She blamed the entire thing on the shirt.
His shirt, to be precise.
Everything would have been fine, if he’d just kept it on.
But no. He had to go be the gentleman. He’d known she was soaked through. And with no electricity thanks to the ice storm that had blanketed Seattle with hardly any warning, she had also been freezing.
So he’d given her a towel, threadbare as it was, to dry off as best she could.
And then he’d given her his shirt.
Really, that’s when all the trouble started.
That’s when she’d obviously lost every bit of common sense that she’d ever possessed.
What else could possibly explain the fact that she was now lying on a pile of cushions on the floor of Merrick & Sullivan Yachting with Paxton Merrick’s sinewy arm over her waist as if he had every right to do so?
* * *
The Hunt for Cinderella:
Seeking Prince Charming
Once Upon a Valentine
Allison Leigh
There is a saying that you can never be too rich or too thin. Allison Leigh doesn’t believe that, but she does believe that you can never have enough books! When her stories find a way into the hearts—and bookshelves—of others, Allison says she feels she’s done something right. Making her home in Arizona with her husband, she enjoys hearing from her readers at [email protected] or PO Box 40772, Mesa, AZ 85274-0772, USA
For all of you Cinderellas-at-heart
Contents
Chapter One
December
She blamed the entire thing on the shirt.
His shirt, to be precise.
Everything would have been fine, if he’d just kept it on.
But no. He had to go be the gentleman. He’d known she was soaked through. And with no electricity thanks to the ice storm that had blanketed Seattle with hardly any warning, she also had been freezing.
So he’d given her a towel, threadbare as it was, to dry off as best she could.
And then he’d given her his shirt.
Really, that’s when all the trouble started.
That’s when she’d obviously lost every bit of common sense that she’d ever possessed.
What else could possibly explain the fact that she was now lying on a pile of cushions on the floor of Merrick & Sullivan Yachting with Paxton Merrick’s sinewy arm over her waist, his big palm cupping her breast as if he had every right to do so?
Shea Weatherby chewed the inside of her lip as she lay motionless in hopes that he wouldn’t wake up.
It was morning. Sunlight was filling the room. The wind that had howled and screamed and driven her into his office in the first place in search of shelter when her car wouldn’t start was now silent. She couldn’t see out the windows without turning over, though, and that was something she didn’t want to do.
Because it would mean turning toward Pax too.
Bad enough she could feel the heat of his body burning down every inch of her backside. Because she’d obviously lost her head after the whole shirt-offering incident, she clearly couldn’t be trusted to look at his infernally attractive face or other...body parts.
She closed her eyes against the sunshine, wondering how on earth she’d be able to salvage some dignity here.
She’d known Pax for well over two years. Had been regularly turning down his flirtatious overtures for just as long. But all it took was one night, stuck together because her bank account couldn’t extend itself yet to replace her old junker of a car once and for all, and she’d tumbled like a house of cards.
He’d loaned her his shirt to wear when she’d been soaked. He’d wrapped his arms around her and kept her warm when the electricity had gone out because of the storm. And when, heaven help her, she’d tasted the brush of his lips...
She wasn’t even sure who’d kissed who first, and Shea was more than a little afraid it had been her.
She curled her fingers into the cushion and blocked off the thoughts. Tried to, at least. It was hard, when her body still felt sated and warm and—might as well just admit it—more relaxed than it had been in years.
And more satisfied than ever, period.
Again, she shushed the voice inside her head.
She
