Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance (8 page)

J
ames
and I checked the seating chart on an easel by the door and found we were seated in the far end of the room, furthest from the wedding party. I knew Christie had stuck us there to make a point. As her sister, I should have been sitting close to her, Cathie, and my mother. For the first time, I was thrilled she could be so mean. I’d rather be alone in a corner with James than sitting near the wedding party any day.

James pulled my chair out for me and helped me sit before taking his own seat. No one sat to his left. On my left was an older couple I didn’t recognize. After stilted introductions, during which James neglected to mention his last name, the couple turned to face the rest of the table and ignored us. Perfect. If we drowned out the sound of one of the groomsmen getting ready to give a speech, we could almost pretend we were alone.

We both stayed quiet and ate our salad while the groomsmen droned on and on about his long friendship with Tim. About anyone else, it might have been sweet. But since I knew he was talking about Tim, it was mostly annoying. I zoned out a little, trying to enjoy the meal and wondering how long it would take, when I felt the heat of James’s hand on my back. I realized he’d rested his arm along the back of my chair as he traced his fingers along my bare shoulders.

Trying not to be obvious, I looked up at him. James’s eyes were on the speaking groomsman, his expression bland and vaguely interested. For all that anyone else could see, he was the picture of innocence. On the bare skin of my upper back his warm fingers drew figure eights. It was a simple touch, not suggestive at all. But if it was so innocent, why did it send sparks of heat flying through my body?

“James,” I whispered. His eyes flicked to me and he winked, then went back to pretending to pay attention to the speech. That was my only effort at protest. Why bother? He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Not really. It wasn’t so much what he was doing as the way it made me feel. Restless. Warm.

Without thinking, I leaned my shoulder into his touch, trying not to shiver when his fingers closed over the sensitive nape of my neck and massaged. I tried to act like he wasn’t driving me crazy, but I wasn’t that cool. When he ran a fingertip over the lobe of my ear, I barely caught myself before I made a low sound in my throat. The man beside me shifted, as if he was going to look at me, then my silence convinced him it wasn’t worth the effort.

No change. Only more of those teasing, light touches. I shifted away, then halted, stopped by James’s hand tightening on my shoulder.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked in a low voice, his expression too bland to be real.

How to answer that? If I said he was, he’d stop. I knew that instinctively. Did I really want him to stop? His touch was alluring, sensual, and more than I’d ever felt before. But we were fully clothed, in public, and he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Neither was I. So far he’d seemed willing to take things slow. I leaned toward him to shut out the rest of the table from our quiet conversation.

“No, not bothering me exactly,” I said, not sure how to articulate the hesitant awakening I felt everywhere he touched me.

“Then relax. Nothing is going to happen to you that you don’t want, Sara. I promise.” His green eyes met mine. “You can trust me.”

“I know,” I said. “Maybe I’m worried I can’t trust myself.”

James’s eyes flared for a moment before he gave me a satisfied smile and leaned in to lay a kiss on my lips. “Then trust me to protect you against your own judgement, too. I know you need to take this slowly. I respect that, sweetheart. And I have enough experience to know how quickly someone with no experience can lose her head. I won’t take advantage of that.”

I knew exactly what he meant. The intoxicating effect of simple touches and closed mouth kisses told me that if he decided to push things further, I’d likely lose my own judgement. It meant a lot that he understood that and was prepared to protect me, even from myself. I hadn’t exactly meant to end up a twenty-five year old virgin, but I didn’t want to be a stupid one as well.

“Okay,” I said. James gave my shoulder a squeeze and turned his attention back to the speeches at the other end of the room. I pretended to do the same, but in truth my focus was on his fingers swirling across my shoulder and down my arm, setting my nerves alight and making me wish we were alone.

The waiters served the soup course, a delicious cream of lobster. To my disappointment, James dropped his hand to eat. My shoulder felt cold after his touch. Another speech later and they were clearing the soup and laying down the main course. Christie had ordered filet mignon, asparagus, and some kind of potato dish with a creamy sauce. Yum.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of more boring speeches made tolerable by the delicious food and James beside me. We were silent, but I was acutely aware of his presence. At one point, between the removal of our dinner plates and dessert, James reached out and took my hand in his. I expected him to say something, but he remained quiet, just holding my hand, playing with my fingertips. When I caught his eye, he winked.

He had my head spinning. I’d held hands with men before and felt nothing from it, but this was different—maybe because it was James. He wasn’t teasing me or trying to make a point. No one could see our joined hands beneath the table. He was simply keeping me close. It was dangerous. Not for him, for me.

I wasn’t the kind of girl to get easily involved with men. Sometimes, I wished I were. Life would be so much simpler if I could be like some of my friends, moving from one man to another. I tried not to judge others about sex. I’d never been comfortable being casual with my body. It belonged to me, to God, and to the man I’d marry. What others did was up to them, but that was how I felt about myself.

Unfortunately my desire to avoid casual sex meant I didn’t date much. Most men didn’t want to go out with a woman who wouldn’t have sex with him. But it wasn’t just sex. I’d never been comfortable with casual touch either. That I not only tolerated James’s touch but loved it told me I was already in too deep. I was falling hard for him.

And it wasn’t the material things or that he was helping me out by taking me to the wedding and this dinner. It was him. His strength, his combination of power and gentleness, the way he could be demanding and then sweet.

How could I resist falling for a man like this? I couldn’t. Every time I got a hint that this was more than an act, my hungry heart ate it up. I was heading for disaster. I knew it. I couldn’t stop myself.

The servers made a last trip in with dessert and coffee. One more course, and we could escape. Fortunately, the wedding party was finished with their speeches. Another one of those and I would have fallen asleep at the table.

James and I both started on our chocolate torts with raspberry sauce. I sipped my coffee, trying to offset the glass of wine I’d had with dinner. I didn’t know what the rest of the night would bring, but I didn’t want to be tired.

Putting down my fork, I pushed back my chair. Some of the guests had gotten up to wander around and socialize. I had to find the ladies room, and this seemed like the most inconspicuous time to do it.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to James, picking up my purse so I could refresh my lip gloss. James narrowed his eyes and nodded.

The ladies room was down a long hall outside the entrance to the private dining room. I expected it to be crowded, but there was only one other woman in there, an older lady I didn’t recognize. I did what I had to and spent a few minutes fixing my lips and adjusting my hair, pleased to see that my up-do still looked pretty good.

I was feeling good right up until I pushed open the bathroom door and ran into Tim. The men’s bathroom was down the hall and there was no one else in the ladies, so he could only be waiting for me.

Wary, I tried to edge around him. He shifted to block me and grabbed my wrist. A hard yank on my arm wasn’t enough to shake him off. I lifted a foot to go after his instep again, but he jerked on my arm, knocking me off balance. In my sparkly, stiletto heel sandals, it was impossible to dig in and resist when he pulled me into the shadows down the hall.

“
R
elax
,” he said, tugging me closer to him. “I just want to talk to you.”

“I don’t think we have anything to say.”

“I think we do. You misunderstood me earlier.”

This, I had to hear. Was he going to apologize? Or demonstrate that he was even more of a pig than I thought?

“Sara,” he said, tugging me closer.

His breath smelled like sour coffee. It was an improvement over his cologne. My nose rebelled, and I tried to breathe through my mouth. How could Christie stand him? He was rich, and she loved money, but couldn’t she find someone less repellant to marry?

“I know you’re wondering how my proposal would work, with you here and Atlanta and me in Chicago. But you don’t have to worry about that. I have a new contract that means I’ll be in Atlanta all the time. We’ll hook up while I’m here, and no one will ever know.”

“Are you serious?”

“Do you think I can’t take care of you? Once Drake is done with you, you’ll want another sugar daddy. Why not me?” Tim raked me with his eyes, taking me in from my chest to my toes. He didn’t bother looking at my face.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” he went on. “You always dressed in those frumpy clothes, I had no idea what you were hiding under there. Your breasts alone - ”

I jerked back on my arm again, too disgusted to worry about losing my balance. Tim was too offensive to listen to a second longer. I no longer cared if I caused a scene. What gave him the right to treat me like a piece of meat just because I was dressed up for once? My dress was flattering, but it wasn’t revealing. And what about my sister? Calling him a pig was an insult to swine.

Tim tightened his hold on my arm, refusing to let me go. He opened his mouth, probably to say something else insulting, and I couldn’t help myself. I was in the wrong position to jab him with my heels, but I still had one free arm. Without thinking, I swung my fist at his face.

At the pop of my fist against his nose, Tim yelped and reeled back. What he didn’t do was let go of me. As I teetered in my sandals, losing my balance as his grip on my arm jerked me back and forth, an arm came around my waist, steadying me. James. Relief flooded through me. I wasn’t a fighter. That punch was the best I had in my arsenal. If things had gotten ugly, I would have thought of something, but James could handle Tim better than I could. I knew my strengths, and beating up guys wasn’t one of them.

With a stiff chop of one hand, James struck at Tim’s arm just above his wrist. Abruptly, and with another yelp, Tim let me go. James took advantage of Tim’s whining over his wrist to slide me to the side, out of the way.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said. “I almost missed him sneaking out of the dining room.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” Looking up into his angry green eyes, I said, “I punched him.” James grinned at me, still angry, and now amused. It was an intoxicating expression.

“I see that,” he said, kissing me on the tip of my nose. Sweet again. He was killing me. “Do you mind if I have a word with him?”

I shook my head, suspecting that James’s plan involved speaking with a part of his anatomy other than his mouth. Tim finally dropped his wrist and stared at James.

“What’s your problem? Sara and I were just talking.”

I could guess what James was thinking. Something along the lines of Tim not touching me ever again. He didn’t bother explaining his position to Tim. Instead, he hauled off and swung. Tim’s nose was already dribbling blood from my punch. With James’s, his face exploded red. It would have been gross if it hadn’t been Tim.

I wasn’t a fan of physical violence, but I wasn’t going to get in James’s way. James hit him again, this time on the chin. Tim stumbled back until he hit the wall. His feet went out from under him and he slid to the floor in an ungainly sprawl. One trembling hand touched his nose.

“You broke my nose,” he sputtered, his voice muffled, as if he had a head cold. James shrugged in disinterest.

“I’ll sue your butt off. You can’t do this to me. Do you know who I am?”

At that, James laughed.

“No. But I know who
I
am. Go ahead, press charges. This hallway is under surveillance. You’re in
my
resort. You assaulted one of
my
guests, who happens to be my girlfriend. Not only should you rethink pressing charges, I suggest you make up a good explanation for your fiancée on the way to the hospital to get that nose looked at.”

It was the first time I heard him call me his girlfriend to someone else. I like the way it sounded. Far too much. My head reeling, I didn’t protest when James took my hand and tugged me closer, tucking me into his side as we went down the hall.

“I don’t think we’ll go back to the party,” he said. I shook my head in agreement. As soon as we were clear of the restaurant and back in the lobby, James stopped and turned me to face him. “Let me see that hand.”

He lifted my hand and studied my knuckles. I hadn’t noticed until that moment, but my hand hurt. My knuckles were tender, the skin scraped on two of them. I hadn’t realized I’d hit Tim that hard. James stroked my fingers and said,

“This is going to bruise. Let’s get you some ice.”

We were walking to a nearby bar, when I heard from behind me,

“James, hold up.”

As one, we turned around to see two men coming toward us. Both tall, both heart stoppingly gorgeous. I was all James’s, no question. But these two were perfect specimens of male beauty. One with short, dark hair, his eyes so deep a brown they were almost black, dressed in a suit much like James’s. The other blond, eyes a bright blue, in a more casual button down shirt and jacket. They came to a stop in front of us and looked me over. The blond one said,

“So this is who you stood us up for? Nice.”

James scowled back at them. My curiosity grew as the three shared loaded glances.