The Billionaire's Runaway Bride (7 page)

She heard the water run and the door to the bathroom open and close. The sound spurred her into action and she quickly pulled on underwear and a dress, not wanting for him to find her in a towel again. The dress she pulled on was so similar to yesterday evening’s dress, she wished she knew how to sew so she could change it slightly. It was black crepe but instead of wearing pearls at her throat, the neckline on this dress had black sequins. It was too large for her frame and the sleeves came down to her wrists, the hem brushing her calves.

Fifteen minutes later, Jason came out of the shower, a yellow towel knotted around his lean hips and Sophie’s eyes hungrily followed his progress across the expanse of cream carpet as he walked to his own closet. He stood there with his back to her for a moment before pulling the towel off and tossing it to the side. Sophie had a clear view of his muscular buttocks before he disappeared into his closet.

She quickly turned on the hair dryer before he came back out, burying her red face with her reddish, blond curls.

It took a long time to dry her hair but when she was finished, she thought she had her embarrassment under control. She quickly applied a slight amount of mascara and a pale, pink lipstick, then started to braid her hair, not daring to look into the mirror and see Jason’s image.

“Would you consider leaving your hair down?” he said, almost right behind her. His hands were gently holding her wrists near her head and his eyes caught her startled expression in the mirror.

“Why?”

“Because it is beautiful and I’d like to see it down around your shoulders,” he said simply.

Sophie was so stunned at his words, she couldn’t react immediately.

“You like it?” she whispered.

“Is that so hard to understand?” he asked, and she could see the genuine confusion on his face.

“Yes,” she replied, her hands sliding down to rest delicately on her dressing table. She couldn’t hold his gaze anymore and she looked down at her hairbrush with shame.

“Why? It’s a gorgeous color. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.” His eyes continued to search her face as if he could glean her confusion through her crystal blue gaze.

That first word caught her attention and her eyes snapped back to his. Could he really like the color of her hair? He didn’t think it was sinful and made her look like a harpy? There were worse things that had been said, but she didn’t like to remember them.

She laughed nervously. “Believe it or not, that’s extremely hard for me to believe,” she said. “But if you really like it and aren’t just teasing me, I’ll leave it down.”

She went to her closet and picked up her shoes, loving the way her hair fell forward, caressing her neck and brushing the sides of her face. She wished she was wearing a sleeveless dress so she could feel her hair against her shoulders. What an awful thing to consider, she told herself. What would her father think?

That thought had her standing straight up and staring at Jason. He was pulling on his own shoes and didn’t realize she was looking at him and she was glad. For the thought had just struck her that her father was no longer here. And Jason liked her hair. Or at least he said he did. She couldn’t tell if he was telling her the truth or not but it was nice of him to just say the words.

She’d originally thought that Jason was an exceptionally kind person but living with him for the duration of their short, aborted marriage made her realize that he wasn’t very kind to anyone but her. Oh, he was considerate and polite to others, especially the household staff members. But she’d read too many news articles about his business practices. She knew that he was what others considered a shark. The term merciless was often applied to him as he found, bought and capitulated on areas of the business world others didn’t find profitable.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tall frame walking up to stand right next to her. His hand came to touch the curling strands of titian hair that were now tumbling around her shoulders. “You look startled. What is on your mind?”

She looked into his dark blue eyes that showed no emotions unless she really watched him and smiled. “You really like my hair?” she couldn’t help but ask.

His forehead furrowed in anger and yet more confusion. “Why is that so hard to believe? Who doesn’t like your hair? Has someone said something recently about it? If so, I want their names, Sophie,” he demanded. He wasn’t being kind now. In fact, he looked absolutely determined to hear her answer.

She stepped back from him, needing a little space but shook her head. She smiled slightly, as if the smile might add to the confusion about her hair color. “It isn’t important.”

Jason’s look told her he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I think it is very important. Somehow, someone has made you self-conscious. Is that the reason you’ve always worn it pulled back into something that looks like torture?” he asked. “Was it your father? Did he make you feel bad about it in some way?” but the phone rang, saving her from answering his question. She was too startled by his guess to have answered anyway. How had the man deduced so quickly who had made her feel bad about her hair? It was such a simple thing, but it still warmed her frozen heart slightly.

He stalked over to the phone and answered it impatiently, obviously wanting to hear her answer more than he wanted to find out who was on the other end of the phone. But in the end, the phone won out, simply because the sound was so intrusive. A moment later, he turned back to her and said, “The car is waiting out front. Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, turning immediately to the door, grateful that she was able to avoid the previous conversation.

“Sophie,” his deep voice stopped her as her hand rested on the door knob. “This discussion is not over. We’re going to discuss this further. I have a feeling there’s more to this issue than simply your hair, isn’t there?”

She looked up at him and shivered, understanding that there was a steel note in his voice. She didn’t answer him though. She walked out of the room ahead of him, again wishing that she had something other than black to wear.

The night at the opera was a nightmare on two fronts. First of all, she didn’t like opera and she didn’t like the clients Jason had brought. The man leered at her when his wife wasn’t looking and it was all she could do to keep herself from shivering in revulsion as the man took her hand during the introductions and kissed her knuckles, leaving a wet mess afterwards. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on the side of her dress until he was turned away, but just barely.

Jason kept a private box at the theatre and tonight, there were four chairs. Jason gave the first two chairs to their guests. The first act was long and boring and Sophie tried to pay attention to the words and the actions on the stage, but she just couldn’t understand what was going on. It wasn’t that she couldn’t understand the words. The Italian opera was well sung and Sophie had taken Latin in school so she was able to follow along to a point. Even if she didn’t understand the words, usually the music and acting was enough to allow the observer to understand the plot and follow along.

It was that she just wasn’t interested. She thought about what she’d hoped to do that night, sitting in a hot, soapy bathtub and reading a mystery that had just hit the markets. The critics had raved about the book and she’d bought it last week. Unfortunately, Jason hadn’t given her any access to the items from her old cottage except for her clothes. Everything else had just disappeared.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Every once in a while, she looked up at his profile, her angry eyes wishing he would look at her. She knew it was in poor taste to talk during a performance. Otherwise, she would have demanded right then and there to know where all her furniture and personal items were that had been in her cottage.

They weren’t much, she knew. In fact, most of the furniture was just barely this side of the garbage heap. But it had been fun collecting her ‘finds’ through yard sales and friends of friends. She couldn’t even call the items eclectic. They were all just junk. But they had been her junk and he had no right to throw things of hers away.

What did that matter, she thought as the female lead started screeching at the top of her lungs, climbing a ladder to clip some silly bouquet of flowers. She remembered a pretty quilt her landlady had allowed her to borrow last winter. Where was it? If Jason had had someone throw it out, he was going to be in real trouble.

The woman was now climbing down the ladder and handing the bouquet to a man who threw them to the side. What about her plants? She’d had several day lilies, hydrangea and a variety of other bushes that were sitting on her small patio. Where were they? He probably gave them away, she grumbled to herself.

Thankfully, the intermission arrived and Sophie sprang out of her chair, excusing herself to go to the bathroom before the other three members of the box could even stand up.

In the bathroom, she looked around and splashed cool water on her wrists. What was wrong with her? Why was she getting so angry with Jason? Why couldn’t she just work up the courage to ask him what had happened to her cottage furnishings?

With shaking hands, she pulled her hair back and looked at her reflection. She was startled to realize that, despite the morose color and drab style of her dress, leaving her hair down added color to her face. Or perhaps it was the anger coursing through her system. She wasn’t used to being angry, she knew. Most of her life, she’d been cowering, trying not to be noticed. Not anymore though!

There was a line of women waiting to use the sinks behind her so she didn’t have a chance to linger. Walking out to the lobby, she saw Jason immediately. Because Jason was at least half a head taller, and definitely more handsome than anyone else at the theatre that night, it was easy to spot him in the crowd. She hated the fact that he was also surrounded by several other women, many of whom were stunningly gorgeous and some who were wearing shockingly daring dresses that clung to their figure, revealing just about all their feminine assets. She knew some of them were married, having met them at other functions.

Sophie walked up to the outside of the group of people surrounding Jason and was just going to stop. But as soon as she walked up, Jason’s arm reached out and he took her hand. Sophie was thrilled with the fact that he seemed to know she was there, even without looking at her. She tried not to read too much into the action but was overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness when he also handed her a glass of cold champagne.

He didn’t touch her, but each time she moved, he also moved so she was constantly by his side. By the end of the intermission, she was feeling safe and secure and for some reason, she didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

The lights dimmed twice and the crowd started moving back towards their seats. Without a word, Sophie moved towards Jason’s box, keeping the thought of her own personal, private bath and book uppermost in her mind.

“It won’t work,” he said softly into her ear, running one hand down her arm, then sliding it around her waist intimately.

She looked up at him as he moved slightly behind her, the crowd pushing them closer together. “What are you talking about?” she asked. She shivered when his hands caressed her and tried to move away, but he deliberately wouldn’t give her an inch of room.

“You’re getting angry with me in order to not make love with me tonight,” he said, one hand slipping under her hair to caress her neck. “It won’t work,” he repeated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, wanting to pull away but his hand just held her steady.

His deep chuckle sounded close to her ear and she pulled away. Unfortunately, there was no place to go. “Yes, you do. Don’t think I don’t know you, Sophie.”

Sophie ignored the melting sensation and the heat that was already intensifying between her legs. If Jason were to pull her off to the side and make love to her right here, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him. “You don’t know me,” she said angrily, lowering her voice so the people around her couldn’t hear. “You don’t know anything about me.” But her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper even as she tried to put more force behind her denial.

He looked down at her again, his eyes inscrutable. With a nod to their companions, he pulled her off to the left and out of the stream of bodies heading back to their seats. He shielded her from view with his broad shoulders and put one arm against the wall, right next to her head. “You don’t think I know you? Let me take a guess as to what’s going on inside that lovely brain of yours,” he said, his eyes flashing angry fire. “You’re embarrassed over how passionate we can be with each other,” he said quietly but relentlessly, “and last night, you let yourself fall into my arms and really make love for the first time in your life. You actually shared the experience and you’re embarrassed.” He wouldn’t let her look away as he spoke. “And I’m guessing you thought about it today and were ashamed although for the life of me I can’t understand why. But you want to know something?”

“No,” she came back furiously, wishing he wasn’t so close to the mark.

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m going to find out.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, fear deep in their depths as she stared into his determined blue ones. He nodded for emphasis. “Yes. You can hide for a little longer but I’ll definitely find out exactly what is going on inside your head. And you want to know what else?” he asked. But he didn’t wait for a response. “We’re going to make love tonight. And you’re going to love it. And we’re going to make love every night until you trust me enough to move to the next step.”