Cinderella's Big Sky Groom. Christine Rimmer
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on her passenger-side door.
“It’s not far, but we might as well drive,” he said as the engine purred to life.
Ross took her to the State Street Grill, Whitehorn’s newest and nicest restaurant, which had opened just last summer. There were hardly any other diners so early on a weekday evening, but he asked for a quiet corner table nonetheless.
And it was a lovely corner, shadowy and private. In the center of their table a single rose emerged, velvety-red, from a crystal vase. A pair of tall white candles flanked that rose. The waiter lighted them when he brought the wine list.
Ross studied the list and then glanced up at Lynn. “Any preferences?”
“I’m not much of a wine drinker, as a rule.”
He was smiling—almost. “But you’ll make an exception this once, won’t you?”
Not wise, she chided herself silently. A glass of wine is the last thing you need right now….
But what she said was, “Well, to tell you the truth, it is my birthday.”
That almost-smile deepened. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
And he said, “Then we’ll have champagne.” The waiter hovered at his elbow. Ross turned to him and said the name of something French.
A few minutes later, he was lifting a flute glass full of the golden, bubbly stuff. “To you, Ms. Lynn Taylor. Happy birthday.” She held up her own glass until it met his with a bright-sounding clink.
The fizzy wine shimmered down her throat and made a warm glow in her stomach. They took a minute to order—appetizers, salads and the main course. Then the waiter disappeared.
Ross leaned toward her across the table. “So tell me…”
She set her glass on the snowy cloth, made a low, questioning sound.
“This new look of yours…”
She was not a woman prone to teasing, but right then, teasing seemed to come to her as naturally as breathing. She raised one newly reshaped eyebrow. “New look?”
He chuckled. “What? You didn’t think I’d noticed?”
She confessed with a small laugh, “I noticed. That you noticed…”
“Good. We’re clear on that much.”
“Yes, I suppose we are.”
“Then what brought on this change?”
She sipped again, felt that lovely fizziness slide down her throat. “It’s my birthday present from Danielle. And Gracie and Kim, too.”
“Gracie and Kim. They would be the other two women, in the salon?”
“Yes. The owner and her daughter.”
“And what did the little girl mean, with that remark about the prince?”
Funny, she’d felt her cheeks flame back in the shop when Sara had announced so bluntly, “We need a prince.” But she didn’t feel the least embarrassed now.
She told him. Simply and directly. About how Danielle had called her early that morning with birthday greetings and instructions to be ready after class, to bring her new red dress and red high-heeled shoes. “She wouldn’t tell me then what the surprise was going to be. She only said, ‘Just call me your fairy godmother.”’
“As in Cinderella?”
“That’s right. It got to be kind of a joke. Me as Cinderella. And Danielle and Gracie and Kim as my fairy godmothers, waving a magic wand over me. Then, once they’d worked their magic, I said that all I needed was a prince.”
“Then I showed up.” The candlelight gleamed, two spots of soft gold, in his dark eyes.
“Um-hmm. Right on time.”
“But not a prince.” He put on a look of great regret. “Only a lawyer…”
Lynn picked up her flute again. “Sometimes a girl has to make do with whomever shows up.”
“Whomever,” he repeated. “You just proved you’re still a schoolteacher, after all.”
She sipped. “Yes. And I’m warning you…”
“Don’t tell me. At midnight, you turn into a pumpkin.”
“Much worse. At midnight, I give you a pop quiz.”
“I see.”
“Then I make you recite your ABCs.”
“And then?”
She considered. “Times tables. Yes. Right up through ten times ten. And from there, I’ll want to see how you do at conjugating verbs.”
“It sounds terrifying.”
“It would be. But luckily for you, we’ll have said good-night long before then.”
“Yes. Luckily for me…”
They shared a long look. A much too intimate look.
Lynn reminded herself that they were only here to talk about Jenny.
But then, before she could say anything to get them going on the topic of her student, their appetizers appeared.
He asked her where she went to college.
“Montana State,” she replied. “Major in education, minor in English. How about you?”
He said he’d gone to Princeton on a scholarship. “I was miserable there. Didn’t know anybody. They’d all come from Ivy League prep schools. To them, I was just a cowboy, manure still on my boots, fresh out of high school in Billings.”
“But you stuck it out.”
“Damn right. Then I went on to law school in Colorado.”
“And got your law degree when you were—what?”
“I took the bar exam when I was twenty-four.”
“That’s pretty young, isn’t it?”
“I knew what I wanted. To make it and make it big. I hired on with Turow, Travis and Lindstrom, a major Denver law firm, right away.”
Trish, who spent her lunch hours at the Hip Hop collecting every tidbit she could on Ross Garrison, had mentioned that he’d come from Denver. “And then?”
His eyes turned cold. “I worked my way up the food chain.”
“At Turow, Travis and—?”
“Lindstrom. Right. I advanced there with alarming rapidity. I was twenty-eight when I made partner. It was an unheard-of accomplishment.” The irony in his tone matched the chill in his eyes, making it seem that the “accomplishment” he spoke of was actually nothing of the kind.
Lynn had the strangest urge—to reach across the table. To lay her hand over his. To say something gentle and understanding, something that would bring warmth to his eyes.
She kept her hands to herself. And he finished, “I stayed with the firm until a little over a year ago, when I decided it was time for a change.”
Time for a change, she thought, and knew there was more to it than that. Trish had mentioned a divorce. A broken heart Trish intended to mend…
Lynn studied him across the table, admitting to herself that, beyond this foolish and dangerous game of flirtation she was playing with him, she had started to like him, to respond to him on some deeper level—which she knew she shouldn’t allow herself to do.
He was too rich. And too sophisticated. And even though he seemed to have zero romantic interest in Trish, her sister had set her sights on him. Trish would never consider Lynn any kind of competition. But still, there