Honky-Tonk Cinderella

Well. Now what? She kneaded Chase’s knobby shoulders through his T-shirt for an awkward second or two, then turned him around and handed him a tissue from the pocket of her overalls. “Here. Blow.”

“I’m not a baby,” he grumbled, swiping his hand across his cheek.

“Did I say that?”

Chase glowered at her, but took the tissue anyway and honked into it, after which Luanne suggested he go get himself some breakfast.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something, honey—”

“I said, I ain’t hungry!”

Irritation flashed inside her, so hot and fierce it scared her half to death, adding a walloping dose of guilt to her emotions. She’d never once laid a hand on her child. Yet now, when she most needed to have control over herself, there were times when it was everything she could do not to smack him for what, in any other child, she would have called out-and-out insolence. He knew how much she detested that particular backwoods expression, one that wealth and success had never been able to eradicate from Jeff’s speech, either.

But this was not the time to call him on it.

“Fine,” Luanne said in a shaky voice, turning her attention to the dog and away from the pair of astute silver eyes that she wished would just take their astuteness and go away. “But Bo is. So go fill his dog dish, then go on outside and play ball with him for a little while, before it gets any hotter.”

To her amazement—and immense relief—Chase did as he was told.

Minor crisis resolved for the moment, she turned to the much bigger one standing far too close for her comfort. She did not wish him to find her wanting, which she feared he would if he studied her hard enough and long enough. But, oh, she was so weary. Crossing her arms, she leaned heavily against the wall. “I think it’s pretty obvious Chase can’t take any more stress right now.” She looked at him directly. “And, frankly, neither can I.”

Alek’s mouth went thin and tight. “I’m not turning my back on my son.”

“But you said—”

“And I meant it. I’m not here to take him away.”

The determined set to his features told another story, however. “Then what, exactly, do you have in mind?”

A pause, then he said, “There didn’t seem much point in formulating a plan until we’d talked things through.”

Luanne had nothing to say to that, which seemed to rattle Alek. Again, he swiped a hand through burnished dark-brown hair much shorter now, though still long enough to defy taming. Just like him, she imagined. He glanced away, then back, his brow pleated. “I’m flying completely blind here, Luanne. I know the timing couldn’t be worse on this, but…” His mouth twisted in frustration. “Chase isn’t just my son. He’s my heir. Not just to a throne, but a sizable fortune as well.”

“We don’t need your money.” Might as well get that point cleared up, right now. “Jeff left enough for us to live comfortably on for some time. I finally got my degree, too, a couple years ago. Once I get my certification, I can start teaching as soon as this one’s old enough to go into daycare.” Another stab to her heart: she’d opted to stay home for Chase, had fully intended to do the same with the new baby. Now, however… “We won’t starve, Alek.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly, and that set her to trembling all over again.

Her lip stung. She hadn’t realized she’d been biting down on it. “Jeff’s name’s on the birth certificate.” At Alek’s stunned expression, she added, “I couldn’t very well put down yours, could I?”

Her grandmother’s old cuckoo clock chimed the half hour before Alek said, “I know I’ve done precious little to earn your trust, but please believe me—I only want to work out whatever’s best for all of us. Granted, I don’t have the slightest idea how to go about that, but we have to start somewhere. And the sooner, the better.”

Luanne swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, trying to convince herself she wasn’t trapped. Oh, Lord…the last thing she wanted to do was deal with any of this. But she was in no condition, physically or mentally, to put up the kinds of walls now that would only give Alek a reason to use his power and influence down the road.

She frowned. If she lived to be a hundred and ten, she’d never understand why Jeff had told Alek about Chase when he’d been so all-fired intent on Chase’s real father never getting the opportunity to mess things up.

The baby kicked, hard. Luanne tried not to react, but there Alek was, right in front of her with his arms outstretched, asking if she was all right.

“I’m fine.” She stood up straight to show him she didn’t need his help, either long-or short-term. “So tell me—if it hadn’t’ve been for Chase, would you be here right now?”

She couldn’t read his expression. “To be perfectly honest…I don’t know. Oh, I would have made sure you were all right, I suppose, but…” He ended the sentence with a sad shrug.

Well. Since it was obvious none of this was going to go away and leave her be, she let out a long sigh, then turned and waddled down the hall toward the kitchen, feeling like somebody else had moved into her body until the rightful owner came to her senses. “You hungry? I could fix you some breakfast—”

“Luanne?”

She told herself it was only because she was so on edge that his voice sounded like a caress. That it was only because she was seven months pregnant and a new widow that anything of Alek Vlastos had any kind of power over her at all. But the fact was she’d never felt more alone in her life. Or more helpless. And right this very instant a large part of her wanted to walk smack into those big old strong arms and cry her eyes out.

However, since she had no earthly intention of letting that happen, she simply turned, one hand on the kitchen door frame, and said, “What?”

“I could be angry as well, you know.”

Holding back the tears, she swiftly turned and headed on into the kitchen.

Holding back the memories of that night eleven years ago was something else again….

Sitting in the Porsche in the pouring rain, wondering if she’d truly gone and lost her mind, Luanne could just make out Alek’s mad dash from Ed’s to the car. Not that running did him any good, seeing as he was already soaked through. Unmindful of the wet leather seat—he’d left his door open—he scooted behind the steering wheel and slammed shut his door, shoving one hand through his dripping hair which, combined with his shadowed jaw, made him look almost…wild. For a brief moment she thought he might shake himself like a dog, finding herself mildly disappointed when he didn’t. Her gaze then lingered on his body just long enough to determine that what the wet shirt and jeans had molded themselves to was lean and hard, and that this was having a profound and disturbing effect on her good sense.

She quickly looked away. Here her nerves had just settled down some, and then all that lean, male hardness had to go sending them haywire all over again.

Not, however, because he frightened, or even intimidated her, despite his being more refined and classier than any man she’d ever met, let alone ridden alone in a car with. Oh, no. What had gotten to her, from the moment they met—and what had, paradoxically, made her turn away when she’d seen his car in the lot—was what she’d seen in his eyes.

Working in a bar the way she did, Luanne had gotten real good at discerning, from a person’s body language and the expression in his eyes, not just whether he was dealing with some trial or other, but what that trial might be. She wasn’t sure whether this ability of hers was a gift or a burden, but her knack for pinpointing people’s troubles had proved to be extremely useful on more than one occasion.

Maybe she was only twenty-one, but she’d already seen for herself any number of times that there was a lot of truth in what folks said about money not buying happiness. An adage she suspected held especially true in this case. Off and on throughout the evening she had found herself contemplating Alek Hastings, coming to the eventual conclusion that this was a man with great emptiness inside him, despite his surface cheerfulness. She had not, however, arrived at this diagnosis because she had any special powers to read a person’s mind, as much as this was a general truth she’d learned about men with wanderlust.

Unfortunately, neither of those things stopped her from being powerfully attracted to the man, nor from thinking about things she shouldn’t.

“All recovered now?” Alek now asked, interrupting her thoughts. She managed a nod, not trusting her voice. The rain had dropped the temperature considerably; even wearing the sweater she kept in the truck, she wrapped her arms around herself, only to realize how cold he must be, being wet and all.

“Where you staying?” she asked, only to feel her face immediately flame at how he might interpret her question. “What I mean is, you’re gonna freeze to death if you don’t get outta those wet clothes….”

That got a chuckle. Now even the roots of her hair felt hot, propelling her next words out on an exasperated rush. “I just meant maybe you might be more comfortable if you changed into dry clothes before you took me home. That’s all.”

“I know that’s what you meant,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. “And yes, I think that’s an excellent idea, since I don’t much relish the thought of catching pneumonia. I’m staying at the Come On Inn.”

She burst out laughing. “You have got to be kidding!”

In the glow from the dash, she saw another grin split the dark contours of his beard-hazed face. “So sue me. I’m a sucker for tacky motels.”

“Well then, buddy, you are definitely staying at the right place. How on earth do you get any sleep, though, is what I want to know. I hear the walls are notoriously thin.”

His resulting low laugh sent a whole swarm of warm, foolish thoughts spiraling through her. “Earplugs.”

She found herself chuckling back, wondering at how she could feel so relaxed with her nerves all lit up the way they were. Then she allowed as how the Come On was on the way to her place, and off they purred in his fancy car, his headlights spearing the night as the windshield wipers whispered away the rain. He handled the car like it was part of him, with finesse and confidence, but no bravado, for which she and her twanging nerves were immensely grateful.

Alek popped a cassette into the player on the dash. A minute later, lush, glorious music filled the car.

“It sounds like Beethoven,” she said deliberately, “but I don’t recognize it.”

She saw the flinch of surprise, his hands tighten, just barely, on the wheel. “It’s the Choral Fantasy. He used this as a warm-up for the Ninth Symphony.”

“Ah.” Luanne sighed and let herself sink into the glove-soft leather, shutting her eyes, silently thanking her mother for sending away for one of those cassette sets of The World’s Best-Loved Melodies for $24.95 when Luanne wasn’t but a little girl. “It’s beautiful.”

Which would have been the cue for most men to say, “So are you,” but he didn’t. Instead he said, “So tell me—when that jerk opened your car door, why didn’t you pop out the passenger side and run back to Ed’s?”

“Can’t,” she said on a shrug. “That door hasn’t worked since probably 1976.”

“Never mind the engine?”

“Oh, the engine’s all right, usually.” Then she laughed. “Hey, I bought her off of Fred Sellers for two hundred bucks, what did I expect? And Jeff keeps her tuned up for me for free. Ordinarily Flo and I get along just fine.”

“Flo?”

“The truck. Which reminds me—don’t let me forget to call Jeff when I get home, have him go over and see what’s wrong with her.”

She thought she saw Alek do one of those things with his jaw that men do when they want to ask you something that’s none of their business, but they were pulling up in front of his room at the Come On, anyway, which Luanne figured was probably fortuitous.

He wasn’t gone five minutes, during which time the storm pretty much played itself out. When he returned, he was wearing a serious bad-boy leather jacket over fresh jeans and a plain white shirt, open at the collar, that showed off his dark complexion quite nicely.

Luanne reminded herself that staring was impolite.

She also reminded herself, as she directed Alek onto the dirt road that led to her trailer on the Carlisles’ property, where she lived rent free in exchange for her tutoring their kids during the school year—which was more of a challenge than she’d ever admit to the children’s parents—that she was not in the habit of inviting strange men into her house in the wee hours of the morning, not even those who had come to her rescue. Heck, she didn’t even invite men she knew inside her trailer. Bad enough fending them off in their trucks.

And if the rest of the ride from Alek’s motel had passed in silence, or been filled with dribs and drabs of stilted, boring conversation, she supposed she wouldn’t be tormenting herself like this.

But it hadn’t. And because it hadn’t, it struck Luanne that she had been sorely neglecting herself of late. And then there was this out-and-out sexual attraction that was making her itchy all over and her blood purr like the Porsche’s engine. So by the time they got to the trailer, and Blue, the shepherd mix who’d shown up on her doorstep last year, had made a mad dash out of his dog house for the car, barking his fool head off, she had just about twisted herself inside out with her ambivalence.

Then she looked up and saw her home for what it was—a tacky single-wide with fake wood paneling and fifteen-year-old gold shag carpeting besides.

Alek cut the engine. Luanne leaned out and told Blue to go on, git, which he did. Then she sat there, smelling Alek and listening to her heart stutter, reminding herself that she was not an impulsive person, and that expressing even a friendly interest in this man was very possibly the most impractical, illogical thing she could ever do. Except, right on the heels of that thought came the equally compelling argument that life was awfully short and unpredictable and here was an opportunity that, in all likelihood, would never come her way again. And that tacky though her place might be, it still beat the Come On all to heck.

Staring straight out the windshield—she somehow couldn’t bring herself to look at him—she said, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come in for a little while? For a glass of iced tea or something?”

Silence followed, and she thought, Oh, Lord, I have gone and done it now, except then Alek asked, very softly, “Are you sure?” and her heart bumped even harder in her chest as she replied, still not looking at him, “Yes.”

Then Alek leaned over, his smooth, elegant fingers carefully bracketing her jaw, turning her to face him. And oh, my, how her insides went all liquidy and warm. The clouds having moved off, silvery moonlight flooded into the car, accentuating what was easily the most handsome male face she’d ever seen. A handsome male face that was now within easy kissing distance, she realized. His scent mingled with that of the cool, rain-washed air as his fingers grazed her face with more gentleness than she’d ever thought possible from a man. And she thought, Oh, dear Lord—! but that’s as far as the thought got when Alek whispered, “It’s very late.”

Oh.

All she could do was nod, not having the wherewithal to know what else to do. He was giving her an out, she realized. So she should feel neither rejected nor disappointed, but grateful for his concern for her person and reputation.

Except he leaned just the tiniest bit closer, now clearly intent on kissing her, which both confused and delighted her. Then he hesitated, just as clearly waiting for her to give the go-ahead. So she edged a little closer, too, closing the gap between them, and then she heard herself sigh as his lips touched hers. It was a soft, sweet kiss, not at all what she might have expected from someone who she imagined had known more than a few women in his time, but all the more arousing for the tenderness of it.

There was a lot to be said for a man restraining himself, she thought as the first, tentative contact blossomed into something with a little zing to it. Never before had a man touched her as if she was something rare and precious and delicate, something to be cherished, not wrestled into submission. And when the kiss ended, instead of feeling her usual sense of relief that the ordeal was at last over, she felt a sense of wonder, as if something magical had happened. Oh, it was silly and girlish to feel such a thing, her practical self knew that, but magical moments were few and far between in her life, and she saw no reason not to clutch this one to her heart.

And while she was thinking on all this, she realized Alek had gotten out of the car and was standing by her open door. Slowly, as if in a dream, she gathered her wits and purse, sure by now he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. But then she got a good look at his face, which seemed to be filled with all manner of confusion, and it was only then that it occurred to her that he had yet to answer her question.

“If I accept your invitation,” he said, all seriousness, “I would be no better than the man you thought I was earlier this evening.”

Well now, that was certainly a good argument. Only she heard herself say, “It was only for a glass of tea….”

He snagged her chin in his fingers, his eyes blazing in the moonlight.

“Was it?” he asked, and she felt her skin go warm that he should have guessed her innermost thoughts when she herself hadn’t even had a chance to take a good look at them yet. But it was true: crazy though it might be, this was the only man she’d ever met that she’d been the least bit inclined to let see her naked. To touch her in places she didn’t normally like to be touched. That he was one step removed from being a complete stranger, that she’d had colds that had lasted longer than this relationship would, and that neither of those things particularly bothered her, made no sense.

“I guess it wasn’t,” she heard herself say, nearly stunning herself with her own boldness, only to turn and walk away, her palms cool and damp against her hot cheeks.

“That hardly seems fair to you.”

She twisted around, her laugh sounding a little tinny to her ears in the breeze smelling of clean air and damp soil and the sage plants that grew wild around the trailer. “I stopped believing in fair when I was five years old. I do, however, believe in making the most of whatever opportunity life seems interested in tossing my way.”

And there are times when I think I might die from the loneliness.

The thought had popped up like a jack-in-the-box, nearly making her flinch. Generally speaking, she liked living alone. Preferred it, in fact. Not once that she could recall had she ever felt lonely….

Until this very moment.

Alek was somehow standing in front of her—when had he closed the space between them?—his breath sweeping over her temple before he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “And I’m not the sort of man,” he whispered, “to take a woman up on an offer she’ll undoubtedly regret.”

A real prince, she thought as she backed up and looked him right in the eye, even though her insides were shaking as badly as Flo navigating a country road. People would say she’d plumb lost her mind, and they’d be right. Whether what she suddenly, desperately wanted was right or wrong, whether her desire—such a puny word for what she was feeling—stemmed from wanting to stanch the gaping hole of longing inside him or her, she had no idea. But whatever this was, it had taken on a life of its own, as palpable and uncontrollable and unstoppable as the rain or the wind or the moonlight. “If you didn’t want to take me to bed, why’d you come back tonight?”

He studied her quite carefully for some time before he said, “I’m not sure, to tell you the truth. I just…” His breath left his lungs in an exasperated sigh. “I just know I don’t want to hurt you.”

Well, she thought on that for a bit, and what she decided was that a man who had that much trouble putting the make on a girl could probably be trusted. So she lay her hand on his rough cheek, just the feel of him enough to send prickles of longing skedaddling through her blood.

“I am twenty-one years old,” Luanne said in a voice stronger than she felt. “I have lived on my own since I was seventeen. I survived my father’s abandonment when I was five and I took care of my mama for three years when she was sick. I have received two marriage proposals, neither of which I was inclined to accept, nor do I plan on marrying until I have completed my college education and begun my career as a school-teacher.”

She lowered her hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up the tempo underneath her trembling fingertips. “I do not consider myself an impetuous person, Alek. And I do not pretend to understand why I am so attracted to you. But I am of the considered opinion that I am perfectly capable of not only deciding whether or not to enter into a relationship, even a temporary one, but of handling any consequences that may arise from my decision….”

“Luanne? Are you all right?”

Rudely yanked back to the present, she whipped around to meet Alek’s gaze, eerily similar to what it had been that night in the past. Knotting her arms across her belly, she shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the memories.

It didn’t work.

“Just got to thinking, is all,” she said at last, offering a lame attempt at a smile. “My mind tends to wander these days.”

When he looked like he might reach out, she quickly moved to the refrigerator, plucking a can of orange juice from the freezer and swallowing past the lump in her throat. Maybe she’d been able to tuck her memories away in the very back of the bottom drawer of her consciousness, where they’d lain, undisturbed and unmissed, for more than ten years. But try as she might, there was no way to hide them completely, to pretend that things had happened differently. The fact was, she had prodded Alek into the affair, knowing full well nothing permanent could come of it. She hadn’t expected anything more. She hadn’t wanted anything more, not then. She’d said she’d deal with the consequences, and she’d meant it.

So she’d best be about dealing with them, hadn’t she?

Chapter 3

In a daze, Alek watched Luanne make up the frozen juice as he scanned the sunny, white kitchen, wondering again why she’d left Dallas. While the house was spotless—no surprise there—even a quick perusal revealed the chipped paint on the cabinets, the worn gold-flecked linoleum, the out-of-date appliances flanked by cookbooks and glass jars holding pasta and rice.

He self-consciously crossed to the aluminum-framed screen door to watch Chase half-heartedly toss a tennis ball for the dog in the weed-choked backyard. The scene he’d just witnessed between Luanne and Chase had nearly been his undoing, coagulating his emotions into an opaque mass at the base of his throat. If he’d had any doubts at all about Luanne’s feelings for Jeff, those had vanished like a puff of smoke on a windy day…only to replaced by something that felt suspiciously, and cruelly, like envy.

And an even stronger urge to bolt.

But his bolting days were over. All his adult life, Alek had shunned responsibility—personal, emotional, social—for reasons he’d never been able to define, any more than one can define one’s instinct for survival. But he’d also grown tired of feeling rudderless, of having no focus to his existence beyond the pursuit of a series of momentary gratifications. So, even before the accident, he’d begun the delayed—and not nearly as arduous as he would have thought—task of growing up. He’d all but given up the racing. And the women. In fact, he’d been celibate for longer than most men would readily admit, not a little surprised to find a certain…serenity in abstinence he wouldn’t have believed possible even a year ago. The throne would be his, sooner or later—not even his indomitable grandmother would live forever—and duty beckoned. Or, in his case, bellowed. Carpathia might be small, but his country’s stability in an area of the world subject to constant turmoil could not be underestimated, and the prince at last fully understood—and accepted—the importance of his role in years to come.