“You’re angry again,” Cindy said, studying the dark emotion that crossed his face.
“Not angry,” he told her. “Confused.”
“Don’t be.”
He took her hand in his, weaving their fingers together. She had beautiful hands. Each finger was narrow and tapered, and intuitively Thorne felt the comfort she would be capable of granting with a mere touch. The nails were a reasonable length, neither too long nor too short. He supposed she had to keep them like that in order to type properly.
“Who are you?” he asked, surprised that even her fingers could entice him.
Cindy felt the magic slowly dissipating. “I…I already told you.”
“Cinderella?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m your prince?”
“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “I’ve dreamed of you so often, and then I met you, and I knew you were everything my fantasies had promised.”
He slipped his index finger beneath her chin and made her gaze meet his. Studying her intense blue eyes was like looking into the crystal-clear water of a mountain lake. She was incapable of deception. Completely innocent. She was everything he’d ever hoped to find in a woman—yet had never believed he would. She was unexpected sunshine and warmth on a winter day. Laughter and excitement. Love when he least expected it and was least prepared to deal with it. “You said I disappointed you.”
“That was before. Now I know who you really are.”
“Oh Cindy.” He couldn’t stop himself. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight. She tasted exquisite, and her lips promised him paradise. “Cindy,” he whispered against her mouth. Never had a name been lovelier. He kissed her again.
Cindy leaned in to him, afraid she’d wake up at any minute and discover this had all been a dream.
Thorne heaved a sigh that came from deep inside him and held her so close his arms ached.
“Thorne…”
“I’m hurting you?” He relaxed the pressure instantly and ran his hands down her back and up again to rest on the curve of her shoulders. His thumb stroked the pulse that was rapidly pounding near the hollow of her throat. Reluctantly, he eased her away from him. “Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.”
Cindy dropped her gaze and laughed lightly to hide her uneasiness. She couldn’t tell him anything. “There isn’t much…”
She rested her hands on the sides of his face and slowly stroked his jaw. “I see so much pride in you. Stubborn pride,” she said. “And determination. Were you always like this?”
Thorne smiled in response. “Always, I think. My mother claims that when I was fourteen months old, I threw my bottle against the wall and refused to drink out of anything but a cup from then on. When other children were riding tricycles, I wanted a two-wheeler. I was reading by age five, and not because I was gifted. My older sisters read, and I was hell-bent to do anything they could.”
“Whereas I refused to give up my blankie until I was six,” Cindy admitted sheepishly. It had been her only comfort after her mother had died, and she’d clung to it feverishly, initially refusing to accept the love her aunt and uncle had offered.
“You must have been a beautiful little girl.”
“I had buck teeth and freckles.”
“I wore braces and corrective shoes.”
Cindy laughed. “You were always athletic, though, weren’t you?”
Thorne’s eyes clouded momentarily. “Yes.”
“Something happened.” Cindy could see it—a flash of memory that came so briefly, another person might have missed it.
His heart hammered relentlessly. He hadn’t thought about the accident in years. He’d been only a child. Ten years old.
Cindy saw the pain in his eyes, and although she didn’t understand it, she knew she had to comfort him. She lifted her hand and touched his face. “Tell me,” she whispered in a low, coaxing tone. “Tell me what happened.”
Sensation raced through Thorne. He caught her hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her palm. “I fell off my horse. I thought I was dead, then I realized that death couldn’t hurt that much. I was barely conscious. Every breath I took was like inhaling fire.”
Cindy bit her lip. The thought of Thorne in pain, even pain he’d suffered years before, was intolerable. “Broken ribs?”
“Six, and a bruised kidney.”
Her fingers tightened over his. He was remembering more than the physical pain—something far deeper, far more intense. “What else happened?”
He gave her a long, hard look. “I already told you. I fell off the horse.”
“No. Afterward.”
“Afterward,” he repeated. He remembered lying in bed in his darkened room hours later. The pain hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had grown so much worse that he’d wished he had died just so he wouldn’t have to bear the agony any longer. One eye had been so severely bruised it had swollen shut. The side of his face was badly scraped, and the ache in his jaw wouldn’t go away. Two days later, the doctor discovered that it, too, had been broken in the fall.
When Thorne was a child, his father was away much of the time, traveling for business, but he’d come to see his son the afternoon of the accident. Thorne had looked up at him, grateful he was there. Tears had welled in Thorne’s eyes, but instead of offering comfort, his father had spoken of what it meant to be a man and how a true man never revealed his emotions and certainly never cried.
“Thorne?” Cindy prompted.
“My father forced me out of bed and back into the saddle.” He’d never told anyone about that incident. It made his father sound heartless and cruel. Thorndike Senior was neither—only proud and stubborn like his son. And a man whose beliefs had been formed by an uncompromising father of his own. Thorne paused; his eyes narrowed. “Why am I telling you this?”
“You needed to,” she answered simply.
Thorne felt startled. She was right. He had needed to tell someone about it, but he hadn’t recognized that himself. Until tonight with Cindy.
“Let’s walk,” he said, getting to his feet.
Cindy joined him and he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “This really is an enchanted evening, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Magical,” she returned, her eyes smiling softly into his.
They strolled along the walkway around the pond. Thorne felt like singing, which of course was ridiculous. He didn’t sing. Ever. Not even in the shower. “Do you have any deep, dark secrets?”
“Plenty,” she answered, swallowing a laugh.
“Tell me just one so I won’t feel like such a fool.”
“Okay.” She felt an overwhelming urge to throw back her head and laugh. “No one knows this.”
“Good.”
She hesitated. “You’ll probably find this silly…”
“I won’t laugh,” he promised.
She regarded him steadily, unsure whether she could trust him. “I still have my blankie.”
“Do you sleep with it?”
“Of course not!” She was a little offended when she realized he was amused by her admission. She bit back an annoyed response. He’d shared something profound with her, while her threadbare blankie was a minor thing. “It’s hidden in a bottom drawer.”
His eyes sparkled.
“Thorndike Prince, you’re laughing at me!”
“I swear I’m not.” He gave her a look of innocence. “Tell me something else.”
“No way,” she vowed, a chuckle punctuating her words.
Thorne slung his arm over her shoulders. He lifted his eyes to the clear night sky. Stars filled the heavens, glimmering, glinting, glistening above the skyscrapers. “It’s a beautiful night.”
Cindy’s gaze followed his. “Shall we make a wish?”
He turned to face her. “A wish?”
“Upon a star.” She moved to stand directly in front of him. “You haven’t done this in a long time, have yo
u?”
“No.” He’d seldom played childish games. In some ways, Thorne had never been allowed to be a boy. Responsibilities had come to him early; he was the only son, and great things were expected of him.
“Then do it now,” she urged, throwing back her head to stare up at the heavens. She picked the brightest star, closed her eyes, and wished with all her heart that this night would never end. “Okay,” she whispered. “It’s your turn.”
He looked at her blankly. “You’re sure you want me to do this?”
“Yes,” she said.
Like Cindy, he raised his head and studied the heavens. “You don’t honestly believe in this, do you?”
“You’re asking Cinderella something like that? Of course I believe. It’s required of every princess in a fairy tale.”
“What should I ask for?”
It took Cindy a moment to realize that whatever Thorne wanted in life he purchased without a second thought. He probably had every material possession he could possibly desire.
“Ask for something you never expected to receive,” she told him softly.
Thorne looked at Cindy. He’d never expected to meet anyone like her. Someone so pure and good, so honest and forthright. A woman who stirred his mind as well as his heart. A woman of insight and laughter. He felt like a teenager, yearning to find a way to please her—to thank her for giving him this priceless gift of joy.
She felt as though his eyes were melting her soul. He was looking at her as she’d always imagined the great heroes of literature viewed the loves of their lives. The way Heathcliff regarded Catherine or Mr. Rochester saw Jane Eyre. The bored, cynical look that tightened his features when she’d first arrived at the party had been replaced with one of tenderness.
“Close your eyes,” she told him when she found her voice. “You have to close your eyes to make your wish come true.”
Reluctantly, he did. But he didn’t need any stars or wishes to be granted his one request. Without his even asking, it had already come true: Everything he’d ever wanted was standing a few inches away from him. And if he doubted, all he had to do was reach out and touch her. Cindy was his, and he’d found her just in time. To think that only a few hours before he’d dreaded attending this party. Now he’d thank God every day of his life that he’d been there to meet Cindy.
“Have you finished?” she whispered.
Slowly, Thorne opened his eyes. “Are you going to tell me your wish?” he asked, bringing her against his side. He had to keep touching her to believe she was real.
“I might as well,” she said softly. “There’s no possibility it’ll ever come true.”
“Don’t be so sure. I thought we agreed this night is filled with magic.”
“It couldn’t come true.” Her footsteps matched his as they continued strolling. “I asked that this night never end.”
“Ah.” Thorne nodded. “But in some ways it never will.”
“How’s that?” Cindy turned her head to study his expression. When she’d first conceived of this plan, she’d counted on the magic of the night to work for her. Now that she saw how much Thorne had been affected by her schemes, she marveled at the power of a wish.
“This night will last forever,” Thorne said thoughtfully.
“But how?” Cindy didn’t understand, because midnight loomed and she knew she had to leave him. There was no staying at the ball for Cinderella.
“It will live in our hearts.”
Tears sprang to Cindy’s eyes, and she hurriedly turned her head in an effort to hide her emotion from Thorne. She hadn’t dared to hope he’d be so romantic.
“That’s beautiful,” she said in a choked whisper. “Prince Charming himself couldn’t have said it any better.”
“Only Cinderella would know that.”
Cindy smiled, letting the wonder of the night dispel all doubts.
“So you’re still claiming to be Cinderella?”
“Oh yes, it’s quite true.”
His steps slowed. “Do you have two ugly stepsisters?”
“No,” she answered, grateful he’d steered the conversation to lighter subjects.
“What about a fairy godmother?”
“A wonderful but quite ordinary godmother,” she answered, convinced her aunt would appreciate the compliment. “But that doesn’t mean she lacks magical abilities.”
“Did she turn the mice into horses for your carriage?”
Cindy frowned. “I don’t exactly have a carriage.”
“Yes, you do,” Thorne said, leading her onto the sidewalk along Central Park South. Horse-drawn carriages lined the street, as though waiting for her command. “Your carriage, my lady,” Thorne told her with a bow.
As if reading Thorne’s mind, the middle-aged driver, who wore a black top hat, stepped forward and opened the carriage door. Cindy accepted his hand and climbed onto the black leather cushion. She tucked her dress around her, still wearing Thorne’s overcoat. She wondered guiltily if he felt chilled, but the warmth of the look he gave her chased away her concerns.
Sitting beside Cindy, Thorne slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ve lived in Manhattan for the past six years and I’ve never done this.”
“Me neither,” Cindy admitted, feeling as excited as a child.
“I may have confused the driver, however,” Thorne said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. “I told him we wanted to survey our kingdom.”
Cindy laughed. “Oh dear, the poor man. He must think we’re both crazy.”
“We are, but I don’t care. Do you?”
“Not in the least.”
The driver jumped into the carriage box and urged the horse onto the street. The giant wheels at Cindy’s side drowned out the clopping of the horse’s hooves against the pavement.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Cindy said. “Thank you, Thorne.” She laid her head on his shoulder and drew in a deep breath. She yearned to hold on to this moment for as long as she could…
Thorne intertwined his fingers with hers and raised her hand to his mouth. “I know so little about you.”
“You know everything that’s important.”
“I feel like I do,” he said. “I know this seems impossible, but it’s as if I’ve known you all my life.”
“In some ways, I think I might’ve been born for this night,” Cindy told him.
“I feel like I’ve been born for you.”
She went still. She couldn’t swallow. They had only tonight, only these few hours, and when midnight came, she’d have to go back to being the girl who cleaned his office. A nobody. Certainly no one who’d ever interest Thorndike Prince, first vice president. Her mind whirled with countless dreams and visions, but they all ended with the same shattering reality. She couldn’t change who she was, and he couldn’t change the man he’d become. There could be no middle ground for them.
“You’re very quiet all of a sudden,” Thorne observed. He liked having her close to him. He loved holding her and kissing her. But the fascination he felt for her wasn’t merely physical. It was more than that. Something buried deep within him had reached out and touched something deep within her, something profound. His inner self had connected with hers. With Cindy, he experienced a wholeness, a rightness, that had been missing from his life.
“Let’s not think beyond anything except tonight,” Cindy said. She was trying to conjure up ways in which she could meet him again, but she quickly realized the hopelessness of it all. A sadness surrounded her heart.
“We’ll share every night for the rest of our lives,” Thorne promised. He knew he was rushing her. They’d met only a few hours before, and here he was, practically asking her what names she wanted to give their children. The thought stunned him. He’d always been described as an unemotional, hard-hearted cynic, but he was talking like a lovesick teenager. And everything he’d said made sense. He’d been ignorant before meeting Cindy. Stupid. Now that he’d met her, he understood what drove men to impossible
feats in the name of love. He’d walk over hot coals to get to Cindy. He’d wade through a raging river. Nothing would stop him now that he’d discovered her.
“I want you to meet my family.” He shocked himself by making the suggestion.
“Your…family?” Cindy repeated.
“Yes.” He’d talk to his mother and father first. They’d be surprised, of course, since they’d been expecting him to announce that he was marrying Sheila. Sheila. He nearly laughed aloud. He couldn’t even remember what the other woman looked like.
His parents could be his and Cindy’s biggest hurdle. But once they met her they wouldn’t question his actions. After the initial displeasure, his mother would love her, Thorne was certain of that. His father was another matter, but given time, he’d respect Thorne’s decision. Things could get a bit sticky with Sheila, but she was a reasonable woman. She always said she wanted what was best for Thorne, and as soon as he explained, Thorne was convinced that she, too, would understand.
Within a matter of hours a young woman with a saucy grin had turned his life upside down. And Thorne loved it.
“I…can’t meet your family.” Cindy’s mind was in turmoil.
“Of course you can. They’re going to fall for you just like I have.”
“Thorne—”
“Stop.” He pressed his finger to her lips, as she’d done to him earlier. “Here,” he said, and placed her hand over his heart. “Feel how excited and happy I am. I feel alive for the first time in years. You’ve done that for me. I want to laugh and sing and dance, and I never do any of those things.”
“But I can’t—”
“I know I’m probably going a thousand times too fast. I realize it all sounds crazy, but I’ve been waiting years for you. Years.” He framed her face with his hands and he kissed her with infinite gentleness. His mouth lingered on hers as if he couldn’t get his fill. “What took you so long, Cindy? What took my Cinderella so long?”