A Modern Cinderella. Kate Hardy
When Will’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth she held her breath, her heart thundering against her breastbone as she waited to see if he was going to kiss her…
But he dropped his hand and stepped back. ‘Read through some of them while I make a few calls, if you like. There’s a coffee machine down the hall. Then I’ll come back and drive us home, so we can work on the changes we agreed in the meeting.’
She nodded. Then watched as he turned round and opened the door. The first tear slipped onto her lower lashes after he’d disappeared. It wasn’t just because of what he’d shown her and told her, or the fact he had known how much she’d needed to see it. It was because he’d used the word ‘home’.
As if it was her home too…
The thing was, somewhere along the way, his house had started to feel more like home than the one she had in Ireland. It would take strength to leave and close the door on their relationship for once and for all. She knew she’d be leaving even more of herself behind than he’d taken with him the first time.
They didn’t go straight to work on the script revisions when they got back to Will’s house. Cassidy couldn’t allow herself to think of it as ‘home’. She’d already allowed herself to get too comfortable in her surroundings as it was.
Unusually—since she’d arrived anyway—it was raining outside: hot, heavy, humid rain. So they had a takeaway Moroccan dinner inside—plates of a half-dozen dishes she’d never tried before spread out on a coffee table in front of them while they sat on one of Will’s large sofas.
‘I’m curious about your life,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘I can’t ask you a simple question?’
‘Maybe I’m curious why you need to know.’ Cassidy was fully aware of the verbal game of poker they were playing over dessert, but she wasn’t backing down.
‘I thought we’d decided we’re friends again?’
She avoided his gaze, playing with the ice cream in her tub. ‘Okay, we’re friends.’
‘Friends talk about stuff. Try me.’
It took a long while for her to make a decision, and Cassidy couldn’t help but smile when he lifted dark brows in challenge. She knew he knew the reason she was reluctant to talk about her life was because it involved emotion. She knew he knew that she knew Will didn’t talk about emotion. End of story. He’d rather chew off his own arm. So it was, therefore, a case of what was sauce for the goose…
But this change for the better in their relationship had allowed them to start getting to know each other again, and she was reluctant to put a dampener on that. Especially when they were both smiling more, and working together had got easier, and he’d been so thoughtful of late…
The ice cream took several violent digs before she sighed heavily. ‘One hint of anything resembling sympathy, Will Ryan…’
When she glanced up he was continuing to smile his patented humouring smile at her.
She frowned. ‘You’re doing it already.’
‘I’m not.’ He pasted a serious expression on his face, folding his arms and jerking his chin at her. ‘Go on. I’m listening.’
‘I hate this. I tell you about my life and it’s just going to sound pathetically ordinary compared to yours.’
‘Not necessarily. Most of my life is more ordinary than people might think.’
Cassidy snorted softly in disbelief. ‘Like what, for instance? Hanging out with movie stars? Working in the motion picture industry? The fact you attend the Oscars every year? The millionaire’s beach house you live in?’
It took a second, then one of those smiles broke free, the green in his eyes glittering hypnotically. He shook his head before looking at a point over her left shoulder as he considered his answer. ‘It’s hard to find words.’
‘Will, you work with words every day.’ She kept her voice purposefully soft. ‘Can’t spell them—but you know how to use them…’
‘Very funny.’
‘Try. One ordinary thing about your life.’
‘Just the one and you’ll tell me about your life.’ He looked as if he doubted that.
‘Make it a truly mundane one and I’ll fill in the blanks.’ She lifted her spoon and made a cross in the air above her breasts. ‘Cross my heart.’
The move apparently gave him an open invitation to drop his gaze and watch the increased rise and fall of her breasts as he looked at them. Then his thick lashes lifted and he chuckled at her look of accusation before informing her, ‘I don’t have a housekeeper. So I do all my own cleaning.’
‘Oh, no—your obsession with neatness doesn’t count.’ It was something that had never ceased to astound her, but he’d always seemed to get pleasure from an organised environment. Whereas Cassidy had always lived in the kind of chaos that was reflective of her life in general. In the end she’d put his borderline obsession down to control—the same kind of control that he’d exerted over so many areas of his life.
Only in the bedroom had he ever fully lost that precious self-control. When he’d made love to her she’d never had any doubts about how he felt. But then neither had he about how she felt. They’d been stripped naked—emotionally as well as physically. Something Cassidy had never allowed herself to come close to experiencing with anyone else. Not that he would ever know that.
Will shrugged and stole a spoonful of her ice cream. ‘Still counts as ordinary. Everyone does housework. It’s a universal equaliser.’
Cassidy laughed. ‘I’ve made a valiant effort to avoid it wherever possible, believe me.’
The corners of his mouth quirked. ‘I believe you. Now I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain it’s your turn. Tell me about this ordinary life of yours.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask again why he wanted to know, but instead she dropped her chin and played some more with the ice cream. ‘I teach, so I work according to the school terms. In the summer I usually manage to find work at camps, or at places where working parents can leave their kids while they do their nine to fives. I have a flat. I have teacher friends I meet for lunches or coffees or whatever. I used to have a cat—’
‘What happened to it?’
‘It must have been about a hundred years old when I got it from the shelter, so it didn’t last long.’
‘Didn’t get another one?’
‘Nope.’ She smiled wryly at her ice cream. ‘Apparently I wasn’t ready to deal with another loss after my dad. I cried for weeks over that dumb cat.’
When Will didn’t say anything she stole an upward glance at him from underneath a wave of lose hair. He was studying her again. But instead of asking What? that way she usually did, she took the opportunity to say, ‘Thank you. For the card and the flowers you sent.’
He knew she didn’t mean after the cat had died. ‘I got your note. You don’t have to thank me again.’
Cassidy dampened her lips and took a breath. ‘It meant a lot. I didn’t put that in the note. And I should have. That time is kind of a blur to me now.’
‘Grief can be like that.’ His gaze shifted to her loose hair, and Cassidy wondered if he was thinking of tucking it away again. ‘You had a lot to do to wrap everything up as well. At least you had your family to help you.’
‘I did.’ Unlike the eight-year-old Will, who’d had no one when his mother had passed away; it still killed Cassidy that he’d been left so alone.
‘You could have called me if you’d needed anything—you