Trust Me (5 page)

The
aroma of lilacs drifted about the small confines of the bathroom, as she stood at the sink, blow drying her hair. Sandra pulled the brush through her long red-brown strands, making certain the wave and curl was flat and obeying. Her hair lay softly down the middle of her back as she looked in the mirror at her reflection, smiling at the woman who stared back at her. She loved the tanned color of her face, neck and shoulders above the towel wrapped snugly around her bust and how it made her bright green eyes seem to shine like emeralds. She may have to keep going to the tanning booth once she returned home; regardless of the “C” word warnings.

The
sweet sounds of Jackie Evancho played on her iPod while she finished getting ready. The gentle voice and soft music made it much easier to concentrate on her task. She retrieved the small bag of cosmetics from the chest of drawers and applied a little mascara to her unusually long lashes, batting her eyes playfully at the green-eyed image looking back at her, thinking of how much her sister hated her for them. She hummed along with the tunes while she added just a touch of blush to her cheekbones, a soft dusting of pink to her eyelids and a simple coat of Chap Stick to her full lips. Nearly ready, she told herself, turning the volume up on her iPod.

Stepping
back into the main part of the hotel room, she examined the few outfits she had brought with her. She was glad that Cathy insisted she buy some dinner clothes, even though Sandra assured her she wouldn’t be having supper with anyone she would need to dress up for. She appreciated having something other than shorts, jeans and tee shirts to wear, though she was not sure if she would ever admit this to Cathy.

Not
knowing exactly where Creighton had chosen to take them, she decided on the black dress with thin spaghetti straps, certain it would go with any style of dining. The bottom hem fell a few inches above her knee in a straight-line cut and the scoop top showed off just a hint of cleavage between the swell of firm breasts. All the exercising she had done over the past two years had added to her bust line, rather than shrinking it. While she had dropped three dress sizes in her hips, stomach and thighs, she had gained one in her bra size. Cathy argued that she had all the right equipment, but didn’t know how to use it.

Sandra
slipped on a pair of thigh high nude stockings and the new pair of four-inch black mule pumps. She fastened her mother’s diamond stud earrings she had inherited into her lobes and slipped on the silver chain and cross her grandmother gave her before boarding the plane to France. Stepping back into the bathroom, she checked out the image of the woman in the mirror one last time. She looked almost unrecognizable from the librarian who had arrived here two days ago. The heels made her legs look longer and slimmer than when she first bought the dress, but not in a scrawny, chicken leg sort of way. Her mother always told her to take pride in herself, to show the world that she had brains as well as beauty, but she had opted for the brains' part. Cathy was the attractive one and Sandra could never see herself measuring up to her older sister’s looks.

Shaking
her head, Sandra pushed the sad thoughts aside and concentrated on finishing up before she met Creighton. She was not the type of person who was late for anything, and she was not about to start now. As she finished tucking the comb, credit card, passport and I.D. into the small black handbag, her cell phone began to ring. She jumped at the sound of it, recognizing her sister’s assigned ring and glancing at the clock. It was only twenty after seven she thought as she picked up the phone and pressed the answer button; she still had time before joining Creighton for supper.

 
“Sandy how was your day?” Cathy asked enthusiastically. “Did you do anything fun, or just hung out at the beach like yesterday? You know you’re in France, the greatest country of lovers in the world…well, next to Italy of course. You should go out and have some fun.”

“Hello
Cathy,” Sandra said at last, getting a word into the stream of questions when her sister stopped, taking a breath. “How is everything back home?”

“The
same as always, the same as every day since time began. Now answer me, what did you do today? I really hope you’re having a little fun.”

“I
had a wonderful day, Cathy, thank you. I did go to the beach, but not all day. You’d have been proud of me. I went scuba diving!” Her tone was filled with a genuine excitement that radiated down to her toes as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

“No
way! That’s amazing. How was it?”

“It
was wonderful and I have a ton of pictures to download and send to you. I’ll send them to you as soon as I can get to a computer. I was really scared at first, but I got over it with Creighton’s help.” She paused suddenly. Did she just say that? She braced herself, knowing her sister had not missed the slip and sighed deeply, preparing herself for the inevitable inquisition.

“Creighton?”
Cathy asked in an excited tone. Here it comes; Sandra assured herself. “Who is Creighton? What’s he look like? Is he young? Was he your guide? Come on, talk to me; tell me all about him.”

“There
isn’t much to say,” she began, realizing she really didn’t know anything about him, other than he was drop-dead gorgeous and had the most incredible sapphire blue eyes and warmest smile she had ever seen. “I met him today at the beach and he showed up on the boat when we went out to go diving. He’s a good friend with the boat owner, so he has a lot of diving experience and since I was alone he volunteered to be my partner. It’s because of him I have such great pictures.”

“He
sounds very nice and very chivalrous, but what’s he like? You haven’t told me anything to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Well,
he’s young, late twenties or early thirties maybe, but I’m not sure. He’s got dark hair and deep-blue eyes. He’s British I think, from his accent, so he must be a tourist like me, and he’s very friendly and has an incredible smile. Other than that, I don’t know much else about him. I mean it’s hard to talk while you’re at the bottom of the Mediterranean Sea.” She blushed knowing that the lie was a secret one between her conscious and herself. After all, until today, she didn’t even know you could speak under water, either.

“He
sounds absolutely dreamy and just the right age for you. Did he have a wedding ring, or an imprint of one?” She frowned at her sister’s question. She had no idea. She didn't look.

“I
didn’t see any,” she said, hoping to avoid the ‘
oh
Sandy,
you
need
to
be
careful
about
European
men.
They
like
to
shag
American
girls
on
vacation
and
then
go
back
to
their
wives
and
kids
.’ It was an argument Cathy had been echoing the past two years. One unfortunately, she experienced first handed while on vacation in Italy five years ago.

“That’s
good then. So, are you seeing him again?” She drew a deep breath, steadying herself for the next round of questions.

“Yes,
as a matter of fact, I am having dinner with him in a few minutes. We’re meeting down in the lobby at eight.”

“No
way!” she shouted through the phone. “That’s awesome. Where are you going? What are you wearing? You’re not in jeans are you; please tell me you’re in a dress. What about the maroon dress you bought, you know, the strapless one? That looks amazing on you. No wait, that’s more of a second date dress. Wear your black one, the one with the spaghetti straps. That one is really sexy and gives just a hint of cleavage without going overboard and wear a pair of hose, they make your legs look silky and men love that and the mule pumps, oh that will make you look amazing.” Sandra smiled; nice to know she picked up a few hints of how to dress to attract a man’s attention over the years, watching her sister flaunt herself around town.

“And
how exactly should I wear my hair?” she asked in an amused tone as she picked off an imaginary piece of lint from her dress.
Cathy would flip if she saw her now
, she thought.

“Up,
of course, but not in your librarian bun. No wait, down, straight. Did you take a flat iron with you? Straight is far sexier than the bun-thing. Men love to run their hands through a woman’s hair. It helps keep the head still when you’re kissing, or doing other things that I know you’d never do and don’t go crazy with the jewelry or made-up…not that you would of course. Keep it simple, that will be very alluring, plus it’s much easier to clean up in the morning should you happen to spend the night away from your room.”

“Thank
you Cathy, I’ll take your advice,” she smiled again as she caught a glance of herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers. Sandra knew if it were Cathy going out with Creighton, she’d be on her back offering him a different type of dessert than what the restaurant supplied. Somehow that thought was extremely uncomfortable to her.

“I’d
better go if I’m going to implement your suggestions into my wardrobe. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how things go. I love you, Sis. Tell Nana and Papa, I love them, and I’ll talk to them soon.”

“Sounds
good, oh and don’t forget to forward those pictures to us. Did you get any of this Creighton? I’d love to see him.”

“No,
sorry just fish and a couple of sharks.”

“Sharks!
No way!” Sandra smiled into the phone. She loved her sister and she enjoyed shocking her.

“I’ve
got to go or I’m going to be late. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,
but listen to me Sandy,” Cathy said, her tone suddenly very serious. “I know I’ve warned you about European men, but please be careful. I don’t want you to have a summer romance that breaks your heart and leaves you crying for someone who’s not around. By the way, did you get on birth control before you left home?” Sandra blushed profusely.

“Will
you stop worrying so much about me, please? I’m a big girl and I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Now I really have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” Sandra didn't wait to hear her sister hang up, but took the initiative and pushed the end button on her phone.

Did
she remember birth control? What an obscene question, however, after the few hours she spent with Creighton, she realized that she probably should have thought a little more seriously about it. With a deep blush, Sandra chose to ignore the X-rated thoughts that began to filter through her mind and finished up to leave.

One
last look at herself in the mirror of the bathroom and she was ready to go. The clock on the bedside table read seven fifty-five; maybe she should wait until she was sure he was really in the lobby. She could call the front desk and ask them if he was there, then she would know if she should order dinner. She checked her clutch bag again for her credit card, just in case she got stood up and added her phone, so she could call Cathy and cry on her shoulder about how stupid she acted.

Maybe
she should just wait for him in the bar; that way if he didn’t show up, she would not be sitting alone in the lobby all night like a pathetic fool. Thoughts that Creighton would perhaps change his mind, never occurred to her until now; why didn’t she think about this earlier?

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 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 matter.”

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 cell phone 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 twitch into a soft smile.