Trust Me (6 page)

“I
have to go now,” he said into the small back box. “I have plans tonight, but I’ll call tomorrow morning. Don’t do anything stupid until you hear back from me.” He paused in his conversation, still smiling at her, his dark-blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll take care of everything, just stop worrying.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, his smile widening as he drew a deep breath.

“You
look stunning,” he told her, reaching out and taking her hand gently in his, lifting it to his lips and tenderly placing a kiss across her knuckles. Her eyes locked with his, her breath caught in her throat and she felt warm in places she never knew had feelings. She saw his eyes darken to ebony and she gasped softly. How could anyone be so damned sexy, just kissing a hand?

“I’m
glad now I made the plans I did,” he said gently. “Are you ready to go?” She nodded, unable to speak. He kept hold of her hand and squeezed it gently leading her toward the hotel exit. Outside a chauffeur stood next to a late model black Mercedes Benz limousine. He opened the back door as they approached him, his light-blue eyes briefly scanning over Sandra before turning back to stare straight ahead of him, trying to hide a smile. Sandra looked up to Creighton with a curious frown.

“I
thought we would go in style,” he said with a shrug. She felt anxious and her nerves began to mount again, forcing her to bite her bottom lip. She slid into the back of the black vehicle, scanning the sights that greeted her with interest.

The
interior was illuminated in a soft bluish white light. Two white leather bucket seats sat by the back door, one of which she sat down in. A small wooden table with a purple and grey granite top and built in cup holders sat between the seats. Against the one side was a long L-shaped sofa-style seat in the same luxurious leather and on the opposite side was a dark wood wet bar with a matching granite top, complete with an in counter refrigerator, wine glasses, blender and lighted mirrored shelves. The floor was a matching dark wood as the table and bar, while a large flat-screen television attached to the wall behind the bucket seats, a row of built-in devices was on the wall next to it; a DVD player, a stereo with surround sound speakers in each corner of the car and a game console, though she wasn’t sure which one. The walls were dark grey colored leather with little lights along the ceiling in a wooden panel. The entire vehicle was luxurious and elegant and reeked of money.

“It
comes complete with Internet, satellite, snacks and even…” he paused as the door closed, reaching for a dark brown bottle in a small silver bucket of ice on a stand next to the bar. “Champagne?” he asked with a smile, taking two very elegant crystal glasses from the bar and setting them on the table between the seats, pouring the liquor in them. Sandra smiled, if she had any thoughts of retreating, now would be the time, but as the car pulled away from the curb, she realized she didn’t want to leave. In for a penny, in for a pound, as her grandfather was so fond of saying. Sandra wasn’t sure what the night would bring, but she was up for the challenge. She just hoped she wouldn’t wake up tomorrow morning with the tears of regret to carry her home.

“So
where are we going?” she asked with as much calm as she could muster.

“Some
place very special,” he told her. “I thought we could spend some time getting to know each other and since this is your first trip to France, I would show it to you by night.” She felt a sudden jolt to her nerves as she accepted the glass of sweet-smelling liquor he offered. He raised his glass toward hers and touched the rims together.

“Here’s
to getting to know each other much, much better,” he said gently placing the glass to his lips, his eyes remained focused on her face, the cool liquid slowly slipping across his tongue. She took a quick sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose at the tiny bubbles that tickled her upper lip. It was very good, sweet and cool and she was certain, especially after looking at this vehicle, it cost much more than anything she had ever had. She cleared her throat softly, trying to refocus her attention on their surroundings rather than the man next to her.

“You
said you loved pasta, but didn’t eat it often. I hope you don’t mind that we’re having Italian for supper,” he looked at her speculatively as he reached for a remote in a hidden drawer under the table and turned on the stereo, tuning into the soft sounds of a jazz saxophone. “I figure we can work it off tomorrow, that is if you’re interested in seeing me again after tonight.”

“That
would depend on how the evening ends, don’t you think?” Why did she say that, she thought, and why did she say it in such a seductive tone? She heard the words coming out of her mouth, but her ears refused to believe they were hers. Creighton stared at her with a surprised expression and then chuckled, taking another drink from his glass.

“So
tell me Miss Dennis, what do you do for a living?” Changing the subject, he tactfully and successfully moved on to safer ground and she instantly relaxed again.

“I’m
the head librarian for a very tiny public library in Kansas.” She admitted it didn’t sound very glamorous, but it was the truth and that always had a ring of elegance.

“I
would have thought you far less intellectual,” he said with a smile. “You’re really quite beautiful and your comment about not eating pasta made me think you were something much less exotic. Perhaps an actress or a model, especially the way you look tonight. You definitely have the legs for one.” The way his eyes roamed briefly down her slender body made her shift uncomfortably in the seat and she unconsciously smoothed her hand over the skirt of her dress wishing the hem was a few inches longer.

“I’m
not sure how to respond to that,” she said sternly, yet very quietly.

“I’m
sorry; I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said reading her actions. “You are breathtaking and it’s very refreshing and unexpected to meet someone who isn’t superficial and false.”

“So
is that why you asked me out tonight? You thought I was easy?” Creighton smiled at her suspicious tone, sipping more of his drink.

“No,
I asked you out because I wanted to get to know you. There’s something very genuine about you and it radiates. The fact that you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on is merely a bonus.”

“Oh,”
she said, unable to think of a response to this comment as well. They fell into a momentary silence before she looked back up into his dark eyes shining through the dim light.

“So
do you know many superficial people?” she asked softly.

“I
know my fair share, unfortunately. However, I try to surround myself with those few people I know to be trustworthy and honest. It’s an occupational hazard I suppose.”

“And
what occupation would that be, Mr. Ashford?” she asked with curiosity. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise but then frowned slightly as if contemplating his response.

“Call
me Creighton, please, or Cray. I am part of a company that owns many divisions, everything from telecommunications to textiles, but mainly environmental technologies. I have always been fascinated in trying to find alternative solutions to the energy crises and global warming, while providing comfort and convenience. I am interested in learning all I can about ways to reverse the greenhouse effect on our planet before it’s too late.”

“Very
noble,” she muttered softly. “But that goes against your desire to pick up your date in an expensive limousine. Don’t these things use a lot of gas?”

“Yes
usually, but not this time. This is a unique vehicle; it is very environmentally friendly and developed by my company. It’s a hybrid; it runs off natural-gas and electricity, therefore, saving emissions on the ozone layer. A lot of petrol is used during the film festival here in the summer, so we have been testing out several different types of automobiles that run on natural-gas, or electricity, or both. The type movie stars and billionaires would want to be seen in.” She smiled taking another sip from her glass.

“So
you’re picking up your date at the company’s expense?” she asked, hoping her tone didn’t sound as insulted as she felt…again.

“No,
this car is mine. It is the first one we have transformed, a prototype you might say. Since I own it, I use it as I wish. Besides, it’s excellent publicity for the rental agencies to see what a natural alternative can really do and how decent it looks doing it. We’re hoping to have a full line of natural-gas vehicles by the 2016 film festival.” She bit her bottom lip, a little embarrassed at having just accused the man of misusing corporate resources.

The
conversation was cut short when the sleek black car pulled to a halt and the driver shut off the engine. Creighton took her glass and set both on the bar as the back door opened. He stepped out and readjusted his jacket before reaching forward and offering Sandra his hand as support. She climbed out of the back seat and glanced around expecting to find an Italian restaurant, but instead all she saw were large recreational yachts. Many of them were alive with activity and lights; the sounds of laughter, music and voices echoed from the two nearest the front of the walkway; obvious parties were active and alive on both.

“I
thought we were going to dinner?” she asked suspiciously, wondering if they were to join one of the parties. Creighton chuckled, lifting her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles again.

“Ah,
Mademoiselle Dennis, I said we were having supper, I didn’t say we were going to a restaurant. The more you get to know me, the more you’ll realize I’m a control freak who just happens to love surprises.” He kept hold of her hand as he addressed the driver, assuring him they would call when they were ready to go back to the hotel, then turned and led her down the wooden walkway to where a large three story white and blue yacht was moored to the pier; the largest of all the yachts anchored. Lights emulated from the many windows and the soft sound of a piano filtered out from the interior of the ship.

He
stepped aside and allowed her to walk ahead of him and onto the yacht through a canopy covered walkway. The first thought that came to her mind was not of her safety, for there was nothing in Creighton’s words or mannerism that made her worry about him or his plans for the evening, but rather her concerns were of her shoes. If they were going to walk the decks of a yacht, she really shouldn’t be doing it in four-inch heels.

Creighton
stepped up behind her and as if reading her mind, slipping a large warm arm around her slender waist to steady her and led her across the exterior deck and into what appeared to be a parlor. A middle-aged man in a black and white Steward’s uniform stood before the wet bar, nodding at them as they entered. The sounds of the piano she had heard were coming from small round speakers in the walls of the room while several candles burned in the windowsills and on the tables, illuminating the room in a romantic glow. The floor was covered in a soft short pile carpet of dark brown and black and the walls were decorated in a cherry wood paneling. She looked at him curiously; if this was a man interested in the environment, he was doing little to reduce his own carbon footprint with this yacht.

“Do
you like it?” His smile was wide and innocent like an excited child with a new toy to show off. “The walls are refurbished wood from the hulls of two separate yachts set for demolition,” he explained. “The carpeting is made of old recycled denim jeans and the candles are drip-less, odorless and made of soy. The only thing that isn’t recycled, reused or refurbished is the dinner.” He waved a hand toward the cream-colored leather sofa in a gesture for her to sit down as he accepted the two glasses of wine from the Steward, turning and handing one to her. She took a sip as she sat on the sofa, wondering if this man had a drinking problem; first champagne and now wine, or did he intend on getting her drunk?

“I
assume you aren’t opposed to drinking,” he surmised as if reading her mind again. She smiled and blushed softly while the Steward left the room, closing the entry door behind him, encasing them alone in the romantic, recycled room. It seemed difficult to keep her lips from twitching with mounting nerves and anticipation.

“I
have a glass of wine in the evenings, other than that I don’t drink much. I am not opposed to it, unless it affects my equilibrium,” she told him.

“Don’t
worry, I’m not planning on getting you drunk and having my way with you,” he assured her with a warm smile as he joined her on the sofa. He watched as she took a drink from her glass, her eyes locking with his.

“And
what are your plans for me, Monsieur Ashford?” his eyebrows shot up at this question and she literally bit her tongue realizing how seductive it sounded. Coming from her, those words were alien, so how was it she spoke them so easily to a man she had known less than a day?

“First,
I plan on feeding you, and then I thought we could get to know each other better, but not in a biblical fashion; I don’t care much for one-night stands. After that I wanted to take a cruise and show you the sights. The Riviera is quite beautiful at night.” She felt herself relax under his intent and sincere gaze, her smile showed her relief as she watched him take a drink from his glass. At least, she wouldn’t have to explain her loss of virtue to her sister tomorrow.