Cinderella's Big Sky Groom. Christine Rimmer

through the cashmere, gleamed like tiny diamonds—or maybe a sprinkling of starlight—from the downy wool.

      And the shoes. Why, the shoes didn’t make her look too tall at all. She was tall. Why not make the most of it?

      “Is that really me?” she heard herself whisper, turning and facing her reflection again.

      “It’s you!” crowed Sara. “Miss Taylor, it’s really, really you! You’re just like Cinderella, all ready for the ball.”

      Lynn couldn’t help but agree. All those fairy-godmother jokes aside, she honestly did feel as if someone had cast a spell over her.

      “This is…just magic.” A wistful laugh escaped her. “Now all I need is for my prince to show up.”

      Lynn had barely finished speaking when the bell over the street door gave a jangle and Ross Garrison entered the salon.

      Chapter Three

      Ross Garrison was not a man who gaped.

      But it took all the considerable self-control he possessed not to gawk like an idiot when he walked into the Whitehorn Salon and caught sight of Jennifer McCallum’s teacher for the second time that day.

      It couldn’t be the same woman.

      But it was the same woman.

      Amazing.

      Not that she hadn’t possessed a certain wholesome, shyly dignified appeal before.

      But now…

      Now she was downright tempting.

      Whoever had fixed her hair had worked wonders. Before, it had been a little longer, hadn’t it? And a sort of brownish-blond color. Now it just brushed her shoulders and seemed shot with moonbeams. And those blue eyes. He’d thought them rather attractive before. He’d been struck by the way she had looked at him—with a careful reserve and with challenge, as well.

      But now, enhanced as those eyes were with subtle shadows, they could take a man down to drowning.

      He wanted to look away.

      But he couldn’t.

      And Lynn couldn’t look away, either.

      Was this some dream she’d stumbled into? A heady, intoxicating dream, where suddenly a man like Ross Garrison stared at her—at her, plain, dependable Miss Taylor—as if she had captivated him?

      Looking twice, that was what he was doing. Looking twice at her.

      And maybe it was foolish of her. Foolish and shallow and silly.

      But she liked the way he looked at her. She felt all fizzy and sparkling. Like a bottle of champagne with the cork just popped. And so…powerful, suddenly. In a purely female way.

      Twenty-four years old today, she thought. And as of today, her entire experience with the opposite sex had consisted of awkward dates in college with boys as shy as she’d always been. But at that marvelous, special moment, Lynn Taylor was a siren. Her beauty could sink ships. Ross Garrison’s stunned, frankly admiring stare told her so.

      Speak up, damn it, Ross said to himself. All right. The kindergarten teacher has gotten to you. But you’re no tongue-tied cowhand.

      In his most self-assured tone, he broke the silence that had descended on the women at his entrance. “It’s five o’clock, Ms. Taylor.”

      The little girl, Sara, grabbed her mother’s hand and gave it a tug. “I thought you said he was a lawyer.”

      “Shh, honey, not now…”

      “But we don’t need a lawyer right now, Mommy. We need a prince.”

      All the women laughed at that—except the schoolteacher, whose glowing face turned a sweet, flustered pink. One of the two women Ross didn’t know, probably the hairdresser, muttered under her breath, “I’d say he’ll have to do,” which caused another flurry of chuckles.

      Danielle told her daughter, “I think you’d better go on back to your coloring books.”

      “But—”

      “Go on now, Sara.”

      “Oh, all right.” The little girl went over to a table in the corner and sat down.

      Once the child was out of the way, all the women turned and looked at Ross again. He felt thoroughly outnumbered. And this wasn’t a place where a man would feel all that comfortable, anyway. Maybe it was the excess of dried flower arrangements. There seemed to be one on the corner of every table, and they hung in wreaths and swags on the walls. Lace curtains draped the windows. The place smelled of women, too: perfume and powder, shampoo—and under everything, the harsh ammonialike scent of hair dyes and permanent waving solutions. He had no intention of interviewing Lynn Taylor there.

      Dinner, he decided right then. He’d take her to dinner. At that new restaurant on State Street. Over a leisurely meal he could get past the hostility he’d sensed in her during their first meeting at the school. He’d get her to open up to him, get her really talking about the child he’d been hired to represent.

      Oh, come on, Garrison, taunted a cynical voice in the back of his mind. This is a fifteen-minute interview and a request for a short written report. You can do that over coffee at the Hip Hop Café across the street.

      Ross tuned out that cynical voice. He gave the gorgeous blonde in the red dress his easiest, most casual smile. “Are you ready to go?”

      Lynn hesitated. But not at the idea of leaving with him. Somehow, her reluctance to meet with him had faded away. She was thinking that she ought to change back into her regular clothes.

      But no. She just couldn’t bear to do that. Not right yet. Perhaps silver-threaded cashmere and two-inch red heels were unsuitable attire for a brief meeting with Jenny’s new lawyer. But right then, Lynn didn’t care.

      She was keeping the dress on and the magic going. None of it was real, anyway. It was a dream she’d stepped into, a spell woven by the skilled hands of Gracie and Kim. She wanted to hold on to the magic. Just for a little while…

      “You go on,” Danielle was saying. “I’ll bring you your other clothes tomorrow when I pick Sara up after school.”

      Gracie and Kim chorused their encouragement.

      “Yes, you go ahead….”

      “You go on, now….”

      Danielle marched to the door and lifted Lynn’s coat off the coatrack. “Here.” She handed it to the lawyer, who obligingly held it open for Lynn to put on.

      What else could she do?

      She approached him, slid her arms into the sleeves and pulled it around herself, overly conscious of the light brush of his hands as he settled the garment onto her shoulders, thinking foolishly that even in heels she wasn’t quite as tall as he was.

      Danielle held out her purse. She took it. Ross Garrison opened the door again. He waited for Lynn to go through ahead of him.

      And then she and the lawyer were standing on Center Street, side by side. A cold wind was blowing down from the Crazy Mountains north of town. Lynn shivered a little and wrapped her coat more closely around herself.

      “Hungry?” he asked.

      “Starved.” And she was. She’d skipped lunch altogether. Forgotten all about it. But now that he had mentioned it, she was ready to eat. The Hip Hop was just across the street and two doors down. It was a charming little place, where everyone in town felt at home. She started toward it.

      But Ross caught her elbow. “Come on. My Mercedes is just over there.”

      She didn’t argue. His touch had distracted her, sending a sweet, zinging thrill along her nerves, making her shiver again—but this time not because of the wind.

      He led