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“Of course not. You know I won’t go out with a customer,” Jennifer reminded her. She’d made up the rule on the spur-of-the-moment the first week she’d worked at the diner. To her surprise, the man who’d asked her out seemed to accept it with regret but little argument. She’d used the excuse several times since with the same results and no one had ever tempted her to change her mind—until Chance.
Yolanda rolled her eyes. “That’s such a crock, Jennifer. You could make an exception.” She glanced over her shoulder at the booth where Chance sat and sighed loudly. “Goodness knows, I certainly would for Dr. D.”
Jennifer laughed. “Don’t you think your husband might object?”
“Hmm. Good point.” Yolanda’s dimples formed as she grinned, her eyes flashing mischievously.
“Exactly,” Jennifer said with emphasis. She tossed the used filter with its damp coffee grounds into the trash bin and slipped the new one into the big coffeemaker. “You’d have to say no, too, but for different reasons. The charming Dr. Demetrios will just have to find another Cinderella to take to the ball.”
“To the ball?” Yolanda repeated, intrigued. “Do you mean, literally to a ball?”
“Actually, yes. He asked me to go to the Armstrong Fertility Institute Founder’s Ball with him.”
“What?” Yolanda’s shriek drew the attention of the diners at the long counter behind them. She glanced at them, waved a hand to tell them to return to their bacon and eggs and focused on Jennifer. “Spill, girlfriend,” she hissed. “I want details.”
“That’s all I’ve got,” Jennifer protested. “He asked me to be his date for the Founder’s Ball and I turned him down.”
“I can’t believe you refused a chance to go to that shindig. It’s one of Boston’s biggest parties!”
A third waitress joined them to collect a full coffeepot. Yolanda caught her sleeve. “Shirley, you’re not going to believe this.”
The red-haired woman paused, tucking her order pad into her pocket and eyeing Yolanda with interest. “What?”
“Dr. Demetrios asked Jennifer to go to the Founder’s Ball with him—and she turned him down!”
Shirley’s eyes widened. “Jennifer, you can’t say no! There’s no way Yolanda and I will ever get an invitation so you have to go, then come back and tell us all about it.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “I can’t go out with Dr. Demetrios, Shirley. If I did, no one would ever again accept my I-don’t-date-customers rule,” Jennifer protested.
“Not if they don’t know—so swear Dr. D to secrecy and make him promise not to tell anyone,” Yolanda said promptly. “He’s been trying to get you to go out with him for months—he’ll swear not to tell anyone you broke your rule.”
“Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t,” Jennifer continued, trying a different argument. “The affair is black tie. I have nothing to wear—no dress, no shoes, no jewelry. It’s not as if I can go in my best jeans.”
Shirley dismissed the problem with a wave of her hand. “My best friend from high school is half owner of a high-end consignment shop. She can get you whatever you might need and it won’t cost you a thing. She owes me a favor. I’ll ask her to let us take everything home for the weekend and I’ll return them on Monday morning before the shop opens. I’m sure she’ll let us.”
A fourth waitress joined them in time to hear Shirley’s comments and her lively face lit with curiosity. “Who’s getting a designer dress and jewelry?”
“Jennifer—Dr. D asked her to go to the Founder’s Ball with him.”
“No way!” Linda’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Yeah, Jennifer! You’re going, of course,” she said with absolute conviction.
“I can’t—you know I never date customers,” Jennifer replied.
“Huh,” Yolanda snorted. “You don’t date. Period. I don’t think you’ve gone out with anyone but the three of us since you started working here.”
“That’s true,” Shirley conceded and nodded with firm agreement. “You’ve got to expand your horizons, Jennifer. Not that we don’t love having you join us for outings after work and weekends, but honey—” she laid a hand on Jennifer’s forearm and leaned closer, fixing her with a solemn gaze “—you seriously need to go out with a man.”
“And get to know him—in the biblical sense,” Linda added.
“I’m not hooking up with a guy for sex,” Jennifer protested.
“Who said it was just for sex?” Yolanda countered. “The doc is the perfect guy for a weekend fling—he’s nice, you’ve seen him nearly every day for the past six months so you can be sure he’s not an ax murderer, he’s interested in you and he has a reputation for never getting involved long-term with women.” She ticked off her arguments one-by-one on the fingers of her right hand. “You’ll have a great time and if you end up spending the weekend having great sex, well…that’s just an added benefit. You’ve been living like a nun and Chance is the perfect man to end that state.”
“I couldn’t possibly spend the weekend with anyone,” Jennifer protested, though she was shocked at how tempted she was by the idea.
She hadn’t dressed up in an evening gown and attended a black-tie party since before her short-lived marriage to Patrick, her daughter’s father. That Harvest Ball at the country club in her small Illinois hometown had been one of many such events, distinguished only because it had been the last dinner dance she’d attended before leaving for college.
A year later, she’d been married, divorced, and was six months pregnant with her little girl.
That was over five years ago and she hadn’t worn a party dress, gone out on a date, nor slept with a man since. No wonder she was tempted, she thought. With an effort, she forced herself to focus on another reason to convince her friends she couldn’t go to the Founder’s Ball with Chance.
“And besides,” she added, “I probably couldn’t find a babysitter for Annie for an evening.”
“That’s absolutely not a problem,” Linda assured her. “My kids would love to have her spend the weekend. Just yesterday they were asking when Annie was coming over again. We’ll pick her up before your date and bring her home late Sunday afternoon.”
Jennifer paused, staring at the trio of faces. Could she do this? More important, should she do this?
“Come on,” Yolanda coaxed. “You know you want to.”
“I shouldn’t…” Jennifer began. She glanced over her shoulder and found Chance watching her, his dark eyes unreadable. The instant shiver of awareness was nothing new—he always elicited this response in her. He made her yearn, made her want.
Seeing his unfailing gentleness with elderly Mrs. Morgenstern when she routinely stopped him in the diner to ask for medical advice had made Jennifer sharply aware of the lack of a man’s strength in her own life. And the charm and dry wit with which he deftly turned aside the inevitable passes from women, all without hurting their feelings, made her wonder if his reputation as a playboy was true. He seemed to genuinely like women and go out of his way to be kind, no matter their age or degree of beauty.
All of which only increased her attraction to him—which made her more wary than ever. Her ex-husband had been charming and handsome and she’d learned to her sorrow that his goodness was a facade. Pretty words and a handsome face had concealed a shallow, faithless heart. And after her bad experience with Patrick, Jennifer questioned her own judgment when it came to men. Everything about Chance drove her to obey the urging of her body to give in and say yes. But how could she be sure Chance was one of the good guys? Should she give in just this once? Could she set aside her self-imposed strict rules—and her role as responsible single mother—and grab a few stolen hours of fun for herself?
“Go on, tell him yes,” Shirley urged in a whisper behind her.
Jennifer looked back at her friends. Their faces held nearly identical expressions of encouragement and affection.
“Are you sure you don’t mind having Annie sleep over for the weekend?” she asked Linda.
“I’m positive!”
With sudden, uncharacteristic impulsiveness, Jennifer nodded abruptly. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Yes.” Yolanda pumped her fist in the air and laughed.
Linda leaned closer. “Go tell him,” she prodded in a whisper. “Right now.” She caught Jennifer’s shoulders and turned her around, giving her a little nudge toward the booth where Chance sat, frowning down at his mug of coffee.
Jennifer took a deep breath. She could hear her coworkers whispering as she walked away from them and couldn’t suppress a smile. The three women were great friends and staunch supporters. She didn’t doubt they were sincere when they’d told her they expected a full report on the institute’s glamorous event—and every detail about her night out with the sexy doctor.
Chance looked up just as she reached his booth.
“If the invitation is still open, I’d love to go to the Founder’s Ball with you,” Jennifer said without preamble.
His mouth curved in a grin and Jennifer didn’t miss the male satisfaction and what she thought was a gleam of triumph in his dark eyes.
“It’s definitely still open.”
“Good.” She took her order pad and a pen from her pocket. “It’s this weekend, isn’t it? What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight on Saturday. I need your address,” he added.
“Right.” She nodded, scribbled her street and apartment number on the back of an order slip, tore if off the pad and handed it to him. The slow, intimate smile he gave her sent a shiver of heated apprehension spiraling up her spine and she felt her cheeks warm. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you Saturday.” She turned to walk away.
“Jennifer.” The seductive deep drawl stopped her and she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Thanks for saying yes.”
“You’re welcome.” She walked back to the counter, feeling his gaze between her shoulder blades like a caress. Fortunately, a customer stopped her and during their ensuing conversation, Chance paid his check and left the diner.
She wasn’t comfortable knowing she was always aware of him on some level, she thought with stark honesty. Her senses appeared to be sharply tuned to him whenever he was around her. She felt his presence and departure like a tangible force each time he entered or left the diner. Pretending to ignore him hadn’t solved the problem, nor had self lectures about the sheer stupidity of giving in to the attraction.
After her divorce, she’d vowed she wouldn’t subject her daughter to a series of men friends rotating through their lives. Jennifer had spent her childhood watching substitute fathers move in and out of her mother’s home after her parents’ divorce. When the third very nice man moved on and her mother quickly fell in love with a fourth, Jennifer had stopped viewing any of her mother’s boyfriends as permanent fixtures. Her mother was currently headed for divorce court for the sixth time.
Because Jennifer’s grandparents were affluent, socially prominent members of the community, she’d never wanted for the necessities of food, clothing, good schools and a lovely home. But her life felt lonely and emotionally insecure. Lunch at the country club with her grandmother and piles of exquisitely wrapped presents under the Christmas tree didn’t compensate for the lack of security under her mother’s roof.
She’d married young while still in college and dreamed of a life filled with home and family. With stars in her eyes, she’d quit college to take a full-time job to support her husband, Patrick, a pre-med student. Six months after the wedding, she’d been devastated when Patrick was furious the night she told him she was pregnant. He’d accused her of lying about taking birth control pills and he moved out of their apartment within a week, immediately filing for divorce. He’d told her he needed a working wife whose first commitment was to him and he had no room in his life for a child. He’d even agreed to give her full custody and let her raise their baby alone since he had no interest in visitation rights. In return, she agreed not to request child support payments from him.
When he told their mutual friends that the divorce was Jennifer’s choice, they reacted by ostracizing her and Jennifer was devastated. Much as she hated the snubs and vicious whisperings behind her back, however, she refused to be drawn into a mud-slinging match.
The divorce was final when Jennifer was six months pregnant. Three months later, she gave birth to Annie, a beautiful six-and-a-half-pound, red-haired baby girl with big blue eyes.
In the five years since Annie’s birth, Jennifer had kept her vow to create a better life for her daughter than the one she’d known. She went to work, attended night classes to finish her college degree, and spent her free time with her little girl. Men occasionally asked her out but she turned them down without a single regret. If celibacy and a solo adult life was the cost of giving Annie a secure, quiet life then it was a small price to pay.
Jennifer knew her friends were convinced she needed an adult social life, including a man to share her bed. But she was committed to keeping her vow to not repeat her mother’s mistakes. She swore her friends to silence, and they all promised not to tell any interested men about Annie or other details of her life. Fortunately, she hadn’t met anyone that stirred more than mild interest and she’d certainly never considered sleeping with anyone—until Chance walked into the diner and smiled at her.
Since then, her sleep had been haunted by vivid dreams of making love with him.
Perhaps going out with him will get him out of my system, she thought.
Finishing her shift at two o’clock that afternoon, Jennifer hurried home to collect her daughter from the babysitter. She chatted for a few moments with the spry seventy-eight-year-old Margaret Sullivan, before she and Annie said goodbye and headed across the hall to their own apartment. On the day they’d moved in, Margaret had knocked on their door with a plate of warm cookies and a welcoming smile. When Jennifer’s babysitter moved away, Margaret volunteered to have Annie stay with her while Jennifer worked or attended classes and the three had formed a close, familylike relationship.
“How was school today, Annie?” Jennifer asked when they were home in their own small kitchen. She filled the kettle at the sink and set it on the stove, switching on the burner.
“Fine,” Annie replied as she carefully took three small plates from the lower cabinet next to the sink. “Me and Melinda are working on a project.”
“Really? What kind of project?” Jennifer took two mugs from the cupboard. At the small corner table, Annie was carefully arranging four peanut butter cookies on one of the plates.
“We’re building a miniature house with a kennel for our dogs.” Annie shifted one of the cookies a bit to the left, eyed the plate critically, then nodded with approval. She looked up at Jennifer, her blue eyes glowing with fervor. “We’re practicing for when we get our real dogs.”
“I see.” Jennifer caught her daughter in a quick hug, pressing a kiss against the silky red-gold curls. The teakettle whistled a warning and she released Annie to turn off the burner. Pouring hot water into the mugs, she dropped an English Breakfast tea bag into hers and stirred hot chocolate mix into Annie’s, then carried them over to the table. The little girl perched on a chair, legs swinging with enthusiasm. “You know, honey,” Jennifer began, “it’s going to be a while before we can have a dog.” She set the gently steaming mug of chocolate in front of Annie and took the chair opposite.
“I know.” Annie gave her mother a serene smile and stirred her drink with single-minded concentration.
“Not that I wouldn’t like to have a dog, too,” Jennifer continued. “But the landlord won’t let us have pets in the apartment.”
“It’s all right, Mommy,” Annie said. She sipped the chocolate from her spoon, made a small sound of satisfaction and drank from her mug. “I’m going to ask Santa for a dog this Christmas.” She narrowed her eyes consideringly. “I think we need a house with a yard, too, don’t you?”
“Uh…sure.” Jennifer had no idea why Annie had decided that Santa would deliver a dog and a house by Christmas. But it’s only spring, she thought, and with luck, I can distract her and she’ll forget about it by this winter. Given that Annie had previously demonstrated a focused determination normally found in much older children, Jennifer wasn’t convinced the delay would distract her daughter. Nevertheless, it was the only plan she had. “What did you and Melinda use to build your miniature house?”
Jennifer’s attempt to distract Annie worked as the little girl launched into an enthusiastic description of the two shoe boxes they’d taped together and how they’d used scissors to cut out dog photos from a magazine.
The mugs were half-empty before Annie’s recital of the day’s events was exhausted. Jennifer eyed her over the rim of her tea mug and smiled as her daughter broke off a chunk of peanut butter cookie and tucked it neatly into her mouth.
“I have a surprise for you, Annie,” she said. “How would you like to have a sleepover at Jake and Suzie’s house this weekend?”
“Oooh, yes!” Annie bounced in her chair, her eyes lit with excitement. “May I take my backpack and my Lilia-Mae doll and my Enchanted Pony so Suzie and I can play with them?”
“Yes, of course.” Jennifer laughed when Annie jumped off her chair and threw herself into her mother’s arms, climbing into her lap as she listed all the many things she wanted to take with her.
Jennifer felt a stab of misgiving as she cuddled the warm, vibrant little body in her arms. This quiet apartment with Annie was her real life and she loved it—a world filled with her beautiful little girl and her busy days with work and college classes. A date with Chance Demetrios—at the ritzy Founder’s Ball, no less—was a huge step outside the constraints of the life she’d built.
But her friends were right, too, she realized. Sometimes, she was lonely and longed for an emotional—and physical—connection with a partner. There was no room for a permanent man in her life just now and wouldn’t be for the foreseeable future. But just for one night, perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm if she seized the opportunity to play Cinderella before returning to the quiet rhythm of her busy days with Annie.
Jennifer rested her cheek against her daughter’s silky red-gold curls, breathed in her little-girl smell of shampoo, soap and crayons, and contentedly listened to Annie’s excited plans for spending the weekend with her friends.
Chance hadn’t recognized the street address that Jennifer had scribbled on the note after she had accepted his invitation so he’d made a mental note to check it out later. He tucked the paper safely away in his pocket until later that evening, when he turned on his laptop to browse the Internet. It took his computer only a few moments to search, find a street map of Boston and pinpoint Jennifer’s neighborhood.
He frowned at the screen, trying to visualize the area. He thought her apartment might be located within a mile or two of the free clinic where he volunteered. He typed in a request for directions from his own town house, in an upscale Boston neighborhood, to Jennifer’s address. The resultant map details confirmed his guess that her street wasn’t more than a short cab drive and probably within walking distance from the free clinic. The two addresses were in a shabby though respectable area of Boston, not far from his own home in actual miles but light-years away in real-estate prices.
Chance didn’t give a damn that Jennifer’s address highlighted the disparity in their incomes but it drove home the fact that he knew little about her life away from the diner.
He’d noticed her sitting in a back booth to study on her coffee breaks at the diner and when he’d commented, she’d told him that she was taking college classes. But beyond being a student and working as a waitress, she was an enigma to him. He wondered if she lived alone or shared an apartment with a fellow student.
During their brief conversations, she’d never mentioned her family and he realized that he didn’t know if she had any sisters or brothers, or if her parents lived here in Boston. He couldn’t help but wonder what her childhood had been like, what kind of a family she came from, and where she’d grown up. Jennifer treated Mrs. Blake, the elderly widow who counted out coins to pay for her daily coffee and donut, with the same friendly respect that she gave to the head of the Armstrong Fertility Institute. He’d never seen her react as if any of the high-powered doctors or scientists who frequented the diner intimidated her in the slightest.
Which made him think she must have grown accustomed to dealing with powerful, influential people before she arrived at the Coach House Diner.
She didn’t seem to recognize the Demetrios name, however, which indicated to him that while her family may have been affluent, they didn’t move in his parents’ stratified circle. The Demetrios shipping empire had made his family very, very rich and by definition, made him heir to an obscenely large fortune. Chance knew his father felt he’d turned his back on the family business when he chose to become a doctor. The choice had driven a wedge between him and his parents, especially his father. Much as he loved them, however, he couldn’t ignore the deep, passionate commitment he felt to medicine.
He wondered if Jennifer’s parents were happy with her career choice of waitress and part-time college student.
Which brought him full circle, he realized, to the fact that he was apparently bewitched by every facet of the mysterious Miss Labeaux.
That there was much he didn’t know about the beautiful blonde only made her more intriguing. Anticipation curled through his midsection.
I’ll find out Saturday night, he reflected.
Chapter Two
At seven-fifteen on Saturday night, Jennifer was well on her way to being transformed into Cinderella. Linda, Yolanda and Shirley had knocked on her door at 5:00 p.m., laden with bags. They’d dropped boxes, bags and bottles atop her bed before they raided her kitchen for wineglasses. After pouring wine and setting out a tray of crackers and cheese on her dresser, they had shooed her into the shower.
She had shampooed and scrubbed with Linda’s gift of plumeria-scented gel before toweling off and smoothing the matching floral lotion over her skin. She had heard Annie’s giggles over the throb of music from the radio on her bedside table and when she had pulled on her robe and left the bathroom, she had found Annie dancing with Yolanda. The two had twirled and spun in the small carpeted space at the foot of the bed while they sang along with a 1980s disco song.
Their enthusiasm had far outweighed their vocal talents and Jennifer had laughed as the song ended with a flourish.
