Chapter Eight

Maybe

he

was

in

the

arms

of

that

very

attractive

waitress

from

the

beach.

Damn

it!

She

wouldn’t

have

taken

so

much

time

getting

ready

if

she

had

known

he

wasn’t

serious.

It

would

be

less

embarrassing

if

she

were

in

jeans

rather

than

a

dress. At least

she

would

be

able

to

hold

her

head

up

high

and

feel

comfortable

doing

it. She felt like a stupid country hick, debating on whether to go down to the lobby or not.

She

looked

back

at

the

clock

and

realized

with

a

start

that

she

was

late. It

was

three

minutes

after

eight.

With

a

deep

sigh,

Sandra

rechecked

her

clutch

purse,

slipped

her

room

key card

into

it

and

smoothed

her

hand

over

her

dress

and

hair.

She

was

ready, for whatever the night should bring.

As

she

stepped

out

of

the

door,

she

heard

her

mother’s

sweet

voice

echoing

through

her

memory.

Be

proud

of

who

you

are, sweetheart,

and

what

you

are.

It

doesn’t

matter

where

a

person

comes

from

that

makes

them

worthy

of

your

affection.

It’s

what’s

inside

that

matters.

Sandra

ignored

the

lift

again. She

needed

to

walk

off

the

crazy

racing

of

her

heart,

so

she

decided

to

use

the

stairs.

Drawing

in

a

deep

breath,

she

slowly

descended

the

steps

one

at

a

time,

keeping

her

hand

on

the

rail

for

support.

With

her

mother’s

words

embracing

her,

she

squared

her

shoulders,

raised

her

chin

and

continued

on her path.

If

Creighton

Ashford

wasn’t

waiting,

then

it

was

his

loss,

she

assured

herself

with

a

stronger

determination.

Her

foot

took

the

last

step,

touching

on

the

marble

tile

of

the

lobby,

and

she

looked

up,

her

heart

pounding

between

her

ears.

Standing

next

to

the

row

of

luxurious

red

velvet

wingback

chairs,

was the

very

distinguished

Creighton

Ashford.

He

looked

extraordinarily

handsome

in

a

dark

navy-blue suit,

white

shirt

and

dark-gray

tie.

His

hair

was

combed

back,

though

it

seemed

to

have

a

mind

of

its

own

with

a

few

strands

hanging

over

his

forehead,

his

chin

dusted

with

a

soft

shadow

of

a

beard.

He

was

talking

on

his

cellphone

and

looked

rather

intense,

and

she

didn’t

know

if

she

should

approach

him

or

stand

back,

until

he

had

finished

his

conversation,

but

as

she

tentatively

took

a

step

toward

him,

he

turned,

locking

his

gaze

with

hers.

His

mouth

dropped

open

slightly

and

he

stopped

talking

into

his

phone.

His

hand

lowered

away

from

his

ear

just

a

little.

The

realization

that

he

was

on

the

phone

returned

and

he

lifted

it

back

up,

still

staring

at

her

with

those

deep-blue

eyes.

She

walked

slowly

toward

him,

so

not

to

disturb

his

conversation,

and

watched

as

his

full

lips

twitched

into

a

soft

smile.

“I

have

to

go

now,”

he

said

into

the

small

black

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

wet

bar with a matching granite top complete

with

an in-counter refrigerator,

wine

glasses,

blender

and lighted

mirrored

shelves.

The

floor

was

covered in the same

dark

wood as the table and bar, while

a

large

flat-screen television hung across the

wall

behind

the

bucket

seats. A

row

of

built-in

devices was on the wall next

to

it, with

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 the wood

paneling.

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.

“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.