Page 4 of One Night with Cinderella

Well, well, well. Who knew?

“I don’t want to interrupt your schedule,” Gabe said, crossing the kitchen to retrieve a plate from the glass-paned cabinet she stood beside. “I’m just getting some lunch because I’m working from home today.”

She stepped back from his sudden nearness.

He frowned a bit as he looked down at her. Their eyes met for a brief moment before she looked away. She had to be close to his age of thirty-two, so her nervousness piqued his curiosity. “Monica,” he said, his voice low.

She looked up at him. “Sir?” she said, wringing her hands together in front of her.

Oh.

Her truth was in the depths of her doe-shaped eyes.

Gabe was a man quite familiar with women. As a chef he was a connoisseur of wine, needing the right accoutrement to the food he created. His experience with women reached the same expert level. Standing before him was a woman made nervous because she liked him. Was aware of him. Desired him.

Of that he was sure.

His body warmed over at the thought of her interest. He cleared his throat and moved back across the kitchen to plate his food before warming it in the microwave.

Bzzzzzz.

He reached for his vibrating phone and checked the caller ID. It was an old acquaintance calling. Felicity. He thought of the tall and shapely beauty with big eyes, lips and thighs, but didn’t answer the call. It had been weeks since they’d spent time together, and he wasn’t interested in striking up a new round of their on-again, off-again dalliance. She’d wanted nothing more than access to his upscale lifestyle, and he’d been satisfied with beautiful arm candy who was very eager to do nothing more than keep a smile on his face. Her first not-so-subtle hint of marriage had cooled his ardor.

Gabe was as adamant about his success in business as he was about avoiding a serious relationship. His romantic history had proven he was unable to balance the expectations of love and the duties of his career without someone suffering, so he chose the latter, enjoying the prestige, the challenge and the admiration of a father who, like himself, expected nothing but the very best.

Felicity had unknowingly served as a reminder of the sophisticated and sexy women he favored. Very unlike Monica.

Not that it mattered. She was a part of the family staff and off-limits.

He looked over to where she had stood and wasn’t surprised to find the spot now empty.

That’s for the best.

The last thing he wanted was to encourage her and then have her be disappointed when nothing came of her crush. He was more interested in her skill at organizing and cleaning his private bedroom suite than having her in it beneath him on his bed as he sated her desire.

Our desire, he admitted to himself.

Had things been different—time and place—and had she had a little more flash and sass about her, Gabe knew he would’ve gladly satisfied the craving he saw in her eyes.

---