Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Cinderella

Since she was already moving ahead of him, he couldn’t tell if she had any reaction to his comment.

His bathroom was modestly sized but equipped with all the basics. Chloe poked her head in, muttered to herself for a moment, then withdrew. Next, they walked into his room. He flipped on the light, and her gaze went immediately to the king-size bed. He could have sworn he saw a slight tinge of pink color her cheeks.

She glanced upward, pointing at the ceiling. “You have an exposed beam over where you sleep.”

It ran the length of the room. “What does that mean?” he wanted to know.

“Sha chi, bad energy. Could be problematic.”

“You sure? I’ve never had problems in the bedroom,” he said, completely straight-faced.

Her blush deepened. “Still. There are things you can place to offset sha chi. Mirrors, for instance, are supposed to be pretty powerful.”

He grinned. “You want me to put a mirror on my bedroom ceiling?”

“No! I mean, you could if you-No, that’s not what I was suggesting. You could also affix a, um, bird figurine to the beam.”

He followed her gaze skeptically. “A bird?” Frankly, the mirror idea had sounded more intriguing. “Not really me.”

“Or a string of miniature lights,” she babbled. “Bamboo flutes. You know what? Now that I’ve seen the place, I should take some time to think everything over. Write up some suggestions for you. I’ll e-mail you!”

“Or we can get together next time I’m in Mistletoe,” he said, mentally running through his work schedule. He had next Tuesday off and could stay at his mom’s before heading back to Atlanta on Wednesday. While he’d tackled a couple of maintenance issues around his mom’s house, there was more that needed to be done. “I’ll be back in town next week.”

“But you never come home!”

He arched an eyebrow. “You pay attention? I’m moved.”

“Everyone does,” she backpedaled. “You’re a big deal in Mistletoe.”

“Was. I was a big deal. Now I’m just-”

“Please don’t do that.” She touched his arm. “You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re Dylan Echols. You’re…” She trailed off, but the expression in her eyes made him very glad to be himself, to be on the receiving end of a look like that from a woman like her.

He knew better than to kiss her again, but he couldn’t help running his thumb across her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

If only she’d been so clear about who she was.

Chloe waited until she was clear of the Atlanta freeways before reaching for her cell phone at a red light. She punched in the first number programmed in her speed dial. “I’m a terrible human being! You shouldn’t even be friends with me.”

Her unorthodox greeting was met with a slight pause. “Chloe, is that you? I know a lot of terrible human beings, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“This is serious, Nat. I’m out of control! You won’t believe what happened at Dylan’s place.”

Natalie gasped. “Don’t tell me you had sex with him. On second thought, do tell me. I want all the details.”

“What? No, of course I didn’t sleep with him! Although I was in his bedroom. And we did kiss again.”

He was such a great kisser. He was a great listener. He was a great guy…which made her feel like slime. Today was supposed to have been the end of it. She was supposed to have freaked him out with girlie suggestions of angel figurines and crystal balls in every room, putting to rest the possibility of his wanting to hire her. But everything had gone wrong.

Paradoxically it had felt right.

He had a way of looking at her that made her feel sexy and whole and…herself. Even though she was pretending to be someone else, he seemed to see more of the real Chloe than her Web site customers, parents and friends. More than anyone except Natalie. In fact, Chloe thought, recalling the way they’d joked with each other, spending time with him was a lot like being with Natalie. Except that Nat knew Chloe’s actual name and profession, and Chloe never fantasized about kissing her friend.

“Who kissed who?” Natalie asked, sounding ecstatic instead of outraged.

“It was sort of a mutual thing.” Which she’d instigated, scooting closer to him on the couch. She didn’t even want to think about how she must have been looking at him to encourage him. “That’s not the point, anyway. I took his money!”

“You stole from him?”

“I might as well have! I let him write me a check for services rendered. Or to be rendered.” She’d thrown out the lowest number that was still halfway credible, adding at his disbelieving expression that he got a discount because he was someone she knew. But you live in a very small town, he’d argued. Don’t you know about sixty percent of your clients? How do you stay in business if you give everyone that rate?

It was difficult to lie to an astute man. Witness how he’d described seeing her at the inn, how he’d described her body language this afternoon-

“Hello? Did I lose you?” Natalie prompted. “Are you going through a bad reception area?”

“I’m going through a midlife crisis! And I’m not even thirty. I should have been racked with remorse all afternoon, but you know what the most shameful part is? I enjoyed myself.” Especially the kissing. “I’m sick and twisted enough that most of me is glad he’s coming to Mistletoe next week.”

Even though she knew that every time he stepped foot inside town limits, it increased the odds that he’d find out she wasn’t Candy Beemis and that C.J. the Decorator didn’t even exist, her idiot heart beat a bit faster at the thought of seeing him again.

“Coming to Mistletoe?” Natalie shrieked. “To see you? This is incredible.”

“I’m sure his main reason for the trip is to check on his mom, but he does want to see me while he’s there. I gave him my cell number.” She thought it was safer for him to have that, rather than the home number under Malcolm. It disturbed her that she’d even thought to take that precaution.

This was bad. The more she covered her butt, the deeper the hole she dug. At first, she’d told herself that he would be gone from her life soon, none the wiser. And now…Chloe had waited twenty-seven years to feel this way, alive and important, to have someone show avid interest in her as a woman, not as a sickly child too frail to be left unattended for a few minutes. Though it was insanity to continue on this course, the thought of pushing Dylan away for good pierced her like a wound. Not yet, just a little more time. A few more memories.

“So how’d you leave things with him?” Natalie wanted to know.

“I told him I’d work on design ideas for his place and that he could call me Monday or Tuesday. Nat, what am I doing?”

“I have no idea.”

Chloe sighed, raising her gaze skyward and checking the clear blue horizon for celestial assistance. She was certain that if she had a guardian angel, it was Aunt Jane. There was also no doubt she was the only angel up there with a naughty enough streak to help out under these circumstances. “I really like him.”

“Sure seems as if he likes you, too.”

“Yeah, but there’s no future in that. What am I supposed to do, date him, get him to fall in love with me, hope for every girl’s dream proposal, then pray he doesn’t notice the name on the marriage license? The only other option is to somehow explain to him that I’ve been lying. No way he’d want anything to do with me after that, and I wouldn’t blame him. Who wants to be involved with someone they can’t trust?” She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Do you think I could convince him that I sustained a major head injury shortly before the reunion? Forget I asked that.”

When she figured out a way to be honest with Dylan, the key would be actual honesty. In the meantime, she was not cashing the check she’d guiltily stowed in her glove compartment. She also had no plan to kiss him when she saw him next week.

No matter how badly she was tempted.

MOST MEN WERE probably motivated by anniversaries and apologies to stop at flower stores. Dylan, pulling into town midmorning on Tuesday, was passing Mistletoe Berries and Blooms when he was suddenly inspired to go on a fishing expedition. Parking his car, he wondered what exactly he thought he might learn. Natalie and Chloe were obviously close-albeit not through the cheerleading bond he’d first assumed-but even though the blonde probably knew all sorts of details about her friend, she was unlikely to share them.

A small copper bell tinkled overhead, announcing his entrance to the shop.

“Hello?” a female voice called out from a small room behind the counter. Natalie came into view seconds later.

“Hi, there.” He smiled, pouring on as much charm as was possible without hitting on her or trying to sell her a car.

“Dylan. I have to say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

Surprised, but not shocked, which would have been a legitimate reaction since he hadn’t set foot in the flower shop since he’d picked up his date’s corsage for the senior prom. Had Chloe told her friend he was coming to town? The idea of Chloe talking about him left him feeling divided. On the one hand, it was nice thinking that she might care enough about him to confide in someone else. But if Chloe had been discussing him, would she also have told Natalie about her impersonation? That possibility rankled.

“I was hoping you’d be in today.” He kept his tone easy. “Maybe you can help me pick out an arrangement for C.J.? I don’t want it to be too intimidating or clichéd-no dozen red roses-but since she arranges beautiful things for a living, I want it to be special.”

“Sure thing.” Natalie didn’t even blink. Or ask, C.J. who?