“Really?” he said, assuming she was someone's date. He had checked out her left hand for a wedding ring, and there was none. “They're lovely people.” And then, with a smile that was nearly dazzling, he turned to her. “Would you like to dance? My name is Chandler Freeman. I'm a business associate of Oscar Junior's.” He had taken care of the full introduction as she smiled at him, but made no move toward the dance floor.
“I'm Paris Armstrong, and I work for Bixby Mason, who organized this spectacular event. I'm not a guest. I'm working.”
“I see,” he said, not missing a beat, as his smile grew broader. “Well, Cinderella, if you dance with me until the stroke of midnight, I promise to look for you all over the kingdom, until I find the matching glass slipper. Shall we?”
“I don't really think I should,” she said, looking amused but embarrassed. He was very appealing, and very charming.
“I won't tell if you don't. And you look far too beautiful to be standing out here on the sidelines. One dance won't hurt anything, will it?” He already had an arm around her, and without waiting for a response, he was leading her toward the dance floor. And much to her own amazement, she followed. She caught Bix's eye along the way, and he smiled at her and winked, which seemed to suggest he had no problem with it. So she let Chandler Freeman lead her onto the floor and sweep her away. He was an expert dancer, and it was three songs later when he led her to his table. “Would you like to join us?” He was there with several friends, and was in fact sitting with Oscar Fleischmann Jr., who was a handsome man about Paris's age with a very pretty wife, who was covered in diamonds and emeralds. The family had made their fortune in oil in Denver, and then moved to San Francisco. It was Oscar Jr.'s son who had had the bar mitzvah, Jane told her later.
“I'd love to,” Paris said, in answer to his invitation to join them. “But I have to get back to my team.” She didn't want to be inappropriate and overly familiar with the guests, and make a bad impression either on their client, or on Bixby. She had no problem keeping her place, and had no intention of picking up the guests, however handsome. And there was no question, Chandler Freeman was a knockout. She wondered who his date was, and how she had felt about his dancing with Paris. But she couldn't identify anyone at the table who looked as though she was with him. As it turned out, his date had canceled at the last minute.
“I had a great time dancing with you, Paris,” he said, nearly in her ear so no one would hear him. “I'd love to see you again.”
“I'll leave my number in the glass slipper,” she said as she laughed. “I always wondered why the prince didn't at least get her name. It has to make you wonder about him.” Chandler laughed at what she said.
“Paris Armstrong. And you work for Bixby Mason. I think I can remember that,” he said, as though he fully intended to call her and see her again. But she wasn't counting on it. He was just a very charming, very handsome man. It was good for her ego, for a minute or two, but she didn't expect or want more than that.
“Thank you again, have a lovely evening,” she said to the table in general and drifted off, and as she did, she could hear Oscar's wife say in a loud voice “Who was that?” and Chandler answer “Cinderella,” and everyone at the table laughed. Paris was still amused when she got back to Bixby and Jane.
“Sorry,” she said to Bixby apologetically. “I didn't want to insult him by not dancing with him, and I escaped as soon as I could.” But Bixby didn't look in the least concerned, except about Jane, who was finally sitting down, and looked as though she were about to pop.
“Part of the secret of our success is knowing when to mix with the locals, and when to back off and work. You did it just right. People like it sometimes if we mingle with them for a while. I do. And I think it's just fine if you do a bit of that too. As long as we keep an eye on how the event is going. There are plenty of parties we do where I'm on the guest list,” he said, smiling at her. As far as he was concerned, Paris was not only efficient and competent, but she was socially adept, and he wanted her to know that. “By the way,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “that looked like a good one,” he said mischievously, referring to Chandler. “He's very nice looking. Who is he?”
“Prince Charming,” she said blithely, and then looked down to notice Jane rubbing her lower back.
“Are you okay?” Paris asked her, looking worried.
“I'm fine. The baby is just in a weird position. I think he's sitting on my kidneys.”
“How pleasant,” Bix said, rolling his eyes in mock horror. “I don't know how women do it. That would kill me,” he said, pointing at her stomach.
“No, it wouldn't, you get used to it,” Paris said, smiling.
