Cinderella and the Playboy Read Online Free PDF

beyond, a kitchen area boasted a white-painted table with four chairs pushed up to it. A bright blue cloth runner ran down the center while a small stack of notebooks and what looked like a thick textbook were spread out over one end.
    Just as he was about to step over the threshold, drawn inexorably by the rooms that he instinctively knew would give him a deeper insight into Jennifer, she reappeared.
    “Got everything?” he asked as he watched her walk toward him. Heat stirred in his gut, just as it did each time he saw her at the diner.
    “Yes.” She stepped into the hall, turning briefly to lock the door before they moved toward the elevator.
    Outside, the spring night was slightly chilly and Jennifer draped the long satin wrap around her shoulders and throat. She tossed one crimson end over her shoulder and let it drape down her back, covering her bare shoulder blades above the gown’s skirt.
    “Cold?” Chance asked as he keyed the lock and opened the door of a sleek black Jaguar sedan parked at the curb.
    “Just a little,” Jennifer murmured, sliding into the low seat.
    “I’ll turn the heater on in a second.” Chance bent to tuck her skirt out of the way and closed the door.
    A moment later, he slid into the driver’s seat beside her.
    Jennifer fastened her seat belt and stroked her fingertips over the butter-soft leather of the seat. Her gaze swept the compact, luxurious interior. “Nice car,” she said, breathing in the faint scent of leather and men’s cologne.
    “Thanks.” Chance grinned at her and winked. “I like it.” His fingers moved over a series of buttons on the dash and heated air brushed Jennifer’s toes. The seat warmed beneath her. “How’s that?” he asked.
    “Lovely.” She smiled at him, feeling distinctly cosseted.
    “Good—let me know if you want it warmer.” He glanced in the mirrors, shifted into gear and the Jag pulled smoothly away from the curb.
    “Where is the ball being held?” Jennifer inquired as they left her block and headed downtown.
    “Same place as last year, apparently,” Chance replied with a sideways glance and named a posh hotel that was fairly new but built in a traditional turn-of-the-century style. It had become an instant Boston landmark, its dining room and ballrooms favored by society mavens.
    “I’ve never been there,” Jennifer said, intrigued. “But I read an article in the Boston Herald about the grand opening. The design alone sounded fabulous.”
    “Rumor has it the financier was a mad count from Austria who was a distant relative of Dracula.”
    “What?” Jennifer’s gaze flew to his. His dark eyes were lit with amusement. “You’re joking.”
    “Nope.” He raised his hand, palm out. “I swear someone actually told me that.”
    “And did you believe them?” Jennifer asked with a laugh.
    “Not a word.”
    “Excellent,” she responded promptly. “I’m glad to know you’re a sensible man.”
    “Oh, I’m sensible,” he replied. “Now if you’d said I was a ‘nice, safe’ guy, I would have had to rethink my answer.”
    She shot him a chastening look from beneath her lashes and found his mouth curved in a half smile that set awareness humming through her torso. “Hmm,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll ask you why.” With an abrupt change of subject, she pointed out the window. “Isn’t that the hotel?”
    Chance lifted a brow and his gaze met hers for a brief moment before he nodded, downshifting as he turned out of traffic and drove beneath the portico.
    The lobby was a fascinating blend of old and new, with jewel-toned, blown-glass Chihuly light fixtures hanging from boxed ceilings. A broad expanse of thick black and gold carpeting covered the floors, and round seats upholstered in gold were arranged at intervals between the reception desk and the wide hallway on their left.
    Jennifer loosened her wrap from her throat and let it slip down her arms to catch at her elbows. Chance took her hand and tucked it