Nothing But Trouble Page 4

  “Oh, I hope not, Grandma. I’m so nervous and excited. And they do tons of painting programs.” She glanced at the wall above her grandmother’s bed, setting her eyes on the last painting her grandma had done. It was of Sophia. Her reflection in the mirror.

  “It must be fate,” her grandma said in a warm voice.

  “I’m beginning to wonder. Okay, I’ll try to stop bothering you so you can get some rest.”

  The original dress hung next to her new one in the closet. It would have been worse showing up with her original pick – a simple purple dress she’d worn a few years ago to her friend Molly’s wedding. If these were the kind of men—smart, sexy and successful—that were going to attend the gala, she could only imagine the kind of women that would be there as well. Equally stunning women with their beautiful dresses and mile high shoes. The kind who looked like their hair never got frizzy and always had perfect make-up. The kind that mostly looked down on women like Sophia with her Wal-Mart bought clothes.

  Sophia had been a member of Together.com for a little over three months. She was tired of working non-stop and not having any friends to talk to, let alone get together with. Companionship was the main reason she’d created a profile on the site. If she stumbled into anything more than a meaningful friendship, it was going to be a plus. She wasn’t expecting anything more, especially if the guy was a workaholic.

  This date with Clint was exactly what she needed; a night out with no strings attached. Who knew, maybe the two of them would make a friendship out of this. Ha! If she ever found the time or the money. She wasn’t a workaholic. She simply needed to work for the money. Those shoes and that dress probably cost more than she made in a month. Maybe three months. Although she hated to think about that because wearing something that cost that much, gave her pause. She’d be worried all night about snagging it or spilling something on it. Which begged the question: what did Clint do for work?

  Sending women you didn’t know attire—attire that fit to a T—for a quick, one-night date, didn’t seem like something any guy would do, least not any guy she’d had experience with. Let alone a guy she hadn’t met face-to-face yet.

  For about the hundredth time, she caressed the fabric of the dress between her fingers. It wasn’t going to be the traditional Valentine’s Day date where lovers celebrated, but marveling over the shoes, she was excited for the night ahead. Tomorrow. She was going to celebrate Valentine’s Day tomorrow, and she was going to look amazing while doing it. Thanks to her mysterious Estwd5280.

  So, when Valentine’s Day came, Sophia could hardly sit still.

  All the pictures she’d put up on her profile had her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and she always wore it in a ponytail for work. She wanted something different. Utilizing the fact that she had the time, Sophia decided to leave it down for tonight, running the curling iron through it to pull the hair up some to expose more of the backless gown. She didn’t know what he liked but did want to make a good impression. Maybe she should have asked him if he had a preference for the way she wore her hair. Ehh. She’d never asked a man before, why start now? She absolutely wanted him to be proud to have her as his date for the limited amount of time they would be at the gala. Especially if there were going to be all those fancy people in attendance.

  She hadn’t painted in quite a while, and her heart ached at the empty loss inside her. Having only enough money to get by, her joy in painting never seemed to fit into her budget one bit. Gosh, she hadn’t even thought about painting since she started school. She could recall in vivid details the way the stroke of the brush felt as her hand guided her to the end product. Flowing, freeing as if the brush had a mind of its own and took her to a place—a point on the canvas—she was always surprised to see at the end.

  As she stood in front of her full-length mirror, applying a smoky-eye look and mascara, she realized their date was fate. Not only being matched with a great-looking guy on the website but being invited to the gala which centered around art – must have been the universe’s way of telling her to get back into the hobby.

  She decided then and there that she would make the time to stop by the Art Center and fill out a volunteer form. Maybe they would have people out tonight trying to get commitments from people to volunteer, and she could sign up. Even if she couldn’t afford the supplies herself, volunteering would give her that piece back in her life that she hadn’t realized she’d been missing until she’d perused the website.

  Sophia’s phone pinged with an incoming text. Clint: I’m on my way. Butterflies raced through her stomach as she marveled at herself in the mirror. It was true. She’d never looked this good in her entire life. Had never felt this confident. She hurriedly sprayed perfume onto her neck and wrists. She rubbed her wrists together as she tried not to let the anxiety of rushing increase her heart rate any more than it was. She swiped some lipstick onto her bottom lip, rubbed them together and then when one final look in the mirror confirmed she was as ready as she’d ever be, she headed out to leave, still needing to show her grandmother her outfit. But wait! Deodorant? She sniffed both armpits—Yes! She remembered—and then she headed out.

  “Bye, Grandma. I will be back tonight for a change of clothes before I have to head into work.” Sophia kissed her grandma Eleanor on her cheek, breathing in her sweet soapy smell. “How do I look?”

  “So lovely, Sophia. He will be happy he asked you on a date. And happy he sent you that dress.”

  “And the shoes,” Sophia lifted her foot out from the loads of fabric and wiggled it around. “They’re amazing.”

  “They sure are. Have fun.”

  She hoped her grandma was right about Clint being happy that he asked her to be his date. Sophia valued her grandmother’s opinion more than anyone else’s. Since her mother had been semi-absent for most of Sophia’s life and her grandma Eleanor raised her, Sophia had no problem taking care of her. A nurse came in a few days a week to help but even dropping out of college and working full-time didn’t prove to be enough financially.

  Sophia’s mom wasn’t the one who cooked Sophia dinner and made sure she stayed out of trouble when Sophia was younger. Nope. That credit went all to her grandmother. Having to take care of her was the least Sophia could do for all the things her grandma had done for her granddaughter. Besides, Sophia loved her grandma so much her heart hurt, so helping was something she wanted to do. No matter where or how they lived. Making ends meet in any way Sophia could, was a small price she was willing to pay so long as her grandmother was taken care of.

  “I hope it doesn’t turn into a disaster. I will see you in the morning. Remember, call me any time if you need anything, okay? I always check my phone in case it’s you.”

  She waved Sophia away with a flick of her hand. “I’ll be fine. If I die, you’ll find me in the morning.”

  Sophia knew her grandma was serious, but this was her grandmother’s way of making light of the conversation. Sophia assumed it didn’t matter what happened when you were eighty and had health problems, at some point you were just waiting for the day when God took you home. Sophia shivered. She wasn’t ready to lose her grandma and was nowhere near ready to go herself. In case someone was listening, Sophia wanted to put that out there.

  “Funny, Granny. Real funny. I gotta run!” Sophia kissed her once more before she locked the door behind her.

  She headed down the stairs of their apartment building, taking great care so she didn’t fall flat on her face in her five-inch heels. Passing the mailboxes, she glanced at her reflection through the broken mirror that hung above them. Perfect.

  The weather was cold outside, but there wasn’t any snow on the ground so thankfully she didn’t have to worry about sliding on any ice and falling. She had covered her shoulders with a thin black shawl because her big puffy coat didn’t go with her dress. She would rather look good and freeze than be hidden behind a bulky coat. Sophia waited patiently at the curb in her apartment complex parking lot, keeping a lookout for
a black car just as he’d told her.

  She waited and waited for what seemed like forever. She began to worry that he changed his mind and wasn’t going to show up. She started to fret about what he looked like in person compared to his professional profile picture, if he was a sincere man and whether he would appreciate her effort. She tried not to play with her hair, as was her nervous habit, as she couldn’t help but think he had officially stood her up. She pulled out her phone and checked the time.

  He was eight minutes late.

  No messages.

  The light breeze threatened to mess with her hair as she stood on the curb. She watched cars pull in, a lady with a passel of kids pulled out. A stretch limo pulled into Sophia’s parking lot, followed by a blue sedan and another black vehicle. Wow. It was nice someone was going to get to ride in a limo. She’d seen her fair share pull up outside her job and even had the luxury of peeking inside one once, but she’d never sat in one. The limo pulled forward, past where she stood, and she refocused her attention toward the blue sedan as it pulled into an empty spot. The black vehicle, windows tinted enough she couldn’t possibly see who was driving, pulled up to the curb a few feet from where she stood.

  Deep breath.

  Here he was.

  She watched the vehicle settle into park and time seemed to freeze as she waited. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to open the door and get out. It was difficult not to feel completely exposed, knowing he had already been able to catch a glimpse of Sophia and with his too-dark windows, she’d yet to get a peek of him.

  “Sophia?” A deep masculine voice asked.

  Startled at the firm grasp on her arm, she turned away from the black vehicle at the curb. An overwhelmingly handsome man stood before her wearing a crisp, black tuxedo. His dark-brown hair was cropped short and neat. His caramel-colored eyes assessed her, and she idly wondered why he looked so familiar. His eyebrows, although full, were nicely shaped and his lips, oh boy, his lips were a beautiful shade of pink and sinfully full and Sophia briefly wondered what a man of his caliber was doing in such a crummy parking lot like this.

  “Yes?” she asked. And just as the single word came from her mouth, it dawned on her.

  He was her date. Him? She merely stared, tongue-tied.

  “Eastwood 5280. Sophia Baldwin, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck his hand out, exuding all sorts of raw male power in that single arm and hand movement. “The gala awaits. Shall we?”

  This wickedly handsome man was here to take her to the gala? She forced herself to grip his hand like any sane person, who wasn’t taken aback by his sexiness, would do. She inhaled sharply, surprised that he was her date.

  “I apologize for making you wait.”

  His grip sent tingles through her fingertips, causing them to heat quickly. “It’s okay. I haven’t been waiting long.”

  He held a single rose in his left hand, waiting expectantly for her to grab it. She glanced back in awe at the black car that had pulled up to the curb and watched as a female exited the vehicle. She was caught in a dream, participating in it, yet watching it from afar as well, seemingly unable to move or speak. This wasn’t her life. She was floating.

  “You look absolutely stunning, Contessa Sophia. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  His gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine, and for the first time, she realized he’d come from the limousine that had passed her moments ago and parked ahead of her along the curb. Of course he did.

  “Thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day to you. You’re Clint?” She asked breathlessly as she finally not-so-graciously took the rose from of his hand. Their fingers brushed momentarily, and the soft contact sent her already-soaring butterflies in her tummy up into outer space. Her body felt light and floaty as she admired the sparkle of laughter in his eyes and the way his full lips turned up into a half-grin. The tenderness in his expression amazing her as she glanced over her shoulder once more at the lady in the black car, scanning the drive area, noting there were no other black vehicles in sight. Only to double-check that this man was in fact here for her.

  “Come.” He prodded. “We can talk about everything once we’re in the limo.”

  Before she followed him, she pulled the side of her dress out. “Thank you for sending the dress and shoes. I’ll be sure to return them.”

  His bushy brow quirked up and as their eyes met, she felt a shock run through her. The way he looked at her like she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. But she knew that wasn’t true.

  “Return them? You don’t like them? They fit you like a second-skin, Sophia.”

  She blushed at the deep tone in his voice. The overall appreciation in his eyes as they slowly drifted from her face to her breasts to her feet. “Oh no, I absolutely love them. They’re beautiful. I, wait, you want me to keep them?”

  “I had them delivered specifically for you. They are yours to keep.”

  “I-”

  “Let’s talk about this in the car. Your hand is freezing. We have much to discuss.”

  Sophia weaved her arm into his and together they strolled the few feet to the limo, where his driver was there to open the door and chauffeur them into the vehicle. All the while her mind was racing. His familiarity for one and her naiveté for two, the entire situation was completely out of the ordinary for her by a long shot. What had she expected when she signed up on a dating site? Although it was becoming widely popular, it was still a non-traditional avenue of dating, online and all. Including her innocence at giving a stranger the address to her apartment complex. Not the exact number, but still.

  “Allow me to go first so you don’t have to slide over with your dress.”

  Once Michael was seated, she hitched up her dress and entered the spacious vehicle. It was difficult to stop her hands from trembling as she tried not to be oohed and ahhed by the limo and man next to her. He smelled heavenly – his scent filled the car, and she tried to ignore the way it wanted to envelop her into its snare, overwhelmingly good as it was.

  “I wasn’t expecting this,” she managed to say.

  “Is it too much?”

  She laughed. “It’s a little unusual. I love the dress and the shoes, but no one has ever approached a first date with me quite like that.”

  “Enjoy yourself. Would you like me to instruct Aslan to drive around the city a bit? Catch your bearings? Have a drink?”

  She released a breath. “No. I don’t want to be late to the gala. Thank you though. That was a kind offer.”

  “Listen. I must explain something to you right away before we get to the gala.”

  “What’s that?” Unease crept through her body. Maybe this was all a ruse to kidnap her. She considered the note she left on her dresser in case something like that were to happen, including a text she sent earlier to Carlotta – a lady she worked with. Could such a handsome and charming man be so bad? Then she thought of her granny, and her nerves doubled.

  Watching him now, his face half hidden in the shadows of the limousine, the pink glow casting a wild light along his pointed jaw, she realized he didn’t look like the man in his profile picture after all. Close but not close enough. She’d seen him before, it was on the tip of her memory, but she couldn’t place where. Panic threatened her esophagus.

  “Don’t look so alarmed, Contessa Sophia. I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, after meeting you in person, it’s quite the opposite.” The underlying sensuality of his words captivated her.

  “Sorry. It’s not every day I happily get into a stranger’s car. Err, limo. With a dress and shoes that fit me perfectly. And dare I say? One who looks close, but not close enough, to his profile picture.”

  She scrutinized his reaction, because she was a hundred percent sure she was correct.

  “You’re right about that. Look, I’m just going to come out and tell you straight up. My name is not Clint. It’s Michael Vilander. That was not my photo I used for my profile, as you can already tell. I am the Chi
ef Executive Officer of Together.com. I created it. I run it. It’s my baby.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Even as she asked, she knew he wasn’t. He was the Michael Vilander. The photo she saw on the internet. Oh, boy. Do limo’s come equipped with those little brown puke bags for breathing purposes like airplanes do? She was sitting in a limo with Michael Vilander? His limo? She was literally heading toward the gala with one of the five classic billionaire men she’d just read about online. The dress and shoes! It made sense now. Oh, it confirmed her suspicions that the items had cost more than she made in a month. Her stomach filled with butterflies.

  “Scouts honor. I hope you’ll forgive me for this small act of deceit, Sophia. I’d hate to be the one you use your martial arts skills on. I needed to secure a date for this event, and as the CEO of such a large, well-known company who’s always had someone to attend with, I couldn’t show up alone. Not only that but I couldn’t list my real identity on the profile because it would have generated a lot of unwanted attention. I hope you aren’t too upset.” His tone held a degree of warmth and concern as he waited for her to answer.

  Sophia glanced out the window, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles in her dress as she tried to work through everything that was zinging around in her brain. Excitement. Shock. Attraction. Everything swirled together like one of those gigantic lollipops. “Wow. This is a lot to process in five minutes. Seriously. It was one thing to go out on a date with a stranger. It’s quite another to go out on a date with the Top Ten of the Fortune 500. Oh, I threatened the CEO of Together with a gun. How embarrassing.” Her cheeks heated at the threats of using her non-existent martial arts skills on him. “What in all that’s rosy would you want with a girl like me?”

  He slid his hand along her knee as if they were old friends before casually removing it. Their eyes connected, and she had a strange sense of déjà vu. As if they were long lost friends reacquainting themselves over a glass of wine. Something pulled low in her belly at the way his dark eyes watched her.