For a moment Rory couldnât say a word.
She couldnât believe she was actually where she had so badly wanted to be. In Erikâs arms. For some strange reason, her throat had suddenly gone raw.
She swallowed, then took a deep breath. âErik?â she finally said. âThank you.â
âFor holding you?â
âFor all of it. But, yes. For this, too.â
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked when she started to cry.
âNothing. Honest,â she insisted. âFor the first time inâ¦forever there isnât a thing wrong.â
âThen why tears?â
Because of what you let me feel, she thought. âBecause Iâm tired,â was easier to admit.
She felt his lips against the top of her head. âThen, go to sleep.â
âI donât want to. I donât want to miss you holding me.â
âYou shouldnât say things like that.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause youâll make me forget why I shouldnât do this,â he murmured, and brushed his mouth over hers.
The Hunt For Cinderella: Seeking Prince Charming
Prologue
âWhatâs on your Christmas list this year? No matter how big or how small, youâre sure to find what youâre looking for at Seattleâs one-stop answer to all your holidayââ
With a quick flick of the dial, Rory silenced the cheerful voice suddenly booming from her car radio. In an attempt to drown out her worries while she waited to pick up her son from kindergarten, sheâd turned the music to a decibel sheâd never have considered had her five-year-old been in the vehicle.
The ad had just brought to mind the one thing sheâd been desperately trying not to think about.
Sheâd hoped to make the holiday special for her little boy this year. Not just special, but after last yearâs unquestionably awful Christmas, something wonderful. Magical.
As of three days ago, however, she was no longer sure how she would keep a roof over their heads, much less put a tree under it. Due to downsizing, her telecommuting services as a legal transcriptionist for Hayes, Bleaker & Stein were no longer required. Sheâd needed that job to pay for little things like food and gas and to qualify for a mortgage.
Without a job, she had no hope of buying the little Cape Cod sheâd thought so perfect for her and little Tyler. She had no hope of buying or renting any house at all. Since the sale of the beautiful home sheâd shared with her husband closed next week, that left her four days to find an apartment and a job that would help her pay for it.
A quick tap ticked on her driverâs side window.
Through the foggy glass, a striking blonde wearing studious-looking horn-rimmed glasses and winter-white fur smiled at her. The woman didnât look at all familiar to Rory. Thinking she must be the mom of an older student, since she knew all the moms in the kindergarten class, she lowered her window and smiled back.
Chill air rushed into the car as the woman bent at the waist to make eye contact. âYouâre Aurora Jo Linfield?â
Rory hesitated. The only time she ever used her full name was on legal documents. And she rarely used Aurora at all. âI am.â
âIâm Felicity Granger.â Hiking her designer bag higher on her shoulder, she stuck her hand through the open window. The cold mist glittered around her, clung, jewel-like, to her pale, upswept hair. âBut please, call me Phil. Iâm an associate of Cornelia Hunt. Youâve heard of Cornelia, havenât you?â
Rory shook the womanâs hand, watched her retract it. âIâve heard of her,â she admitted, wondering what this womanâor the otherâcould possibly want with her. Nearly everyone in Seattle had heard of Mrs. Hunt, the former Cornelia Fairchild. Sheâd been the childhood sweetheart of computer genius Harry Hunt, the billionaire founder of software giant HuntCom. Rory recalled hearing of their marriage last summer, even though sheâd been struggling within her fractured little world at the time. Media interest in their six-decade relationship had been huge.
âMay I help you with something?â
âOh, Iâm here to help you,â the woman insisted. âMr. Hunt heard of your situationââ
Harry Hunt had heard of her? âMy situation?â
âAbout your job loss. And how that affects your ability to purchase another home.â
âHow does he know that?â
âThrough your real estate agent. Mr. Hunt knows the owner of the agency she works for,â she explained. âHarry bought a building through him last month for his wife so sheâd have a headquarters for her new venture. When he learned why you couldnât move forward with the purchase of the house youâd found, he remembered Mrs. Huntâs project and thought youâd be a perfect referral. So we checked you out.â Her smile brightened. âAnd you are.