Trish Wylie - The Bachelor's Cinderella

Etienne swore, in French, in English, even in Spanish.

“Meg! Ma chère , are you hurt?” Immediately he dropped to his knees and started examining her, running his hands over her. Her leg was bent slightly crooked and he couldn’t tell if anything was broken or damaged. “Meg, talk to me. Say something. Say anything, all right?”

She gazed up into his eyes, blinking. “I…I ran into you. I didn’t see you. Did I hurt you?”

Etienne closed his eyes. He let out a breath of relief. Then he opened his eyes and gazed down at her. He smiled. “Never.”

Now her eyes were starting to clear. She was focusing. “Then…did I make it?”

No, she hadn’t. Her arm was over her head, but the base was half an inch beyond, and he had touched her while holding the ball. By now he knew the rules of the game and that meant that she was out and hadn’t scored for her team. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paula and Lily exchange a look.

Then Paula suddenly rushed forward and fell to her knees. “I…Years ago I started nursing school and I’ve had CPR training. Now I know that you think you feel all right, Ms. Leighton, but it just never hurts to make sure. Let me ask you a few questions just to be on the safe side. How many fingers am I holding up? What’s your name? And what day is it?”

As she spoke, Etienne saw Lily stick her foot out and give a tiny kick.

“You seem okay,” Paula said, “but that certainly gave me a scare. You could have hit your head.”

When Paula rose and moved out of his way, Etienne saw that Meg’s hand was now resting on the plate. He resisted the urge to smile.

“You made it,” he whispered.

Meg suddenly sat up on her elbows and turned slightly, looking at the plate. When she turned back, there was a funny, crooked grin on her face. “Nice,” she said.

And then she stared straight into his eyes. He was still kneeling beside her. One hand was still on her right leg. Both of them looked down to where their bodies were joined, and now it became something more than him trying to make sure she wasn’t injured. The palm of his hand felt…warm. When she looked at him, her eyes looked languorous.

Someone—maybe Jeff—coughed, and Etienne slowly withdrew his hand. He helped Meg to her feet.

“I think game time is over,” she said. “But it’s been fun.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She smiled, a smile that Etienne felt down to the soles of his shoes. “Yes, I do. I’ve always hated sports, but not today. I loved every minute.”

“But, Meg,” Edie said. “You can’t give up now. Your team is still behind by one run.”

Meg looked at Paula. “It’s okay, isn’t it?” She turned to the other members of her team, who seemed uncertain what to do. “It’s not so much that we want to win,” one of them said. “We just want you to win. No disrespect to you, Mr. Gavard.”

“None taken,” he said.

Meg’s smile grew. “But I’m happy. I did win. In my own way, I did.”

“Yeah,” Paula said. “She made a run. That’s winning.”

And everyone took up the cry. Meg looked over her shoulder at Etienne. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

Meg shrugged. “You’d never even played baseball, but you went along with this impetuous plan of mine.”

“I told you it was a great plan.” And it had been. She had been right. There had been some sniping and tension during the past week, but here on this field where everyone wanted Meg to have her day in the sun, they had all joined together. Even Paula seemed to be taken into the fold.

“You are a man of many talents,” Meg told him before joining Paula and Edie.

“I want you to know that I see how it is,” he heard Paula saying. “And I wouldn’t ever do anything that idiotic and cruel again. Not with you, that’s for sure. He’s yours free and clear.”

And, even though they were farther away now, Etienne was almost certain that she heard Meg say. “Not mine.”

He stared down at the baseball in his hand. Then he dropped it to the ground with a frown.

“Hey, at least we won,” Jeff said.

But he hadn’t, and he had no reason to complain. No reason at all. His relationship with Meg was what it was. There had been no hope for it from the start.

THREE hours after the baseball game had concluded and a good two hours before the end of the workday, Meg looked up to see Etienne standing in the door of her office.

“Come on,” he said. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Home. And then out.”

“Home? Now?”

“Yes. To change clothes.”

“And then out? Do we have a meeting with anyone that I didn’t hear about? A presentaion? A dinner?”

“Yes, I’m taking you to an early dinner. Just us.”

She tilted her head. “Is something wrong, Etienne?”

“No. Yes. You got hurt today, and I noticed that you’re still limping even though you said you were fine. I’d simply try to send you home to bed but I understand that several people have already attempted that, and you’ve resisted. I suppose I could order you home, but…”

“You don’t want to do that, because I’m in training to take over when you’re gone, so you don’t want to take my power away. Is that it?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’re taking me out to dinner.”

“Yes, and then I thought I’d whisk you back home early and by…oh…seven o’clock you’d be in bed asleep.”

She smiled. “That was very clever and conniving of you.”

“It was, wasn’t it,” he said with a grin. “Too bad I’m not capable of lying to you.”

“That’s not such a bad thing, you know.”

He shrugged. “Will you come with me, Meg?” And when he held out his hand to her that way, how could she say no?

She placed her hand in his. Why was it that every time he touched her, she felt it a little deeper and the longing got a little stronger? The pain when he finally left was going to be excruciating, but she didn’t want to think about that. He was still here, right by her side. For now.

“I’m yours,” she said.

Those gorgeous eyes turned dark and fierce. “Figuratively speaking,” she added, trying not to blush. That had been a stupid, impetuous thing to say.

“Of course.”

Of course. And in no time, he had her home. She changed into a white dress, an unusually colorless choice for her, but there was something serious about Etienne tonight, and she didn’t want him to feel that he had to tease her about her bright colors the way he usually did.

What was wrong? Was it the upcoming anniversary of his wife’s death? Or had she, Meg, failed to digest all that Etienne felt she needed to know?

In the weeks since they’d met, they had spent an hour or two of each day together while he coached her on all the aspects of business he felt she would need to know. And he had been amazingly well versed in the American system. He possessed an abundance of knowledge about business law and labor and trade laws here. He taught her about stocks and bonds and retirement plans and employee insurance plans, about taxes and safety considerations and…everything, it had seemed. She had tried to digest as much as she could; she had taken books and files home every night, but her time had been limited and…she was worried and…

“Something’s bothering you,” she said. “Tell me.” Just as if she had a right to invade his privacy.

But he didn’t seem to notice that she had overstepped a boundary. “I let you get hurt today. I wasn’t paying enough attention. If you had hit your head on the ground…if I had fallen on you and crushed you or caused you to break something vital, I…”