The Cinderella Mission. Catherine Mann
the stairs, punching in the alarm code onto the pad outside his door before pushing inside. As always, he made a quick sweep through his barnlike studio apartment. He held up a hand for Kelly to stop while he took the six steps in three strides up to his loft bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he jogged up another half set of stairs to the open gallery computer area. Loping back down, he nodded. “All clear.”
“Do you always check your own house this thoroughly?”
She thought that was thorough?
“Yes.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets and cruised to a stop in the seldom-used kitchen area.
Kelly trailed a hand along the back of a gray leather sofa, her gaze sweeping the sparse furnishings. “So you brought me to your bachelor pad, after all.”
“I’ve never brought anyone outside of family here.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Solemn brown eyes studied him with confusion and an odd sort of expectation he knew he couldn’t fulfill.
Ethan turned his back on eyes that threatened to become as tempting as her voice. “If we’re going to work together, this is the only truly secure place.” He swept an empty pizza box off the kitchenette table. “You can set up your laptop here today. I’ll arrange something better by tomorrow.”
Shrugging out of her coat, she strolled through the cavernous room. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the bright tiles his Aunt Eugenie had ordered from Italy. She’d insisted he needed something lively in his dark world.
“There’s certainly plenty of space. My apartment would fit in here twice.”
“I like how open it is.” Easier to watch. Even at home, he never relaxed his guard, probably hadn’t slept through the night since he was five.
Ethan pitched his jacket over a kitchen chair. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of orange juice for himself. “Want one? Or something more substantial—like a two-day-old burrito?”
He earned her genuine smile for the first time in twenty-four hours, a heady victory.
“No, thanks. I had breakfast already.”
Ethan elbowed the refrigerator closed and planned his next move for relaxing her. His computer system upstairs might not make a bad start.
Footsteps sounded in the stairwell. Ethan tensed a second before—
“Yoo-hoo, Ethan?” His aunt’s voice floated up the hall. Eugenie Williams charged through the door and across the room. The sleeves of her mummy-covered caftan, a souvenir of her latest trip to Egypt, fluttered from her open arms. “You’re early! Why didn’t you come into the house?”
“Because we’re early.”
“Like manners have ever mattered to you.” She folded him in a hug.
He dropped a kiss on her head. “You tried your best.”
A soft smile creased her round face. “I certainly did.”
Ethan couldn’t stop his smile in return as she stepped back. He loved his aunt, eccentricities and all. She’d been the only constant during his childhood after he lost his parents. He would never forget how she’d put her own jet-setting life on hold for him.
Well, not exactly on hold, but she’d carted him along on one extended field trip after another, giving him purpose, just as ARIES had done after Celia. “Aunt Eugenie, this is Kelly Taylor.”
She spun to face Kelly, stirring a drift of flowers and some kind of spice. No doubt his aunt had been knee-deep in aromatherapy this morning. Every time Ethan turned around, she sported a new mood-enhancing scent concocted by her masseur.
Eugenie studied Kelly with keen eyes, before nodding. “Ethan, go put her things in the Jefferson suite. And don’t blow out the candles the way you always do. I ordered a special blend of sweet marjoram, lavender and ylang ylang for serenity.” She flapped her hands to shoo him away. “Now scoot, so we can talk.”
The tension Ethan hadn’t even realized gripped him eased. There might be something to all Eugenie’s mood oils and fragrances after all.
He should have trusted his instincts, which had told him he’d made the right decision in handing Kelly over to Aunt Eugenie’s tutelage. The woman was a miracle worker. She’d actually made something halfway productive out of a screw-up rebel like himself.
This would come together. Aunt Eugenie would not only transform Kelly, but she would also be the perfect buffer for any awkwardness.
And while they worked on hairstyles, he could figure out who the hell had been following them.
Chapter 4
Kelly trailed Ethan’s aunt to the sofa. Not that she had much choice unless she wanted to stand in the middle of the room pinned by the woman’s curious eyes and the gaze of all those gold mummies on her muumuu.
Why didn’t Ethan hurry? She wanted to work, not chit-chat with his eccentric aunt. She would prove herself a worthy partner, not a woman who had to practice something as simple as pretending to be a girlfriend.
At least she wouldn’t have to pretend when she was alone with Eugenie Williams, since Eugenie knew Ethan and Kelly were working together. Kelly relaxed onto the sofa, grateful she didn’t have to hide her lack of polish for the next few minutes.
Her crush on Ethan, however, Kelly intended to keep well hidden around his aunt.
Eugenie swept across the room toward the gray leather couch, her steely bun twined on top of her head adding two inches of height. As she drew closer, the older woman’s vitality radiated through despite the tiny lines around her eyes.
Eugenie Williams sat.
Well, sort of. Just sitting seemed too ordinary a word to describe any motion from this woman. Her imposing presence made a simple stroll across the rug seem as if it deserved a diva spotlight.
Apparently Ethan had learned to command a room from a master.
Her caftan settled to rest around her, revealing strappy yellow sandals. Those snow-encrusted spike heels would have sent Kelly sprawling. “Tell me about yourself, dear.”
“Well…” Kelly couldn’t imagine anything about her upbringing on a Nebraska wheat farm that would be of interest to this woman. “I work with Ethan.”
“So I hear.”
Kelly searched for a safer topic. The woman might be a fountain of information for the quest to learn more about Ethan, but those shrewd eyes would be onto her in a heartbeat. Kelly tapped an edge of the woman’s caftan. “This is lovely.”
The pattern of Egyptian sarcophagi on silk stared back with eerie voids for eyes. “No, it’s not.”
“Pardon me?”
Eugenie fluffed her silver hair with her fingernails. “It’s a godawful eyesore I bought with the sole intention of shocking the Chanel right off those pastel suits worn by the country-club set.”
“Oh.”
“But it’s comfortable.”
Kelly snuck a quick glance at the door. Still no Ethan. “That’s important.”
“Essential. Life should be lived. Enjoyed.” She whipped the air with her bejeweled fingers. “Savored.”
Kelly agreed a hundred percent. She inched back farther on the sofa. “How wonderfully liberating not to worry what others think.”
“Oh, I do care. Very much.” Eugenie’s hands fell to rest on her lap. “I absolutely cannot tolerate the thought that someone might think I’m bowing to the god of status quo.”
Not much chance of that. “Where did you find this, uh, comfortable eyesore?”
“In Egypt, of course.”