The Reluctant Cinderella. Christine Rimmer

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wrapped up her presentation, and by then he was totally sold. He would have Design Solutions revamp the image of Banning’s department stores.

      But there were more steps to take before he could tell her she had it locked up. Greg’s father, Gregory, Sr., chairman of the board of Banning’s, Inc., would have to be convinced, as would a couple of the vice presidents. Greg had no doubt that Megan and her team would cinch it with the rest of them, but he wasn’t telling her that. No way. If he told her, she might just smile that stunning, dimpled smile, say “Thank you very much,” and leave.

      “I want to hear more,” he said, as she zipped up her portfolio. “It’s almost one. Are you hungry?”

      For the first time since she’d strolled so confidently through his office door, she looked doubtful. A slight frown formed between her smooth brows. She cleared her throat. “Well, I…” The words trailed off.

      He jumped right in before she could find a way to say no. “Let me take you to lunch. You like Italian? I know a great little Italian place up on Lexington at 33rd. The food is terrific and the service is, too.”

      For a moment—barely a split second—he thought she looked…what? Shocked? Wary? Slightly frantic?

      But before he could decide what the look might mean, it vanished. She flashed him another of those incredible smiles of hers. “Why not?” she said. “Lunch it is.”

      Megan was having the time of her life.

      She had so aced her presentation. Soon, there would be more meetings with more executives. She and her team would need to get right on a formal Flash presentation—one that would blow them all away.

      Oh, yeah. She would get the Banning’s account, she just knew it. And now here she was, sitting next to Greg on gorgeous, glove-soft black leather in a company limo.

      Greg had insisted on the limo, so she could stash her big portfolio and heavy briefcase in the trunk and forget about them while they were in the restaurant. Megan enjoyed a limo ride as much as the next girl. What was not to like?

      She leaned on the padded armrest and gazed out the smoked-glass window at semideserted Manhattan streets. “I love New York on days like this.”

      “You mean when everyone else is gone for the holiday?”

      “Exactly.” She turned to Greg, met those velvety brown eyes of his and told herself that the thrill that shimmered through her every time she looked at him didn’t mean a thing. “It’s so…peaceful. For a change.”

      “Your offices are in Poughkeepsie, you said?”

      She nodded. “Close to home and economical. You live here in the city now, don’t you?”

      “Yeah. I’ve got a loft apartment right on Broadway, two and a half blocks up from the office.”

      “Convenient.”

      “That’s what I tell myself….” He had a great voice. Deep. Smooth as melted chocolate. But did he sound kind of…wistful?

      She thought of Carly, wondered as she’d wondered more than once in the past months just what had gone wrong there—two beautiful people with everything going for them. Two nice people. Really, their breakup made no sense.

      Megan dared to suggest, “You sound…I don’t know. As if you’re not happy living in the city.”

      His warm gaze cooled just a little. “I’m happy. Perfectly. And here we are….” The limo rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant and the driver got out and opened the door for them.

      “Thank you, Jerry.” Greg pressed some bills into the driver’s palm. “We’ll be awhile. I’ll call for you when we’re ready to go.”

      “Good enough, Mr. Banning.” Jerry tipped his chauffeur’s cap and got back behind the wheel.

      After the heat of the summer day, the restaurant was cool and dim and inviting. The hostess called Greg by name and took them to a corner table. Even with half of Manhattan out of town, the place was almost full. “Must be popular,” Megan said to Greg once the hostess had left them.

      “It is. Deservedly so.” The wine steward appeared. He and Greg conferred briefly. The steward nodded and left, reappearing a moment later with bottle of chenin blanc. There was pouring and tasting. Finally, the wine guy left. Greg held up his glass. “To Design Solutions. Much success.”

      Oh, well. One glass wouldn’t hurt. And she was pretty much finished working for the day, anyway. She touched her glass to his. “To success.” She sipped. The wine was excellent. “Umm. Wonderful. Too wonderful….”

      “Is that bad?”

      She couldn’t help laughing. “Not in the least.”

      He leaned a little closer across the snowy white tablecloth. “You are amazing. You know that?”

      A curl of alarm tightened inside her. She ordered it gone. He wasn’t putting a move on her. No way. It was just a compliment. No big deal. “People from the neighborhood are always surprised when I happen to run into them during working hours.”

      “On Danbury Way you always seemed so…”

      She laughed again. “I believe the word you’re looking for is shy? Or maybe bland? Or just plain dumpy…”

      He pretended to look injured. “Did I say that?”

      “You didn’t have to—and I confess, okay? In the neighborhood I do like to, er, play it low-key.”

      He sipped from his wine. “Why?”

      “Habit, I guess. And, oh, I don’t know. Everyone at home sees me a certain way. And I don’t disillusion them.”

      “But if it’s not the real you…”

      It seemed so natural to lean toward him, to brush the back of his hand with light fingers, to enjoy the lazy, pleasured feel of that brief touch. “But it is the real me.”

      He frowned, though his eyes had a teasing light in them. “Then who is it I’m sitting across from right now?”

      She shrugged. “This is me, too.”

      “Ah,” he said, but he still looked doubtful.

      She explained further. “They’re both me. I guess this is more the new me—and at home, I’m pretty much the old me. If that makes any sense.”

      “I’ll take the new you.”

      Before she could come up with a suitably lighthearted reply, the waiter appeared.

      After they ordered, Greg asked how she’d come to live over her sister’s garage. She explained about wanting to put everything she had into starting up her company. “That was three years ago,” she said. “And Angela and her ex, Jerome, were calling it quits. My moving into the apartment at her house worked out for everyone. Angela and the kids can use the extra money I pay in rent, and I get a nice, reasonably priced place to live. I can zip

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