Cinderella & the CEO Read online

  Not that he was making use of that extra time. No, he was determined to keep his distance from the woman. She was clever and funny and sexy enough to make him want to grab hold of her every time she entered a room. But the fact was, he wasn’t going to risk a brief fling with a woman who had permanent practically stenciled on her forehead.

  Ivy was white picket fences and children at her knee.

  Tanner was a solitary man and he liked it that way.

  Never the twain would meet.

  “Great. Now you’re getting poetic.” He turned from the window, walked to his desk and sat down. Glaring at the computer screen where his muscle-bound warrior knight stood glaring back at him, Tanner muttered, “Work. Damn it, keep your mind on the damn game and get it done.”

  This was the solution that had seen him through his life. As soon as he was old enough, Tanner had laid out a pattern for how he wanted his life to be. Orderly. Might seem boring to others, but for him, there was peace in rules. His childhood had been barely restrained chaos with a mother who drifted from one adventure to the next, always dragging her reluctant son behind her.

  He’d long ago decided that his life would be different. It would be steady. Controlled. Organized. There was no room for chaos when structure ruled the situation. And his main rule was that when it was time for work, nothing else intruded.

  Tanner had never had trouble with that self-imposed imperative until Ivy Holloway had come into his life. Now, he was forced to struggle to keep his mind on what used to be the most important thing in his life. His company. His designs. His future.

  Shaking his head, he picked up a pen and tapped it against the sketch pad in front of him. He focused on the image of the knight on his computer screen, standing in a barren field of rocks and dead grass, the body of an evil troll at his feet.

  “If the knight uses the enchanted sword against the troll, then there has to be a consequence,” Tanner muttered, glaring at the knight as if this problem were all the character’s fault.

  When the truth was, Tanner’s focus was still shattered. It seemed thoughts of Ivy were never far away no matter how much he fought them. Hell, how could he keep his mind on the problems faced by his game’s hero when he knew Ivy Holloway was just downstairs?

  He shoved one hand through his hair. One woman shouldn’t have this kind of effect on a man. For God’s sake, less than a week ago, he hadn’t even known she existed.

  Gritting his teeth, Tanner told himself that he might finally end up firing Mitchell over this all too alluring housekeeper.

  “Troll,” he muttered. “Keep your mind on the damn dead troll.”

  “I’m guessing there aren’t many people in the world who get to say that during an ordinary work day.”

  He spun around to face the bane of his recent existence. She stood in the open doorway to his office, one hand resting lightly atop a vacuum cleaner. Her jeans were faded and her dark red T-shirt clung to her breasts and narrow waist in a way that made a man want to define those curves with his own hands. She was a temptation, pure and simple. And he was losing the battle to stay indifferent.

  “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  She grinned and that dimple he so looked forward to seeing appeared in her cheek. “That was the deal, remember? Quiet as a mouse. Not disturbing you.”

  “Right. Yeah, I know.” He frowned at the vacuum. “Judging by that, you’re about to disturb me though, right?”

  She patted the upright, pale blue appliance. “I sure am. So I thought I’d warn you first. Tell you to close your door against the noise.”

  “Fine,” he acknowledged. “Not like I’m making any progress here anyway.”

  “Bad day at the joust?” she quipped.

  “You could say that,” Tanner admitted. “My knight has vanquished his foe far too easily.”

  She straightened up and curiosity flared in her eyes. “So what do you do about it?”

  “That’s the question. If the game’s too easy, people complain. If it’s too hard, people complain. So I walk a fine line. Right now, the game’s leaning toward easy. Gotta come up with a fix.” He stared into her eyes, caught up in the excitement he saw gleaming there. How long had it been since he’d been really excited about anything? “The question is,” he said, “should it be a magical consequence or something a little more human?”

  He shouldn’t be asking her opinion, he told himself sternly. The games were his domain and he rarely listened to anyone else’s input. The fact that she was standing there in the doorway, intruding on his work time was his own damn fault though, for leaving the door open in the first place. But then again, maybe he’d been hoping for an interruption.

  Hard as it was to admit, Tanner thought, in the last few days that Ivy had been coming to his house every afternoon, he’d become accustomed to her. More than that, he’d actually begun looking forward to seeing her. So much so that he was shifting slowly out of his vampire work schedule.

  So what did that say?

  “What do you think?” he asked, not really expecting her to solve his problem, but not ready to stop talking to her or looking at her, either.

  She abandoned the vacuum, stepped into the room and glanced at the walls where framed posters of his more popular games were hung. Silently admiring them with a smile, she walked toward him, glanced at the warrior knight still awaiting a command and said, “I think it should be something more human.”

  Interesting. He would have thought she’d play into the magical fantasy. “Like what?”

  “Does he have a love interest?” She moved up beside him.

  Tanner took a deep breath of that warm, citrusy scent and forced his gaze to the screen. “Of course. The Lady Gwen.”

  “Oooh, I like that.”

  “Ten-year-old boys won’t, but hopefully everyone else will,” he told her wryly.

  She laughed and the sound was musical, soft, as enchanting as the magical game he was working on.

  “So then,” she said, leaning down, bracing her hands on the edge of his desk, “if the knight kills the troll with the enchanted sword, then Lady Gwen is swept into a dimensional prison.”

  Tanner blinked at her. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”

  She laughed again. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? He does something he knows is wrong—I’m guessing the use of the magical element—and so his punishment is to lose what he loves most.”

  Intrigued, he said, “Hardly fair to Lady Gwen, though.”

  “Ah, she knew what she was getting into the minute she met Sir Whatever-His-Name-Is.”

  “Hawk,” Tanner told her, thinking about her suggestion. He had to admit, he never would have gone in that direction. But now he was considering it…

  “Of course his name is Hawk,” she said, grinning. “Very heroic. So, Gwen disappears into a dimensional prison. Or she’s sucked into a portal—”

  He caught the glint of excitement in her eye and shared it. Funny. Tanner had been designing games for more than ten years. He’d always considered it the perfect profession for him. An isolated one. A career where he didn’t require other people around—where he could shut himself up in his own world and create the images that had always been a part of him.

  He’d never had a collaborator. Never even considered having one. Now with a quick conversation, Ivy had sparked new ideas in his mind and he knew in his gut, they were good ones.

  Having Ivy in the house the last couple of days had surprised him in more ways than he would have expected. Yes, she’d been a distraction. But he’d allowed that distraction to get out of hand, too. He hadn’t kept his distance from her. Instead, he’d sought her out. Talking to her as she cooked, helping her move furniture when she had decided that his living room was too sterile-looking.

  But the most surprising part of all of this was just how insightful she was about the game he was currently tweaking. She’d had other suggestions for elevating the skill level while maintaining an accessibility that al
l game makers strive for. And now, she just might have found a way for him to change the ending into something amazing.

  “She’s trapped despite her powers,” he mused aloud, shifting his gaze to the warrior knight before starting a new sketch on the paper in front of him. He picked up a pen and quickly roughed out an image of the Lady Gwen being dragged into a shining doorway that pulsed with energy.

  “That’s amazing,” Ivy whispered and he realized she’d come closer, her hair now brushing his cheek.

  He gritted his teeth and kept his gaze locked on his drawing. Was it his fault that Lady Gwen suddenly bore a remarkable resemblance to Ivy?

  “God, you’re a terrific artist,” she said, reaching past him to stroke the tip of one finger along the line of Lady Gwen’s flowing gown.

  “It’s just a rough draft,” he told her, noticing just how tight his voice sounded. His pen sketched in a deeply cut bodice on Lady Gwen’s dress, displaying the tops of round, high breasts and he couldn’t help wondering what Ivy’s breasts would look like and feel like in his hands. His mouth.

  Tanner’s entire body went still. His mind blanked out and all he could see was the mental image of Ivy, stretched across his bed, naked. Blowing out a breath, he swallowed hard and fought his way back to the conversation. “This is just to give the programmers direction.”

  “It’s still amazing,” she argued, “I can’t draw a crooked line and you’d think that would be easy. So, how will Lady Gwen get out of the portal?”

  Tanner shrugged. “Her knight has to save her.”

  “Why can’t she save herself?”

  He sighed and risked a quick glance up at her. But turning his head to hers brought their mouths within a breath of each other. His gaze dropped to her lips and he felt a quick, sharp stab of desire slam into him. His body was hard, instantly. He felt the rush of heat filling his veins and told himself to get a grip.

  The problem was, he wanted to get a grip on her.

  Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Tanner muttered, “This is a video game, not a lesson in equal opportunity.”

  “But it could be,” she said, arguing her point. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I suppose every woman wants her white knight, whether she’ll admit it or not. But what happens when the brave menfolk aren’t around? Shouldn’t we be strong enough to save ourselves?”

  His eyes locked onto hers as he tried to see past her interest in the game to what lay behind her words. Her eyes were soft, but with a shadow in them that looked a lot like old pain. Concern awakened inside him, pushing past the desire still choking him and he heard himself ask, “Speaking from experience? Has your own white knight let you down lately?”

  Her smile faded abruptly and those shadows in her eyes darkened before sliding into the background. “I don’t have one. A knight, that is. Not anymore.”

  Pain flickered on her expression and then disappeared again so quickly Tanner wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen it at all. But whether he had or not, she clearly didn’t want to discuss it and he knew better than anyone how it felt to want to keep your private life private. So he let it go.

  For now.

  But he knew that sooner or later, he would want to know what—or who—had hurt her. What he didn’t know was why he needed to know.

  “Okay then,” he looked back to the sketch in front of him and asked, “So how do you see Lady Gwen escaping on her own?”

  “It has to be impressive…”

  “Oh,” he said, “naturally.”

  If she heard the sarcasm in his tone, she ignored it.

  “What if Lady Gwen is a sorceress? What if she breaks through the portal by wielding a spell that draws on her knight’s love for her?”

  Tanner thought about that for a moment, then turned back to his sketch pad, his mind alive with ideas. Quick strokes became a drawing rich in detail in no time at all and before he knew it, he and Ivy were brainstorming solutions that were nothing short of brilliant.

  He was so caught up in what they were creating together that when she leaned in close again, he almost avoided getting lost in her scent again.

  Almost.

  “We’re nearly finished with the shearing, Ivy.” Dan Collins swung one arm out and indicated the back half of the acreage. “We’ve got a couple teams back there right now.”

  Ivy frowned a little and squinted out at the trees. It was hard to concentrate on what Dan was saying because she was so exhausted it felt as though there was a fog hanging over her brain. Hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Mainly because after she’d left Tanner’s house, her mind had been so full of him, she hadn’t been able to close her eyes without seeing his image.

  She’d had a good time with him, darn it. She hadn’t counted on actually liking the man. And now she was feeling guilty. He was being…nice. And she was lying to him. Tricking him.

  “Ivy?” Dan laid one big hand on her shoulder and asked, “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “Not surprising since you’re running back and forth between the farm and the rich guy’s place. You sure working for him is a good idea?” In his fifties, Dan looked at her as one of his own kids. He’d been working at the tree farm since before Ivy was born and he knew the place—and her—very well. “You’re burning your candle at both ends and in the middle. Girl, you can’t run the farm and the gift shop during the day and work for King at night without wearing yourself out.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted, tipping her head back to let the sunshine beat against her closed eyes. “Really, Dan. You know why I’m working for him.”

  “I do, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

  “Now you sound like Mike.”

  “Smart man.”

  She tipped her head to one side, opened her eyes and grinned up at Dan. “You two are peas in a pod. I swear I don’t know why Pop’s worried about leaving me as long as you’re around.”

  But he didn’t smile as she’d hoped. Instead, worry lines dug themselves more deeply into the furrow between his eyes.

  “We got a right to be worried. All of us. That King fella could make us some serious trouble.” His mouth worked as if his words tasted bitter. “All the complaining that man’s done about the farm, it’s only a matter of time before he does something bigger. Like a lawsuit or something.”

  Just what Ivy had been worrying about before she’d actually met Tanner. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  “I don’t think he will,” she said, wondering if that was merely wishful thinking. “But turning down the volume on the music can’t hurt.”

  He scowled and shook his head. “Who doesn’t like Christmas music? I want to know.”

  Ivy laughed and tucked her arm through his as she started leading him off in the direction of the shearing crew. “It’ll all work out, Dan. Once we pull off the big wedding, we can take care of the more immediate payment. And with the extra money I’m making now, the two weddings we just booked and the birthday parties we have scheduled, I can pay off the bank loan that much sooner and we can continue the expansion.”

  “I just don’t like seeing you work yourself into the ground is all,” he muttered.

  “I’m fine. Honestly. Now,” she said firmly, shifting the subject back to business, “I know we should have had the last of the trees shaped by the first of July, but with things as busy as they are…”

  Dan slid into the new conversation gratefully. “Doesn’t matter, really. We’ve got time. The ones we’re working on now won’t be up for purchase until next year anyway.”

  Ivy listened, and inspected the trees they passed along the way. The annual shearing was a big job, but it had to be done and at the right time, too. The idea was to cut off new growth as soon as it was developed—before it had a chance to get tough and woody. Shearing controlled the shape and density of the trees themselves.

  Took a lot of work to get that perfect, proportional Christmas tree shape. And so
me of the guys who worked for Angel tree farm were downright territorial over the shearing process. Some preferred working with the Scotch pines and a couple thought the Douglas fir, that didn’t really require shearing, was the better tree anyway.

  But, Ivy thought, that’s why Angel trees offered a choice. Everyone had their own idea of the perfect Christmas tree. To her though, they were all perfect.

  Dan was still talking and she came up out of her own thoughts to pay attention. “Got a good healthy crop up there and the latest batch of Fraser fir seedlings are coming along. The balsam firs are in even better shape. Should be fine over the winter.”

  “That’s good news,” she said, letting her gaze slide across the pines and firs they passed along the way. Most of the bigger trees she saw wore brightly colored tags, with the name of their adopted family painted on in script.

  Her Adopt-A-Tree program was really starting to catch on.

  Scotch pines bristled against her bare arms as she walked past and Ivy noticed the pristine shaping her crews had managed. The scent of evergreen filled her head and wrapped her in a familiar sense of comfort.

  She loved all of her trees, of course, but her favorite by far was the Fraser fir. It was the tree her own family always had in the house and she thought personally that no other Christmas tree reached the same stage of perfection. The color, the scent, the height and width. It was as if God Himself had designed the perfect tree. All the Angel family had to do was grow them.

  Her sneakers kicked up dirt in the rows between the trees and she idly noticed that it was time to get the crews out to thin the weeds. From a distance, she heard the sound of kids laughing. That was the main reason she loved what she did so much. They weren’t just growing and selling trees here. They were making memories for families. Making Christmas as special to everyone else as it was to her.