Trust Me (33 page)

“I have some business I need to work on before we leave,” he told her, stepping out of the stall and grabbing a thick, soft towel, rubbing his hair vigorously before wrapping it around his waist. “It shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Get dressed and I’ll meet you on deck. We have a lot to do so don’t take long. I’ve already packed, so you just need to get yourself finished and there is a package on the bed for you. It’s from Sabrina as a thank you for modeling her gown for her.” He kissed her again before walking into the adjoining bedroom.

Sandra smiled, watching him walk away before turning back to the women looking at her from the mirror. There was something strange and wickedly delicious about this man. He made her feel hopeful, happy and very sexy and she reveled in the feeling of his hands on her body. It was a feeling she was growing very accustomed to and one she was not at all eager to leave behind.

Finding the blow dryer in the drawer, Sandra quickly made use of it, drying her long locks straight. She couldn’t remember ever smiling as much as she had these past few days and she was certain it was that man’s fault; he made her feel happy, aroused and alive. For the first time since her parents died, she had hope for her future; dreams and fantasies to carry her through the decisions she still had to make regarding the only person in the world who made her truly happy. Fifteen minutes later, she switched off the blow dryer and replaced it in the cabinet, looking back at the woman who smiled at her from the mirror. She couldn’t believe all that had happened to her; what would Cathy say when she told her she was getting married? What would her grandparents say?

Sandra walked back into the bedroom and looked around. The room had been organized, but not cleaned; the toys from the previous evening had been cleaned up and put away and the blankets and discarded clothing picked up. Creighton had already dressed and left so she could finish getting ready without distraction; though she had to admit she rather enjoyed his way of distracting her. Sandra frowned as she caught sight of the large pink box sitting on the end of the bed near their luggage. It was wrapped in a thick purple ribbon, like those she had seen in Marie’s dress shop. She sat down next to it and removed the small white card and read it.

“Sandra, thank you so much for everything you have done. The pictures are amazing and you make a beautiful bride. I’m sure to receive high marks from my instructors now. The family can’t wait to meet you, and we all thank you for making Cray happy. Sabrina.”

She pulled the length of ribbon off the box and removed the lid. Inside was a layer of pastel violet tissue paper and for a brief moment she remembered the black camisole and panties Creighton had given her. She pushed the paper aside and gasped; inside was the dark burgundy, dress she had admired back at Marie Marchant’s dress shop. The rhinestones glistened in the sunlight, making her feel giddy and excited. She lifted it out and glanced in the box at the items that lay waiting her discovery. She lay the dress aside and picked up a dark pair of black cotton pants from the bottom of the box. They reminded her of the pants Creighton bought her back at the hotel, the same ones currently in the custody of the police. The seams and pockets were stitched in silver thread; the pockets held an embroidered floral design of leaves and tiny pink forget-me-not flowers. Beneath the pants was a blouse made from some kind of a cotton material, soft and stretchy. It was a deep violet color and was actually more of a half shirt with long sleeves; a belly shirt as Cathy would call it. It crossed in the front like an x and was low cut across the breasts. The back had the same crisscross design as the front, making Sandra aware that the only way to put it on was across her head like a tee-shirt.

With an excited feeling racing through her limbs, Sandra quickly slipped into the tiny black panties Creighton had laid out for her and her lacy white bra. She pulled the top on first adjusting the crosses so they hugged her bust perfectly. Once she had her pants on she stepped to the full-length mirror in the bathroom to admire herself. The clothes were beautiful and fit perfectly, hugging her slender body like a well-designed glove. The top revealed the deep cleavage between the swell of breasts; her tiny waist and belly button showing beneath. The tan she had worked so hard on, made the color all the more flattering and she smiled like a schoolgirl as she stared at herself, twirling around in front of the mirror.

Sandra returned to the bedroom and took her purse, applying her usual amount of makeup across her delicate face, before pulling the top of her hair into a half ponytail, leaving the rest to hang down her back. She sat back on the edge of the bed and pulled her running shoes on, tying them securely in a bowknot before looking at them with a frown. They didn’t look exactly right with the beautiful clothes, but they were all she had, so they would just have to do.

She collected her new dress from Sabrina, carefully packing it in the luggage and gathered her makeup and hairbrush, putting them in her purse before replacing her phone, smiling wickedly. She had never had the courage to hang up on her sister before and she would never have thought to turn off her phone before either, but somehow being with Creighton made her feel stronger than she ever had. She felt daring and enjoyed the surge of excitement her control gave her.

Sandra began to look through her purse for her mother’s earrings and her necklace and remembered with a terrifying jolt that she had left them in her hotel room. The only thing she had of her mother’s had been left behind like yesterday’s newspaper and her heart sank.

With tears in her eyes, Sandra hurried toward the office, with her purse in her hand, fear and grief filling her heart. Creighton’s deep tone echoed from the room and she paused briefly outside before opening the door. He was sitting at the large desk, frowning at something on the computer screen when he glanced up and saw her in the threshold. Creighton stood suddenly, his frown deepening as he looked at her.

“Something just came up, I’ll have to call you back,” he said into the phone, and shut it off, walking to her. He reached out and pulled her into his embrace and it was only then that she realized she was crying.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” he asked, trying to sooth her sobs, but without success.

Sandra stood there in his arms, feeling safe and protected and just allowed herself to cry into his chest. Several agonizing minutes passed by before she felt control seep back across herself. She pushed slowly away from his chest sniffing and found him dabbing at her tears with a soft white handkerchief.

“What’s the matter, darling?” he asked her gently and she drew a deep breath.

“My mother’s earrings were in my hotel room, along with a necklace my grandmother gave me when I came to France. I’ve lost them. The only thing I had of my mother’s and I’ve lost them.”

“Are you talking about the ones you wore on our first date?” She nodded slowly. “We’ll find them, my love, please don’t worry. I’ll phone the police and see if were with your belongings.” Sandra tried to nod but found it difficult.

“Trust me?” he asked and she looked at him and nodded again, though she didn’t feel as confident as she always did when he asked her to trust him. He pulled her back into his arms and hugged her close, kissing her hair and face.

“Let’s go eat. We have a long day ahead of us and we’re running out of time.” Together they turned and walked arm in arm to the deck where their breakfast had already been prepared and waited on them. Sandra sat next to him as they had the day before, eating in silence, consumed by their own private demons. Sandra felt horrified that she had lost something so precious to her and cursed herself for not keeping them with her.

“Do you know anything about Orleans?” he asked her softly. She shook her head, half listening to what he was saying. “Joan of Arc’s house is still standing and very much a tourist site. The area has a great history and comes complete with a very medieval village. I thought you might like to visit it, as long as we’re going to be close by.” Sandra nodded, though far from as enthused as she should have been.

“Please don’t worry,” he said again. “I have some very influential friends and a lot of connections. We’ll find your jewelry, I promise.”

“I feel so stupid,” she said softly. “I should have kept them with me, but I was afraid of losing them.”

“Sandra, stop thinking about it for a while. You have to believe that things will work out for the best. Now let’s just try and enjoy our day, alright?” She drew a deep breath and nodded again. She knew that there was nothing she could do about it now and she did trust Creighton.

“How long will it take us to get to the hotel?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Anxious are we?” Sandra blushed causing him to laugh. “Don’t worry; we don’t have enough time for a repeat performance of this morning’s activities. I hate not keeping agendas and we have a lot on our plate the next couple of days. Have you finished eating?” Sandra looked at her plate and was amazed to discover it was empty. She didn’t remember eating, but she felt full.
She nodded and he stood up, reaching his hand out to take hers. He wrapped her in his warm embrace and kissed her neck.

“Maybe we can find something really sexy at the shop, to make you feel better.”

“Why would I feel better with something sexy?” Her tone was much sharper than she would have preferred and it did not go unnoticed.

“You felt sexy when you wore the black camisole, didn’t you?” She thought for a moment and nodded. She did feel sexy in it. “Don’t you feel a little erotic in the panties?” She blushed.

“What else am I going to wear?” she asked with a blush. “My other pair is somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.”

“And whose fault is that?” His smile was contagious and she had no choice but to return it. “You look lovely in that outfit, by the way. Do you like it?”

“Very much. Sabrina has great taste.”

“I’ll be sure and tell her you said so. She’ll be pleased to know you like her designs. Come on, we have a lot to do and I hate being off schedule.” He took her hand and headed to the side where the captain stood waiting for their departure. Creighton said something to him in French as he stepped off the ship before turning and wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her off the boat and onto the walkway. They walked hand-in-hand to the small black Mercedes parked at the end of the pier. Creighton removed a key from his pocket and pushed a button, unlocking the doors.

“Is this the same car from Cote d’Azur?” she asked him suspiciously.

“No, it’s a rental. It was here when we pulled into dock last night.”

“But you have the key,” she said, causing him to laugh.

“The rental agency left it with the dock manager for us. One thing about money, it can buy anything and anyone.” Sandra looked at him and narrowed her eyes as he held the door open.

“Not everyone,” she said bitterly.

“I’m not trying to buy you, Miss Dennis,” he argued gently. “I’m trying to marry you. There’s a big difference.” He held the door securely as she sat down in the passenger seat, then closed it and walked around the front to the driver’s side. Once inside, he pressed a button that started the ignition and smiled as it roared to life.

“And if I say I want a long engagement?” Creighton pulled out of the parking space and onto the road leading to the nearby town. He was silent for a several minutes before he glanced across the seat to her.

“I’ve already told you I’m not a patient man,” he said quietly, his face pulled in a slight frown, his eyes looked frightened and apprehensive. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, but I still think we’re rushing things a bit,” she said, hoping her admission would calm the sudden tension that was filling the small confines of the car. “Shouldn’t we at least know the basics about each other before we sign on the dotted line?”

“Why do I feel this is going to be an argument to take us into our senior years?” Creighton teased as he pulled the car into an empty stall outside a trendy fashion boutique and shut off the engine.
  “Let’s go get you something to wear.”

The store was very trendy and had a number of odd-looking new designer name fashions. Sandra looked at what she assumed was a dress in dark red and instantly thought of an episode of the Jetson’s cartoon from when she was younger. There were several shoppers, no doubt tourists from the way they acted toward the clothes and the prices and a clerk who watched everything closely, looking as put together as the one in Cote d’Azur. She was slender, tall with shoulder length red hair and she immediately acknowledged Creighton when they walked in, hurrying to his side to offer her assistance. Sandra felt the familiar surge of irritation and wanted to pull her by the nape of her neck and tell her to back off; he was hers.

“Do you speak English?” he asked the woman who smiled brightly.

“I do indeed, sir,” she said in a tone that dripped with sugar, a British accent echoing through her tone. “I was born in London. How may I help you?” Creighton turned to Sandra, and reached for her hand, holding it tightly.

“My sister recommended your shop to us. I’m interested in buying my wife a few new outfits that will flatter her incredible figure. Do you have anything that would suit our needs?” Sandra blushed as the woman turned a sarcastic, though brief, eye to her. She felt like she was under the microscope, as the woman looked Sandra up and down.

“I’m sure we have something that your wife would find acceptable.”