Read Online Operation Cinderella by Hope Tarr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hope Tarr
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, series, Revenge, New York, Washington (D.C.), indulgence, entangled publishing, opposites attract, undercover, nanny, cinderella, operation cinderella, hope tarr, suddenly cinderella
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and tapped her on the shoulder.
Staring from behind tortoiseshell framed glasses, Stef said, “Mace? Is that you?”
“In the freakin’ flesh.” Macie let go of her suitcase handle and opened her arms.
They hugged, and suddenly it was as if they were back in college, roomies and best friends forever. Pulling back, Stef gave her a friendly once over. “You look great. The last time I saw you, your hair was…magenta, I think.”
Macie grinned. Being a style chameleon was a point of pride. “What can I say? I like to keep my friends on their toes.”
“Your e-mail said you’re here for six weeks on some kind of undercover assignment. It must be pretty high end to require a personal chef.”
Macie spotted a Starbucks. “How about I buy you a coffee and we can talk about the details?”
Stefanie smiled. Along with sweets, caffeine was her weakness. “Make it a tall mocha with whip and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
A few minutes later, settled in at one of the café tables with her luggage crowded around them, Macie ran down the basics of Operation Cinderella.
Not surprisingly, Stef seemed more than a little shocked. “Okay, let me see if I get this straight. You’re going to move into this guy’s home by pretending to be his housekeeper and then snoop around until you dig up enough dirt to make it newsworthy?”
Macie nodded. “Basically, yes.” Hearing it from her friend’s lips, her mission didn’t sound especially noble.
Stef licked a dab of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before answering, “Look, Mace, you know I’m the last one to rain on your parade, but how do you plan to pull this off? The last time I visited you in New York, you had a six-pack of Diet Coke and a jar of mayonnaise in your fridge—and the mayo had expired.”
“That’s where you come in.”
“So you need me to be your shadow chef,” Stef said.
Macie nodded. “The building has a service elevator. We just need to smuggle you and the food up without being seen. Mannon e-mailed me a copy of his weekly schedule and from what I can tell he’s a creature of habit. During the week, he’s at work until six, and the kid is enrolled in prep school, plus she’s signed up for a shitload of extracurricular activities that’ll keep her out of the condo. We just need to work out a system where you drop off dinner by, say, four o’clock, and then I warm it up later.”
Stef’s eyes widened. “That’s at least two hours between delivery and serving! It’s really hard to keep meat from drying out, and sauces get lumpy once—”
“Hey, he’s not expecting Emeril, just someone who can cook the basic dishes.”
Stefanie sighed. “But food, even simple food, is so much more than sustenance. Eating is a sensual, social experience. A communion that engages the body and soul…”
Macie sipped her soy latte and let her friend rhapsodize. For Stefanie Stefanopoulos food wasn’t just food. It was passion. Macie had listened to various versions of this lecture for the four college years she and Stef had roomed together. Ordinarily a rule-abiding good girl, Stefanie had smuggled a hot plate and microwave into their dorm room and had used the contraband equipment to create savory snacks from odds-and-ends pilfered from the dining hall or purchased from a nearby convenience store. Now equipped with a state-of-the-art commercial kitchen and the finest farm-to-table ingredients, Stef should have been living a gourmet fairy tale—except there was no prince to partake of her fabulous feasts, only her widowed father and his second family: a step-monster and her two surly gremlin girls, all perennially on various dreary diets.
“What about the weekends?” Stef asked.
Macie hesitated. “I’ll have to figure that part out once I’m there, but I’m guessing he probably works a lot, maybe even goes into the office for a few hours. If he were home, he wouldn’t need to hire someone to keep tabs on his kid, would he?
Staring from behind tortoiseshell framed glasses, Stef said, “Mace? Is that you?”
“In the freakin’ flesh.” Macie let go of her suitcase handle and opened her arms.
They hugged, and suddenly it was as if they were back in college, roomies and best friends forever. Pulling back, Stef gave her a friendly once over. “You look great. The last time I saw you, your hair was…magenta, I think.”
Macie grinned. Being a style chameleon was a point of pride. “What can I say? I like to keep my friends on their toes.”
“Your e-mail said you’re here for six weeks on some kind of undercover assignment. It must be pretty high end to require a personal chef.”
Macie spotted a Starbucks. “How about I buy you a coffee and we can talk about the details?”
Stefanie smiled. Along with sweets, caffeine was her weakness. “Make it a tall mocha with whip and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
A few minutes later, settled in at one of the café tables with her luggage crowded around them, Macie ran down the basics of Operation Cinderella.
Not surprisingly, Stef seemed more than a little shocked. “Okay, let me see if I get this straight. You’re going to move into this guy’s home by pretending to be his housekeeper and then snoop around until you dig up enough dirt to make it newsworthy?”
Macie nodded. “Basically, yes.” Hearing it from her friend’s lips, her mission didn’t sound especially noble.
Stef licked a dab of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth before answering, “Look, Mace, you know I’m the last one to rain on your parade, but how do you plan to pull this off? The last time I visited you in New York, you had a six-pack of Diet Coke and a jar of mayonnaise in your fridge—and the mayo had expired.”
“That’s where you come in.”
“So you need me to be your shadow chef,” Stef said.
Macie nodded. “The building has a service elevator. We just need to smuggle you and the food up without being seen. Mannon e-mailed me a copy of his weekly schedule and from what I can tell he’s a creature of habit. During the week, he’s at work until six, and the kid is enrolled in prep school, plus she’s signed up for a shitload of extracurricular activities that’ll keep her out of the condo. We just need to work out a system where you drop off dinner by, say, four o’clock, and then I warm it up later.”
Stef’s eyes widened. “That’s at least two hours between delivery and serving! It’s really hard to keep meat from drying out, and sauces get lumpy once—”
“Hey, he’s not expecting Emeril, just someone who can cook the basic dishes.”
Stefanie sighed. “But food, even simple food, is so much more than sustenance. Eating is a sensual, social experience. A communion that engages the body and soul…”
Macie sipped her soy latte and let her friend rhapsodize. For Stefanie Stefanopoulos food wasn’t just food. It was passion. Macie had listened to various versions of this lecture for the four college years she and Stef had roomed together. Ordinarily a rule-abiding good girl, Stefanie had smuggled a hot plate and microwave into their dorm room and had used the contraband equipment to create savory snacks from odds-and-ends pilfered from the dining hall or purchased from a nearby convenience store. Now equipped with a state-of-the-art commercial kitchen and the finest farm-to-table ingredients, Stef should have been living a gourmet fairy tale—except there was no prince to partake of her fabulous feasts, only her widowed father and his second family: a step-monster and her two surly gremlin girls, all perennially on various dreary diets.
“What about the weekends?” Stef asked.
Macie hesitated. “I’ll have to figure that part out once I’m there, but I’m guessing he probably works a lot, maybe even goes into the office for a few hours. If he were home, he wouldn’t need to hire someone to keep tabs on his kid, would he?
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