for her, and stuck out his hand again. "Reid Danforth. I'm here to rent the building next door."

  * * *

  Two

  « ^ »

  Reid let the words hang between them while the woman digested her mistake. Her eyes had widened behind her glasses, and her cheeks bloomed a pretty shade of pink. She hadn't even released the breath she'd inhaled when she'd realized who he was.

  He supposed he could make the situation easier by simply shrugging it off and assuring her there was no harm done. A simple misunderstanding. No big deal at all. It would certainly be the gentlemanly thing to do.

  But, hell, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

  He decided he would enjoy watching her squirm for a minute or two. Something told him that Tina Alexander was used to being composed and in control, and he rather liked the idea of ruffling this woman's feathers.

  Especially after the crack about him being old. Dammit, thirty-two was not old!

  But when she continued to stare at him with alarm in her eyes, he began to feel a little guilty. He just wanted to rattle her a bit, not humiliate her.

  He opened his mouth with the intention of easing her embarrassment, but when the breath she'd been holding came rushing out like an icy snowstorm, he realized it wasn't embarrassment on her cheeks but annoyance.

  "You knew perfectly well I was interviewing you for a job," she said tightly. "Why didn't you stop me?"

  Well, well, he thought, raising a brow. The kitten definitely had her back up now.

  "I suppose it was like watching a train wreck," he said with a half grin. "I just couldn't seem to tear myself away."

  It was also refreshing not to be recognized, he realized. He'd always hated that people treated him differently when they knew he was a Danforth, either turned extremely helpful or absurdly friendly.

  Though at this moment friendly would hardly be a word to describe Tina Alexander, Reid thought. The mouth he'd thought so soft only a moment ago now pressed into a thin line.

  He wondered for one insane moment what those lips would feel like under his own.

  "I'm glad I've given you a few minutes of entertainment." She crumpled the application under her fingers into a ball and tossed it into a trash can beside the desk. "Since you're obviously not here looking for a job, is there something else I can do for you?"

  Well now, that was a leading question, Reid thought, but certainly not one he could honestly answer without getting thrown out of the office. "I'm here about the space next door."

  She glanced up sharply. "What about it?"

  "My real estate broker spoke to a man named Ivan Alexander about leasing it."

  "Ivan is my father." Tina's eyes narrowed cautiously. "But there must be some mistake. That space isn't for lease."

  "That's odd, since I was told to stop by today so I can look at the inside and pick up a key."

  "But—" Her voice faltered, broke. "That can't be."

  "I've already put a deposit down, Miss Alexander."

  "A deposit?" she repeated, her cool tone now one of disbelief.

  "My broker gave your father a check yesterday." Reid couldn't help but wonder why it should matter to Tina one way or the other who rented the space. "Is there a problem?"

  Is there a problem? Tina stared at the man sitting across from her, felt a bubble of hysteria lodge in her throat. This can't be, she told herself. Surely her parents would have told her if they'd rented the space.

  Her space.

  But it was true. She knew it in her heart. Reid Danforth would not be sitting here if it weren't.

  Slowly she slipped her reading glasses off, then spread her hands on the desk and rose. "Will you excuse me a minute?"

  Without waiting for him to answer, Tina walked stiffly from the room, then headed directly for the double doors of the kitchen entrance. Her father was bent over a work table, frosting the bottom layer of what was going to be a three-tier, whipped cream, strawberry shortcake.

  Hands on her hips, she faced him. "How could you do this?"

  "Very easy," he said without glancing up. "Slice the strawberries very thin and just the right amount of gelatine in the whip cream. Perfect every time."

  "That's not what I mean and you know it." She snatched up the bowl of whipped cream sitting on the counter and held it away from him. "When the antique store moved out next door, you promised to rent the space to me."

  "I make no promise." Frowning, he straightened and faced her, then folded his beefy arms over his wide chest. "I told you I think about it."

  "It's a perfect spot for a sandwich and coffeehouse." She struggled to control her voice and her temper. "I poured my heart and soul into that project. Design plans for the interior, a prospectus, potential menus. You told me you were impressed."

  He nodded. "I was."

  "Then why?" Her voice trembled as she hugged the cold metal bowl close. "Why would you do this to me?"

  "You are too young to open your own business, Katina." His voice softened a bit. "When you are older, we will talk."

  "Stop treating me like a child. I'
m twenty-four," she said through clenched teeth. "Me, Rachel, Sophia. We are older. Why can't you see that?"

  "I am your apa," Ivan said firmly. "It is my duty to take care of my family. We have only each other."

  "Dad." She struggled against tears. "Apa. I've worked in this bakery with you since I was ten. You know I can do it."

  "It is too much money."

  "Aunt Yana is going to help—"

  "This is not Yana's decision." Ivan's voice rose. "My sister has the blood of the gypsies, running from city to city, country to country. What does she know about business and responsibility?"

  "She's dedicated to her work," Tina defended her aunt. "Just because she travels doesn't mean that—"

  "Enough!" He lifted a hand to silence her. "It is done. I have rented the space for one year. We will talk again then."

  "But—"

  "Be a good girl, Katina." Ivan patted Tina on her head. "Now you will take Mr. Danforth next door and show him what he has paid for."

  "What?" Her mouth dropped open. "You expect me—"

  "You will do as I say." He snatched the bowl of whipped cream from her arms. "And you will be nice to this man. Do you understand?"

  Tina opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She knew it was useless to argue at this point. The deal with the Danforths had obviously been made. It was too late to change that, and if she pushed her father too far, he would never rent her the space.

  And now she was supposed to be nice?

  Setting her teeth, she marched back to the office. Outside the door she paused, then drew in a long, slow, calming breath. She'd already made a big enough fool of herself in front of Reid Danforth. She refused to add pathetic to his opinion of her, as well.

  Certain her face might crack under the strain, she forced a smile and opened the door.

  "Well," she said, breezing into the room and plucking a key from a hook beside the door. "It appears there was a wrinkle in our line of communication here, Mr. Danforth. When do you plan on moving in?"

  "Tomorrow."

  In spite of her determination to be calm, Tina felt her jaw go slack. "Tomorrow?"

  "We're announcing my father's candidacy in a few days," he explained. "It's taken quite a while to find a space that meets our requirements, so I have to move quickly."