Her Prince Charming: An Inspirational Romance

by Faith Austen

  “Maybe. But Melissa likes clothes. She may have thought yours were fine, but taken the excuse to buy you new things anyway.” That made me feel somewhat better. If I had the budget to buy clothes like this, I’d jump on it, even if they weren’t for me.

  “So you made her work late? What if she had other plans?” I knew I was being nosy, but the whole concept of him having a person who would jump to do anything he asked was fascinating to me.

  “I pay Melissa extremely well to never have other plans when I need her for something. She’s on call twenty-four-seven and she makes enough money that she doesn’t mind her hours. Plus, she likes me.” He gave me a satisfied grin, teasing me.

  “Yeah, I bet she does,” I said, smiling back.

  “She’s happily married to a lawyer who works long hours, no kids, which is part of why she doesn’t mind me calling her in at odd times. She’s one of those people who needs to be busy.”

  “Hmm,” I said, unable to relate. I suspected James was like that, always on the go. Anyone who ran a business empire had to be. That was not me.

  I worked hard at my job, and genuinely love volunteering at church and the shelter, but in my off time, I was more than happy to lie around, reading a book and snacking on chocolate. Probably part of the reason I still hadn’t seen that much of Atlanta.

  The waiter returned with our plates, sliding in front of me a beautifully presented stack of the Brioche French toast stuffed with lemon curd and wild berry spoon jam. Heaven. The scents coming off my plate were so delicious I wanted to cry with joy.

  Sweet, tart lemon, rich berries, and powdered sugar scented the air. If it tasted as good as it looked and smelled, I was going to be a very happy woman. James’s red velvet pancakes with pecan cinnamon butter and maple syrup looked equally tempting.

  Reading my mind, and eyeing my French toast, he said, “I thought we could share.”

  “Works for me.” I dipped my head over my plate and murmured the blessing, my heart warming when James took my hand and spoke along with me. When we were done, he cut a bite of pancake with his fork and brought it to my mouth.

  The taste of cinnamon and maple burst across my tongue. Withdrawing the fork from between my lips, he scooped up a bite of my French toast for himself.

  “This place is always excellent,” he said. We ate like that for the next few minutes. I fed him a bite, he did the same for me. The intimacy was new. It felt like we were in our own little island, just James and me, with nothing to worry about but enjoying our meal and each other.

  Our plates were empty before I knew it. James sat back with his coffee, studying me. I tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, self-conscious again. Picking up my own coffee, I said, “What?”

  “Just glad you ate all your breakfast. You’re going to need your energy today.”

  “Why? What are we doing?” I had no idea what I wanted to do, but as long as I was with James, I knew I’d have a good time.

  “We’re going shopping,” he said, drinking half of his coffee before setting the cup back in its saucer. He checked his watch and gestured to the waiter. “The shops should be opening by the time we get there.”

  “Why are we going shopping?” I asked. Hadn’t he already bought me clothes?

  “Because I want to take you shopping,” he said, as if that was the end of the conversation.

  Maybe to him, it was. I wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of James taking me shopping. We’d already talked about this, and I’d agreed not to give him a hard time about buying me things. Kind of.

  I suddenly realized that definition of ‘things’ and James’s were probably very different. He was a billionaire. I was not. The clothes he’d already purchased were an expensive addition to my wardrobe. I didn’t need more.

  What Melissa had bought wasn’t flashy, but I knew the designers well enough to know that there was at least several thousand dollars hanging in the closet upstairs, not to mention the dress and sandals I was wearing at the moment. Part of me was dying to see what his idea of going shopping was, but it was too much when we’d only just met.

  “I don’t need anything else.” I said. “Really, I don’t.”

  “I say you do. If you really don’t want the things for yourself, then accept them because, as my girlfriend, people will expect you to have them. And I want to buy them for you.”

  “That’s a thin excuse,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “It’s not necessary.”

  At that, he laughed. “Of course it’s not necessary. Does it have to be necessary? Or does it offend your accountant’s heart to spend money on something you don’t strictly need?” I looked away, too embarrassed to admit he’d figured me out. He laughed again. “Get over it. We’re going shopping. I’m just glad you aren’t in the wedding.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to buy you a new dress for the wedding. Something that will make your sisters faint from envy.”

  “James,” I said. “I know they’re awful, but buying something just to make them jealous isn’t right.”

  “No. But I’ve already figured out that you’re a better person than I am. So how about I buy you a dress that makes you feel like a princess and if it makes your sisters jealous, I’ll enjoy that all on my own.”

  I was completely speechless. I wasn’t going to lie to myself and say the idea of showing up my sisters with a gorgeous dress and James on my arm wasn’t appealing. It was. It would be to anyone.

  I tried not to give in to that side of myself. I wanted to be a kinder person than that. Though after scenes like dinner the night before, it was hard to hold onto my compassion.

  James, in what I was learning was his typical style, ran right over my objections. He hooked his arm through mine and we walked through the hotel to valet parking, where his car was waiting.

  A short drive later, we passed the car off to yet another valet attendant and entered the first floor of Nordstroms. I’d browsed here before, but I’d rarely shopped.

  I tried to slow James’s pace so I could take in the displays, but he steered me straight to the escalators. Apparently, he knew where he was going.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sara

  The next thing I knew I was standing in the women’s department surrounded by lovely cocktail dresses, listening to James say,

  “Tell Jessica that James Drake is here. She’s expecting me.”

  The clerk nodded her head and said, “Yes, sir,” before she disappeared into the back of the store.

  “Jessica is my personal shopper. She’ll take good care of us.” He smiled down at me with something that looked like affection. My knees went weak. Still feeling a little vulnerable from my freak-out that morning, I reminded myself to keep my head on straight.

  “So Melissa doesn’t buy your clothes, too?” I teased. James smiled, and the crinkle around his green eyes when he did made me wish we were alone.

  “No. She doesn’t have the time. And Jessica knows every square inch of Neiman’s. She could assemble a complete wardrobe in twenty minutes if she had to.”

  “James, you flatter me.”

  I turned to see a mature woman walking toward us, her honey colored hair twisted into a loose bun, her smile friendly. Reaching out, she took James’s offered hand, then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

  I couldn’t quite place her faint accent. Not French, but close. She released James’s hand and turned to face me.

  “What have you brought me this morning?” Her eyebrows lifted, her expression expectant.

  “Jessica, this is my friend Sara Cunningham. Sara, Jessica.”

  I extended my hand, not sure how to read her. She wasn’t flirting with James, which was a surprise and a relief. They seemed to share and easy, friendly camaraderie. It made me a little shy, though.

  If she was friendly with him, how would she feel about him buying clothes for some woman he barely knew? Would she think I was a gold digger? Before I could stress out too much about it, I found
my hand clasped between both of hers.

  “Lovely, just lovely,” she said to James. To me, she leaned closer, as if telling a secret, and said, “You know, James has never brought me a woman to dress. I’ve sent him some bits and pieces over the years, but has he ever introduced me to a young lady? No.”

  She shook her head, her flair for drama making me smile. “We’re going to have some fun today.”

  “Oh, no, I think you misunderstood,” I started to say. James’s hand over my mouth cut me off.

  “Sara needs a dress to wear to an evening wedding. Something appropriate, but I want it to be the best dress in the room. And we’d like to see anything else you have that might look good on her. Anything.”

  I flushed and looked away from them, wondering what Jessica must be thinking. I’m sure she thought we were sleeping together and I didn’t know how I felt about that. James interrupted my troubled thoughts as he leaned in close.

  “Jessica is right,” he whispered in my ear. “We’re going to have fun.”

  And we did, at least for a while. Jessica ushered us to the back of the store, through a set of double doors and into a private lounge. After leaving us with a bottle of champagne and asking me a few questions about sizes and preferred styles, she vanished.

  She returned ten minutes and one glass of champagne later followed by an assistant who struggled to keep up. Hanging several dresses on a nearby rack, she murmured instructions to the assistant and sent her back into the store. To me, she said,

  “Alright, miss. Up and into the dressing room please. I have a few selections for us to try.”

  Putting down my glass, I followed her into the small room. On the wall, she’d hung two dresses. One was a color block dress with ivory scalloped lace on top, and black satin from the ribcage down to the high-low hem finished in eyelets.

  The other was its opposite, a confection of strapless black tulle and satin, embroidered all over with delicate silver daisies.

  Neither was a dress I would have chosen for myself, and not just because I was sure they cost more than my car was worth. As if she didn’t notice my hesitation, Jessica said,

  “The cocktail dress first, please.” At my blank look, she smiled and gently explained, “The black and ivory, dear.”

  She slipped out of the dressing room, giving me privacy to strip off the navy flowered sundress and contemplate the designer dress hanging in front of me. To my surprise, it slipped on easily, fitting itself to my curves as if it had been made for me.

  I did up as much of the zipper as I could and gaped at my reflection in the mirror. The dress was sexy without being revealing. On another woman, one with a straighter, smaller body, it might simply be elegant.

  On me, it made my waist look tiny, showed off my curves, and the hi-low hemline displayed the best part of my legs. I looked modern, youthful, and feminine without feeling like I was showing too much skin.

  I’d never worn a dress like it. I was afraid to look at the price tag. A soft knock on the door startled me.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you need help with the zipper?” Jessica asked.

  “Please.”

  She slipped in and circled around me, examining the fit of the dress. Without comment, she stopped behind me and pulled the zipper the rest of the way up.

  Her hands twisted in my hair, doing something that ended up with the thick mass of it piled on my head in a makeshift up-do, secured by a glittery clip she’d snapped into place.

  Dropping to her knees, Jessica eased my bare feet into equally glittery gold heels. A moment later, I looked ready to stroll into a gala. Speechless, I stared at myself in the mirror. Jessica stood beside me, grinning.

  “I am amazing, am I not?”

  I grinned back at her. She was gone ten minutes, and she came back with this?

  “Amazing doesn’t cover it,” I said, squeezing her hand in a thank you. Even if I never wore it, getting to play dress up in designer fashion was the most fun I’d had in ages.

  “Let’s see what James thinks,” she said. I followed her out of the dressing room, eager to see James’s reaction. He didn’t disappoint.

  As I stepped out of the dressing room, he rose, following Jessica and me to the three-way mirror. Much as Jessica had, he circled me, examining me. Unlike Jessica, his eyes were possessive. Approving. Standing behind me, he met my eyes in the mirror.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “Do you?” I thought it looked fantastic, but I wasn’t confident enough to say so out loud.

  “You look gorgeous. Elegant and sexy. I won’t be able to leave your side or the men will be all over you. But we won’t get it unless you like it.”

  “I like it,” I said in a whisper, my head spinning from James’s words. I thought I looked good, but the way he described me melted my heart.

  “Then we’ll get it. And the shoes. Go try on the other one.”

  “But-” If we were getting this one, I didn’t need another dress.

  “Humor me,” he said. “If Jessica brought two dresses, you should try on the other one.”

  “Okay.” Jessica trailed me to the dressing room. After helping me with the zipper, she discretely slipped out, saying,

  “If you need help with the bustier, let me know.”

  I glanced down at the bench beside the hanging dresses to see a black satin bustier. Looking at the other dress, I realized it was strapless.

  I’d need something more beneath to hold me, and the dress, in place. Carefully removing the ivory and black dress I was wearing, I replaced it on its hanger before turning to the bustier.

  Getting it on was a little bit of a battle, but I wasn’t ready for the svelte Jessica to see me mostly naked. She’d been nothing but kind, and I had no reason to think she’d sneer at me.

  Still, I was too shy to ask for help with my underwear. In the end, I fastened most of the hook and eyes in the front, then wiggled it around and settled it in place. Jessica could do the last few once I had the dress on.

  And what a dress. If the black and white dress was elegant and sexy, this was a grown woman’s fairytale. An underdress of black satin provided the framework for yards and yards of transparent, shimmering black tulle embroidered with delicate silver daisies.

  Unable to resist, I looked for the price tag. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to find it was missing. That was probably for the best. I didn’t really want to know what it cost. I could guess, and the guess was enough to freak me out if I thought about it too much.

  Stepping into the gown, I pushed the cost out of my mind. I’d made it clear to James that he didn’t have to buy me anything. He’d made it equally clear that he wanted to. Who was I to argue? I eased the dress up, tugging it gently over the curve of my breasts.

  When I had the zipper mostly up, I called softly to Jessica. A moment later, the door opened, and she stepped inside. Fastening the last hooks of the bustier and the rest of the zipper, she smoothed the fabric over my hips and sighed.

  “You look like a princess. All you’re missing are your slippers.”

  Avoiding my reflection in the mirror, I took the sparkling sandals from her and slipped them on, admiring the crystal embellished straps and delicate bows setting off the silver spike heels.

  If Cinderella had a choice other than glass, she would have gone for these shoes. Apt, since I’d be turning back into a pumpkin soon enough. Everything buckled, zipped and hooked into place, I risked a glance in the mirror.

  “Oh, wow,” I breathed at my reflection. I looked like a princess. Both dresses were too formal for Christie’s wedding, and I’d never have a chance to wear either one again. But my heart squeezed in my chest as I saw myself in the dressing room mirror.

  I didn’t look drab, plump, or boring. My skin glowed against the shimmering black tulle, my grey eyes seemed lit from within, my full breasts curving beautifully but modestly contained in the bodice of the dress, my waist nipped in, looking smaller than I knew it was.

/>   I met Jessica’s eyes as I turned to open the door. Her smile told me I looked as good in the dress as I thought I did. Stepping out of the dressing room, I waited to see what James would say.

  Chapter Thirteen

  James

  I’d been checking my messages on my phone when I heard the handle turn on the dressing room door. Looking up, I got my first glimpse of Sara in the second dress.

  I froze, my usually razor sharp brain on lock down. She stood there, in fairytale crystal heels and a fantasy of a dress, her eyes as open and vulnerable as I’d ever seen them. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I needed to say something.

  Sara was insecure about her looks. That was easy enough to figure out, and a little nervous about letting me buy her expensive clothes. Most women would be trying to see how much they could get out of me, but not Sara.

  She stood completely still, waiting for my reaction. I didn’t know what to say. Every word in my vocabulary was inadequate to describe the picture she made. Beautiful would be true, but not enough.

  She was grace and elegance, sweetly feminine and sexy at the same time. Her curves combined with her clear, intelligent, grey eyes and her smooth, creamy skin, all wrapped in that amazing dress had frozen my brain.

  She was mine. She had to be. I couldn’t let something this precious get away from me.

  Jessica’s low murmur brought me back to my senses, and I noticed Sara’s open expression beginning to falter. She thought I didn’t like it. Clearing my throat, I said,

  “We’ll take both of them. And we’d like to see a selection of daytime and cocktail dresses. And anything else she needs to go with them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jessica and her assistant disappeared, leaving me alone with Sara. Looking at her in that dress, I wanted a lot of things from her. Most of them weren’t the kind of things a nice girl like Sara would be willing to do in a department store dressing room.

  If she had any idea what was running through my mind, she’d have turned bright red and run as fast as she could. Since I had no intention of driving her away, I kept my mouth shut.