His L.A. Cinderella. Trish Wylie
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was thinner in California. And it really was incredibly warm. Food hadn’t got rid of her light-headedness. Her nose felt more blocked than ever, her throat hurt, and her voice was beginning to fade…
Then, back in the foyer of the beautiful hotel, surrounded by beautiful people in expensive clothes, Will turned to say goodbye and the world began to spin. The edges of her vision blurred—she swayed. And, as she had figuratively speaking so many years ago, Cassidy fell at his feet.
She came to with her head resting against Will’s hard chest, his warmth surrounding her. He must have sat her up. He had his arm around her. Blinking the world into focus, her eyes immediately sought his.
He was frowning. ‘What happened?’
‘If I had to guess, I’d say I fell down,’ she informed him dryly.
‘Are you sick?’
‘Bit of a cold. I spent the morning in bed.’
His mouth narrowed into a thin line as he held a glass of water to her lips. ‘You should have said something.’
Allowing the water to wash the dryness from her mouth and throat, she glanced around at the sea of interested bystanders and immediately felt colour rising in her cheeks. Great. The never-ending humiliation continued. It reminded her of that time in high school, before she’d had laser surgery, when she’d forgotten her glasses and got into the wrong car outside the school gates. She’d held a five-minute conversation with a complete stranger before she’d realised what she’d done…
Irritation sounding in her voice, she tried to push up on to her feet. ‘I’m good now, Will. Thanks. Let me up.’
But he held her in place. ‘Give it a minute.’
When he held the glass back to her mouth, her sense of mortification was raised several notches. She pushed his hand away. ‘Stop that. I can do it. I don’t need a minute.’
Taking the glass from him, she struggled anything but gracefully to her feet, splashing water onto her hand and the floor. Once she was upright, she swayed precariously. Will stepped forward—one hand removing the glass, one arm circling her waist as he calmly informed her, ‘That went well.’
Cassidy scowled at the grumbled words as he handed the glass to a hovering concierge before demanding, ‘Key card.’
‘What?’
‘Give me your key card.’ Lifting his free hand in front of her body, he waggled long fingers. ‘Hand it over. You’re going back to bed.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Good. Run with that. Key card.’
While her brain tried to think up an argument against the new and not necessarily improved attitude he seemed to have acquired with age, her traitorous hand reached into her bag for the card. Apparently the best she could come up with in reply was, ‘I don’t remember you being this bossy.’
‘Comes with the territory in my job.’ His fingers closed around the card.
‘Can we get anything for the lady?’
Will nodded at the concierge’s question. ‘You could send up some chilled orange juice to room…?’
When he lifted his brows at Cassidy, she sighed. ‘Ten-twenty-eight.’
‘And send out to the nearest pharmacy for cold medicine of some kind.’
The concierge nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’
Completely out of nowhere, Will did the last thing she’d expected and bent at the waist, scooping her into his arms like some kind of caped superhero. The man would put his back out! She was a good twenty pounds over the weight she’d been the last time he’d pulled that stunt.
A part of her curled up and died even as her arm automatically circled his neck. ‘Put me down, Will. I can walk.’
As she whispered the words her gaze met that of several fascinated observers, and a couple of women who looked distinctly as if they were swooning. Now her cheeks were on fire. ‘Will, I’m serious! I’m too heavy.’
‘No, you’re not. Shut up, Cass.’
She wriggled, and felt her lunch rearrange itself inside her stomach, drawing a low moan from her lips. If she threw up in public she was taking the next plane home. It would serve Will Ryan right if she threw up over him!
He walked through the remainder of the foyer as if she weighed nothing, and then turned to hit the elevator button with his elbow. Adding even further to her nightmare, he then moved the hand at her waist and dropped his chin to frown at her body. ‘What are you wearing under that blouse?’
Oh. Dear. God.
‘I think you’ll find we’re eight years too late for a conversation about my underwear.’
When he looked at her, she summoned a smirk.
His green gaze travelling over her face, he took in her flushed cheeks and the way she was chewing on her lower lip before he looked back into her eyes. ‘Wearing something so tight that it restricts your breathing is hardly going to help any, is it?’
‘It’s not like I planned on falling at your feet.’ Oh, she just didn’t know when to stop, did she?
Amusement danced across his eyes. Before he could say anything the elevator doors opened, so he turned sideways and guided her inside. ‘Push the button, Cass.’
She did. Then Will took a step back and lifted his chin to watch the numbers as they lit up above the doors.
‘You can put me down now. Seriously.’
‘That’s not happening.’
Cassidy sighed heavily. His stubborn streak, she remembered. When Will had dug his heels in over something he’d been an immovable object. It had led to more than one heated debate when they were writing, but back then they’d had one heck of a good time making up afterwards. Naturally now she’d thought about that her body reacted. So she tried to think of the names of all of the seven dwarfs to distract herself—there was always one she couldn’t remember; now, which one was it? Scrunching her nose up while she concentrated didn’t help. Nope still couldn’t get him. Elusive seventh dwarf! She sighed again.
‘Huff all you want, Cass. I’m not putting you down.’
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open while she informed him, ‘You’ll have to put me down eventually. It’ll make it a tad difficult to do the basics, lugging me around like a sack of spuds all day.’
When he turned from side to side to search for the plates on the wall that would indicate where her room was, she waved a limp arm. ‘That way.’
‘Why didn’t you call and say you weren’t feeling well?’
Because a part of her had been looking forward to seeing him again, that was why. Her curiosity had been getting the better of her ever since his e-mail had arrived. Only natural considering their history, she’d told herself. What girl wasn’t fascinated by how her first love looked years after the last time she saw him? It was one of those things that never completely went away. Along with the associated paranoia of wondering whether time had built her memories of him into some kind of magical figure he couldn’t possibly live up to, or whether he would have aged much better than she had.
In the face of further humiliation, she lied, ‘I felt better when I got up.’
‘Liar.’
Cassidy sighed louder than before. ‘I hate that you can still do that. Fine, then—I wanted to know why I was here.’
‘Yes, obviously. Because I didn’t explain it in the e-mails I sent you…’
Was he fishing? She lifted her chin and frowned up at his profile at the exact moment he chose to lower his dense lashes and look down at her. It made her breath