Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance

by Faith Austen

  “Mr. Drake,” she said. “Your food will be delivered shortly.”

  “Thank you, Cheryl. Please hold any calls.”

  I barely caught her nod before he ushered me through the tall, polished wood double doors that led to his office. The single room was bigger than my entire bungalow. His desk was enormous, a gleaming dark wood with a leather desk chair behind it.

  A flat screen television was mounted on the wall opposite the desk, viewable from the leather sofa and matching chairs that faced the window facing the door. The tall mullioned windows let in the early evening light, giving the room a warm glow.

  I stopped and stared for a moment, taking in the luxury around me.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked, drawing my attention, “Wine? Coffee?” He raised an eyebrow, inviting my opinion.

  “Coffee please,” I said. Coffee was a great idea. It had been a long day at work and I was tired. I could use a little caffeine jolt. I had the feeling I’d need to be alert with James Drake. He pressed a button on his desk phone.

  “Cheryl, two cappuccinos, please.” Turning to the couch, he gestured to the comfortable seats. “Please, sit.”

  Again, I did as he ordered. What was it about him? I could be a pleaser. I knew that about myself. But normally I wouldn’t be jumping at the commands of a stranger.

  James was a charming man, obviously raised to be polite. But it was also clear he was used to being in command. I’d have to keep an eye on that.

  There were few people I’d listen to without question. My pastor. My mother, unless it had to do with my sisters or my love life. Not a man I just met.

  James sat beside me, stretching his legs out in front of him. He leaned back into the couch, one arm across the back, fingertips almost grazing my shoulder.

  I edged a few inches away. He pretended not to notice, but somehow I thought he did anyway.

  “So, tell me the rest,” he said.

  “The rest?”

  “You said you had problems. Plural. The thieving ex is a single problem. What are the rest?”

  “You really can’t want to hear this,” I said.

  “I do. Tell me.”

  “Okay,” I said, again unable to resist him. “But you’ll be bored.”

  “I guarantee I won’t.”

  Cheryl entered with a tray and set it on the table in front of us. I reached for my coffee, cradling the short, white mug in my hands, soaking in its heat.

  “The rest isn’t as big a deal. My old boss, who I loved, took another position and her replacement started this week. He’s -” I paused, looking for the right word. “ – miserable, repellent, and lazy, to be honest with you.”

  “Has he been giving you trouble?” James’s eyes narrowed the same way they had in the bar, showing him for the powerful man I knew he was beneath the charm.

  “Not much. Yet. But I have a bad feeling he will. He stands too close. And he’s too touchy.”

  I shuddered at the thought of those pudgy sausage fingers gripping my shoulder the way they had this morning.

  “Name?” James asked, pulling out his phone.

  “What?”

  “Give me his name. First and last. The ex as well.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to check into them. The first step to dealing with a problem is information.”

  “You don’t have to do anything about this,” I said, desperately. What was going on? This was a little weird. “These are my problems. I don’t expect you to get involved. It’s nice enough you got me coffee and some food. You really don’t need to look into Frank or Greg.”

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Give me the names.” His green eyes bored into me and my mouth opened involuntarily.

  I gave him the names. As he typed into his phone, the door opened and a uniformed waiter pushed a cart into the room. James said, “On the table, please.”

  Without looking at either of us, the waiter said, “Yes, sir.” and began unloading the plates. As he whisked the covers off, delicious scents sent my mouth watering.

  One plate held what looked like steak tartare with tiny diced onions and capers. It was one of my favorites. Another held a selection of olives and cheese with colorful pieces of bruschetta. The last had toasted brioche rounds with crème fraiche and caviar.

  I hadn’t had caviar in years, but the last time I had, I’d loved it. My stomach growled, and I flushed. It always embarrassed me, feeling overweight and eating in front of people.

  I’d grown up with my sisters questioning every bite I put in my mouth. The idea of eating in front of James, easily the most handsome man I’d ever met, paralyzed me.

  Somehow, he knew exactly what to do. Lifting a square of toast heaped with shaved beef tartare, he held it in front of my lips.

  “Open,” he ordered. I did. The flavor hit me first. The rich, meaty taste of the beef, the crisp bite of the capers and the pungency of the onion danced over my tongue.

  I drew back, intrigued by his feeding me, but too uncomfortable with intimacy to allow it again. Catching my response, he slipped one of the caviar rounds into my fingers, letting me feed myself. It was delicious, salty and creamy at once.

  A piece of bruschetta later, James handed me my coffee and sat back.

  “The coffee isn’t the right compliment for the flavors,” he said. “But sometimes it’s the perfect thing after a long day.”

  I swallowed and managed to speak, “Thank you. The food is wonderful.”

  “I enjoy eating. So do my guests, so I make sure everything is top quality,” he said, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Now, any other problems?”

  “It’s nothing worth getting into. Really.” I was outright lying. My last unspoken problem felt like the biggest.

  It was also really embarrassing. At least it would be, if I had to admit it to James. It would be over in three days. I could get through three days.

  “So there is something else. Tell me.”

  I resisted him this time. “No. Honestly, I’m fine. I appreciate all of this, but I don’t understand why you’d help me. You just met me.”

  His eyes reminded me of a wolf’s as they rested on my face, meeting mine, before sliding down to stroke over my body. Possessive. Confident. I was way out of my depth.

  “I want something from you,” he said, bluntly. “Something I’m beginning to think only you can give me. Tell me what your last problem is, and we’ll see what we can work out.”

  I couldn’t speak. He wanted something from me? I didn’t have anything. No money. Not since Greg cleaned me out. And James Drake could hardly need money.

  Ditto for accounting services. He probably had an entire floor of accountants tallying up all his money. How could I give him anything?

  “I don’t -” That was as far as I got before he took my hand in his.

  “Just tell me.” His eyes bored into mine, compelling me. I wanted to tell him. However, I didn’t want to see him laugh at me, either.

  “I -” I stopped, not believing I was going to talk. Then my mouth opened again, and I started to speak. “I don’t have a date to my sister’s wedding. She loves to pick on me and if I show up alone, she and my other sister will make me miserable. I was supposed to go with Greg, but…”

  I trailed off, unable to meet his eyes, utterly humiliated. Why had I given in? I peeked up at him, expecting to see scorn, or worse, pity. Instead, he was smiling, a wide, open smile that lit his green eyes and was oddly triumphant.

  “Perfect,” he said. “That’s the easiest to solve. I’ll be your date.”

  “What?” Not the answer I was expecting. I don’t know what I thought he’d say, but it definitely wasn’t that.

  “I’ll be your date. And in return, you’ll do something for me.”

  “What?” I was turning into a broken record. Half-horrified and half-curious, I said, “What could you possibly want me to do for you?”

  “The same thing you want from me. I want you to be my da
te.”

  “What?” I wished I had another word, but it was all I could say. He wasn’t making sense. “Why would you need a date? And why me? For what?”

  “You clearly haven’t been reading the paper lately,” he said, sitting back and sipping his cappuccino. “Did you miss all the headlines about the Drake Enterprises CEO?”

  Something in his phrasing triggered my memory. There was a scandal. The Drake CEO had been photographed in a compromising position with a married executive’s wife. The Drake CEO. James. He nodded as the knowledge filtered across my face.

  “You remember it now, don’t you?”

  I nodded, looking away. He’d seemed like a good person. Bossy, but nice. I wouldn’t have guessed he’d commit adultery. A man who couldn’t honor marriage vows, his own or another’s, wasn’t a man I wanted to spend time with.

  “I didn’t do it. I promise you, Sara, I didn’t do anything inappropriate with that woman. The whole thing was a set up. She wants a divorce and she thought if she got ‘caught’ with me her husband would let her go. She didn’t think about what would happen when the media got ahold of it. I have a reputation I haven’t earned. Not entirely. I’m not an angel Sara, but I’m not the player they say I am.”

  “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t sleep with a married woman?”

  James leaned forward, his green eyes locking on mine. With earnest sincerity he said, “I have never been involved with a married woman. Ever. I’ve never cheated on a woman I was with and I’ve never been with a woman who was cheating. I’m not perfect, but I do have values.”

  I believed him. His wasn’t turning on the charm to get his way. The look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, told me he was telling me the truth.

  “Okay, so how do you think I can help you?” I asked.

  “My board of directors wants me to clean up my image. Since I haven’t actually done most of what the media says I have, there’s not much I can do to improve. I thought if I was in a relationship with a good, honest woman the media might lay off.”

  I was starting to get the picture. “You want to go out with me for more than one date?”

  “Yes. Starting with your sister’s wedding.”

  “For how long?” I asked, disappointed. I knew he couldn’t be interested in me. He just wanted me for cover.

  “At least a few months. But I don’t know. We can leave it open ended.”

  I shook my head, my heart heavy. “I can’t. I’m not comfortable being dishonest. I couldn’t look my pastor in the eye at church if I was lying to the world about being your girlfriend.”

  “That’s why you’d be perfect,” he said, his eyes twinkling. A rush of embarrassed anger hit me. Tears pricked my eyes.

  “Don’t laugh at me,” I said, starting to rise from the couch. This had been a mistake and all I needed to make a bad day worse. Before I could leave, James grabbed my hand, pulling me back down.

  “I’m not laughing at you, Sara. Really, I’m not.”

  I looked up at him, surprised to see his eyes were level on mine and serious.

  “I’m not the right girl for something like this, James,” I said.

  “No, you’re exactly the right girl. And it doesn’t have to be a lie, Sara. I’m ready for something more serious. With someone I can respect, who’s company I can enjoy without having to worry she’s after a headline or my wallet. You have nothing to lose. I’ll go to your sister’s wedding with you. And if you don’t find me completely repellant after the weekend, we’ll keep dating. How would that be a lie?”

  “You don’t know me well enough to know you want to date me. That makes it a lie,” I said. Part of me wanted to throw my morals to the wind and say yes. But half a lie was still a lie. Not ready to give up, James said,

  “I know you better than most of the woman I take to dinner. What’s the difference? I already know I’d like to see more of you. If we don’t feel anything for each other after the weekend, we can go out separate ways. But at least give me a chance.”

  I stared at him, feeling myself teeter on the edge. Could I do this? Did he really mean everything he was saying? Taking a breath, I said, “Are you going to laugh at me if I say I need to pray on it before I say yes?”

  James shook his head. “I haven’t always been a regular at church, but when I was younger the whole family went every Sunday. My mother still goes to the same church twice a week. Most Sundays I got with her and my Dad. I’d never laugh at your faith.”

  I got up and walked to the windows, taking in the beauty of God’s bounty in the scenery beyond. The colors of the gardens, the majestic old oak trees. Absorbing the scene, I could feel Him all around me.

  Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and let myself pray. Could I do this? Did James mean what he said about truly being interested in me? God, please help me to make an honest choice. Help me to do what’s right and not convince myself to give in to temptation.

  James was handsome, no question. And charming. But he also seemed sincere. And if he really hadn’t done anything wrong with that woman, he did need help. I didn’t have to ask if I wanted to get to know him better. I already knew I did.

  So the real question was if I believed that he truly wanted to get to know me better. And I’d never really know the answer to that without taking a chance on him. He could be lying to me. But I couldn’t control that.

  I knew I wasn’t lying to him. And mistrusting him because I was afraid wasn’t any better than taking the risk of believing him and finding out he’d lied to me.

  I lived a quiet life. I worked, I went to church. I rarely dated. Greg was an anomaly, and that hadn’t exactly turned out well. At least I knew James wasn’t going to try to steal from me.

  Maybe God had put him in my way to let me know it was time to take a risk. To live life instead of playing it safe. At that thought, a giddy feeling filled my chest. That was it. It was time to take a risk. My intentions were pure. I would have to hope James’s were as well.

  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.

  Chapter Five

  Sara

  “Where are we eating?” James asked, leading me to th
e 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.”