“I thought I saw movement inside, but now it looks empty,” Addie said, a hint of unease in her voice.
“We’ll get the license plate on the way by and I’ll have someone look into it.” Already he had an idea of what the car’s owner was up to. He’d bet his new Bugatti Veyron that the car belonged to a photographer out hoping to get a juicy picture or two.
“You can do that?” Addie asked as she settled herself in the passenger seat.
Trent nodded. “Trust me. We’ll figure out who it is. Don’t worry about it.” Closing the door, he glanced once more time toward the sedan just in time to see a figure move inside, a camera with a long lens blocking his face. Yup, a photographer. Not a huge surprise. Since the first photo of him and Addie appeared in the paper, he’d expected to see more, but as of yet none had appeared. Obviously that was about to change. Marty would be pleased, as it would fall in line with his plan.
At the curb in front of Lucerne, his favorite Italian restaurant in Providence, a uniformed valet accepted Trent’s keys before he walked around to the curb where Addie waited for him. On the short ride from her house into the city, she’d filled him in on the designs for his home, making the ride feel a bit more like a business meeting than a date. He let her go on without interrupting; hoping that by the time they reached the restaurant she’d be more relaxed. Though she didn’t say as much, her stiff posture and clenched hands gave away her anxiety.
“Fred confirmed that he completed the painting of your office. Are you satisfied with the color?” Addie sat in the chair he pulled out for her.
Placing his hands on her bare shoulders, he leaned down toward her ear. “It’s perfect, but that’s the last I want to hear about work tonight. Anything relating to my office or house can wait until Monday.”
Addie turned her head and tilted her face toward his, her lips only inches away from his. Tonight she wore a light pink lipstick and his first instinct was to cover her mouth with his and kiss away every last inch of color.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about then?” Her lips moved before he could kiss her.
“You.” He moved to his own seat before he gave into the temptation to kiss her. While he had every intention of doing that tonight, this wasn’t the time or place.
“Me?” she asked with amusement. “I think it would a more interesting conversation if we talked about you.” She accepted the menu the waiter held out to her, and Trent held back his response until the man left the table.
Putting down his menu, he folded his hands on the table. “Ask me anything you want.”
“You might regret saying that.” Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “But to start what do you recommend for dinner?” Addie opened the large menu still in her hand.
Orders taken, the waiter disappeared once again leaving her alone with Trent. Although several other tables in the exclusive restaurant were occupied, they sat tucked away from prying eyes and ears. Once again the notion that she, Addison Raimono, was on a date with legendary playboy Trent Sherbrooke had her questioning her sanity, something she’d been doing since he asked her to dinner. At first she’d tried to convince herself this was just another business dinner, similar to the one in Newport at the Spiced Pear. But any hopes of doing that evaporated when she opened the door and saw him holding roses. No one, not even Trent Sherbrooke, showed up for a business meal with roses in hand.
“So you said I could ask you anything, right?” A hundred various questions filled her mind, some she’d never have the audacity to ask.
“Ask away. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”
A sliver of excitement pierced her stomach at his response. “What kind of music do you like?” Okay, it wasn’t the most personal question she had, but it was a safe, unobtrusive place to start.
Immediately, Trent laughed as he reached for his wine. “Of all the things you could ask, you want to know what kind of music I like?”
At the sound of his laughter, her body relaxed. Her shoulders dipped and the tiny ball of nerves in her stomach disappeared. Somehow his laugh, deep and contagious, touched her body’s physical responses. It had done the same thing during their previous meetings.
“I thought I’d start out with the simple questions and work my way up.”
“A woman with a plan. I like it.” The sensuous undertones in his voice sent another arrow of excitement through her body. “I listen mostly to hard rock like they play on HJY,” he answered referring to a popular rock station out of Providence. “Sometimes I will listen to classic bands like Pink Floyd or Zeppelin.”
Addie didn’t need a mirror to know she’d cringed at his response.
“I take it you like something else?” Trent asked confirming her suspicion.
“I’d rather listen to country myself. Right now Miranda Lambert and Lady Antebellum are two of my favorites.” This time Trent cringed and shook his head. “I do like the Rolling Stones and Aerosmith,” she said. While not her favorite, she’d grown up listening to the two bands, thanks to her parents, and she’d come to like much of their stuff.
Across from her, Trent took a sip from his wine. “I’ll never complain if the Stones or Aerosmith are on.”
Addie and Trent continued sharing tidbits of information with each other as they waited for their meals and through dinner. Each little nugget Trent shared pushed his persona as a spoiled rich playboy further and further to the back of her mind and the new image she had of him continued to grow. This new image showcased a man who, despite media reports, wasn’t superficial and full of himself. Rather, he was charming and polite while at the same time funny and, for the most part, down to earth. He never acted, at least not with her, as if he considered himself better than everyone else and he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously.
“Okay, my turn to ask some questions,” Trent said as they walked from the parking garage toward Waterplace Park. So far she’d asked all the questions. “And I promise to start with the easy ones.” He slipped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her against his side sending her heart rate dangerously high.
“Fair enough.” Not sure if it was the right move or not, Addie slid an arm around his waist as they strolled toward their destination.
They crossed the street and then Trent said, “I know your mom and dad and your cousins live around here. What about your brothers? Other than the story about the one who started the kitchen fire, you don’t talk too much about them.”
“Tom’s the closest. He’s stationed at Fort Devens in Massachusetts. Frank is at Camp Pendleton in California and Rock is stationed in Quantico, Virginia. Now that Jon is in the reserves, he lives up in Maine.”
“I’m guessing Rock is a nickname.”
“Yeah. He’s real name is Rocco, but he hates it. My parents gave all my brothers traditional Italian names.”
“Frank is a traditional Italian name?”
All her brother’s hated their legal given names and would be furious if they knew she was sharing them. “Another nickname. His given name is Franco. All my brothers use nicknames. Tom is short for Tommaso and Jon is short for Giovanni. If you ever want to get on their bad sides just use their given names.”
Trent laughed at her comment. “I’ll remember that. So they’re all in the military?”
The sound of music and voices reached Addie before she saw the musicians tuning up for their evening performance, a crowd already gathered nearby. “All Marines, like my dad and grandfather, except Tom. He likes to be different so he joined the Army after college.”
Trent navigated them toward a less congested area near the railing that overlooked the basin where bonfires would soon be lit. “Your dad’s a Marine, too?”
Moving to stand behind her as more people crowded in around them, he pulled her against him and looped his arms around her waist. The warmth from his body seeped through his clothes and into her skin, setting her body on fire. It had been a long time since a man had held her, yet it had never
felt like this before. “Technically, once a Marine, always a Marine,” she said when she remembered that he’d asked her a question. “He retired a while ago and has worked as a prison guard for years now. Everyone on my dad’s side of the family has been in the military except my cousin David, who’s only sixteen, and me. It’s almost an unspoken expectation.”
“So you moved around a lot growing up?” He rested his chin on the top of her head driving home their intimate position.
She ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed before she answered. “Not too much. Nothing like my two oldest brothers Jon and Tom. My dad retired when I was seven and we moved to Rhode Island. All my mom’s family was around here and my dad’s sister was stationed at the Navy base here at the time.”
A gong echoed around them signaling that the sun had set. On cue, fires came alive thanks to fire tenders in boats traveling the river, and the musicians started. Overhead a scattering of stars peeked out from the clouds, which had rolled in while they ate dinner.
“My dad was disappointed when I didn’t follow the tradition. We had more than one heated conversation about how it was everyone’s duty to serve their country.” Even now their arguments about her decision to pursue a different career path remained fresh in her mind.
“And what about your mom?” He asked a perfectly logical question, yet she couldn’t hold back the groan it produced. “I take it she wanted you to follow that path as well?”
Addie shook her head as a different set of arguments flowed back. “She was okay with that decision, but she wanted me to study business and take over management of the bakeries. The idea of doing that bored me to death. And when I told them my plan to study interior design they both flipped. Even now my mom tells me it’s not too late to get my MBA and take over for my grandfather when he steps down in a few years.”
“It’s hard when your family wants one thing and you want something else. My cousin used to butt heads with my uncle all the time. Thankfully, my career goals have always corresponded more or less with my father’s expectations.” Trent’s comment provided more insight into his personal life, something he seemed to have no trouble doing. “So your family is the reason you moved back to Rhode Island and opened shop here?” he asked.
The scent of burning word drifted around her as she watched the flickering flames dance on the water’s surface. The sight was beautiful and almost hypnotizing. “More or less. There is also less competition here in Providence than in Boston.” On the river a torch-lit boat glided past and her eyes followed its path away from them. “What about you? What brought you here?” Everyone knew Trent and his siblings had been born in Rhode Island and spent at least part of their lives there. But he was a man who could live anywhere in the world and she knew he’d only just recently returned to the state.
“Hey, I thought it was my turn to ask the questions?” Trent asked, pretending to sound outraged.
Addie squeezed his hand. “I’ll owe you one.”
Trent’s arms dropped from around her waist and he took a step back. Immediately, she missed the solid feel of his body next to hers. “Okay, but let’s walk a little as we talk. I read it’s the only proper way to experience WaterFire.” Like he’d done in Newport, he entwined their fingers together and joined the crowd strolling along the river’s path. “Rhode Island has always been my legal state of residence even though for the past few years I haven’t spent much time here.” As he spoke his thumb rubbed the palm of her hand causing her already heightened senses to escalate a bit closer to the stars.
“I’ve always known I’d run for a public office someday. Last spring I decided it was time so I left my previous position at Sherbrooke Enterprises and moved back here with the intention of running for Senate.”
“Why Senate and not the House?” Since her American government class freshman year of high school, politics had interested her and she’d often wondered what influenced a person to run for one particular office as opposed to another, especially when it came to the House of Representative and the Senate. While both were distinct bodies with different roles, they seemed similar to her in numerous ways.
“My Uncle Warren was a Senator, as was my grandfather. And the party needs to hold onto Senator Harrison’s seat to maintain the majority in the Senate,” Trent answered, referring to a well-respected Senator who had served in the United States Senate for thirty years. Most had expected him to serve until the day he died, but he had recently announced that he would not seek reelection when his term ended, despite his popularity.
“Do you think you’ll ever run for President like your uncle?”
“Now you’re going to owe me two questions.” He gave her side a playful pinch. “Between you and me, yes, I’d like to, but at this point I’m not ready to commit publicly.”
His answer made perfect sense considering who he was and who he was related to. Still, the notion she was out with someone who might one day be one of the most powerful men in the world felt surreal. She had enough worries and issues to handle on her own plate. She couldn’t comprehend the type of issues the President must deal with on a daily basis. More importantly, she wouldn’t want to deal with all the President had to face and until now she’d never met anyone who would even consider taking on such an endeavor.
“Now that you’ve managed to sneak in two extra questions, it’s my turn again.” Trent navigated them around a group of people that had stopped in the middle of the path, never once releasing her hand. “Do you ever regret leaving Ducat and Wakefield and going out on your own?”
Addie watched a boat as it made its way down the river, the fire tender on board ensuring that the giant bonfires remained aflame. In the two years since she’d opened Designs by Addison no one had ever asked her that question. When her family, specifically her mom, brought up the matter of her career choices it was just to remind her she could always close up shop and take a more active role at the bakeries. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t considered whether or not her decision to branch out on her own had been wise or not.
“Yes and no,” she said admitting for the first time to anyone her true feelings. “I love being in complete control, but I do miss the security of working for Ducat and Wakefield. Running a business, even one as small as mine, entails more than I anticipated.” She hoped the desperation and anxiety she sometimes suffered from regarding her business didn’t seep into her voice.
“If there’s ever anything I can help with, just ask.”
She heard nothing but complete sincerity in his voice. Even still, she doubted she could ever ask him for help of any kind. Not only was he a virtual stranger, but someone who helped run a multi-billion dollar company didn’t have the time to help a small fledging company such as hers.
“Thank you, but you’ve already helped me. When people learn that I’ve designed for a Sherbrooke it will boost my reputation,” she answered, anxious to move the topic of their conversation away from her business. “You still have one more question you can ask me.”
“Are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”
For a moment she wondered whom she might be able to ask to cover her shift at the bakery, but just as quickly she killed the idea. While her business had started picking up since the picture in the paper, who knew how long it would last? If she hoped to keep herself afloat, she needed the extra money from her part-time job. “I’m scheduled for a shift at the bakery from seven until two and afterwards I need to catch up on some paperwork.” She hated admitting to him she still worked at the bakery, but at the same time it did no good to lie.
He glanced over at her, the flames from the torches on the bridge casting his face in shadows, making it difficult to see his expression and gauge his reaction to her answer. She suspected few women ever told him they had other obligations when he asked them out.
“Does that mean you want to call it an early night? I thought we could go back to my apartment for a little bit before I take you home, but we can do that some other time if y
ou want.”
In the past two years or so she hadn’t done much dating, but she still recognized the signs that a guy was interested in her. And although difficult to accept, Trent was sending out a lot of signals in that direction. “No, not that early. I’ve worked enough at the bakery that if need be I could do it half asleep and with one arm tied behind my back.” At this point in her life she wouldn’t have sought out a relationship, she just didn’t have the time. Yet she enjoyed Trent’s company and saw no real down side to spending time with him.
Trent squeezed her hand as they continued walking. “Good. How about we head to my apartment now? You can see the fires along the river from there, too.”
Already by agreeing to dinner with him she’d crossed that professional line and entered into dangerous territory. And while the businesswoman in her suggested she consider carefully before stepping any further over the line, the woman in her urged her to close her eyes and leap toward him, see what happened now and worry about the possible repercussions later. In the end, she gagged the businesswoman in her and stuffed her in the closet. “I’d love to.”
His lips, the very ones she dreamed about kissing, formed a smile and for a brief moment the world around them disappeared. Then just as quickly as the moment came, the music from the band registered again as did the other people around them.
“Great. I promise not to get you home too late.”
It was a short ride to Trent’s apartment, and soon Addie found herself stepping off his private elevator.
“After you.” Trent pushed open the door to his apartment.
Addie took a step forward but stopped just inside and looked back at him. “Do you want me to take my shoes off?”
Trent followed her in and let the door close behind them. “Whatever would make you feel at home.”
Addie moistened her lips and considered his words. Again, his words made it sound as if he intended something to develop between them, at least that was how she interpreted them. Turning forward again, she moved further into the apartment’s entrance, and across the glossy hardwood floor.
Redeeming The Billionaire (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 5) Page 9