The Cinderella Obsession (4 page)

She felt about as out of place here as a rock among a pile of diamonds.

The security guard handed her a security pass and she clipped it to her jacket.

"I’ll leave you to it." He stepped back into the elevator, the doors closing behind him.

Vanessa crossed the plush-carpeted floor to the desk outside the executive office, resisting the temptation to kick off her shoes and sink her feet into the inviting pile. She set her briefcase beside the desk and dropped her purse in the bottom drawer, then scanned the contents of the desk, ensuring that she knew where everything was. She took a few moments to familiarize herself with the rest of the office and equipment, then she set about making coffee.

Rachel had told her Mr. Powers usually arrived at eighty-thirty and a quick glance at the clock on her desk told her she had fifteen more minutes. She grabbed
the
pile of
folder
s that Rachel had mentioned needed to be returned to the file drawer in his desk
and scooted over to the door to the executive office. Pushing it open, she peered inside, not surprised to find the interior even more sumptuous than the reception area. Sitting down beside his huge desk, she
opened the lower drawer and started filing the folders.

Through the open door she heard the ding of the elevator and realized Mr. Powers had arrived. A tiny shudder of anticipation rippled through her at the prospect of meeting the powerful executive. As she
slid the last folder into place
, a familiar scent settled around her, reaching into her memories. She felt herself pulled back into the hot, velvet passion of her Prince Charming’s embrace.

Oh, God! Surely it couldn’t be him. As panic threatened, she assured herself there were hundreds--no, thousands--of men who wore that particular brand of cologne. Except that the scent seemed to blend with a healthy male tang that she knew instinctively was unique to only one man.

"Well, well. Who have we here?"

That voice! That smooth, sexy, incredibly masculine voice belonged to only one man. The man she had prayed never to see again. The man she had made love with every night in her dreams--unashamedly, eagerly, ignited by the real passion he’d stirred in her with that fiery kiss.

Slowly, fearfully, she glanced toward the source of that voice, praying she was wrong.

She wasn’t.

Although he wore a dark blue business suit with a mauve and navy tie and looked much more conservative than he had Friday night, she would recognize him anywhere as Prince Charming. Seeing his broad shoulders as he leaned lazily against the door jamb, the amused curl of his lips, she
pushed the drawer closed and
leaped to her feet, accidentally launching a sheaf of papers onto the floor.

"Oh, no, I…." She sucked in a deep breath and scrambled onto the floor to retrieve the mess, relieved to have the inevitable confrontation delayed for even a few moments.

As she snatched at pages, she saw his shiny black shoes step near her hand, then he knelt beside her and scooped up the remaining sheets. They stood up together, face to face, staring at each other. Did he recognize her? Amazingly, no spark of recognition flickered in his vivid blue eyes. His next question confirmed the slender hope that had started to bloom within her.

"And who might you be?" he asked, reaching out to take the stack of papers she clutched against her body like a shield.

She reluctantly surrendered them, all too conscious of his proximity … of the warmth of his body … of the answering heat of her own. He might not recognize her, but her body recognized him. If she took a tiny step forward, her breasts would brush against his chest. If she tipped her face up, and leaned toward him, their lips would touch. If….

He smiled, as if he could read her mind. Oh, Lord. The hunger in her eyes must’ve laid bare her innermost thoughts. More likely her body language, she realized, as she felt her breasts swell in helpless response to his overwhelming presence. She drew in a deep breath, trying to force her quivering emotions into some modicum of control. The action caused her breasts to rise and fall in a slow, tremulous motion, and his gaze slid down to witness the tightening of her nipples through the thin fabric of her blouse. His gaze jerked back to her face and his smile faded slightly.

Just her luck. He had to see her blatant reaction to him. Now, he probably felt embarrassed for her. In fact, for a man as drop-dead gorgeous as Nicholas Powers, fending off swooning females must be a usual occurrence.

At her silence, his sleek eyebrows arched. "You do remember, don’t you?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Remember?" A note of panic tinged her voice. "Remember what?" Good heavens, he could only be talking about their kiss. He did remember her!

"Who you are. And why you’re here," he elaborated.

She gulped a breath of relief. "Oh, yes. I … uh…." She couldn’t keep stuttering like an idiot, but she couldn’t rid herself of the fear that had plagued her since the night of the masquerade. She desperately wanted to keep this job. If he knew she’d crashed his party, she was certain he’d fire her.

So far he didn’t seem to recognize her but … might he be toying with her? Prolonging her torment? Enjoying her helpless response to him? On the other hand, if he truly didn’t recognize her, she’d better start worrying about her professional image. If she didn’t answer his question soon, he’d think her an incompetent and quite rightly fire her.

If it wasn’t too late.

With a great deal of effort, she kept her voice steady. "Rachel … she’s having problems with her pregnancy. The doctor told her she’d have to stay in bed for the rest of her term, so she had to take her leave early."

His face tightened in a look of concern. "Really? Is she all right?"

"Yes. The doctor said if she stays off her feet the baby will be fine."

"Good." His mouth curved back into a smile, his eyes warm. "So, you’re her replacement?"

"Yes, I…." She reached for her folder to pull out the contract that had been sent to her by courier, gasping when she sent his empty mug tumbling to the floor, barely missing his foot.

"Oh, damn." She bit her lower lip, realizing her choice of words was not exactly appropriate in her boss’ office. As if that was her biggest worry at the moment. "I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…."

"Tense?" he suggested with raised eyebrows.

"Clumsy," she corrected.

"Do I make you nervous?"

"N-no…."

He reached down and grabbed the mug from the floor, then placed it on the desk beside her. She leaned sideways to avoid hi
m, knocking over a paperweight.

"Uh … maybe a little," she admitted as he reached past her again to set the sculpture upright.

His sleeve brushed against her side as he withdrew his arm. "There’s no need to be. I don’t bite."

Bite?
In last night’s dream, he certainly had bitten. Delicate, electric nips, down her neck, along her collarbone. Then lower still. She tried to force her thoughts down another path, but the swell of desire flooding through her carried her along, taking her breath away.

He stepped back, staring at her with concern. "Relax. I didn’t mean anything by that, other than the fact that I’m a pretty easy boss to work for. I’m really not the intimidating type."

She realized her hands were clenched around the edge of the desk. She drew them to her sides and straightened up. He thought she was afraid of him. By her behavior, he must think she’d never worked in an executive office before. She had to pull herself together.

If only she could ignore this uncontrollable desire bursting through her that sent her heart up in flames. She wanted--needed--to close the slight distance between them and relive the wonderful passion that had burned so briefly between them in reality, but had constantly flamed through her imagination ever since.

"You haven’t told me your name yet," he reminded her.

"Vanessa . Vanessa Graham."

"Vanessa." He said her name as though testing it on his tongue. "Judging from the smell of freshly brewed coffee, I think we’ll get along just fine. Rachel never was one to make coffee."

He smiled as he caught her gaze with his own, then his focus grazed her features and something flickered in the depths of his eyes. His smile slipped slightly. She quelled a tiny seed of panic.

"I’m sorry, Vanessa. Have we met before?"

"No. I … uh … but I’ve worked at Power Systems before as a temp. You may have seen me around--on the elevator or in the lobby," she suggested, knowing it wasn’t true, that she had never been in his presence before that fateful party. If she had, it would have been written indelibly on her memory. She fretted, knowing that maybe he didn’t remember her yet, but he was bound to sometime soon if they spent any time together.

"Hmm. I’m sure I’ve seen you. There’s something about your eyes…."

The phone buzzed and Vanessa twirled around and snatched it up, thankfully not jarring anything else off the desk.

"Nicholas Powers’ office," she said in her most impressive, administrative tone. "Yes, Mr. Cavender, I’ll put you right through." She held the phone out to him. "John Cavender wants to speak to you. It’s probably about your ten o’clock meeting with Swan Corporation so I assume you want to take it."

Mr. Cavender’s name had appeared in Mr. Powers’ calendar as one of the meeting participants giving her a legitimate reason for passing the call on. She would have anyway to break the tension that had been growing between them. Her action seemed to be paying off, though, as he raised his brows in appreciation and nodded his head. He stepped past her to pull a file out of his drawer and she drew in a relieved breath, then hurried out of his office. As she pulled the door closed, his voice stopped her.

"Vanessa."

She turned, seeing him holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver. Her heart started to pound. "Yes?" she asked, keeping the tremor out of her voice, certain he had finally remembered her.

"Arrange to have flowers sent to Rachel. Something nice." His lips curved up in an intensely sensuous smile. "Tell her we’ll miss her," he said.

Nicholas Powers settled into his chair and dealt quickly with the phone call, while he contemplated the door that had just closed behind his lovely new secretary. This had to be a record. He hadn't felt a strong interest in any female for months and now he found himself captivated by two women in two days.

As soon as he’d walked into the office, he’d felt a definite attraction to Vanessa. It had been strong, bordering on overwhelming, but he knew nothing could compete with the powerful physical response he’d felt for the mystery woman who’d crashed his party. Unfortunately, Vanessa, as his secretary, was completely out of bounds and Cinderella, his mystery woman, had completely disappeared.

He leaned his head back against his folded hands and smiled. Cinderella at the ball. She’d taken him totally by surprise.

The plan had been for Amy to wear the Cinderella costume, to match his Prince Charming. Amy had suggested the theme herself. Everyone at the party wore masks, except Nick, since he felt that, as host, he should not hide his identity. A brochure with pictures of the costumes had arrived with the bill from the shop, and he’d studied it so he’d recognize Amy’s. Naturally, when he saw a woman in that costume, he’d assumed it was Amy.

But holding her in his arms had been more exhilarating than he had expected. When she had surprised him by responding to his kiss with a wild, abandoned passion, he’d been unnerved. Suddenly, his libido had kicked in and he’d desperately wanted her. He knew instantly that it had to be someone else, because Amy would never be so responsive. But who could this mystery woman be?

The question kept swirling through his brain, demanding an answer. She had run off so fast he hadn’t even gotten her name. Why had she run away? Had he been too forward? But she’d kissed him back with a passion that matched his own.

That passion had dug itself into his memory and wouldn’t be shaken loose. He remembered the feel of her against his body, her breasts crushed against his chest, the arch of her back as she pressed herself closer during their kiss, her hungry tongue tangling with his own. In his dreams their passion had gone further, revealing the body beneath the ball gown. Perfect breasts accentuated by a slender waist. Curvaceous hips topping deliciously long legs. And luminous eyes that had insinuated their way into his heart.

But no face.

Even now, sitting in his office, he could feel his body respond to the memory of her--and of his dreams. He wanted her. Desperately. Completely. Without restraint.

He’d never reacted to a woman as he had to her. He couldn’t just let her run out of his life. He couldn’t live with the memory of just one taste of her.

He had to figure out why she had this effect on him. No woman had ever sent him over the edge like this one had. He always knew exactly what he wanted and why. He always stayed right on track--made a plan, then followed it through. This woman had sent his mind spinning out of control, invading his thoughts, throwing off his sense of priorities. If he could find her, he could figure out why. So that’s what he would do.

He’d search until he found her. Wherever she was. Whoever she was.