Yours to Savor (14 page)

“I don’t have a car,” she announced, crossing her arms. “The Space Needle’s in Seattle. So. There’s no way I can go.”

“I have a limo waiting for you outside, Miss,” the unnamed man offered cordially.

A knowing smile appeared on Doctor Baker’s face. Sandra glared at him. She glared at the man in the tuxedo. She glared again at Doctor Baker. But she knew that, for the second time in under a week, she had been cornered by two men in her office.

Infuriating animals!

So, Brandon wanted to send her shopping, did he? And he wanted to see her at the Space Needle?
And
he’d arranged things with Doctor Baker beforehand, just like it was some game for the two of them?

Fine. She’d be up for it. But only because the
presumption
he could beckon her when he chose was so galling that she had to set him straight. If he expected her to fawn all over him just because he’d sent some flowers and a card, he was far wrong.
Not a word from him for six days, and he expects me to come running at his whim?

She’d go to Brandon, alright, but only to see the look on his face when she told him in no uncertain terms she wasn’t some toy to summon when he got bored. His reaction to
that
would be worth the trip alone.

What happened afterwards would depend on him.
After all
, she admitted reluctantly,
I have been wondering what happened to him. And his name may have slipped from my lips in the shower last week…

But no matter what, she intended to make one thing very clear: she was no doll.

Chapter Eight

Sandra couldn’t help but stare out the window of Brandon’s hired limousine as it wound its way through the packed Seattle traffic. She’d lived in a big city before, both as a child and as an adult, but after two years in the tiny hamlet of Ocean Shores the allure of a metropolis seemed fresh and new to her.

There were so many people on the streets. This was the downtown core, and bluish-gray skyscrapers shone clear in the sunlight and towered so high above her that Sandra had to press her face to the window to see the tops. Then there was the traffic. So much traffic! Every street was busy. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as New York or Boston, but after Ocean Shores, more than four cars on any street seemed like a jam.

Sandra couldn’t believe this was the first time she’d been to Seattle, despite having lived nearby for two years. It was no Chicago, with its grand buildings and immaculate city layout stemming from the great fire at the start of the century, but it was still very much a huge urban center.

When the limo turned into an underground parking lot, Sandra asked her driver where he was taking her.

“Shopping, Miss,” he replied.

Right
, Sandra remembered. She leaned back in her seat. She’d nearly forgotten about Brandon’s plan to have her dressed up for the very unusual date tonight. If it even
was
a date. She’d never heard of a man summoning a woman he barely knew, via a glorified
postcard
, to be taken shopping. With his
assistant
, no less. In any case, Sandra was one hundred percent ready to decline the handout. She wasn’t about to spend the man’s money without him even being there. The only reason she had come to Seattle was to tell Brandon, to his face, tonight, how juvenile this entire ploy was. But, she had to admit, she couldn’t help but be a little intrigued by Brandon’s unorthodox way of doing things.

“You’re not the assistant, are you?” she asked.

The driver chuckled. “No, Miss, I am not. You’ll meet her soon.”

Her
?
Interesting
.

The limo drove through a gated entrance and pulled into a corner of the parking lot. Sandra spotted a woman in high heels waiting by a glass door.

The driver turned the engine off, hurried out to open Sandra’s door, and offer her a hand. She debated not taking it for a second, but decided she had nothing against this man, and that he was only doing his job. She took his hand and smiled graciously. “Thank you.”

The woman Sandra noticed before was striding up to them, long legs flashing beneath a dark, knee length pencil skirt. Sandra had never seen a woman wear so much makeup before. Her eyes were painted blue, her lips a carmine red, her long, dark lashes extending well past her face. She must have been at least fifty, but she’d aged well. And her figure hadn’t suffered the least bit over the years. She was skinny and fit, with beach-blonde hair that clashed against the black pinstripe blazer and matching skirt. She was the very image of a consummate executive assistant. Her French accent only added to the presentation.

“Really Charles, I expected you to be better than that,” she derided the driver. “You were supposed to be here a good forty-five minutes ago! Oh, but we hardly have any time, now. And this must be Sandra. How lovely to meet you, dear. I’m Clarisse.” She extended her hand to Sandra and spared a dismissive glance at the driver. He seemed to take her derision in stride. In fact, Sandra saw that he was hiding an amused smile. Clarisse’s words had no edge to them.

Sandra took Clarisse’s hand, and the woman surprised her by pulling her in and landing a kiss on either cheek.

“Oh, Sandra dear, I’ve been dying to meet you! How good it is of Brandon to have thought of having you come to me. Without even a word on my part, you know. Oh, you certainly couldn’t have gone to him dressed like
that
tonight.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Where are my manners? Of course you knew that you were coming shopping. Well, come on then. We have plenty to do, and not plenty of time.” She paused to glance at her watch. “Charles, you really should have known better! Come along dear, we simply
must
get you ready for tonight.”

Sandra felt a little self-conscious about her outfit after Clarisse’s dismissive remarks. It certainly wasn’t flashy—nothing like what
Clarisse
wore—but it was conservative and dignified and fit her mood well, she thought. Apparently, Brandon’s assistant did not share the sentiment.

Sandra glanced back at the car as Clarisse led her away—her things were still there. Charles saw the direction of her gaze and assured her, “I’ll be waiting right here to take you to your hotel once you’re done.”

That was when the fun began.

Clarisse was a hurricane. Sandra did not manage to squeeze a single word in as they raced from high-end department store to high-end department store. They ran through Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, Bloomingdales, and a whole splattering of boutique shops that Sandra had never heard of. Clarisse knew the mall like the back of her hand, and she knew
exactly
where she was taking Sandra. The hours flew by.

Sandra felt like she was being pulled from all sides by invisible strings. Brandon wasn’t there, but he’d engineered her demise well. Clarisse claimed that she knew
exactly
what his tastes were because she’d known him for years. Despite that, she had Sandra try on dozens and dozens of outfits. Over and over again, they ran from store to store, and Clarisse inundated Sandra with selections.
I wonder how many women she’s dressed up for Brandon in her lifetime.

Sandra’s parents hadn’t been poor, but she’d never had a chance to splurge on so many clothes. Every protest she made was met with a dismissive click of the tongue from Clarisse, at which point the blasted woman would continue blabbering like Sandra hadn’t even spoken.

Sandra lived in a flurry of colors and fabrics and dyes and hues. Things she’d never felt touch her skin before—things she never thought
would
touch her skin—were thrown on and off in a hurry. Sandra spotted some of the price tags, but didn’t even have time to gape. A thousand dollars for a simple white blouse? Fifteen hundred for a skirt? Insanity! Brandon was crazy, and his assistant was crazy. Sandra couldn’t afford any of it. Of course, Clarisse didn’t blink at
that
comment. She knew her gracious employer would cover everything.

Finally—mercifully—the expedition ended. She and Clarisse left the mall, hauling with them a dozen bags each, all bursting with clothes and all worth more altogether than Sandra’s salary for a half a year. Hell, a whole year.

She had no desire to spend Brandon’s money like this. She’d never even asked for it! Sandra knew some women would be thrilled with the prospect of a rich man sending them on a limitless shopping spree, but it didn’t feel
right
to her, no matter how emphatic Clarisse’s insistences were. It was sleazy. It made her feel like a gold digger.

And, despite being caught in a maelstrom of glitz and glamor, with barely enough time to breathe, much less think, Sandra had not forgotten the real purpose of this trip. She was there to tell Brandon in no uncertain terms that she was not his doll.

But Clarisse had enjoyed dressing her up
oh-so-much
.

I’ll leave the clothes untouched in my room
, Sandra decided,
and that blasted, hurried woman will have quite a handful returning everything tomorrow.

After getting Charles’s help loading the bags into the trunk, Sandra sat in the back. She was surprised when Clarisse came in with her.

“I need to be in the same area,” she explained. “You don’t mind terribly if I come along, do you, dear?”

“No, not at all.”

The drive to the hotel was the first moment Sandra had shared with Clarisse where she didn’t feel rushed. As Charles pulled the car out of the underground lot and onto the street, Sandra decided to make conversation.

“So, how long have you worked for Brandon?”

“Oh, about five years, no. But I’ve known him from before then. In fact, I remember when he was just an ambitious young man in Chicago…” she trailed off, frowning. “What’s the matter, dear? You look like you’re getting carsick. Shall I ask Charles to pull over?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Sandra said quickly.
I’m just surprised, that’s all
. “Brandon’s from Chicago? He never told me that.”

“Oh. Oh, my. In that case, I’ve probably said too much. He must have his reasons for keeping it from you. Be a dear and don’t mention it to him, will you?”

“Sure,” Sandra agreed, but her mind was buzzing. Brandon
knew
she was from Chicago, but had neglected to mention being from there himself? Strange. Was he hiding something from her?
Then again, I barely know the man
. She had no idea where his money came from, what line of business he was in, or what he did during his free time.

He can kiss, though.
The stray thought rose from the depths of her mind, surprising her. Not that it wasn’t true—she could still remember his smoldering passion that night—but
no
, she was
not
about to be taken in by him. She was here to set things straight. He could
not
send for her and expect her to come running like some lost puppy dog!

Except, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing by coming to Seattle?

No
, she told herself forcefully. She was here for a
reason
, and that reason was entirely her own. She would relish the look on Brandon’s face when she told him
exactly
what she thought of the way he’d sent for her. For someone like him, someone who obviously assumed he could have whatever he wanted with a single word, to witness him being set straight, well… that was worth her entire weight in gold.