Read Online Trust Me by D. T. Jones - Free Book Online Page B

sunglasses hung around his neck. His gray tee-shirt and dark-blue jeans hugged him perfectly, showing off his muscular limbs and torso. He was breathtaking and Sandra almost forgot what she was doing until he turned to her and smiled. Damn, she cursed herself; she could feel the blush start a slow creep up her neck.
    “Hello,” he said in a cheerful tone and she found herself taking a hesitant step forward.
    “Hi, sorry I’m running late,” she said shyly. Creighton’s smile increased and he shook his head.
    “Not a problem, I don’t mind waiting for such a lovely lady. Did you find what you were looking for?” Her throat was suddenly dry as she looked in those dark-blue eyes.
    “Um, not really. I needed a pair of jeans, but I did find some very nice pants, thanks to the clerk.”
    “Jeans, eh?” he said and turned to the woman, speaking to her in French. The clerk smiled, replying in her native language and walked into the back of the store again.
    “What did you say to her?” Sandra asked suspiciously.
    “I told her you were looking for a pair of jeans. She couldn’t understand what you wanted; her English isn’t very good. They usually don’t keep the jeans on the rack, but rather in the back room. They have them, but the French are very proud of their fashion designers and don’t usually display simple clothing.”
    “Oh,” was about all she could think of saying and was immediately distracted when the young woman returned with two pairs of jeans, one dark blue and one a medium blue with faded thighs. She handed them to Sandra and waved back toward the fitting rooms.
    “We have time; go try them on,” Creighton said and reached for the clothes she held in her arms. “Are you getting these?”
    “I’m not sure just yet,” she answered honestly, turning and walking back into the fitting room before her blush could give her away. She couldn’t very well tell him she wasn’t sure if she could afford them, but she couldn’t buy them if she didn’t have enough money on her card. She didn’t want to admit to a man who owned a Mercedes limousine and private yacht that she was on a very limited budget. He probably had never heard of such a thing.
    Sandra slipped the jeans on and smiled; they were very snug but not in an uncomfortable sort of way. They hugged her every curve making her look very mature, very feminine and like the other pants, she really liked them. Now she had to try to make up her mind as to which she wanted and could afford. The contest that brought her, here may have been all-expenses paid, but that just meant it paid for food, travel and entertainment, not shopping trips. Still, she was sure she had enough to pay for one pair of pants and the shirt.
    Back in the main body of the shop, Sandra watched the woman smile brightly at Creighton. She truly was quite lovely, but listening to them speaking casually in the saleswoman’s native language, Sandra realized this man was seriously out of her league. She was nowhere near good enough for him.
    “Didn’t you like them?” Creighton asked bringing her out of her bout of self-pity.
    “Oh, no I like them a lot; they fit wonderfully; it's just…” but before she can finish her sentence he reached for the pants and handed them to the woman, saying something to her in French. It’s now or never, Sandra thought. She had to admit she didn't have enough money for all of them and hope she could hold her head high when they laughed at her.
    “Creighton, I don’t need all of these and I can’t afford them,” she said quickly hoping to stop the woman from placing the clothes in the bag.
    “Nobody asked,” he said as casually as if he were discussing the weather. “Consider them a gift.”
    “You can’t…I mean I can’t…that is…” she didn’t know what to say, she had never had a man buy her clothes before, except for her father or grandfather. She wasn’t sure what she should say so she just stood there staring dumbfounded