Michelle Celmer - Once Upon A Kiss... - The Cinderella Act / Princess in the Making / Temporarily His Princess

“Is that so? In that case, let’s top off your champagne so I can more easily take advantage of you.” He gestured to a passing waiter, who readily obliged. How had she drunk more than half a glass already?

“Sinclair, how did you sneak past me? I’ve been lying in wait for you all night.” A tall brunette materialized out of the night air and breathed in his ear. “Your mother told me you’re in town for the summer. I do hope you’ll have time to come out on my new yacht.”

“Dara, this is Annie, Annie, Dara.” Annie thrust out a hand so that at least one of them couldn’t be accused of rudeness. Dara had barely glanced at her. Now she reluctantly gave her a limp handshake. At least Annie didn’t recognize her from any social events at the house. “I’m going to be very busy this summer. Annie has me all tied up.” He spoke with a straight face, but a hint of suggestion in his voice.

Dara’s mouth opened like a fish. “Really.” She took a longer look at Annie. “Well, if you change your mind.” She flounced off, looking distinctly irritated.

“That was fun.” Sinclair sipped his champagne and surveyed her with narrowed eyes.

“You’re naughty.”

“And enjoying it. Let’s dance.”

It wasn’t a question. His sudden, sturdy grip around her waist swept her toward a wooden dance floor set up under an elegant canopy on the lawn. They moved through a crowd of laughing, chatting people, and handed their glasses to one of the many waiters before climbing onto the dance floor just as a song was ending. The band was a big jazz ensemble with a stunning singer. “Oh, my God, is that Natalie Cole?”

“Probably.”

Laughing, Annie let him pull her into his arms as the singer started into a sultry number about a broken heart. He wound one hand firmly around her and took her hand with the other, and pulled her into a dance. Her feet followed his effortlessly, as if she already knew the steps. The thundering drumbeat and mellow pulse of the saxophone flowed through her, drawing her around the dance floor as if she did this every day. She could feel the smile glowing on her face as Sinclair twirled her through the crowds, her long dress flying out around her. His gaze stayed fixed on hers the whole time, capturing her attention and daring her to look away.

Her breaths came faster and faster as the pace of the song picked up and they swept across the floor with bold dance steps. Sinclair’s muscular hands guided her, making her feel pliable and athletic, almost fluid, moving in time to the music.

The singer launched into an impassioned plea to her lover, begging him to come back and make her whole. Annie let herself ride on the wave of emotion her voice created among the dancers. Her heart seemed to pound in time with the bold blasts from the trumpet as the song rose to a crescendo and Sinclair held her tighter against his chest.

Their faces grew closer, gazes still locked in a mute challenge. He was taller than her, but if he leaned down he could kiss her right on the lips.

Her mouth started to quiver in anticipation. Surely he couldn’t tantalize her like this and not kiss her? Her entire body felt alive with desire for him, her nipples pressing relentlessly against the tight bodice of her dress. The song ended with a sudden flourish and she waited in an agony of excitement for his lips to touch hers.

But they didn’t.

He pulled back from her, shoved a hand through his hair and glanced across the dance floor. Annie stood there stunned. The flowing motion had ceased so abruptly that she felt like a fish suddenly thrown up on dry sand, wondering what happened. Blinking, she stepped back, trying to regain her composure. She bumped into someone and had to turn and apologize. When she turned back, Sinclair was staring into the distance with a face like honed granite.

“What is it?” She had to say something, if only to reassure herself that she still had the power of speech.

“Nothing.” He frowned. “Let’s go get some air.”

It was hard to imagine that they weren’t getting air already, since they were outdoors. As they walked across the lawn, fresh glasses of champagne in their hands, Annie realized that the “lake” was actually Long Island Sound, stretching out before them in a gleaming sheet, with the full moon glowing on its surface like an oversized silver Christmas ornament.

“Do you think they booked this moon along with the band?”

“Quite likely.” He looked out over the water. “Whatever they paid, it was worth the money.” He sipped his champagne, silent for a moment. He looked anything but relaxed. The buildup to their non-kiss had tightened all her muscles and sent blood flowing to places she wasn’t usually aware of. She was on edge and fired up with anticipation that had no place to go, and he looked the same.

Should she tell him she didn’t regret their wild afternoon in bed? Right now she didn’t. It had awakened her to a new sensual side of herself.

“What is your ambition in life, Annie?” He turned to her suddenly, fixing her with the full force of his dark gaze.

Was this some kind of test? If she answered wrong would his estimation of her plummet even lower? “To own my own home.” She answered with the simple truth. It was a small dream, and an old-fashioned one, but it had guided her decisions ever since she’d left home at age twenty-one.

“Why don’t you buy one?” He frowned slightly.

She laughed. “They cost money.”

“You earn a good salary.”

“Yes, living in your home and taking care of it. If I moved I’d be out of a job.”

“So your job in my house is preventing you from fulfilling your dream?”

“Not at all. I’m saving the money so that when I’m ready I can buy it. I’m not nearly there yet, in case you’re worried about your floors going unpolished.” She meant it as a joke, but it came out almost scolding. “It’s just something I’ve always wanted. I grew up in a big house filled with people. My grandmother’s house.” Her Connecticut was very different from the one Sinclair had lived in with his ex-wife Muffy. There were no shady lawns or million-dollar mansions on her street, in one of the grimmer parts of the old industrial city. “My parents and sister still live there. It’s like a trap or something. My sister moved away when she got married and had a child, but now she’s divorced and back there again. My dad’s been on disability for decades and just watches TV all day. He could work if he wanted to, but he’d rather just sit around. My mom, on the other hand, works all day and night just to get out of the house.” She raised a brow. “That’s probably what I’d be doing, too, if I was still there. I want to have my own space where I can do what I like.”

“And that’s your only goal?” Apparently that wasn’t enough for Sinclair Drummond. Which was hardly surprising, given all he’d already achieved in his own life.

“I’m thinking more about my career. I’m planning to take evening classes and learn about running a business. I’d like to be self-employed eventually. Maybe even own a shop. Being a housekeeper isn’t a highly transferrable career in this day and age.” She smiled.

“I suppose it’s not easy to find someone with more houses than they have need of.” He looked as if he was going to smile, but he didn’t. If anything he looked pained. Perhaps he’d been hoping she’d prove herself worthy of him with a grand ambition. He must be cruelly disappointed by her simple aspirations.

“What’s your dream?” She’d never have dared to ask him if they weren’t here tonight, in the silver-edged darkness.

Sinclair hesitated for a moment. Frowned. “I don’t know anymore. I used to want a family life, children, all that, but now I know that’s not for me.”