"I'm insisting," I said, giving his hand a firm squeeze to drive my point home. "This afternoon. You can either meet me there, or I can give you a ride, but if you don't come out, I'm going to come to your house and drag you out by force if I have to."
"Really. I'd like to see you try," he said, raising his eyebrows at me, and I very nearly giggled. Wait a minute - was this flirting? Was the man of stone starting to open up and actually flirt back with me? Would wonders never cease?
"So?" I pressed. "What's it going to be?"
He sighed, but finally gave me a reluctant nod. "Fine. Where are you dragging me out to, then?"
I gave him the location and address of Della's wine bar, Vini, and he promised me that he would meet me there later that evening. "I'm trusting you to be a man of your word," I told him as I headed home to take a quick shower and get some of the dust and cobwebs out of my hair. "If you don't show up, I'll be very disappointed!"
"Bye, Elaine," Sanford answered me, closing the front door after me, but I saw another brief little smile dance around his lips as he pushed the door shut. Either I was growing on him, or he'd given up on trying to keep me at arm's length through coldness.
And two hours later, as I sat at a high table in Della's wine bar and sipped at a glass of chardonnay, trying to restrain myself from gulping down all the little bite-size bruschettas that I'd ordered on a whim, I heard the bell tingle above the door. I glanced over, and my mouth dropped open.
There stood Sanford, looking incredible in his dark jeans, white shirt, and a black blazer. Even though I'd spent a solid hour in my closet and in front of my mirror, choosing an outfit and checking my makeup and trying to get that last stubborn hair to lay flat and not stick out like a cowlick, I still felt completely disheveled when I looked at Sanford.
I wasn't the only one looking, either. Every single female eye in the bar immediately shot to him, drinking in the sight of him like he was the single most expensive vintage in the place. I could have sworn that I heard a couple women audibly sigh, and the middle-aged woman with the dyed orange hair that I'd met a few days ago looked in imminent danger of falling off her stool in a swoon.
Sanford looked around the bar, clearly feeling uncomfortable and out of his element. Trying not to laugh at seeing this powerful, dominating alpha male looking out of place, I gave him a little wave to catch his eye. His expression cleared slightly as he spotted me, and he headed over to my table.
"Why is every other woman in this place, aside from you, staring at me like they want to see me naked?" he asked me in a whisper as he slid onto the stool next to me at the little high table.
"Probably because they all do want to see you naked," I answered him in a similarly low-pitched voice, wondering if I should feel relieved or offended that he didn't include me in his assessment of the other women. Man, if I could get a glimpse of him naked, I'd have enough material for fantasies to last me for years...
Sanford grimaced, and reached out to snag one of the bruschetta pieces. "Awful. This is why I wanted to stay home."
"Oh, cheer up," I told him. "You could tell these women whatever you want, that you're a secret agent, a tech billionaire, that you won all your money in Vegas betting with the Mob's cash, and they'd believe you! This is your night to have fun, after spending all day cooped up in your dusty house with just me and Whiskers for company!"
I knew that I was fishing, but a little part of me hoped that maybe he'd reassure me that I wasn't so bad, that he really did like spending time with me. Instead, however, he just heaved another sigh, swallowed the mouthful of crisp French baguette, diced tomato, and olive tapenade, and then nodded.
"Fine. Where do I get a glass?"
"Della," I called out, but I needn't have bothered raising my voice. Practically even before I opened my mouth, she popped up at our table, all smiles and bouncy curly hair and cleavage and curves, directing every single bit of her ample charm at Sanford. She set a glass down in front of him, but leaned so far forward to do it that I was afraid both of her big boobs would come tumbling out of her top!
"Welcome to Vini," she said, sounding almost like she was purring at him! I gaped at her, my mouth literally hanging open. That tone could be scandalous in a boudoir, much less in public here where everyone could hear! "I'm Della Ruthers, the proprietor. We went to high school together, actually - I was in Elaine's year. If you want to come with me, I can show you how this works-"
"Thanks, but I'll let Elaine guide me," Sanford said. Della's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence in surprise, and I silently swore that I'd never again get mad about Sanford's habit of interrupting people. "After all, she's the one who insisted I come out, and I owe her for her help."
I turned my open-mouthed gape to Sanford. Wait, what? What in the world had gotten into him? He owed me? He was one of the most arrogant and ungrateful men I'd ever met in my life! Why was he acting like he'd just received a blow to the head?
But before I could say any words to that effect, he stood up and slipped a hand around my waist, guiding me down off of my chair as well. Through my clothing, I could feel that hand on me like a red-hot branding iron, and I knew that the eyes of every other woman in the bar had shot down to stare at this point of casual, flirty contact.
"Now," said Sanford, leaning in towards me and smiling in a way that seemed totally unlike the cold, harsh man that I knew, "as my good friend," and he really emphasized these words, "where do you recommend we start for getting a drink?"
And then, before I could ask him if he'd just taken a blow to the head, he winked at me!
Suddenly, everything clicked, or at least became slightly less hazy. As soon as I'd pointed out that all the other women were checking him out, Sanford immediately must have decided that the best way to avoid all of that unwanted attention was to attach himself to one woman in particular, using her as his deflecting shield - and he'd chosen me!
Without asking me, of course. He somehow just believed, it seemed, that I'd be totally happy to go along with pretending that the two of us were close, maybe even hooking up together.
Figures. Just like him.
But as we headed over to the wall of wine dispensers, I decided that this wasn't such a bad thing. After all, this now meant that he was stuck with me for the night - and, even better, that he'd have to fake being nice to me, instead of getting mad or storming off! He was at my mercy!
Of course, any theory required some testing. "I do have to admit, Sanford and I have been having a wonderful time together at his mansion, looking through all of the antiques left there by previous owners," I commented casually to Della as she tagged along, still trying to figure out what to say next but not giving up on cracking this nut. "Isn't that right, Sanford? Hasn't it just been the best time?"
For an instant, I watched his face do interesting things as he fought to keep from showing his true feelings. "Oh, it's been quite an eye-opening professional experience," he said, bright and brittle with a false smile for me and a little warning squeeze from the hand still looped around my waist.
He knew that I knew his plan, and I knew that he knew that I - well, whatever. But even though the look in his eye told me that I'd definitely pay for this later, he couldn't give in to his urges and shove me away, since this would open him up to millions more questions from the other women in the bar.
Oh yes, I thought happily to myself. Tonight was going to be a lot more fun than I'd anticipated.
Chapter Fourteen
*
A couple of hours later, the night certainly was turning out to be fun - but maybe not quite in the way that I'd imagined.
Sanford acting nice was strange, but it wasn't nearly as off-putting as I'd first expected. Even though I was certain that the man was rolling his eyes non-stop inside his head, he kept listening to me, nodding along with me whenever I spoke, staying near me, always keeping an eye on me so that he could duck in and introduce himself if I got caught in an unwanted conversation...
What's the word to descr
ibe how I felt about this?
I liked it! Good lord, I liked the fake, charming, smarmy kind Sanford!
And I definitely wasn't the only one, I observed as I looked around at the crowd that gathered around us. Sanford somehow managed to effortlessly divert his attention between half a dozen different conversations with female admirers, and he seemed to be succeeding in his efforts. Most of the women were gulping down wine and fanning themselves, as if just being near such a charming, powerful, sexy man was making their internal circuits overheat.
But despite these half-dozen simultaneous conversations that he kept going, he still seemed to be keeping an eye on me. Whenever I started speaking to him, even if he was halfway through explaining a concept to someone else, he'd drop that topic and turn to give me his full attention.
Wow, I thought to myself. I really like the feeling of having his full attention on me.
Oh, look, I'm out of wine.
I looked around for my wine card, the magic card that, when inserted into the machines, would let me replenish my glass. I couldn't find it anywhere. I reached out and tugged on Sanford's sleeve.
"Hey, have you seen my wine card?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "Are you sure that you need another glass? You look quite flushed."
I narrowed my eyes up at him. Damn him, why did he have to be so tall? It made him very tough to stare down. I felt a bit like a small child trying to argue with a patient parent, which wasn't how I wanted to consider this relationship between us at all.
Relationship? Did I just use that word? I meant it only in a professional sense, I reminded myself. No matter how good the man's hand felt when it curled around my waist and drew me nearer to him, this was all just a ruse, a cover-up so he wouldn't have to dodge flirting attempts from other women all night.
"I think I can decide whether I want another glass of wine for myself," I informed Sanford, wondering if I could grab his collar and pull him down so he'd be closer to my own height. "Come on, give me your card."
He very nearly rolled his eyes, but remembered that we had dozens of eyes on us and held back at the last moment. "Here you go," he said instead, tugging out his own little plastic card with embedded payment chip and passing it over to me.
I took it from his fingers (I had to give it a hard tug before he let go), grinned triumphantly up at him, and then went over to refill my glass. At first, I'd started by making a careful inspection of every label, but now I just stopped at the first glass that sounded tasty. Heck, all the different types sounded tasty.
Glass refilled, I returned back to Sanford. Even though I'd only been gone for a minute at the most, another woman had already slipped into my spot, beaming up at Sanford with the kind of single-minded determination that would make my teeth ache. Didn't she realize that others could see her, could see how she was practically throwing herself at the man?
"Do you remember me?" she asked him, still beaming. "We were only a year apart! I'm sure you can remember me - I certainly remember you from high school..."
She said these last words with a fluttering of long lashes, pretending to demurely glance down before returning to staring soulfully into Sanford's eyes.
I frowned at her. She did look vaguely familiar, I thought to myself. Something about the way she smiled pushed out her big front teeth, giving me the impression that I was looking at a very happy horse, possibly a horse that had discovered the miracle of makeup.
"Carly," Sanford said, and the woman crowed with excitement, clapping her hands together like a little girl.
"Yes! You do remember!" Carly somehow managed to lean in even closer to Sanford, as if attempting to inhale the man through her nostrils. "I bet you remember me from when I was on the cheer team - I still have the pom poms, you know." She shot him a suggestive look that left no doubt about any double meaning in those words.
Sanford turned towards me, and I nearly burst out laughing at the imploring look in his eyes. I took pity on him and moved in to rescue him from Carly, as she twirled a strand of dyed blonde hair in her finger and watched him like a steak that just hadn't quite stopped mooing and moving about on her plate.
"Sanford, you have to try this wine!" I announced, moving in towards him (and also slipping partly in between him and Carly - cut the predator off from her prey). I held the wine glass I'd just filled up to him, letting my other hand drop against his chest, feeling the heat of his body radiating out and into my fingers.
Sanford took the glass from my hand and lifted it up to take a sip, simultaneously slipping his other hand around me to hold me close against him. I tried to ignore how wonderful that felt, but only succeeded in stifling the little moan of pleasure that erupted from somewhere in the back of my mouth. He really did smell so good...
"That is good stuff," Sanford said, smacking his lips after lowering the glass. "Good pick, Elaine. I'm still surprised that you have such a good head for wine!"
"Well, there's lots that you don't know about me," my mouth managed to reply, seemingly without any input from my brain. "You're in for lots of surprises!"
Sanford's lips quirked up as he gazed down at me. "Good ones, I hope."
I turned and gave Carly a satisfied smile, feeling a bit like Whiskers after he'd managed to catch and slaughter one of his toys, or pin down a fly that got into our house. "Oh yes. Very good ones."
Good lord, a little part of my brain pointed out. We were flirting! This wasn't even just pretending to be friendly for the sake of avoiding unwanted attention; this was full-on, steamy, sexy flirting! I couldn't seem to stop!
Carly, meanwhile, did not look happy that I'd interrupted her flirting - even if she had been attempting to steal my man in the first place. (My man? Sanford was definitely not my man!) Apparently, she'd been one of those catty bitches in high school who saw every man as hers for the taking if she so chose, and hadn't changed much since then. I slid my hands a little tighter around Sanford's chest, leaning in so that my chest rubbed against his side, just to drive the point home to her.
Perhaps Della sensed that I was going a bit further with Sanford than I'd planned on doing, or maybe she just wanted to avoid having a fight break out in her bar and lose glassware to breakages. In any case, she popped up next to us, beaming and clapping her hands, all smiles and jiggles.
"Say, Sanford, Elaine, weren't you two telling me that you've got a lot more work to tackle tomorrow morning?" she asked brightly. "I just wanted to let you know the time, in case you two little lovebirds had lost track!"
"Not lovebirds, just good friends," Sanford interjected quickly, as if anyone bought that line of bullshit.
For a moment, I nearly lashed out at Della, as if she was also trying to steal Sanford from me (what?? He didn't belong to me!), but I held back. Della did have my best interests at heart, I knew. So instead, I dug my phone out of my pocket - and gasped when I saw the time displayed on the screen.
It really was late! I needed to get back home and check on Whiskers, get some sleep, so that I could take on some of my ever-growing backlog of pieces that needed to be researched. I looked up at Sanford, holding the screen out so that he could see the time as well.
"We really should be going, yes," he said diplomatically. "Thank you, Della - we'd totally lost track of the hour."
Sanford's hand tightened once again around my waist (ooh, that really did feel so good, having him gently dominating me, like he really wanted to feel me up), and he guided me towards the door. I barely had time to snag my purse off of where I'd hung it on a hook before we were outside Vini, out in the fresh, cooler night air.
"My car's over here," I said, pointing off in the opposite direction, but Sanford didn't release his grip on me.
"You're not driving home," he informed me, as if issuing a command. "You're still drunk, and I don't trust you on the road."
I opened my mouth to argue, but a burp crept out instead. Great. He was right; I could feel the warmth of the wine still pervading my limbs. I hadn't take
n enough time to sober up - I'd been too caught up in flirting with Sanford, in keeping other women away from my man (again, not mine, a little part of my brain insisted, and was promptly ignored).
"Ugh, I don't wanna walk," I groaned. "Just leave me here so I can go back in and sober up a bit."
He shook his head. "Nope. I called Winston to come pick us up. He dropped me off, and he can easily bring you back home, too. You do live right next door, after all."
"I don't need a ride from you." A ride would be really nice, actually. I'd made the walk back from Vini to my little cottage before, and it was never fun, especially in the darkness.
"You're getting one," he said firmly. "Consider it a thank-you for going along with that ruse, back in the bar."
Ruse? "What do you mean? A ride isn't nearly a big enough thank you!" I sputtered to him, not sure what I wanted to address first.
"I mean pretending that we were close, so that those other women weren't attempting to rip my pants off right there," he replied. "Good lord, and you lot think that men are pigs? I practically felt like a side of beef, about to be devoured!"
"You were just faking all that flirting?" I asked him, feeling stupid. I must have drank more than I realized, and the wine had dulled my perception.
"Weren't you?" he replied, which really wasn't an answer at all.
Before I could say anything more, however, a pair of headlights came around the corner. Sanford stepped away from me (I immediately felt colder without him standing beside me) and out into the street, holding up his hand. The car slowed down and came to a stop beside him, and he tugged the handle of the rear door.
"Come on," he called to me, holding the door open for me before he got in.
Well, fine. But I wasn't considering this as repayment. I just didn't want to seem inhospitable. I calmly informed him of this fact as I slipped into the backseat of Sanford's car.
"Of course," he replied without any surprise, sliding in smoothly beside me and closing the door.
Without prompting, Winston pulled away from the curb, heading back towards the Winterhearst mansion, as I tried to convince myself that all of Sanford's flirting with me during the evening had just been fake, that the whole warmth act was only a performance put on for the sake of the other women in the bar.
Selling Grace: A Light Romance Novel (Art of Grace Book 1) Page 26
