Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance (3 page)

Turning around, I met his eyes. “I’ll do it. But if you change your mind and decide I’m not your type, promise you’ll break it off with me.”

Crossing the room to take my hand, he said, “Right now I can’t imagine that happening, Sara. You’re an interesting, intriguing, and beautiful woman. But I promise.”

A series of bells rang in my purse. My phone. Picking up my purse, I pulled out the phone and answered, realizing who it had to be.

“Hello?” I said.

“Where are you?” A shrill voice sounded in my ear. My youngest sister. The bride. “You were supposed to meet us by the restaurant. We’ve been waiting for five minutes.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What are you doing? You’d better hurry. I can’t believe you’d be late to my wedding!”

“It’s not your wedding, Christie. It’s dinner. And I’ll be there in a minute.” I was prepared to go on, but my phone was gone. I looked over in astonishment to see James hang up on my sister and slip the phone in his suit pocket.

“Your sister?” he asked, one brow raised. I nodded. “Is she always that unpleasant?” I nodded again. My phone began to ring.

“So you agree to be my date? And I’ll be yours?” James asked. I nodded a third time.

“Yes.” My voice was hoarse. “Yes, I do.”

“Good.” James pulled my phone out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment. It continued to ring. Christie did not like being hung up on. He slid his finger across the screen to answer the call.

The sound of outraged yelling filtered from the tiny speakers. Lifting the phone to speak, he said, “We’re on our way. Stop yelling at your sister.”

Then he hung up again. I giggled. If he was going to deal with my sister like that, and be my charming, handsome date for the nightmare of her wedding, this was going to be fun.

“
W
here are we eating
?” James asked, leading me to the elevator.

“The Italian restaurant. I can’t remember the name.”

“Vittorios,” he said. He drew his phone from his pocket and made a call as the elevator doors slid shut. “Joe, have all the belongings in room-” James turned to me, “Room number?”

“Two eighty-five.”

“Room two eighty-five moved to the closest available cottage to my own. Text me when you know where it is and have the keys waiting at the front desk. Ask Melissa to take care of putting everything away.”

I waited until he hung up and then said, “I don’t need to move rooms. I can’t afford to-”

“You’re not paying for it, Sara. And no one will believe I’m serious about you if I have you staying in a basic room at my own resort.”

“But it’s too extravagant. It’s not appropriate.”

I shrugged helplessly. I wasn’t comfortable with extravagance. I’d been raised to believe that it was good to have what you needed to be comfortable, but it was important to give back to the community.

I tried to be responsible with my own money. For the past few years I’d put most of it into buying my house and building up my retirement account, but I still managed to give to the community through my church.

And when I couldn’t give money, I volunteered with the youth group and one of the local homeless shelters. So I couldn’t quite get my head around being moved to a cottage that I knew cost over a thousand dollars a night.

James looked up from his phone and met my eyes. With a sigh, he said, “Sara, if we’re going to do this, you need to understand something about me. I’m very wealthy. I like nice things. It’s important to me to give nice things to the people I care about. That would include my girlfriend.”

“This is our first date,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“True. But the world needs to see you as my girlfriend right away. That includes seeing me take care of you. If it makes you feel better, I don’t sit around counting my riches. As a company Drake Enterprises runs a large charitable fund that provides for the needy in every community in which we operate. And I personally give away millions of dollars every year, a lot of that to the church my family has attended since before I was born. I’m even an assistant volunteer to the youth group there. I can’t be there every week because of my work schedule, but when I’m in town, I’m at every meeting.”

We locked eyes, his willing me to give in and mine probably sending a message of confusion.

“Sara, it’s only for the weekend and it doesn’t cost me much to have you stay there. This isn’t the high season and the resort isn’t at full capacity.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Thank you, Sara.” He smiled at me agreement and looked down at hid phone, tapping out a text. I stood there beside him, feeling a little foolish. What woman objected to being spoiled?

He finished his text and put the phone away, saying nothing. I shifted in my heels, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and out of place.

James stood beside me, watching the numbers change above the elevator door. For all the attention he gave me, I might as well have been alone. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. Maybe I was making a mistake.

I was so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t notice the elevator had stopped until the doors slid open. James’s hand closed over my elbow, leading me into the main floor of the resort. I’d only arrived at the Drake Gardens for the first time a few hours before, and I didn’t have my bearings. I thought the restaurant was directly opposite the elevators we’d used.

At first, that’s where James led me. Then he veered abruptly to our right, pulling me past the concierge and reception desk, past a bar, behind a potted tree and halfway down a dim, carpeted hallway. He stopped exactly between two nondescript doors, completely out of sight of the busy lobby.

“I want to get something straight,” he said, his intense green eyes glued to my face.

“What is it?”

“There are two parts to this arrangement. The first is that I genuinely like you, find you attractive, and want to spend time with you. The second is that we need to convince the world the first is true. I behave a certain way with the women I date-”

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I interrupted. He laughed and I blushed a fiery red. Why had I said that?

“I’m not asking you to, Sara. I already know you’re not the type of woman who jumps from bed to bed. I like that about you. I wasn’t talking about sex.”

“Then what did you mean?” I resisted the urge to look away and hide my embarrassment.

“I was talking about the cottage. And the other things I’ll buy you. I don’t want to fight about it every time I want to spoil you. It’s something I do. I like to do it. And everyone watching us will expect it.”

“I thought this was about you turning over a new leaf.”

“It is. But just dating you will be a change from the usual women I’m seen with. I don’t want to turn into a completely different person, Sara. I just want to make better choices in the company I keep. The way we’ve met is the only insincere part of this. If we want people, especially the media, to believe we’re really dating, I need to act like myself. The worst thing would be if they somehow found out we just met. I can’t afford for anyone to find out that’s fake. Or about our deal. Do you understand?”

I did. I believed him when he said he really wanted to date me. As crazy as it sounded for a handsome, powerful man like James to be interested in a plump, kind of boring accountant, he’d convinced me that he really did find me attractive.

It was the other side of this that bothered me. No matter what he said, part of what we were doing was a deception. He wanted to give the impression we’d been together for longer than an hour.

“I’m not going to lie, James. Don’t ask me to do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “You won’t have to talk to the media and if anyone else asks, just tell them it’s a new relationship. Can you do that?”

“Yes. But you need to know I won’t lie outright. I have to follow my conscience on this, not your orders.” I looked to God to guide my conscience. So far I felt like He was on board with this crazy plan. But if I started to feel like I was doing the wrong thing, I was walking away.

“Good. That’s always the best thing,” James said. “And you’ll let me spoil you? At least a little?”

“Within reason,” I answered, wondering what he would consider reasonable. I guessed I was going to find out.

“Thank you,” he said taking my arm and leading me back into the lobby. My head was spinning a little. I’d half expected him to change his mind when I’d told him I wouldn’t lie.

Up ahead, through the crowd, I spotted my family waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I told myself to get it together. Facing my sisters with my head in the clouds was a bad idea. They could eat me alive when I was on guard. Distracted, they’d pull me apart in seconds.

S
ara was completely unexpected
. When I saw her in the restaurant, I was drawn by her shining hair and the glimpse I’d had of her face.

Then we met, and her sweet, shy demeanor was its own hook, as were her pretty face and her clear grey eyes. Instead of jumping on my offer of help, she’d pushed me away. I’d actually had to talk her into going out with me. Had that ever happened before?

I knew women found me attractive. They’d been after me since I hit my first growth spurt at fourteen. As I’d grown older, and more visibly successful, it got harder to tell what they wanted more, me or what was in my bank account.

Not Sara. Unless she was an exceptional actress, news of my wealth and position had only made her more nervous.

As did the instant spark of attraction between us. She didn’t have to tell me she wouldn’t sleep with me. I’d already figured out that she wouldn’t have sex outside a serious relationship. Maybe not even before marriage.

The thought should have had me running. I wasn’t as bad as the media painted me, but I was used to a fairly regular sex life. I didn’t think I’d ever had a girlfriend who didn’t end up in my bed.

The idea of going without sex should have sent me running for the hills. There were other women who could improve my reputation. Who wouldn’t worry about lying, who would expect me to shower them with gifts.

But Sara was the only one with whom it wouldn’t be a lie. She was beautiful, intelligent, caring, and sweet. I really did want to get to know her better.

She’d have to get used to the issue of presents. I was a man who liked to give. I gave to my family, to my employees, to the community, to the church. And I wanted to give to her.

Taking in the sight of her in her practical low heels and conservative navy dress with matching purse, I wanted to bring her to Elizabeth, my personal shopper, and have her fitted out.

There was nothing wrong with Sara’s clothes, except that they betrayed that she wasn’t comfortable with her curvy figure and tried to hide it. And the quality was okay, but she deserved better. I went to Elizabeth myself because I never had time to shop and she knew my style. But she’d be getting to know Sara’s.

Sara must have seen something in me worth her time. She certainly wasn’t doing this for my money or influence. Yes, she did need a date for her sister’s wedding. But, I was confident enough to think it was more than that, that she’d felt the same thing for me that I did for her.

A connection. I’d dated a lot of women. But never one this sweet. This innocent. Sara was a revelation. One I was finding I wanted by my side more than I’d expected.

I
found
myself leaning into James as we approached my mother, sisters, and Tim, my future brother in law. Three (bleached) blond heads turned in our direction at Tim’s nudge. Then three jaws dropped.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get some well-deserved satisfaction out of that. The three of them had always been peas in a pod–outgoing, pretty, popular, and skinny.

A constant stream of boyfriends rang our doorbell when I was in high school, all for Cathie, Christie and my mom. Only a few for me, and those never lasted long. Not once one of my vivacious sisters decided to steal him away.

My sisters didn’t actually like my dates; they just thought it was funny to see how quickly they’d dump me for the promise of a popular girl guaranteed to put out.

I was the only female in my house who’d gone to college to get an education. While I’d graduated with a degree in business and accounting, then gone for my CPA, Christie and Cathie had been trying to figure out the best way to get an engagement ring before junior year.

Now, only a few years after they would have graduated, they both had a marriage and a divorce on their résumés. There was no actual employment unless you count the arduous task of interviewing housekeepers and divorce lawyers.

We were here at the Drake Gardens so Christie could rope Tim and make him her latest sucker. I didn’t feel sorry for him. He was handsome, successful, and a complete jerk.

James’s hand on my arm pulled me closer as we stopped before my family. Before they could speak, he said,

“I apologize for our lateness, it was my fault. I’m James Drake.” He held out his hand to my mother, who took it, her jaw still half dropped.

“Not
THE
James Drake?” she asked, breathlessly. I braced for the embarrassment to come. As I expected, she moved in, sidling closer so she could lay an overly familiar hand on the lapel of James’s suit. “The owner of all of this? Girls, you know who James Drake is!”

Before she could get any closer, James eased back, stepping slightly behind me while keeping his arm firmly around my shoulders. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cunningham,” James said, polite in the face of her attempted groping.

Not one to give up easily, my mother giggled, a young, high-pitched sound I’d always disliked. It usually meant she was about to do something embarrassing.

“Oh, I’m not Mrs. Cunningham. That was the girls' father’s name. I’ve moved on since then. I’m Mrs. Lewis, but you can call me Susan.”

Unable to help myself, I went to my toes and whispered in James’s ear, “The Mrs. Lewis is from husband number four.”

“Are you going to introduce me to your sisters?” he whispered back, his breath tickling my ear.

I caught Christie scowling at me. She was justified. Whispering in front of all of them was kind of rude, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel badly about it.

“Only if you promise not to sleep with any of them,” I said into the side of his neck, my voice so low I knew he could barely hear. In response, I got another squeeze of his arm.

“This is Cathie, Christie, and Christie’s fiancé, Tim,” I said, gesturing to each of them in turn.

“Nice to meet you,” James said, then turned to the restaurant. “Do we have a reservation? I know it’s my fault we’re late, and I’d hate for everyone to go hungry.”

My mother finally remembered why we were there and led us to the hostess stand. A moment later, we were on our way to our table, a large circular booth surrounded by light drapes suspended from the ceiling.

The design of the restaurant was intimate and cozy. Wonderful for a date, not so fabulous for a family dinner.

As we arranged ourselves in the booth, Cathie gave me a hip bump designed to send me reeling into Tim, giving her room to sit beside James.

James refused to release his hold on my arm, and instead of letting me fall, he used my sideways momentum to slide me into the booth, with him beside me. Smooth. And sweet. Unfortunately, I ended up with Tim on my other side.

Unable to finagle a seat next to James, who’d taken the end of the booth, Cathie slid in on the other end and glared at me.

“So, what are you doing with Sara?” she asked, venom dripping from her words. “You’re not actually her date, are you? She works for you or something, right?”

“I work at Franklin and Scott, Cathie,” I said, cutting in. “I’ve been there since I graduated from college.”

“And Sara is most definitely my date,” James said. “I’d love to get her working for me, but Franklin and Scott is a great firm. I doubt I could entice her away. And it would interfere with our,” he paused and met my eyes, “
personal
relationship.”

Across the booth I heard Cathie whisper to Christie, “I think I just threw up a little. Tell me he’s not sleeping with her. So gross.” I flushed in embarrassment. If I’d heard, so had the rest of the table. They weren’t exactly subtle.

“You know he’s not,” Christie whispered back. “She’s a total prude. She doesn’t sleep with anyone.”

“How did you two meet?” my mother asked, covering the awkward silence left after Cathie and Christie’s comments.

“It wasn’t terribly original,” James said, “We met at a restaurant. I saw Sara across the room and I knew I had to get to know her better.” He smiled down at me, his expression the perfect representation of a doting boyfriend.

“And you asked her out?” Christie said.

“Of course.”

“But she’s fat.” This from Christie. My mother murmured her name in an embarrassed protest.

“And boring,” Cathie added. “She’s an accountant for God’s sake. How much more boring does it get?”

Christie leaned around my mother to meet Cathie’s eyes. “Do you remember the boys she dated when we were in high-school?”

“Oh my God, such losers. Remember the one from the math club? They did that thing together?”

“He was such a dork,” Christie said, her giggle a replica of my mother’s. My mother rolled her eyes at us in a half-hearted apology.

“Girls, don’t be rude. Maybe if you two had spent a little more time in the math club and less time on dates, you would have graduated with a 4.0 like your sister. And that thing she and the boy from math club did was a very complicated project. They won some kind of prize for it, didn’t you honey?”

“We worked with the robotics club on navigational calculations for a drone they built. We won a grant for the school with it.”

“Impressive,” James said, giving me that caring boyfriend smile again. I couldn’t help melting a little.

“It was the only way she could get a date,” Cathie cut in. “Fishing at the bottom of the barrel.”

“It didn’t stop you from sleeping with him,” I said, sweetly. Maybe she’d been more popular than me, but most of that was because she slept around. A lot.

“Someone had to,” she shot back, not ashamed. “God knows you weren’t going to.”

“Leave your sister alone,” my mother said to them. “It wasn’t her fault she was overweight and shy.” Turning to James, she went on, “Sara was always a good girl. Bright. Well behaved. Went to church every Sunday, even when I didn’t take her. Never gave me a second of trouble. Not like these two.”

That was the reason I was even there. While my sisters were awful most of the time, my mom meant well. She got married way too often and was always on the prowl for her next husband, but she loved me and she showed it as best she could.

When I’d tried to beg off the wedding, even though it was only a few miles from my house, she’d said, “But I never see you anymore. I miss you!” I’d been helpless to say no.

At that moment, I fiercely regretted not sticking to my guns, even if being there had put me in James’s path. Sitting through dinner with those two was going to kill me with humiliation.

I knew I’d wake up that night, or sometime next week, with the perfect comebacks echoing in my head. I always thought of them later, never on the spot. Under the glare of their cutting comments, my throat would swell shut and I could never think of anything good to say.

Accusing Cathie of sleeping around didn’t count since she considered it a badge of honor.

The waitress interrupted with our menus and a recitation of the specials. I was still starving, despite the appetizers James had fed me in his office. The next few minutes were occupied with deciding what to order, my sisters saying I should I get a side salad to keep my calories down, and James suggesting the lasagna or the linguine pescatore.

When Christie gasped in horror and said, “Girls like Sara can’t eat pasta. Too many carbs.” James skewered her with a look and murmured loud enough for the table to hear,

“I love to watch you eat, don’t I?”

I felt my skin turn a bright, hot red. I wasn’t used to flirting. Especially with a man as handsome as James.

“Shall I order for you?” he asked. I nodded, mouth dry. He did, getting the lasagne for himself and the linguine pescatore for me.

I looked around the table, trying to pretend I was used to James’s attention. My mother was smiling at us. Christie and Cathie scowled in confusion.

And Tim studied me with a curious, appraising look, as if James’s interest was making him wonder what I might have to offer.

Yuck. He was a perfect match for my sister, with his overly polished good looks and the bank account to match her desire to never work a day in her life. But when you scratched the surface, he was rotten to the core.

A few months before, at a dinner to celebrate their engagement, I’d caught him berating the valet driver over a nonexistent scratch on his sports car. This was after he treated our waiter with rude dismissal and then tipped him less than five percent.

Not to mention that he’d grabbed my rear end on the way out of the restaurant. I’d whirled and hit him on the arm. He’d backed off, but the whole thing made me uncomfortable.

Resolving to ignore him, I turned my attention back to James who was smiling at me. His hand found mine under the table. I braced for him to do anything inappropriate, but he simply entwined hid fingers with mine and nodded in response to something my mother said.

I zoned out, barely listening to my sisters chatter on about the wedding, something about the flowers, or the place settings, all my attention focused on James and his hand in mine.

“What’s wrong with you?” Cathie asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“Your face looks weird,” she said, wrinkling her nose at me. Maybe it did look weird. I was holding hands with the best looking man I’d ever met. I was a little distracted.

“So, are you in the wedding?” James asked me, interrupting my drifting thoughts. Before I could answer, Christie said,

“Ewww, no way. Can you imagine her up there next to all my sorority sisters? She’d look like a whale.”

“Christie! Apologize to your sister,” my mother said. I sat beside James, frozen in embarrassment, tears prickling my eyes.

I wasn’t a whale. I was a little plump, definitely not skinny like Christie or her friends, but I wasn’t that big. I fixed my gaze on the table in front of me. When James nudged my side, I didn’t look up. He gave my hand a hard squeeze under the table and nudged me again.

“Sara,” he said under his voice. “Look at me.” I did, cringing at what I was afraid I’d see in his eyes. Disdain. Disgust. Instead, he looked furious. “Is she always this bad?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“Then we’re leaving. You can be mad at me later, but we’re not sitting here while she treats you like this.”

Before I could think to protest, he stood, pulling me to my feet beside him.

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to go. It was a pleasure to meet you, Susan,” he said, holding his hand out to my mother. She took it, shaking her head.

“It was nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior.”

James didn’t respond to her last comment. I didn’t say anything either, too shocked that we were leaving to know what to say.

With a nod to the table, James took my arm and we were on our way out of the restaurant. James stopped at the hostess station to say,

“Put their dinner on my account, Melanie. And send them a bottle of the Perrier-Jouët 2006 Belle Epoque Brut. Add a piece of the mascarpone chocolate cheesecake to our meals and have them sent to my cottage. Tell them to set up on the front porch.”

Her “Yes, sir.” followed us out of the restaurant as we left.