Trust Me (9 page)

“Try
on?” she asked and Sandra nodded, returning her smile. The woman led her to the side of the store and motioned behind a curtain. Sandra walked through and saw four narrow white doors; choosing one of the doors, she stepped inside and closed the door. The room was small with bright white walls, feeling almost sterile, with a dark brown wooden bench; several coat hooks and a full-length mirror on the back of the door. Quickly, Sandra slipped off her dress and buttoned up the blue blouse before turning to look at her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror in just her white cotton panties and new blouse. The shirt was even more stunning against her tanned features than it had been on the hanger. With the form fitted waist and low neckline, it was definitely something she believed would impress Creighton.

 
She pulled on a pair of pants the saleswoman had given her; not jeans but soft brushed cotton and very attractive. They were dark blue, almost suede in feel and as she zipped them up she smiled. She liked them a lot; the cut hugged her tiny behind and long slender legs, making her feel very comfortable and very sexy. The pockets on the back had small pink and white flowers embroidered on them and were deep enough to hold her phone or ID.

Quickly, Sandra
tried on the other three pairs; one a denim-type blue, but not jeans, in the same soft material as the first pair. They were the palest blue she ever seen, nearly white with just a hint of color with pink rhinestones lining the outer leg hems and front pockets. The last pair was so dark they were almost black with silver thread used for the stitching of the hems, a small fleur d lis on the back pockets. She liked them all and silently began estimating how much they would cost in American dollars, wondering if she could afford them all. The price tags were in euros of course and she had left her conversion chart and cell phone in her room, so she couldn’t calculate the exact cost. They didn’t look that expensive, she thought, but this was France after all and everything here cost more than back home.

Slipping
back into her dress, Sandra gathered the clothing together and made her way back toward the main part of the shop. Maybe she should get the blouse now and come back another time for the pants, after she had a chance to convert the prices, but she didn’t have time to consider it any further.  It was almost twelve o’clock and Creighton would be there to pick her up in a few minutes.

Sandra stepped
out from behind the curtain and froze in mid-step. Leaning against the counter was the very handsome Creighton Ashford; his dark hair mussed just enough to look carefree, his chin and upper lip covered with a soft dusting of beard and a pair of dark sunglasses hung around his neck. His gray tee-shirt and dark-blue jeans hugged him perfectly, showing off his muscular limbs and torso. He was breathtaking and Sandra almost forgot what she was doing until he turned to her and smiled. Damn, she cursed herself; she could feel the blush start a slow creep up her neck.

“Hello,”
he said in a cheerful tone and she found herself taking a hesitant step forward.

“Hi,
sorry I’m running late,” she said shyly. Creighton’s smile increased and he shook his head.

“Not
a problem, I don’t mind waiting for such a lovely lady. Did you find what you were looking for?” Her throat was suddenly dry as she looked in those dark-blue eyes.

“Um,
not really. I needed a pair of jeans, but I did find some very nice pants, thanks to the clerk.”

“Jeans,
eh?” he said and turned to the woman, speaking to her in French. The clerk smiled, replying in her native language and walked into the back of the store again.

“What
did you say to her?” Sandra asked suspiciously.

“I
told her you were looking for a pair of jeans. She couldn’t understand what you wanted; her English isn’t very good. They usually don’t keep the jeans on the rack, but rather in the back room. They have them, but the French are very proud of their fashion designers and don’t usually display simple clothing.”

“Oh,”
was about all she could think of saying and was immediately distracted when the young woman returned with two pairs of jeans, one dark blue and one a medium blue with faded thighs. She handed them to Sandra and waved back toward the fitting rooms.

“We
have time; go try them on,” Creighton said and reached for the clothes she held in her arms. “Are you getting these?”

“I’m
not sure just yet,” she answered honestly, turning and walking back into the fitting room before her blush could give her away. She couldn’t very well tell him she wasn’t sure if she could afford them, but she couldn’t buy them if she didn’t have enough money on her card. She didn’t want to admit to a man who owned a Mercedes limousine and private yacht that she was on a very limited budget. He probably had never heard of such a thing.

Sandra
slipped the jeans on and smiled; they were very snug but not in an uncomfortable sort of way. They hugged her every curve making her look very mature, very feminine and like the other pants, she really liked them. Now she had to try to make up her mind as to which she wanted and could afford. The contest that brought her, here may have been all-expenses paid, but that just meant it paid for food, travel and entertainment, not shopping trips. Still, she was sure she had enough to pay for one pair of pants and the shirt.

Back
in the main body of the shop, Sandra watched the woman smile brightly at Creighton. She truly was quite lovely, but listening to them speaking casually in the saleswoman’s native language, Sandra realized this man was seriously out of her league. She was nowhere near good enough for him.

“Didn’t
you like them?” Creighton asked bringing her out of her bout of self-pity.

“Oh,
no I like them a lot; they fit wonderfully; it's just…” but before she can finish her sentence he reached for the pants and handed them to the woman, saying something to her in French. It’s now or never, Sandra thought. She had to admit she didn't have enough money for all of them and hope she could hold her head high when they laughed at her.

“Creighton,
I don’t need all of these and I can’t afford them,” she said quickly hoping to stop the woman from placing the clothes in the bag.

“Nobody
asked,” he said as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “Consider them a gift.”

“You
can’t…I mean I can’t…that is…” she didn’t know what to say, she had never had a man buy her clothes before, except for her father or grandfather. She wasn’t sure what she should say so she just stood there staring dumbfounded as he took the receipt and signed his name.

“Don’t
argue,” he said in a tone that told her the subject was finished. She watched as he touched the soft material of the blue blouse. “I figure I’m going to benefit more from these than you will. Are you going to wear this today?” She stared at him unable to move. She was trying to make her mind function, trying to find the right thing to say. How was she supposed to accept such an expensive gift from a man she barely knew? What would Cathy say?

“I
can’t accept these,” she finally found herself saying in a soft tone, blinking at the frown on Creighton’s handsome face.

“You
can’t return a gift; its rude and refusing would only insult me. That’s not exactly the best way to start off a relationship, now is it?” Her mouth dropped open and she stared at the man, blinking. Relationship? She thought they were just going…where were they going?

“I…what
I mean is…” Creighton chuckled softly then reached for her hand and
squeezed it gently.

“Once
you can figure out the words to refuse, maybe I’ll listen. Until then, I think you need to get dressed so we can go. We have reservations and I don’t want to be late.” He handed her the bag and led her out the door of the shop to the staircase before pausing.

“Are
you alright with my coming up to your room, or would you rather I wait here?” She blinked again, blushing as his eyes darken.

“You
can come up if you’d like.” He tipped her chin up with his forefinger and thumb and smiled down at her.

“I
promise not to ravish you,” he whispered before he leaned closer to her. “If we didn’t have plans, I would definitely consider it though.” He kissed her briefly before slipping the bag from her arm onto his and taking her hand, began walking up the stairs beside her. Strange, she thought with a nervous quiver in her limbs, she never realized how many steps there were, or how difficult it was to walk them.

Sandra
slid the key card through the device on the door with a shaky hand. The sensation of Creighton was there, present in every nerve ending as he stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind them. She blushed deeply; she had never had a man in her room before and her inexperienced made her heart begin a wild dance within her chest. She glanced back to him and found him watching her, a small grin on his full lips, his eyes dark with hidden emotion. She cleared her throat softly and looked around the room. At least it had been cleaned, so she didn’t have to worry about clothes strung all over the place.

“You
need to get dressed,” he said, his tone deep and husky. “We have reservations for two o’clock.”

“Two?”
she asked in surprise. “Then we have plenty of time.” Instantly she regretted saying this, watching an unnamed look cross his eyes; he closed them briefly and when he opened them again, he appeared to be contemplating his response.

“Get
dressed and let’s get some lunch. I have a very full day planned for us and pack your bathing suit, you’ll need it too.” She took the bag he handed her and hurried toward the bathroom. Just before she could cross into the tiled room, she felt his arm on her elbow causing her to turn back to him. “Wear that blue shirt, please?” His voice was more of a demand then a request, but she nodded regardless, closing the door behind her.

Sandra
pulled the dress off over her head and tossed it carelessly on the counter, leaving her lacy bra and matching panties on. She kicked her sandals across the bathroom floor, scarcely noticing as they landed under the vanity and with shaking hands, she pulled her new blue blouse across her shoulders. She pulled out the pants from the bag and frowned again; she didn’t know which pair she should wear, since she still didn’t know where they were going. A small voice in the back of her mind asked which pair she wanted to be found in, should she wake up dead tomorrow. She quickly dismissed the thought and pulled the faded blue jeans across her hips, turning to inspect the image that was reflected back to her. She looked good, but only because she was in very expensive clothes; like some rich boy’s play thing, she scolded herself.

She
didn’t think she would do much more with her hair and her makeup looked fine for a day of activities, regardless of what they may be. She gathered up the rest of her new clothes as well as her discarded dress and shoes and stepped back into the outer part of her hotel room.

Moving
quickly to the clothes rack, she hung the items before turning back to see Creighton sitting in the chair near the door to the balcony, his right leg crossed over his left knee, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. The curtains were pulled open across the door, allowing the sun to shine through. It was another bright sunny day, causing Sandra to sigh contently. She really loved this weather, not like back home; it was not dry and dusty.

“You
look great,” he told her with a bright smile. She was blushing; she knew it, she could feel the heat spreading up her neck. She thanked him quietly and set her sandals on the floor, before looking at him again.

“Should
I wear my sandals or my running shoes?”

“Your
running shoes will be perfect,” he assured her, standing up and walking toward her. She nodded, trying to keep her mind off the fact that he was standing at the foot of the bed and gathered a pair of socks out of the dresser drawer.

“Where
are we going?” she asked. Fear and excitement echoed in her tone as she sat down and pulled her socks and shoes on.

“To
lunch,” he said with an innocent shrug.

“Then
what?” she asked with irritation. It was like talking to a child.

“It’s
a surprise, but I think you’ll like it…eventually.” Sandra frowned up at him. “Trust me?” he asked walking to her, holding his hand out for her to take. She slipped her fingers into his tender touch and stood.

“Should
I trust you?” she asked again, causing him to laugh.

“You
are such an intriguing young woman, do you know that Sandra?” He briefly kissed her knuckles; his touch sent waves of heat up her arm and into her spine. “You take my breath away.”

“Do
I?” she whispered. When had she become such a tease?

The
man didn’t miss the implication, even though it wasn’t intentional – at least she didn’t think it was. His hand released hers and quickly, gently wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his strong embrace; one hand on her lower back pressing her up against the length of his body, the other on the side of her face caressing her cheek in a tender touch. His eyes locked with hers as he lowered his lips close to her mouth, she could feel his breath, sweet and warm as he brushed her mouth with his.