Marion Lennox - The Last-Minute Marriage

2004

MARCUS BENSON shoved open the fire-escape door-and ran straight into Cinderella.

Marcus running into anyone was unusual in itself. The influence of the Benson Corporation reached throughout the international business community, and Marcus, at its head, was a man held in awe. Bumping into people was unheard of. A path usually cleared before him.

It wasnt just power, wealth and intellect contributing to the aura surrounding him. He was in his mid-thirties, tall and superbly fit, with jet-black hair and striking, hawklike features. His charisma and influence were such that womens magazines were unanimous in declaring him to be Americas most eligible bachelor.

And Marcus was likely to stay that way.

Well, why not? His experience of family life had been a disaster. His time in the armed forces had taught him loyalty and friendship, but loyalty and friendship had ended in tragedy. So Marcus Benson was a man who walked alone.

But that was before he met Peta OShannassy.

And Petas kids, dogs, cows and catastrophe.

He didnt see that now, though. All he saw was a kid who reminded him oddly of Cinderella.

But Cinderella should be in her castle kitchen, tending the fire. Hungry. Wasnt that how the story went? Surely she shouldnt be eating her lunch on the landing of a New York fire-escape.

Maybe Marcus was making a few assumptions. He assumed this was Cinderella. He assumed it was lunch. In reality, all Marcus saw was a spilled yellow drink, a flying bagel, and, underneath, a tattered kid with bright chestnut curls and skimpy clothes.

So maybe she wasnt Cinderella.

Who, then? A street kid? She was wearing shorts, a frayed T-shirt and battered sandals. His first impression was of a waif.

His second sensation was horror as waif-and lunch-fought for balance, lost, and tumbled to the next landing.

What had he done?

Hed been in too much of a hurry. There werent enough hours in the day for Marcus Benson. He had people waiting.

Theyd have to wait. Hed just knocked a kid down half a flight of stairs. She was crumpled in a heap on the next landing, looking as if she wasnt going anywhere.

It seemed an eternity while she slid, but in fact it was two or three seconds at most. The next moment, Marcus was brushing the bright curls away from her face. Trying to see the damage.

Again he had to do a rethink. She wasnt a street kid-or not the type that he recognised.

She was clean. Sure, she was covered in what remained of her bagel and her milkshake, but her mop of curls were soft to touch. Her shorts and her T-shirt were freshly laundered under the mess hed made, and she was

Cute?

Definitely cute.

She wasnt a kid.

Maybe she was about twenty, he thought. Her eyes were closed but he had the impression that it wasnt unconsciousness that was causing her eyelids to stay shuttered. There was a sense of exhaustion about her, as if she was closing her eyes to shut out more than the pain and shock of the moment. Dark shadows smudged deeply under her eyes. She was thin. Far too thin.

His first impression solidified. Cinderella.

Her eyes fluttered open. They were wide green eyes, deep and questioning. Pain-filled.

Dont move, he said urgently and she focused on his face, questioning.

Ouch, she whispered.

Ouch?

She appeared to consider.

Definitely ouch, she said at last, and the strain in her voice said she was trying hard to make light of something that was worse than just ouch. She didnt move; just lay on the steel-plated landing as if she was trying to come to terms with a catastrophe that was just one of a series. I guess I spilled my milkshake, huh.

Um He looked down to the next flight of steps. Yeah. Definitely.

And my bagel? Her accent was Australian, he thought. It was warm and resonant, with a tremor behind it. From shock? From pain?

But she was worried about her bagel. He smiled at that, albeit weakly. If she was worried about her bagel, chances were that she wasnt suffering injuries that were life-threatening.

Id imagine your bagel is at ground level, he told her. Itll have turned into a lethal missile by now.

Oh, great. She closed her eyes again and his impression of exhaustion deepened. I can see the headlines. Australian drops New Yorker with jelly-loaded bagel. Ill probably get sent to prison-for-terrorists on the first flight out of here.

Hey. It was too much. Marcus Benson, who seldom-well, never, in fact-let himself get involved, put his hand on her cheek in a gesture of comfort. Good grief. Hed blasted her down a flight of stairs. Hed ruined her lunch. Hed hurt her-and she was trying to turn it into a joke.

Australian Braining New Yorker with Bagel is the least of our legal worries, he told her. How about Corporate Idiot Shoves Australian Downstairs?

She opened one eye and looked up at him. Cautiously. You mean I can sue?

For at least the cost of a bagel, he told her, and his words produced a smile.

It was a great smile. A killer smile. Her eyes were deeply green and they twinkled, as if it was their permanent state. Maybe she wasnt twenty, he thought. Maybe she was older. With a smile like that Well, a smile like that took practice.

Hed never seen a smile like it.

But he couldnt stop and think about a womans smile. Or he shouldnt. He was in a rush. The reason hed used the fire stairs was that he was in a hurry. The lift had jammed at just the wrong time. His assistant would be waiting at street level, checking her watch. He had a deal to close.

But he couldnt just leave this kid here.

He lifted his cellphone. Ruby? he snapped as his assistant answered.

Marcus. This was a busy day, even for the super-efficient Ruby, and his assistant sounded worried. Where are you?

Im on the fire-escape. Can you come up, please? I have a situation.

As he tucked his phone back into his jacket he found himself suppressing a grin. A situation on the fire-escape. Thatd have Ruby having kittens all the way up. Ruby was efficient but things likewell, situations on fire-escapes were unusual, even for Ruby.

Shed cope, he thought. Ruby always coped. But until the cavalry arrived he needed to focus on the girl.

Are you hurt? he asked, and found she was staring straight up at him now, both her eyes fully open. Shed rolled over on to her back. There was a dollop of jelly wedged under her curls near one ear, and he had the weirdest desire to wipe it away

Heck, cut it out, Benson, he told himself. This was getting personal. He didnt do personal. That was what Ruby was for.

But apparently the waif didnt want his attention just as much as he didnt wish to offer it. Thank you for asking, she said politely. But Im fine. You can go away now.

He blinked. I can go away?

Youre in a rush. I sat in your way. Youve squashed my bagel, youve spilled my milkshake and youve hurt my ankle, but hey, its my fault. Im-

Youve hurt your ankle?

It appears, she said with cautious dignity, to be hurt.

He checked her out. Her legs were long and tanned and smooth. Really long, in fact, and really tanned, and really smooth. They were great legs. It was incongruous that they ended up with shabby leather sandals that looked as if they came from a welfare shop.

The shoes werent the only jarring note. One ankle was puffing while he watched.

Hell.

Hey! Its me whos supposed to swear. Why dont you just go away so that I can?

Dont let me stop you.

A lady doesnt swear in front of a gentleman, she told him, lifting her ankle so she could see it. Mistake. She winced and let it drop. Cautiously. But still the determination was there to move on. Ignoring pain. While I might not be a lady, by the look of the suit youre wearing, you must be a gentleman, she managed. Thats about the most gentlemanly suit Ive ever seen.