Christine Rimmer - The Reluctant Cinderella

He could have been elsewhere. He’d had invitations. Since becoming a bachelor all over again, Greg had discovered that there were a lot of good-looking, smart women who were more than willing to go out with him. Hey. He was a Banning. That meant money and influence and that made him a catch.

But Greg wanted something not just any sophisticated, beautiful woman could give him. He wanted…

Okay. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted. But he knew what he didn’t want: a woman who was after him for his name and his bank account.

So instead of a lawn party upstate or a four-day weekend in the Hamptons, Greg had opted for the temporary quiet of the city and the pile of work always waiting on his desk. He’d given his personal assistant the day off, had a clear calendar and didn’t expect to be disturbed.

But then, at eleven, his phone buzzed. Surprised, he checked the display: the security desk down in the lobby. Was the building on fire?

Frowning, he punched the talk button. “Greg Banning.”

“Mr. Banning, Megan Schumacher is here to see you.”

Megan Schumacher? Who the hell was…?

Then he remembered. Damn. Carly had called him two weeks ago and asked him to interview Angela Schumacher’s sister. He’d agreed, and had gently gotten rid of Carly. And then promptly forgotten all about it. Which was why the appointment—for today, at eleven—had never made it to his calendar.

Greg scoured his brain. Megan Schumacher…

The woman lived over the Angela’s garage, didn’t she? And she was in…?

Graphic design. Yeah. According to Carly, she owned a small company, the name of which escaped him. Carly had asked him to consider using Megan’s little company for Banning’s design work.

Greg just hadn’t been able to tell her no. He felt bad for Carly. He honestly did. He felt bad and he felt guilty—which was why he’d made sure she got a nice, fat divorce settlement and why he couldn’t refuse her when she asked him to interview her friend from the neighborhood.

Greg straightened his tie and shook his head. What a damn waste of time—both his and the poor Schumacher girl’s. Banning’s already had the services of a top-notch graphic design firm at their disposal. It was a firm Banning’s had been using for over twenty years, a firm that invariably delivered a quality product on time and within budget.

So there was zero chance he would hire Megan Schumacher. And that meant all he could do right now was smile and make nice and let the poor thing down gently.

“Thanks. Send her up.” He punched the line to the receptionist’s desk. “Jennifer, Megan Schumacher is coming up to see me. Show her the way to my office.”

“Of course, Mr. Banning.”

Greg hung up and went back to the flow chart he’d been studying. A few minutes later, Jennifer spoke from beyond his wide-open door.

“Mr. Banning, Ms. Schumacher is here….”

Greg clicked the program shut and glanced up. The sexiest woman he’d ever seen was standing in the doorway. Greg blinked. “Uh. Thanks, Jennifer. That’s all.” The receptionist left them.

And the incredible woman in the doorway greeted him with a glowing, dimpled smile. “Greg. How’ve you been?”

Simple question. But somehow, he’d temporarily forgotten how to speak.

Superlatives scrolled through his stunned brain: amazing. Outstanding. Exceptional…

Not pretty, really. Better than pretty.

She was full-figured in a hot-pink jacket and skirt, an outfit that hugged her generous curves. She wore one of those camisole things under the jacket; he spotted a tempting hint of black lace that matched her sleek black high-heeled shoes. Her blond hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders.

Could this possibly be Angela Schumacher’s nondescript little sister?

Evidently.

He couldn’t believe it. He remembered Megan Schumacher—or rather, he didn’t remember her. To be brutally honest about it, all he could recall of her was a general, fuzzy impression of someone shy and plain and slightly overweight.

But this woman…

She literally sparkled with energy and life and…well, there was that word again: sex.

He really needed to stop thinking about sex.

Greg was a conservative man. He kept his flirtations away from the office, never mixed business with pleasure, had never gotten near another woman while he was married to Carly.

But right then, in the first five seconds after this new, astonishing Megan Schumacher entered his office, all of his fine principles flew right out the window. He wanted her. Damned if he didn’t. He wanted her bad.

And he’d been sitting there gaping at her like a teenage kid with his first big-time crush. He jumped to his feet. “Megan. It’s great to see you.”

She dimpled at him again. “Admit it. You barely remembered me. And I can see it in your eyes. You promised Carly you’d give me this meeting—and then you instantly forgot all about it.”

Ouch. She’d nailed him.

No point in denying it. “Okay, you got me,” he confessed as he stepped out from behind his big glass desk and crossed to meet her. She carried a large, soft briefcase and a hefty portfolio. He took the portfolio from her with his left hand and extended his right. “But now you’re here and so am I. And I can’t wait to hear all about what Design Solutions can do for Banning’s.”

She sent him a conspiratorial glance, one that hinted she thought he was laying it on a little thick. But all she said was, “Good. Because Design Solutions has a lot to offer you.” Her perfume tempted him—flowers, plus something slightly tart. And more than the flowers and the tartness, she smelled of…

Peaches. Damned if she didn’t smell like a sweet, ripe peach. Her hand was soft and smooth and cool. He liked the feel of it cradled in his. Liked it a lot.

He had to remind himself to let go. “Your company is relatively new, isn’t it?”

She nodded firmly. “Design Solutions is three years old and growing by leaps and bounds. I have two graphic artists on staff, a Web expert, an office manager, a clerk-receptionist and an intern who helps out wherever we need him. I’m looking at bringing in another artist and possibly even a second designer at the first of the year.” She gestured with one of those soft hands. “Just put the portfolio down anywhere.” With the tips of her fingers, she brushed the back of one of the two chairs that faced his desk. He wished those fingers were brushing him. “Sit here, beside me. I’ll boot up my laptop and we can get started…”

Sitting beside her.

Excellent idea. He took the chair she’d indicated and propped her portfolio up on the floor between them, then he sat back and watched as she took a laptop the size of Cleveland from her fat briefcase and opened the thing on the outer edge of his desk.

“I’ll show you some of the work we’ve done.” She sent him another of those captivating smiles as the big screen glowed to life. “Then I want to give you a basic idea of the many ways Design Solutions can bolster and expand on the Banning’s brand. Finally, we’ll take a look at a few things in the portfolio. It’s always good, I think, to get a sense of textures and colors, to see firsthand how the print work is going to translate. We can do so much online and with computer programs now, but sometimes digital images simply aren’t the same as holding the finished product in your hands….”

“Excellent,” he said as she started bringing up examples of work her company had done. Each one was different from the last, and each was terrific—clear and well-organized, with colors that popped and graphics that jumped right off the screen.

As she began explaining how she would work her own particular magic on Banning’s image, Greg realized he was interested—and not only in the lush, peach-scented Ms. Schumacher herself.