Married by Midnight (The BAD BOY BILLIONAIRES Series, #12) (10 page)

She looked around the room and that was when she noticed that the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar.  That had to be where Claire was.  And then her eyes flew back to something unusual, a big pink box lying in the middle of the bed, a smaller white box on top of it.

Golden raised her eyebrows.  It looked like Claire was on the receiving end of some gifts.  She put a finger to her lips, thinking.  Had she missed her birthday?  But no, that was not until December fifteen.  This must be for something else.

“Claire?” she said again, glancing toward the bathroom door.  She didn’t get an answer but there was a cheerful sound, almost a giggle, and Golden smiled, knowing her friend was fine.  That was by no means a sound of distress.

Feeling much more relaxed she walked into the room and plopped down onto the vacant armchair.  “Claire,” she called out, “I’m here like you ordered.  What’s so urgent?  This had better be good.”  Then she chuckled.  “You pulled me from my grand shopping spree, you know.”  She shrugged.  “Not that I have anything to show for it,” she said drily.

Then, as if by an invisible magnet, her eyes went back to the elegant boxes laid out on the bed.  And then she saw it.  There, nestled among the pink ribbons was a pink envelop with the name Golden Browne printed in big, bold letters.  Golden stared, open-mouthed.  Were the gift boxes for her?

“Claire, what’s going on?  You get out here right this minute and explain yourself.”  Now it was Golden’s turn to be imperious.

In response she got some more giggles then Claire, Therese and Elizabeth burst into the room, broad smiles adorning their faces.  “Surprise,” they yelled then they all rushed over as fast as their arthritic legs would take them, to smother her with hugs.

It took a while before Golden could pry her way out of their embrace.

“What have you done?” she wailed.  “You shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, we should,” Therese declared, jamming her fists on her hips and glaring at Golden through horn-rimmed glasses.

“I was the one who called,” Elizabeth said, putting up her hand like a student in the classroom.  “How was my acting?  Did I sound like a real supervisor?”

“You certainly did.”  Golden laughed.  “You got me down here so fast I’m lucky I wasn’t pulled over for speeding.”

Claire jerked her head.  “Go on.  Open it.  The big one first.”

“It was Claire who got these,” Elizabeth said.  “We just came along for the fun.”

Golden drew in her breath slowly. Should she or shouldn’t she?  She thought for a moment, remembering the frustration of her failed shopping expedition.  She released her breath in a sigh.  Yes, she should.

Decision made, she reached for the big box, her eager fingers quickly unraveling the ribbon.  She lifted the cover off the box and, reaching in, she pulled out a dress of the softest silk, russett gold like her hair, a simple yet elegant gown that looked like it was a perfect fit.

“Oh, heavens,” Golden breathed.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Open the other box,” Therese urged, clasping her hands together like she was the one getting the gifts.

Golden did and in it she found matching slippers with crisscrossed straps of the exact color of the dress.  It was like the pieces had been made by the same hand.

“Oh, my goodness.  Where did you find these?”  Sudden tears sprang into Golden’s eyes.  “Claire,” she said, her voice cracking, “these are wonderful.  They’re fit for the grandest ball.”  And before the tears could spill over and embarrass her she reached out and pulled Claire into her arms and hugged her tight.  “Thank you.  Thank you so, so much.”

Her resolve not to cry was dashed when Claire hugged her back then gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.  “No, thank you, my dear,” the kind lady said, “for all the joy you’ve brought into my life.”

With those words Claire shattered Golden’s feeble hold, making her dissolve into tears.  It took several seconds before she could let go. Finally, she released Claire then pulled back with a sniff.  “You’re so kind,” she said, her voice hoarse.  “I’ve never had a friend like you before.”

“You deserve lots of friends, my dear,” Claire patted her gently on the arm, “and I hope this young man will be one of them.  Now hurry up and get on home.  You don’t want to be late for your first date.”

Quickly, the ladies repacked the boxes and bundled her out of the room.  Golden didn’t even get a chance to hug Therese and Elizabeth.

But as she hurried home in her faithful old Vauxhall she was all smiles.  Even if nothing else went well on the date tonight she knew she would look spectacular.

She hoped Reed would notice.

Y
ou’re an idiot.  You’re the biggest fool alive.  Why don’t you just give up
?

“Oh, shut up,” Reed muttered under his breath as he steered the Aston Martin down the country road toward Golden’s home just outside of North Ockendon.

He had one part of him spurring him on, telling him to go with his heart, but then there was another part trying hard to drag him back down to reality, a reality he didn’t give a damn about.  Not right now when he was about to spend the evening in the company of one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met.

It had been just a little over twenty-four hours since he’d last seen Golden but it felt like a year.  He still couldn’t believe how much the girl had grown on him.  He’d spent most of the day on the golf course but all he’d been able to think about was his employee – Golden smiling, Golden busily tapping away at the keyboard, Golden staring off into the distance when she thought he wasn’t watching, looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.  God, he was pathetic.  It was like he was sixteen, not twenty-six.

Looking for some distraction Reed switched the radio on then relaxed back in his seat to enjoy one of his favorite classics, ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba.  He might be only twenty-six but he was an old soul where music was concerned.  His face broke into a smile at the thought that most of the songs he loved were a lot older than Golden or even himself.  She would probably find him strange, maybe even boring.  Somehow, though, he had a feeling that if even not with music they would find they had a lot in common.  He certainly hoped so.

When Reed got to Golden’s house he raised his eyebrows in surprise.  Based on her humble demeanor he’d expected her to live in a modest home but the house by which he’d parked was far from modest.

An old English country manor, it was set in the middle of wide open green fields, the rolling hills behind it forming the perfect backdrop for a picture of perfect peace.  The incongruity of Golden’s home made her all the more intriguing.  Why would she live in apparent comfort and yet seem so modest and frugal?  Her behavior was unusual, especially in one so young.

But when he knocked at the door and Golden came out to greet him, all questions and musings were wiped from Reed’s mind.  All he could see was Golden in her glory.

Hair the color of early sunset curling around her heart-shaped face, falling in soft waves over her shoulders and down her back, her sleek body sheathed in a burnt-gold gown that looked like it had been designed only for her, her tiny feet encased in high-heeled gold slippers that sparkled in the evening light...she was gorgeous and Reed was having a hard time tearing his eyes away.

Finally, he cleared his throat then he spoke.  “You look lovely.  I’ll be your very proudest escort tonight.”

That brought an alluring blush to her cheek.  “Thank you, Reed.  I...I’ll be out in just a minute.  Can you wait for me in the car?”

With a slight bow Reed indicated his assent and turned to go as she gently closed the door.  A strange sort of request, he had to admit.  He’d expected her to invite him in.  Still, that was her choice and he would not make a big deal of it. 

True to her word, Golden was out within the minute she’d requested and after he’d helped her into the car they were off and on their way to Knightsbridge.  “I hope you like French cuisine.”  Reed glanced over at Golden and gave her a smile that he hoped would put her at ease.  She seemed so nervous, her fingers tightly clutching the purse on her lap, her eyes glued to the road up ahead.  “I made reservations at Bar Boulud.  Do you know it?”

“I...I’ve never been there but I’ve heard of it.”  She tore her eyes away from the road and gave him an apologetic smile.  “I don’t get out much.”

“All the better for me.  That means wherever I take you, you’re bound to be impressed.”  He chuckled.  “Nothing to compare it with.”

He was glad when she gave him a tiny smile.  “I’d be impressed with Gourmet Burger Kitchen,” she said.  “I hardly even get a chance to go there.  I’m a bit boring.  It’s usually just work and then back home for me.  I really don’t go anywhere else.”

“That’s going to change.  It is my mission to get you out of the house as often as possible.”

Her reaction to his declaration was silence and then she looked away, making Reed realize he’d probably frightened the poor girl.  He would have to remember to tone things down.  For a girl who was obviously as sheltered as she was, the last thing she needed was someone trying to change her low-key lifestyle.

“This is one of my favorite restaurants,” he said, his voice more subdued this time.  “I think you’ll like it.”

Golden looked back at him and then she nodded.  “I’m sure I will.”

Not surprisingly, forty-five minutes later when they entered the restaurant Golden’s eyes widened as she saw the room full of patrons then she hung back, seeming overwhelmed by the sound of chatting and laughter and the serving crew moving swiftly about, taking orders and serving meals. Gently, Reed took her elbow and steered her down the aisle as they followed the hostess.

“I’ve arranged for a private lounge,” he bent his head to whisper to her and knew he’d made the right decision when she rewarded him with a grateful smile.

It was when they were ordering appetizers that Reed learned that Golden was fluent in French.  She read the menu items with a perfect French accent and when the server came to take their order she conducted her conversation in that melodic language.

“I’m impressed,” Reed said after the server had departed.  “How did you learn to speak French so well?”

“I love languages.  I also speak Spanish and Italian.  I got top marks in my A levels.”  Seeming surprised that she’d said so much she dropped her eyes.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to brag.”

Reed laughed.  “Brag away.  I can see you’ll be a real asset to me when I’m ready to set up the rest of my European operations.”  There was so much he wanted to know about her but he would go slowly, allowing her to grow more comfortable with him before he plied her with questions.

They dined on marinated olives followed by sole limande and coq au vin with rice pilaf and Jerusalem artichoke.

“Mmm, delicious,” Golden said, looking around the elegantly decorated room.  “I’ve never dined in a place as fancy as this before.”

Reed cocked his head, his curiosity getting the better of him.  “And yet you seem the kind of person who should patronize places like this one.  Who are you, Golden Browne?”

She raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

Leaning forward, he looked directly into her wide amber eyes.  “You confuse me,” he said honestly.  “I saw you as a poor, struggling girl trying to make ends meet but then your home tells me a different story, the story of a family that’s well-off.  So which is the real Golden Browne?”

She paused as if thinking about her answer then she spoke.  “Both, I guess.  And neither.”

Reed’s brows crinkled at her answer.  She’d just succeeded in confusing him even more.  “Meaning?”

“Meaning, my family is fairly wealthy, as you guessed.”  She drew in her breath then expelled it softly.  “But I’m not.”

As far as he was concerned that wasn’t an answer that made any sense.  “And how is that?”

She shook her head.  “It’s a long story.  I’m not sure I want to bore you with it.”

“Bore me.”  He sat back in his chair, folding his arms comfortably across his chest, making it clear he was prepared to wait.

When she saw there was no escaping it, Golden sighed.  “All right, I’ll tell you but it’s a deathly dull story.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Reed didn’t say a word.

After a few seconds of silence Golden began.  “My father, Jefferson Browne, made a lot of money from his dairy farm in Georgia but he always wanted to move back to England which is where he was born so, when I was fourteen, he sold the farm and took my mother and me with him to Tunbridge Wells.  That’s where we settled first until he bought the house we now live in.”  She paused and her eyes took on a faraway look.  “That was the happiest year of my life.  Father’s whole personality changed.  He’d been really miserable back in Atlanta but in England he mellowed.  I guess it was because he’d reached retirement age and he wanted to be back with his friends from his early days.”

“Retirement age?”  Reed could not help breaking in.  That came as a shock to him.  She was so young.  He’d expected her father to be in his forties, fifties at most.

She smiled.  “I know it sounds strange but my father was forty-nine when I was born and my mother was only twenty so by the time we moved to England he was already sixty-five years old.”  Then a shadow crossed her face.  “He was so happy being around old friends, playing cricket and drinking at the pub, but it only lasted one year.  When I was fifteen he had a heart attack and I lost him. I was at school. I never even got the chance to say goodbye.”

For a moment she looked close to tears but then she blinked and drew in a deep breath.  “When my father died it was like my mum was totally lost.  He’d taken care of everything, you see, and Mother is not the kind of person who likes to be in charge.  I think that’s why she remarried so quickly, just a year after my father died.”  She laughed softly but in her eyes was a sadness Reed could not comprehend.  “And just like with my dad she made sure to find a man old enough to be her father.  Except that Dunstan Manchester is nothing like my father was.  He’s bossy and manipulative and a real beast.  He controls my mother and now he wants to control me.”  She frowned and her lips formed into a stubborn pout.  “But I won’t let him.”