The Cinderella List. Judy Baer

we’ve certainly overstayed our welcome!”

      The child giggled and buried her nose in her grandfather’s collar. The little girl already possessed some of Sabrina’s stunning good looks. It must be nice to be part of such a genetically blessed clan, Marlo mused.

      “Ladies,” Randall Hammond said, “this is my friend, Alfred Dorchester, and his beautiful granddaughter Cammi.”

      Alfred smiled pleasantly and tipped his head. “Nice to meet you.” Cammi, still smarting from her grandfather’s refusal to stay any later, remembered her manners and mumbled, “Hello.”

      Alfred’s gaze found that of the older Hammond. “Randall, I just came to tell you that Cammi and I are leaving. I’ll stop by the stables tomorrow.”

      “Me, too?” Cammi put the palms of her hands on her grandfather’s cheeks. “Can I come, too?” Seeing her grandfather hesitate, she turned to the elder Hammond. “Can I?”

      Randall Hammond fondly stroked one of the child’s long, tight curls with his forefinger. “If you do, you can see our new colts,” he offered. It was clear that both men adored this beautiful child.

      “Unless your mother doesn’t want you to be a tomboy tomorrow.”

      Cammi wrinkled her nose. “Bor—ring.”

      Laughing, the men exited the kitchen. Only the little girl, looking back over her grandfather’s shoulder, waved an acknowledging goodbye to Marlo and Lucy.

      Jake returned immediately to the kitchen after tucking Sabrina into a cab, his interest piqued by the long-legged, dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty in the kitchen. It wasn’t often that someone so appealing or charismatic showed up in his life. He was accustomed to beautiful and sophisticated women, but this one displayed a good-natured charm that captivated him.

      “Your father and his friend were just in here looking for you,” the lovely caterer informed him, as she expertly packed used glasses in carrying containers.

      “Alfred? Did he have a little girl in tow? Alfred dotes on that grandchild of his, as I’m sure you noticed. He would do anything for her. The Dorchesters know how to pamper their women.” Sometimes a little too much. Sabrina, who was accustomed to having her own way, had not appreciated being sent home.

      He straddled one of the stools at the counter much as he might swing his leg over the back of a horse, in no hurry to leave the kitchen. “My father and Alfred have been close friends for years. Since Dad doesn’t have any grandchildren of his own, he’s grand-parenting vicariously through Alfred.”

      “No grandchildren?” Marlo sounded surprised. He didn’t blame her. A house this size should have a covey of them. He’d thought it many times himself, in fact. But he needed a wife for that, and so far he’d effectively eluded matrimony, despite everyone’s hopes to the contrary.

      “I’m an only child,” Jake assured her. “I can guarantee it.” He enjoyed seeing a pink flush spread across those high, finely shaped cheekbones, but didn’t give her time to be embarrassed. “Is there anything I can do to help you clean up? If you have any crates or boxes you’d like me to carry…”

      He liked the way her eyes lit at the offer, even though she promptly refused his help. She was independent, that was obvious, but still seemed to appreciate being treated like a lady.

      Jake felt an unexpected reluctance to leave the kitchen. These women had made it feel cozy and inviting. It took a special sort of magic that didn’t often happen in his home. It was too big and the staff too part-time for it to ever become more than a lavish hotel of sorts, luxurious, comfortable and rather sterile. It was the kind of house good for entertaining large groups of people, which he did often, so it served its purpose well. Still, Jake would have preferred a home that was comfy and welcoming, the way the kitchen felt tonight. Not only that, it was a relief to escape the one-up-manship that often happened in crowds of wealthy people. He had grown tired of hearing about the latest cruise or land acquisition or jewelry purchase.

      Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the tall, dark-haired one staring at him as if his presence were slightly disconcerting. Her vivid blue eyes were curious and her short cropped hair was standing on end as if she’d been pulling at its tips. Apparently, caterers were usually left alone to clear up their messes.

      “Thoughtful,” he thought her heard her mutter under her breath but he wasn’t sure. “Check.” To him, she said, “It’s what you pay for—not having to tote or carry.” She flushed to the roots of her hair before adding, “You’d better be careful, offering to help us carry crates of dirty goblets. That’s as appealing to us as it would be to tell your wife she needs to gain a few pounds because there would be more of her to love.”

      Jake felt laughter bubble in his throat. Beautiful, quirky and unexpected. Nice.

      “Coffee then? I make a mean espresso, and my lattes are pretty good, too.”

      The woman seemed to enjoy talking to herself. She muttered something about being hospitable before saying in a louder voice, “Thanks, but no. We don’t normally…”

      “But I insist.” He enjoyed watching Marlo’s open, expressive face. Every thought and emotion she had seemed to pass across her features. It was easy to see what was on her mind without her uttering a word. And she appeared to be thinking he was an eccentric millionaire, emphasis on eccentric, for wanting to spend time with the caterer.

      She clasped her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do with them. Guileless and transparent, she showed her nervousness. That, too, was in her favor, Jake thought. He liked a woman who didn’t put on airs—one like Bette.

      “We’d love to,” Lucy answered for both of them. “There’s plenty of coffee still hot.” And when she thought he wasn’t looking, she made a face at Marlo, as if to say, “What are our chances of ever doing this again?”

      “Come into the library. It’s more comfortable.” He removed three hefty mugs from a cupboard, poured coffee and put them on a wooden serving tray while Lucy picked up what was left of the minicheesecakes. He indicated that Marlo should go first, as they made their way through the house toward a large, closed, wood-paneled door.

      He watched her as she walked. Long, shapely legs, a straight back, head held high…she’d be a natural in the saddle, Jake deduced. He could imagine her on a filly that was fifteen-and-a-half or sixteen-hands high, or perhaps an even bigger horse.

      The foyer through which they walked was larger than some entire houses, Jake thought, as their footsteps tapped against the marble floor. A richly carved table, weighed down with an enormous vase of fresh flowers, filled the center of the circular room from which doors led into other parts of the house. A vast staircase spiraled upward. Jake rarely noticed the luxury in which he lived, but imagining it through the lovely caterer’s eyes, he wondered if it appeared pretentious, extravagant and over the top.

      He led them into the library which was behind the first closed door. The door opened onto a vignette of ox blood–leather wing chairs, ottomans, a lavish area rug that covered most of the cherrywood floor. A gas fireplace burned brightly in the dimness in the room. Leather-bound books marched in neat rows down the shelves, collectors’ items, mostly. The only ones that really got used were a basket of Bibles and history books. The others he never picked up. Artfully arranged on the shelves were carvings of horses, interspersed with Hammond family photos.

      Normally, he didn’t pay any attention to those photos, but tonight he realized that Sabrina had made her way into several of them, usually cuddling so close to him she could have been a second skin. In a closed glass case along one wall were dozens of gleaming trophies, decorated, again, with horses.

      “I’ve been transported to a movie set,” Marlo blurted, as she gazed around the room with huge eyes, her pink mouth puckered into a little bow of astonishment.

      “Glad you like it.” He put the tray onto a vast ottoman, gestured for them to sit down. “I want to personally thank you. The guests raved about the