Maybe
hewasinthearmsofthatveryattractivewaitressfromthebeach.Damnit!Shewouldn’thavetakensomuchtimegettingreadyifshehadknownhewasn’tserious.Itwouldbelessembarrassingifshewereinjeansratherthanadress. At leastshewouldbeabletoholdherheaduphighandfeelcomfortabledoingit. She felt like a stupid country hick, debating on whether to go down to the lobby or not.Shelookedbackattheclockandrealizedwithastartthatshewaslate. Itwasthreeminutesaftereight.With
adeepsigh,Sandrarecheckedherclutchpurse,slippedherroomkey cardintoitandsmoothedherhandoverherdressandhair.Shewasready, for whatever the night should bring.Asshesteppedoutofthedoor,sheheardhermother’ssweetvoiceechoingthroughhermemory.Be
proudofwhoyouare, sweetheart,andwhatyouare.Itdoesn’tmatterwhereapersoncomesfromthatmakesthemworthyofyouraffection.It’swhat’sinsidethatmatters.Sandra
ignoredtheliftagain. Sheneededtowalkoffthecrazyracingofherheart,soshedecidedtousethestairs.Drawinginadeepbreath,sheslowlydescendedthestepsoneatatime,keepingherhandontherailforsupport.Withhermother’swordsembracingher,shesquaredhershoulders,raisedherchinandcontinuedon her path.IfCreightonAshfordwasn’twaiting,thenitwashisloss,sheassuredherselfwithastrongerdetermination.Her
foottookthelaststep,touchingonthemarbletileofthelobby,andshelookedup,herheartpoundingbetweenherears.Standingnexttotherowofluxuriousredvelvetwingbackchairs,was theverydistinguishedCreightonAshford.Helookedextraordinarilyhandsomeinadarknavy-blue suit,whiteshirtanddark-graytie.Hishairwascombedback,thoughitseemedtohaveamindofitsownwithafewstrandshangingoverhisforehead,hischindustedwithasoftshadowofabeard.Hewastalkingonhiscellphoneandlookedratherintense,andshedidn’tknowifsheshouldapproachhimorstandback,untilhehadfinishedhisconversation,butasshetentativelytookasteptowardhim,heturned,lockinghisgazewithhers.Hismouthdroppedopenslightlyandhestoppedtalkingintohisphone.Hishandloweredawayfromhisearjustalittle.Therealizationthathewasonthephonereturnedandhelifteditbackup,stillstaringatherwiththosedeep-blueeyes.Shewalkedslowlytowardhim,sonottodisturbhisconversation,andwatchedashisfulllipstwitchedintoasoftsmile.“I
havetogonow,”hesaidintothesmallblackbox.“Ihaveplanstonight,butI’llcalltomorrowmorning.Don’tdoanythingstupiduntilyouhearbackfromme.”Hepausedinhisconversation,stillsmilingather,hisdark-blueeyestwinkling.“I’lltakecareofeverything,juststopworrying.”He hung up
thephoneandslippeditbackintohispocket,hissmilewideningashedrewadeepbreath.“You
lookstunning,”hetoldher,reachingoutandtakingherhandgentlyinhis,liftingittohislipsandtenderlyplacingakissacrossherknuckles.Her
eyeslockedwithhis,herbreathcaughtinherthroatandshefeltwarminplacessheneverknewhadfeelings.Shesawhiseyesdarkento ebonyandshegaspedsoftly.Howcouldanyonebesodamnedsexyjustkissingahand?“I’m
gladnowImadetheplansIdid,”hesaidgently.“Areyoureadytogo?”She
nodded,unabletospeak.Hekeptholdofherhandandsqueezeditgently,leadinghertowardthehotelexit.Outside,achauffeurstoodnexttoalatemodelblackMercedesBenzlimousine.Heopenedthebackdoorastheyapproachedhim,hislight-blueeyesbrieflyscanningoverSandrabeforeturningbacktostarestraightaheadofhim,tryingtohideasmile.SandralookeduptoCreightonwithacuriousfrown.“I
thoughtwewouldgoinstyle,”hesaidwithashrug.She
feltanxiousandhernervesbegantomountagain,forcinghertobiteherbottomlip.Sheslidintotheback of the black vehicle, scanningthesightsthatgreetedherwithinterest.The
interiorwasilluminatedinasoftbluish whitelight. Two white leatherbucketseats sat bythe back door, one of which she sat down in. Asmallwoodentable with a purple and grey granite top and built in cup holders satbetween the seats.AgainsttheonesidewasalongL-shapedsofa-styleseatinthesameluxuriousleather,andontheoppositesidewasadarkwetbar with a matching granite top completewithan in-counter refrigerator,wineglasses,blenderand lightedmirroredshelves.Thefloorwascovered in the samedarkwood as the table and bar, whilealargeflat-screen television hung across thewallbehindthebucketseats. Arowofbuilt-indevices was on the wall nexttoit, withaDVDplayer,astereowithsurroundsoundspeakersineachcornerofthecar,andagameconsole, though she wasn’t sure which one.Thewallsweredarkgreycoloredleatherwithlittlelightsalongtheceilingin the woodpaneling.Theentirevehiclewasluxuriousandelegantandreekedofmoney.“It
comescompletewithinternet,satellite,snacksandeven…”hepausedasthedoorclosed,reachingforadark brown bottle inasmallsilverbucket of ice onastandnexttothebar.“Champagne?”heaskedwithasmile, 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
shehadanythoughtsofretreating,nowwouldbethetime,butasthecarpulledawayfromthecurb,sherealizedshedidn’twanttoleave.In for a penny, in for a pound as hergrandfatherwassofondofsaying.Sandrawasn’tsurewhatthenightwouldbring,butshewasupforthechallenge.Shejusthopedshewouldn’twakeuptomorrowmorningwiththetearsofregrettocarryherhome.“Where
arewegoing?”sheaskedwithasmuchcalmasshecouldmuster.“Some
placeveryspecial,”hetoldher.“Ithoughtwecouldspendsometimegettingtoknoweachother,andsincethisisyourfirsttriptoFrance,Iwouldshowittoyoubynight.”She
feltasuddenjolttohernervesassheacceptedtheglassofsweet-smellingliquorheoffered.Heraisedhisglasstowardhersandtouchedtherimstogether.“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 said, looking at her speculatively as he reached for a remote in a hidden drawer under the table, then turned on the stereo and tuned 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 end
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, slipped a large warm arm around her slender waist to steady her, then 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
Sandra couldn’t think, but then she really didn’t want to as his tongue slowly began to trace the outline of her bottom lip before he gently tugged it between his teeth, sucking on the tender flesh. She moaned into his kiss, her back arched toward him while his very skillful tongue slipped effortlessly into her wine sweetened mouth, caressing, teasing and tasting her at once. She could feel the result their kiss had on him, when his hand holding hers pulled her tightly against his hips, holding her securely in his embrace. His tongue played and teased with hers until she found the courage to imitate his actions, her heart pounding wildly within her chest. A warmth she had never experienced before began to spread through her lower regions, making her feel dizzy and wanton. Creighton increased the pressure against her lips, deepening his assault on her mouth, his tongue eagerly battling with hers. Her head was swimming, the smoldering fire of need began to turn her blood into lava, warm
The alarm on the bedside table began to beep much louder than it had seemed the day before. Sandra reached over and shut it off, her head buried under her pillow as she stretched her arms above her head and groaned. Memories of last night began to filter through her mind and she smiled happily, reliving them for the millionth time since returning to her hotel room. Creighton was a thousand dreams come true, a true gentleman, the magnificent lover she had always read about, fantasized about, always dreamed of meeting. They ate the most delicious supper of pasta e fagioli and linguini with clam sauce. They lounged in plush cushioned chairs on the upper deck, sipping double caramel cappuccinos, while enjoying a soft piano concerto that echoed through the ship from the expensive stereo system. Creighton returned her to the hotel shortly after three o’clock this morning, kissed her gently on the cheek and made certain she was locked inside her room, before leaving with the promise of seein
“Très bien, merci,” Michelle said, unaware she had answered in French and quickly corrected the mistake with a blush. “Why are you here?”“I’m on vacation, er, holiday. It’s a lovely place. Are you staying here at the hotel?”“Oui, my boss owns this hotel. He is here as well. I'm sure he would like to see you again. I can arrange a time to meet with you, if you would like?”“Yes, thank you. That would be nice.” Lying was becoming a habit, she scolded herself, but quickly thought that meeting this boss may help Cathy and the mayor somehow. “Maybe tomorrow, I have plans until then.”“Good, yes, I will call him and let you know. It was nice seeing you again. You look great, by the way. You’ve lost weight, I think.” Sandra smiled at the woman’s observation.“I have, thank you. Well, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, just leave a message where and when your boss can meet with me with the front desk.”“I will and have a good day.” Sandra walked away quickly, the smile remaining on her l
“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.Her thoughts were distracted when the young wo
“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. With shaking hands, she pulled her new blue blou
Sandra felt braver today than she had last night and quickly joined in the kiss, her tongue caressing his, battling in a wordless tournament of desire and want. Several long moments passed by and Sandra could feel his desire grow against her thigh, straining through the restraints of his pants. With a deep moan of regret, he pulled away from her, leaving her panting as he nuzzled her neck with his warm, moist lips.“We can’t do this,” he said in a hoarse whisper so soft she wasn’t sure if he had actually spoken, barely able to hear him over the thrumming of her heart in her ears. “This isn’t the right time, but it is getting very hard to resist you.” He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desire, a silent promise echoed in the curve of his lips.“We need to get out of here before it’s too late,” he told her, a little louder than she expected, and she suddenly realized she was very disappointed in his reaction. She didn’t want to leave, she wanted to stay there, and she wanted h