Saving Cinderella!. Myrna Mackenzie

those words, they all smiled at each other and marched toward their destinies.

      CHAPTER ONE

      SATURDAY afternoon, Alex, tired but glowing from the spa, shopping, dining and partying they’d crammed in to their weekend, dashed downstairs for a souvenir menu from Sparkle, the rooftop restaurant. Tomorrow she and her friends would leave Las Vegas, and who knew if she’d ever return? But one look at the heavily pregnant concierge’s face and she knew something was wrong.

      Still, the woman pasted on a weak smile. “May I help you?” she asked, her voice a thin thread.

      Alex hesitated. The woman’s smile was fake, but it would be intrusive to ask questions, wouldn’t it? Alex reminded herself that in the past her habit of rushing in to help without being asked had resulted in her being told to mind her own business. Or worse. She tried to bar the painful memory of what had happened some of the other times she’d overstepped the boundaries. But dwelling on her past mistakes wasn’t helping this situation. The woman still looked distressed, and…

      “I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I can tell something’s wrong. Is there anything I can do to help? Someone I can call?”

      The woman’s eyes widened. “No! You’re a guest! I mean…I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

      Instantly Alex felt both guilty that she’d made the woman uncomfortable, and chagrined that she’d once again made the mistake of pushing too hard. So many of the painful moments in her life had begun with her trying to help too much. The memory of her latest doomed relationship nagged at her.

      Stop it, she ordered herself. Apologize for making this woman uncomfortable and go. Don’t think about the mistakes you’ve made.

      The concierge suddenly let out a gasp, pulling Alex back to the present. She glanced down and realized that with her attention elsewhere, she’d missed something major. Pressed close against the desk with her arms folded in front of her, the woman had managed to—mostly—disguise the fact that she was pregnant. Immediately every other thought Alex had vanished. This woman was in real distress. That was a total game changer. No hesitating allowed.

      “Forget that I’m a guest,” Alex said. “Who would you like me to call?”

      The woman looked like a Vogue cover model, her hair and make-up perfect, but her eyes were incredibly round and scared. “I—I don’t know. I—” She had risen and was looking at her belly. “It’s not supposed to be happening. I have four more weeks, and—I’m not ready. We’re not ready. I need someone to watch my son, and I promised my boss, Wyatt, that I had weeks before he’d need a replacement. It can’t be time yet.”

      But it was, and clearly something needed to be done.

      “I’m sure Wyatt will understand,” Alex said.

      The woman looked at her as if she were insane. “Wyatt likes things orderly. No messes or craziness.”

      Well, then, Wyatt certainly wouldn’t like her, Alex couldn’t help thinking. She ignored that thought. Wyatt, whoever he was, wasn’t her concern. “Are you in pain?”

      “No. Yes. I feel strange. Different than last time. Things feel…faster. But I have another hour to work. Lois, the night concierge, isn’t due back from her vacation until tomorrow, so Wyatt can’t even find a sub for me today. I really need to stay.” She gasped and put a hand on her back.

      Somehow Alex hid her own distress. “Don’t worry—Belinda,” she said, reading the nameplate on the woman’s desk. “I’m trained in basic emergency procedures and I’ll help you. Would you feel more comfortable sitting? You don’t have to stand for my sake.”

      The woman’s eyes grew wider. “I…can’t sit. I’ll get the chair wet. My water…”

      “Don’t worry about the chair,” Alex said, circling the desk. “You need to get off your feet.”

      The woman sat. Her perfect skin turned pale.

      “Do you have your doctor’s number?”

      “In my wallet. In my purse. In the drawer.”

      In mere seconds Alex had the information and placed the call. She spoke to the receptionist, gave her Belinda’s name, and received instructions. She called over a young man from the registration desk and asked him to locate his boss.

      “Your boss will need to find someone to take Belinda’s place. She’s going to the hospital.”

      The young man looked at Belinda’s stricken face.

      “Randy, I know how important these next few weeks are to Wyatt,” the woman said, her voice breathless and strained. “It’s awards season. Reviewers will be visiting. A whole series of them. And they’ll be anonymous. We can’t let down our guard.”

      “I’m sure Wyatt will understand,” Alex said, even though she didn’t know any such thing. She sent the young man scurrying to call his boss.

      The woman let out a cry. “Breathe,” Alex instructed, her voice gentle but firm. “Forget the hotel. Breathe out.”

      Belinda obeyed. Alex knelt at her side, held her hand, and began to coach her through the pain.

      An expensively dressed woman appeared at the desk, her expression uncertain. “The Bistro Lizette?”

      Belinda was bent over. Alex reached out and grabbed a map off the desk, glancing at it. “Second floor, west wing. I’ve been there. You’ll love it.” She smiled, sending the woman away.

      In the distance an ambulance could be heard. Alex wondered what her friends would think of this.

      As another person appeared, she gave him instructions and sent him on his way, but she couldn’t help noting that the man at the front desk looked concerned.

      “Wyatt’s on the way,” he said, appearing at Alex’s side as she began to coach Belinda through another contraction. “Maybe you should move out of the public eye. This hotel is Wyatt’s baby. No pun intended.”

      “Leave Wyatt to me,” Alex said. “She’s in pain. I’m not moving her until the ambulance arrives.”

      She certainly hoped this Wyatt person didn’t give Belinda grief for not timing her baby’s arrival better. She also hoped he wasn’t that tall, gorgeous, intimidating man in the suit who had just entered the lobby and turned in her direction.

      Wyatt headed across the lobby toward the concierge’s desk. There, two EMTs were placing his very pregnant concierge on a stretcher. A slender woman with long dark hair smiled at her, took her hand, and turned to a man who had neared the desk. The man nodded, took the map the woman had obviously given him, and backed away from the area.

      “I’ve called your husband and directed him to meet you at the hospital. Your neighbor will watch your son. I’ll handle things until someone comes,” the woman told Belinda, her calm, clear voice softened by distance. “Don’t worry. Everything’s under control.”

      At that moment Randy at the front desk saw Wyatt and headed him off. “Wyatt, I tried to get the woman to move Belinda to somewhere less public. People are staring. But she told me that if you were upset she would handle you—just as cool as you please.”

      Wyatt raised an eyebrow. Because of his height and his high expectations of himself and others he had a tendency to intimidate. Women—people—didn’t offer to handle him, as a rule. The fact that this one had made her…interesting.

      As he watched, a woman in a flowered blouse started toward the empty registration desk, frowned, and turned in his direction. But after one look at Wyatt, and at Randy’s scowl, she headed toward the woman with Belinda. The still smiling, calm woman, Wyatt couldn’t help noting.

      He should step in. Help. It was what he would