“Drusilla will know all the best restaurants near our downtown office.”
“Drusilla?” Beau asked.
“My daughter.” Patricia beamed.
Beau turned to Cindy for an explanation.
Cindy smiled woodenly. “Mrs. Knight, this is Beau Mckay; Beau, this is Mrs. Knight, president of Knight Studios. Her daughter, Drusilla, is leading theEgypt’s Goldproject.”
Ah, the boss. “It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, and Mrs. Knight took it, her grip sending a warning down his spine like ice down the back of his shirt.
She hooked her arm through his and started for the door. “I can take you directly back to the conference room, Mr. Mckay. We are so thrilled you’ve decided to be part of our latest blockbuster, Beau.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Cindy bite her lip and turn her head as if struck.
“Can I call you Beau?” asked Mrs. Knight.
Beau nodded. Obviously there were interoffice dynamics at play here. He didn’t want to make trouble for Cindy.
Cindy.
His cheeks lifted. He had her name. Well, half her name.
That was enough for now. He’d be in this office plenty over the next few weeks, and he planned to make the most of those visits.
Chapter 6
Cindy pulled the clothing out of the dryer and set it on the counter before moving the just-washed clothes to the dryer. Folding laundry wasn’t her favorite task. All right, it was her least favorite task. But at least it kept her stepfamily out of her hair. She was their laundry fairy. As far as they were concerned, the clothes magically appeared in their closets and drawers. Which was okay. You do for family—filling in when things were hard. And, they paid her a small sum for the work.
“What are you doing?” Drusilla stomped into the room and yanked a pair of lace panties out of the clean pile. “You can’t dry these—they have to hang on a line.”
Her dear stepsister would probably throw the panties out in a month or so anyway—she never wore anything more than three times—so it shouldn’t matter if they were tumbled dry. “Last I checked, we don’t have a laundry line.” Cindy folded a lace nightie into a perfect square and set it in Natalie’s basket.
“Well, aren’t you precious this morning.” Stepmother’s shadow slithered across the tile floor. “A lady should never speak unless she can improve the silence.”
Cindy doubted her thoughts would be considered an improvement, so she kept them to herself. Sometimes, the smart move was avoiding a fight. Picking a fight was the only reason either of these two would set foot in the laundry room. This is what she got for holding Beau’s hand yesterday. “Yes, Stepmother.”
Patricia plucked the panties from Drusilla’s hand. “I would think you’d be smart enough to know how to properly care for underwear. But since even the smallest tasks overwhelm you, perhaps we should cut your hours at the office so you have more time to accomplish your work here at home.”
Cindy lifted a hand to protest and brought it right back down. She had done some dumb things when she was younger: sliding down the banister and breaking her arm, accidentally starting a frog infestation in the swimming pool, and breaking into their rival high school’s locker room and stealing the mascot head. There were other instances, and they all added up to a bad impression.
It really was too bad Stepmother wasn’t born and raised in Georgia; bless her heart, she’d have been an excellent pageant mother, touting her daughters’ perfections while ripping the other contestants to threads, all with a dazzling smile. Making a scene now would only lead Stepmother to say she was too distraught to go into the office, and she’d be hounded into taking a sick day. She needed to be there when the actors did the first read-through to make sure the right tone came across. Not to mention that Beau would be there. Despite all her personal warnings, she wanted to see him again. She was hopeless. She knew it and she owned it, because crushing on Beau was the bright spot in her day. His invitation to dinner and for kisses after had taken her by surprise, but what had surprised her more was her desire to say yes.
“No, Stepmother, I’m happy to do both.”
Patricia pressed her palms together. “Wonderful. After all, what are we paying you for?” Her predatory smile appeared.
Cindy cringed internally. Half-paying was more like it. They let the housemaids go several months ago, claiming they needed to tighten their belts, and yet they kept the hot tub going twenty-four hours a day because Natalie thought the backyard looked prettier when the bubbles were on.
Patricia pressed the panties into Cindy’s shoulder. “Replace these.”
“Yes, Stepmother.”
“Now.”
Cindy cursed silently. She had a to-do list longer than the Chattahoochee River. Patricia would expect her regular chores to be done as well as this extra errand. But, a chance to get out of the house on a Saturday was welcome. Who cared if she stayed up until one scrubbing the kitchen floor? Not Patricia, that’s for sure.
Twenty minutes later, Cindy dug through a bin of bargain undies in Vicky’s Hush-Hush lingerie store at the mall. As long as they had the same label, Drusilla wouldn’t know if they cost five bucks or fifty. Spying a bit of black lace, she hooked it with her finger and yanked it out of the mass of purple and pink. She held them out by the sides, judging whether Drusilla would be fooled into believing they were the spendier brand or if she’d have to keep looking.
