Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance (4 page)

W
e walked
to the back of the lobby in silence. I wasn’t sure what to say. James had just saved me from my sister, which had been wonderful. But it also made me wonder why he had to do it.

I should have stuck up for myself. Didn’t God help those who helped themselves? Why did I let her treat me like that?

“I’m sorry about my sisters. And my mom kind of hitting on you.” I didn’t know what else to say. They were rude, and it was embarrassing. James looked at me, his eyes impossible to read.

“Your mother was fine. Your sisters are atrocious. Did they really steal your boyfriends in high school?”

“There weren’t that many,” I said. “But, yeah. They didn’t want to go out with the guys. They just wanted to, I don’t know, humiliate me? Show me what a dork I was? I was in the math club and the chess club so it’s not like I didn’t already know.”

James gave me another long, unreadable look. I forced myself not to squirm, or tug at the hem of my skirt.

“They’re mean, unhappy women, Sara. They’ll probably always be that way. Don’t let them bother you.”

“I try not to. Mostly, I avoid them. I think Christie was jealous that I was with you, and it made her worse than she usually is.”

“Then I’m sorry I had anything to do with that. I’ve never struck a women, but she tempted me.”

“Me too,” I said with a giggle. I didn’t believe in solving problems with violence but both Christie and Cathy had brought the thought to mind more than once.

I followed him down a meandering path through the famous gardens of the resort, wondering where we were going. Here and there cottages dotted the landscape beyond the gardens.

Where was his? Was mine close by? Not too close, I hoped. But then, he’d made it clear that he understood that I wasn’t jumping into bed with him.

The truth was, I hadn’t ever slept with anyone. I hadn’t planned to save my self for marriage. At least, not in a formal way like a purity pact. But I’d always known I wanted to save that part of myself for someone special.

I guess in my mind the person that special would be my husband because my few boyfriends had never measured up. I wondered if James would eventually get tired of waiting. If this new relationship made it past the first few weeks, I’d find out.

We turned a corner and a charming thatched roof cottage appeared before us. The front porch looked out over the pond where moonlight was beginning to sparkle on the water.

“Take a seat,” James said, gesturing to two comfortable looking wooden rocking chairs. “They’ll serve our dinner out here. That way we don’t have to worry that anyone thinks we’re in there alone.” He winked and disappeared through the front door. A moment later his voice floated out, “Anything to drink? Water, tea, wine?”

“Tea would be great,” I said, looking around. James’s cottage was in a beautiful spot, filled with the peace and serenity of God’s nature. It was easy to let my sister’s harsh words slip away in a place like this.

I heard James murmuring inside, probably on the phone. He reappeared a few minutes later without his suit jacket, carrying two tall glasses of ices tea. He handed me mine and sat in the chair beside me.

“Dinner will be here in a few minutes. Your cottage is a few yards away, over there.” He raised his hand and pointed through the trees at another, smaller thatched roof cottage. All your things have been moved and unpacked for you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry if I sounded unappreciative before. I’m just not comfortable-”

James raised a hand, cutting me off. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I understand. I’ll try to rein it in a little.”

“And I’ll try not to freak out on you.” We smiled at each other, our eyes meeting in the dimming light. James got up to turn on the ceiling fan and the recessed lights.

To scare off any bugs attracted by the lights, he lit several citronella candles spread around the porch. The sweet, sharp smell reminded me of summer nights when I was a child.

“So, tell me about the math club. What do you do in a math club?”

“Are you serious?” I asked. I didn’t think he was making fun of me, especially since he’d walked out on dinner after my sister had been so rude. But it was a weird question. Reassuring me, he shook his head.

“Completely. I was a jock in school. I can guess what the chess club did, but I’m at a loss imagining what you’d do in math club. I seriously want to know.”

Well, he’d asked for it. I explained the competitions we’d entered and trained for together. Our club hadn’t been the best in the state, but we’d done pretty well. Then I told him more about some of the special projects we’d worked on, including the different ways we’d helped the robotics club.

I must have gotten pretty into my stories, because I didn’t even hear the waiter roll the room service cart to the steps of the porch. Before I knew it, he’d set up a small table in front of us and laid out our plates.

The scent of seafood and tomato sauce had my mouth watering. The appetizers in James’s office felt like they’d been a long time ago. The waiter left a brass key beside my plate and vanished as quietly as he’d arrived.

“The key to your cottage,” James said.

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Your Mom mentioned that you went to church without her when you were younger. What was that about? My Mom was the only reason any of us boys ever made it to church when we were kids. It wasn’t until college and after that we all started going regularly on our own.”

“She did take me when I was really young,” I said, remembering those seemingly endless Sunday mornings stuffed into the pew between my wiggling, pinching sisters. “My Dad was the one who really wanted to go and he encouraged the whole family to join him. After he died, I think my Mom kind of lost her faith.”

“How old were you when he died?” James asked.

“Ten. None of us handled it well. But Mom lost interest in going to church. She got married again after a year and then divorced a year after that. I felt lost without my Dad and church reminded me of him. So I’d ride my bike on Sundays if she couldn’t take me. As I got older, it became less about missing my Dad and more about how I felt when God was a part of my life.”

“I know what you mean,” James said. “Not about your Dad. I’m sorry you had to lose him. But about how your feelings changed. When I was a kid my Mom dragged us to church every Sunday. I remember complaining about Sunday school and youth group all the time. But when I was in college I realized I missed it. I felt like I’d lost something from my life when I was away from home. Part of it was being away from my family, but a lot of it was missing God’s presence. I took Him for granted when I was younger and going to church with my family every week.”

“Did you start going to church again?” I asked, curious. College struck me as an interesting time for a man to rediscover his faith. Most of the kids I’d known in college weren’t interested in bothering with church.

“I did. I got a hard time about it from some of my friends, but I found out that a few of the guys I played lacrosse with also went to church, so we ended up going together. Then some of their friends and girl friends joined in. By senior year we actually had a pretty big group. When I came back to Atlanta, I started going again with my Mom. You’d like her. She’d definitely like you.”

I didn’t know what to say at the idea of meeting his mother. Though he’d just met my own, an experience I’d love to erase from my memory, meeting his family made this seem so much more real.

I pushed the though to the back of my mind and looked down at my meal, still untouched. The linguine pescatore looked even better than James’s lasagne. Bowing my head, I said the blessing to myself, used to keeping my faith private over shared meals. I wasn’t expecting James to say,

“If you want to say Grace before we eat, you don’t have to whisper it to yourself. I don’t always remember myself, but my parents never forget.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking for a moment. I knew a number of different prayers for grace and switched among them depending on the situation and my mood. I knew one that would be perfect for our first meal together.

When I was done, James said, “Thank you, Sara.”

He was not what I would have expected from a hot, young billionaire. Not in the least. It was good, don’t get me wrong. I was glad that at every turn he seemed to be showing me that I’d made the right decision with him.

But still, I was way out of my league with him, even if he was a nice guy. Not entirely sure what to make of him, I decided to concentrate on the delicious meal, the beautiful setting and, most important, the company of the man sitting beside me.

I
woke
up to faint voices passing outside, the sounds startling me out of my dreams. For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The room was dark, the bed wide, the sheets heavy and silky smooth.

It wasn’t my bedroom, I knew that much. I’d been living there for two years, and still hadn’t hung curtains to block the early morning sun. My bed was a double with the same sheets I’d had in college.

Stroking a hand over the fabric covering me, I resolved to get a new set of sheets at home ASAP. I didn’t want to think about what they’d cost, but the sheets in James’s resort were amazing.

James. The thought of his name brought the night before rushing back. First, meeting him in the restaurant, making that crazy deal, then coming back to his cottage and having a romantic dinner on his porch.

As first dates went, it was the best I’d ever had. Even if the beginning had been a little weird.

Sitting up in the bed, I pulled the sheet around me and looked at the room. My cottage was smaller than James’s, really it was one big room, the plush king size bed I was lying in on one side and a sitting area on the other, divided by a beautifully detailed rustic fireplace.

The night before I’d stayed up hours later than my regular early bedtime and had collapsed into bed without bothering to wash my face or take off the slip I’d worn beneath my dress.

Part of me wanted to laze around in bed, but the rest of me wanted a hot shower, then some coffee. I was used to a full night’s sleep and going to bed so late had my head fuzzy.

Getting up, I headed for the bathroom to see my toiletries arranged neatly on the right side of the sink. If I had to guess, I’d bet my clothes were hung equally neatly in the closet.

It must be nice to have a whole resort’s worth of employees ready to jump to do your bidding. I’d never aspired to wealth.

I’d always just wanted to be secure - a good job, with a decent place to live, and enough money to give back to my community and go on vacation occasionally. But it was fun to see what the other side was like.

I could happily start with the bathroom. Easily bigger than my living room at home, it had a wide, creamy, marble counter, with a square custom designed sink set in the middle.

The mirror was huge, framed in artfully distressed black iron, the linens all top quality. The shower and tub were opposite the sink, and both were more than big enough.

I couldn’t guess how much water it would take to fill the tub, though I’d love to find out. Fashioned from the same creamy marble as the rest of the bathroom, it sat beside the shower, looking more like a hand carved piece of sculpture than a bathtub.

As much as I would have loved to try it out, I headed for the shower instead. A quick look in the mirror showed ratty hair, puffy eyes and pillow creases on my cheek. I didn’t know when James would stop by to get me for breakfast and I didn’t want him to see me like this. Not if I could help it.

It took me a minute to figure out the controls for the multiple showerheads, but once I got it, I started to think about redoing my whole bathroom at home. The shower was amazing - jets of water coming from all sides as a waterfall spilled from above. Yum.

Then I remembered Greg and my empty bank account. Never mind. No new bathroom for me. Not for a long time. And probably no new sheets either.

I pushed that problem to the back of my mind. There was nothing I could do about Greg and all the money he’d stolen, so there was no point in dwelling on it. When would I get another chance to spend the weekend in a luxury cottage like this for free?

Even if I could afford it, I’d never be comfortable spending money on something so unnecessary. Likely, this was my one and only shot, so I wasn’t going to waste it moping about my jerk of an ex and his theft of my life savings. Instead, I’d think about the night before.

I hadn’t been on a lot of dates, but the night before was easily my best, despite it beginning with me crying into my water and being insulted by my sisters. Despite his sincerity, I’d still doubted what James saw in me.

Even if he was attracted to me, I didn’t run in the same social circles as he did, and I’d wondered if we’d have anything to talk about.

It had turned out that the problem wasn’t finding things to talk about, it was the opposite - talking almost all night. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d stayed up until three in the morning, much less talking to someone and not running out of things to say.

He had endless questions about me; my childhood, college, why I’d chosen accounting, what kinds of things I did at the church. And I had the same for him. I wanted to know everything; how close he was to his family, if he liked his job or just did it because it was expected, what he liked about his work with the youth group.

I’d half expected James to try to kiss me. A few times I’d caught him staring at my lips, the intent green gaze warming me from head to toe. If I was honest with myself, I had to admit I wanted him to kiss me.

That didn’t mean I thought he should. It was too soon and I wasn’t comfortable moving quickly when it came to anything physical.

I barely knew James. But the thought that he’d wanted to kiss me was almost as enticing as the kiss itself. Would he move past thinking and actually try to kiss me today? Did I want him to? We had a whole day to kill before the rehearsal dinner. I wondered what he had planned.

Shaking my head at myself, I rinsed one more time under the rainfall shower head and turned the water off. No spinning daydreams out of James Drake, I told myself. You made a deal.

He wants to date you for a while. It doesn’t mean he’s going to fall in love with you. Do not get attached. Enjoy getting to know him and be prepared to walk away when it’s over.

I was trying to listen to myself. The last thing I needed was another broken heart after what happened with Greg. Not that he really broke my heart, but the humiliation and anger over what he’d done was bad enough. I didn’t need to fall for a billionaire playboy who was with me because he wanted to clean up his image.

I believed he liked me and enjoyed my company, the night before had proven that. That didn’t mean I should let myself fall for him.

Resolving to stay in control of my emotions, I concentrated on putting on my lotion, drying my hair and adding some makeup so I looked a little more sophisticated. I needed all the armor I could get if I was going to keep up with James Drake.

I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in one of the resort’s signature fluffy robes to find my clothes hadn’t been put away neatly like my toiletries. I checked the closet and found only a few items of women’s clothing.

Three dresses, and two pairs of jeans I knew cost several hundred dollars each. A few blouses, two tailored skirts and a selection of shoes. Beside it all, a drawer with a few sets of bras and underwear. All of it top quality. None of it mine.

Checking again, I realized everything was well beyond the range of classic and serviceable clothes I normally wore. I was pretty sure I recognized the black spike heels with the distinctive red sole as Louboutins. Exactly the kind of clothes a woman who belonged with James Drake would wear.

Why would he have another woman’s clothes in this closet? I whirled and scanned the cottage. No sign of my luggage. He must have had it delivered here because the toiletries in the bathroom had been mine.

My purse and phone lay on the seat of an arm chair beside the fireplace. But no luggage. I looked beneath the bed and saw nothing but clean carpet.

It didn’t make sense. Why go through all of this to get me to pretend to be his girlfriend if he already had the woman who’s clothes hung in the closet? My heart sank. The question was the answer.

Because she was probably inappropriate for his new image and he needed me for cover. The night before must have been nothing more than an elaborate ruse. I felt sick.

There was no real commitment between us, but I wasn’t a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my own boyfriend and not with someone else’s. He’d been so open with me in front of his employees, I’d assumed that meant he didn’t have anything to hide.

Maybe he didn’t. He was obscenely wealthy, he owned the resort, and he was well known. If I read the paper more often, I would have recognized him on sight at the restaurant.

Maybe his girlfriend didn’t care if he used me for cover as long as she got to hang part of her exclusive designer wardrobe in his cottage closet.

I sat on the side of the bed, my stomach twisting in disappointment, trying to figure out what to do. I wanted to stay. James was charming.

He was fun, and he was my date for the wedding I’d been dreading for months. But he’d lied to me. I’d told him how I felt about lying and he’d lied to me anyway.

You told him YOU wouldn’t lie. You didn’t say anything about HIM lying.

I guessed I hadn’t been clear enough. Was his girlfriend out there wondering where he’d been the night before? Was she feeling badly about herself because James couldn’t see her in public? Had he lied about everything, and she was the married women from the scandal?

The whole idea made me feel cheap. I stood, cinched the belt of my robe tighter around my waist, and prepared to face James.

I would rather have done it in anything other than a robe, but I still didn’t know where my clothes were and I wasn’t going to borrow his girlfriend’s, not that they would fit. Any girlfriend of James’s serious enough to have her clothes in his closet would be skinny and perfect.

James’s cottage was close to mine, only one other cottage in between. Since the resort also had a popular spa, it was common to see men and women wandering the grounds in one of the same robes I was wearing.

I was still uncomfortable stepping outside barely dressed, even though the robe covered more than many of my dresses.

The hurt and anger swirling in my chest meant that, for once, I didn’t care how appropriate I looked. All I wanted to was to have this out and then never see James again.