Cinderella and the Playboy by Lois Faye Dyer

bright.
    “Chance? Or the gossip columnist?”
    “No, Jennifer—we saw the photographer. Andthen, we saw the article.” Linda ducked down to take a folded newspaper from beneath the counter. The five seats at the end of the counter where the trio stood were empty and Linda spread open the paper on the countertop.
    With a sense of dread, Jennifer slipped onto one of the stools and read the article. The grainy photos weren’t very good likenesses but the man was unquestionably Chance—and the information in the article was undeniably damaging. The reporter quoted the woman as saying she was “heartbroken by the betrayal of the man she loved—and whom she believed loved her.” She’d gone on to say Chance had “treated her unkindly and abandoned her.”
    “I don’t believe any of this,” Jennifer stated with conviction. She tapped her fingertip on the paper. “The man we’ve observed every morning for months is not the man she’s describing.” She folded the paper and handed it back to Linda. “I simply don’t believe it.”
    “But, honey,” Yolanda pointed out kindly, “nice men accidentally get women pregnant, too—it happens all the time. Okay, so this woman made some harsh accusations about Chance. But if you set those aside, it’s still possible that he’s the father of her child. He has quite a reputation with the ladies.”
    Yolanda was right—Jennifer knew she was right and, much to her dismay, the possibility that Chance had been careless and created an unwanted child with another woman sent a shaft of pain through her chest.
    He’s not mine, she told herself. And there never was any possibility of a relationship between us, certainly nothing serious.
    So why did it feel as if her heart was breaking?
    With painful honesty, Jennifer realized that on some level, she’d been secretly dreaming that Chance would want a future with her. Had fantasized that the two of them would find a way to be together.
    Which was ridiculous, of course. The knowledge made her want to cry.
    It’s a good thing I haven’t returned his calls, she decided, making a vow she wouldn’t return any in the future either, no matter how many messages he left.
    A clean break was surely best.
     
    A week passed before Chance appeared at the diner. Jennifer had her back turned, handing an order slip to the cook, when she heard the strap of bells on the door jingle. She glanced over her shoulder and her heart leaped.
    Chance’s dark gaze met hers, his eyes warm. An exiting customer walked between them, blockinghim and he shifted, smiling at her before he moved down the aisle to reach a booth in her section.
    Jennifer passed Yolanda as she walked behind the counter. “Will you tell the boss I’m taking my break now?”
    “Sure.” Yolanda looked up. “What are you…?” She glanced past Jennifer and saw Chance sliding into the seat of a booth. “Oh.”
    Chance stood as Jennifer reached the booth, waiting until she took the bench opposite him.
    “Hello,” she said gravely.
    “Hello,” he responded, voice husky. “I’ve left messages on your machine. You didn’t call back.”
    “I didn’t think I should,” she explained truthfully. “We agreed that our…date…was a one-night thing. And that after it was over, we’d return to our normal lives as if it had never happened.”
    “That’s right, we did.” A faint frown veed his brows, his gaze intent on her face. “Is that what you want?”
    “I thought it’s what you wanted,” she commented. “When you didn’t come into the diner all week, I was certain of it.”
    “I couldn’t come near you,” he told her grimly. “Not without involving you in a scandal.”
    “You mean the paternity suit?” she asked quietly.
    “Yes.” He thrust his hand through his hair, rakingit back from his forehead. “I suppose you read about it in the papers?”
    “It was hard to miss,” she told him.
    “Yeah, it was.” He frowned, a cynical twist to his mouth. “And