The Cinderella Obsession (11 page)

"Why not take the lady involved?" she queried.

"I have a feeling she might refuse. This way, I can get you to try on the dress, and I’ll know if it’s suitable."

"You think we’re the same size?" She remembered Amy’s lithe figure and long, graceful legs.

"I guarantee, you’re an exact match."

They entered a plush establishment with gold-gilt letters elegantly scrawled across the brass-trimmed doors. A saleswoman dressed in a mint-green, tailored, silk suit approached them with a smile that looked as though it might crack her face.

"Ah, Mr. Powers. So good to see you."

The politeness in her voice sounded reserved, but Vanessa supposed that was the way rich people preferred the minions who served them.

"Hello, Hilda. Are you ready for us?"

"Of course, Mr. Powers. I have the models all ready."

Models?
The woman led them to a comfortable room in the back where they sat on a couch and another woman served them coffee.

"If they have models," she whispered to him, "then why did you want me to come along?"

"Because the models won’t look like my date. I want to see the dress on you."

"But I don’t look anything like…." She drew in a sharp breath and practically bit her tongue.

"Vanessa, do you think this is for Amy? I know you were flustered when she came by for our lunch date the other day, and you probably jumped to certain conclusions, but … it’s not Amy I’m taking out Friday night."

"It’s not?" If not Amy, then who? How many women did this man have on a string at one time?

"No. Amy and I have been friends for a long time. I assure you, she’s only that--a friend."

"But…." Damn, how could she ask him why he kissed Amy, or thought he was kissing Amy, at the ball without giving herself away?

"In fact, we’re such good friends, she asked me to help her make her boyfriend jealous. It was all set up for the masquerade I told you about."

She nodded, unable to utter a word, hardly believing he was answering the question she hadn’t dared to ask out loud.

"Well, I was supposed to make a play for Amy in front of Kyle--that’s her boyfriend. It worked out quite well, even though Amy took sick and couldn’t come. We owe a lot to that mystery woman who showed up in her place. When the threat of losing Amy became real, Kyle finally realized how much he wants her. After that, he asked Amy to marry him. I wish I knew who Cinderella was so I could thank her."

So Rachel had been right about Amy and Nick being just friends. That meant that Nick and Vanessa … that when Nick wanted to pursue her. Her heart fluttered. Should she tell him she was Cinderella? But wouldn’t he hate knowing his fantasy woman was not from his social set? Even if Nick knew she was Cinderella, even if he decided to pursue this wild attraction between them, it could never last. The gulf between their lives could never be bridged. Still, if she told him, maybe….

Vanessa licked her lips. But what if--?

The soft music changed to something with more of a beat and models started marching past in a seductive rhythm, swirling by in glamorous gowns of every color and style imaginable.

Suddenly, she remembered why she was sitting here. How could Vanessa have nurtured even a small hope that something could work between them? She’d discouraged him and he’d given up. It was as simple as that. She simply wasn’t worth the effort or the time to convince otherwise.

Soon, about twenty gorgeous women stood lined up in front of them wearing the most stunning gowns Vanessa had ever seen.

"Hmm. I’m not sure." Nick said, tapping his lips with his finger. "What do you think, Vanessa?"

"They’re all fabulous."

Nick gestured to one of the women, in electric blue, neck-to-ankle sequins, and she stepped forward, turning in front of them to show off the gown. Clusters of matching crystals adorned her ears and spike heels made her unbelievably long legs seem endless.

"What do you think of that?"

"It’s great, but…."

"Too much?" He smiled and nodded. The woman returned to the line-up. "What about the pink?"

The ‘pink’ was a rose-colored dress with a form-fitting bodice embroidered with sequins and bugle beads. The short sleeves puffed from the off-the-shoulder neckline like cotton candy and the mid-calf length skirt flared out at the hip. When the model twirled, it spun out in an iridescent cloud.

"It’s very pretty."

"But?"

"Nick, I can’t pick a gown for another woman, especially if I don’t know anything about her."

"Just choose the dress as if it was for you."

"I don’t know."

"Relax. I’m sure she’ll love whatever you choose." He scanned at the row of designer gowns again. "You know, I’d love to see you in that lace number."

The model moved forward and Vanessa felt her face flush. The ‘lace number’ was black, body-hugging, and very tiny. It looked to be no more than a slip. It barely covered the essentials and Vanessa couldn’t imagine wearing it as lingerie, let alone all by itself.

"No. What I really like is the green one," she said. The brilliant jade-colored dress, strapless, hugged the model’s body to the knee, then flared out dramatically. Vanessa had always loved mermaid-style dresses. They seemed to personify glamour, and this one was no exception. The model moved forward and sunlight glittered off the rhinestones trimming the fabric along the top of the breasts and around the crest of the full skirt.

"I like that. Why don’t you go try it on?"

She looked at it dubiously. The model had the height and grace to pull it off, but Vanessa wasn’t sure she’d do it justice.

"Why don’t you pick out a couple of others and try them, too, just so we’ll have a selection?"

Reluctantly, she pointed out the rose dress, a purple, and a red one.

The saleslady led her to a lavish change room, with a couch and a huge three-way mirror.

"Will Mr. Powers be joining you?" she asked Vanessa.

"In here? No," she squeaked.

Another woman brought the dresses and hung them on the rack by the mirror. She noticed the woman hang up the lace dress with the rest, even though that hadn’t been one of her choices. Vanessa tried on the green one first and was delighted to see it didn’t look too outrageous on her. In fact, she felt rather glamorous in it.

"Stunning," Nick proclaimed when she emerged.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, examining every angle, critically inspecting the back. "You don’t think it’s too…?" She snapped her mouth shut, remembering that the dress was not for her, but for Nick’s Friday night date.

Nick smiled, examining the same part of her anatomy that she assessed, his gaze sending frothing heat tickling through her. "No, I don’t think it’s ‘too’ anything. It’s absolutely perfect."

She tried each of the dresses in turn, except the black lace, and Nick exclaimed over all of them.

"Don’t forget the other one," he reminded her when she started toward the dressing room after showing him the last of her choices.

"Other one?"

"You know which one I mean." A wicked light glinted in his eyes.

She pointed toward the change room. "Nick, I am not coming out here in that scrap of lace. It’s … it’s almost indecent."

"No, it’s not. It’s just delightfully sexy."

So was Nick’s devil-may-care grin. She frowned and plunked her hands on her hips. "I’m not modeling it for you."

He spread his hands wide in a gesture of capitulation. "Okay, how about this. Put it on and see how it fits. You don’t have to leave the change room. Hilda will let me know how it looks."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"So I’ll know if it’ll fit my date."

"Oh … yes, of course." She had forgotten. In the excitement of trying on all the glamorous dresses, she’d forgotten she was simply a mannequin, a convenient body that matched his date’s shape.

She tugged it on and the saleslady raved about it. Vanessa examined herself in the mirror and a shocked, extremely provocative, reflection stared back at her. Feeling unusually wicked, she wished she had the courage to push open the door and strut out in front of Nick. Maybe she could convince him that he wanted her and not that other, nameles
s woman he’d been shopping for.

Which was foolish. Nothing had changed. He might not be dating Amy as she’d feared, but the fact remained that they were far too different. He was champagne and tuxedos, and she was soft drinks and jeans. He wanted an aggressive career woman who liked to party, she considered her job just a way to make money and would rather stay home and work on her sweater designs. They were the mismatch of the century. Why, then, did it feel so right being with him?

* * * *

In the limousine, Nick leaned toward Vanessa and said, "Hilda told me you look unbelievably sexy in the lace dress."

"She didn’t." Vanessa just couldn’t imagine the dour-faced woman saying anything of the sort.

"No, not in those exact words, but the look of shock, mixed with envy, was a dead giveaway." His gaze drifted down her body. "I bet it accentuated every curve and--"

"Nick!" She glanced nervously at the driver, wondering if he could hear them.

"Don’t worry. He can’t hear a thing," Nick murmured. "So why didn’t you come out and show it to me?"

"I … it … was just too revealing." She felt a slight flush burn her cheeks. Was it because she could imagine Nick’s eyes lingering over every curve of her body, sending her pulse leaping? Or because she’d wanted to come out so desperately, to convince him he wanted her, and not some other woman, so badly, that she’d barely been able to control the urge?

"You don’t like to reveal too much, do you, Vanessa?"

At his solemn tone, her gaze jerked to his face. "What?"

Lines of concentration disappeared from his face as his mouth turned up in a grin.

"Hey, maybe you can help me. I’ve bought this beautiful dress for Friday night but I don’t have a date yet."

Bewildered, she stared at him with a frown. "But I thought you said…."

"Oh, I know who I want, I just haven’t asked her."

"Why not?" The way he looked at her, as if his sharp eyes could pierce her barriers, she wondered if he’d been lying about asking another woman, if he really meant to ask her. She quelled the thought immediately. Why torture herself by imagining things that could never be?

"Because I’m not sure she’ll say yes."

"You?" Vanessa leaned back against the seat, her fingers spread on her chest in mock astonishment. "You’re afraid a woman will say no?"

"It has been known to happen, you know."

He took her hand. "You, for instance."

"Me?" Her throat went dry.

"You said ‘no’ to showing me the dress." He slid his hand to her elbow and kissed the sensitive white flesh of her forearm. The touch of his lips sent quivers like dancing rainbows along her spine. "Tell me, Vanessa. How should I ask this woman to guarantee she’ll say yes?"

"There are no guarantees in life, Nick."

"That’s true, but there are ways to influence events." His lips inched to the inside of her elbow. Why was he doing this to her while seeking her advice on how to ask another woman out?

"How should I approach her?"

"You could just phone her up and ask. It’s straightforward, simple," she suggested.

He grinned again, showing straight white teeth, and looking like a Cheshire cat. "Definitely not me. No, I want something much more imaginative than that." He drew his mouth away from her arm, and she immediately missed the warmth of his breath. "What if I send her a note, along with a dozen roses?" He held his hands in front of him. "Imagine this. Her doorbell rings and she opens it to see a man dressed as an old English minstrel. He hands her the roses, then breaks into song, asking her to be my date."

Vanessa giggled.

"You laugh, but I’m perfectly serious. I want to impress her."

"I see. Well, that’s overdoing it a little."

He looked like a little boy whose puppy had just been insulted. "You think it’s stupid. Do you hate the whole idea?"

"No, the flowers were good."

"So the roses stay."

"Roses are nice…." Her voice trailed off.

"But?"

She felt a half smile creep across her face. She was foolish to get caught up in the fantasy, she knew, but Nick had a way of dragging her along for the ride.

"If it was me…."

"Yes?" His interest seemed to intensify.

"A large orchid, floating in a bubble of glass. Your note could say: ‘A single bloom for the single most beautiful woman I know. Let Friday be a night of magic for us both.’"

His hand curled around hers, his eyes glittering. "How do I sign it? Love, Nick?"

She shook her head. "You don’t sign it. You leave it blank, then as soon as the messenger leaves, you go to her door and tell her it’s from you, then sweep her into your arms and kiss her."