“Uncle’s name was Wayne. Doctor. Practiced in Appalachia.”
Slowly but surely she was determined to piece together Sin-Jin’s life—to form at least a shadow of the man he was. She slipped the pad back into her pocket. If she felt a little sneaky doing this, she consoled herself with the fact that he knew exactly what she was and no one was holding a gun to his head to tell her things.
Besides, she wasn’t about to put this all down for Owen’s perusal until she’d secured Sin-Jin’s permission. When she was ready, and there was still a great deal of investigative work to be conducted, she was just going to have to find the right way to present the article to Sin-Jin.
But there was still time to worry about that.
Though two weeks away, she had to worry about what on earth she was going to wear to a performing-arts theater opening.
She felt a bubble of excitement rising up within her. Cinderella was going to the ball. And Prince Charming was driving the coach.
Chapter Eleven
Cinderella had definitely come into her own, Sherry thought as she and Sin-Jin slowly made their way across the red carpet into the Bedford Performing Arts Theater Saturday evening.
The last time she’d seen so many women bedecked in diamonds, furs and designer gowns that came in the four-figure and up range, she’d been covering an Academy Awards function with Rusty for her television station. Then it had been an assignment, now she was supposedly on the inside, one of the beautiful people.
She wasn’t vain enough to feel that she could carry off the pose comfortably.
For one thing her dress came with a far less impressive pedigree, an off-the-rack gown emerging from a local department store. Feeling a little self-conscious, she looked down at it.
“I think I’m a little underdressed,” she whispered to Sin-Jin.
He escorted her through the door. The woman was garnering looks without even realizing it. Her strapless evening gown was high in the front, but dipped low as it made its way to her back, a perfect display of sexy modesty.
Inclining his head, he brought his lips to her ear. “From where I’m standing, you could do with a little more underdressing.” She turned her head to look at him, her hair brushing against his face. He wasn’t quite able to read the expression on her face. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You look sensational.”
The foyer, with its mirrors that doubled and tripled the number of people within its enclosure, added to the noise and confusion around her. His compliment surprised her. Pleasure embraced her. “I didn’t think you noticed what I was wearing.”
He slipped his arm around her waist, guiding her toward an open pocket of space. “Then obviously you think I’m far more cold-blooded than my rank detractors do.” He allowed his eyes to travel slowly over the length of her, enjoying the journey. “An Egyptian mummy would have noticed what you were wearing, Sherry.”
The shimmering hot-pink dress was only a breath away from being painted on, highlighting all of her curves and threatening to bring a lesser man to his knees. The floor-length gown’s thigh-high slit didn’t help his sense of concentration any.
He’d thought of her as attractive and distracting before. Now she was positively breathtaking.
And tonight, Sin-Jin promised himself, he was going to get her out of his system. After all, he was his father’s son and as such given to noticing outstandingly attractive women. Sherry Campbell definitely fell into that category.
But the working rule of thumb was, once a conquest was met, it ceased to work its magic, ceased to hold its allure. He’d seen it time and again when he was growing up. His parents would become obsessed with someone, only to have that obsession fade once it became so-called permanent. He followed the same pattern, except that his passion was business. But there was no reason to believe it would be otherwise with a woman.
Still, he had to admit that he found the blush that crept up her neck vastly appealing, not to mention tantalizing. It made him want to trace the light pink path from its source.
Sherry scanned the area. Well-manicured, pampered bodies as far as the eye could see. “Who are all these people?” she wanted to know. “Business acquaintances of yours?”
He knew a great many by name and by sight. And usually felt alone at these functions. That was why he was originally going to pass on this one.
“Some are, others refer to themselves as patrons of the arts. They’re here to rub elbows with other patrons, to hear themselves hailed as ‘angels,’ and possibly last of all, to enjoy the show.”
She’d just thought that this was going to be some sort of dedication ceremony, filled with self-congratulations and adulation for Sin-Jin as the force behind the theater’s stylish resurrection. “So there is going to be a performance?”
Again he inclined his head. He was watching her expression too much, he admonished himself. After all, this could be used as a time to network further. “A special, one-night, by-invitation-only, performance.”
She’d yet to see anyone handing out programs. “Do I get a clue as to what it’ll be, or am I going to be kept in the dark?”
He’d been informed ahead of time as to the program. He envisioned the letter he’d received several weeks ago. “Highlights of the upcoming season, performed by every famous celebrity the director of the theater could round up.”
“And your company bought this theater and renovated it?” The structure was all glass and glitter, the architectural, futuristic vision of an up-and-coming designer who was already making a name for himself. She’d discovered, by doing a little preliminary digging, that rather than work with what was, Sin-Jin’d had the old building torn down and reconstructed from the ground up. The end result was a thing of beauty that in some places seemed to defy gravity.
Business, the driving force in his life, felt somehow dull and boring to him tonight. “We hold the mortgage.”
She smiled at the short, staccato sentence. “Is that the collective ‘we’ or the royal ‘we’?”
Instead of answering, Sin-Jin plucked a glass of champagne from the tray held out by a passing waiter and placed it in her hand. “Here, see if this can get you to stop asking questions for a few minutes.”
She took a sip, her eyes on his. He felt that stirring in his gut that he was beginning to associate with being around her. “Don’t you like women with inquiring minds, Sin-Jin?”
Actually, he didn’t. Until now. She was the rule breaker. It was becoming the norm with her. “Only if I can be sure that they’re asking for themselves and not a potential reading audience.”
“Touché.” Sherry lifted her glass in a silent toast to him before taking another sip.
“Why, Sin-Jin, you did make it after all. Good for you.”
The smooth British accent belonged to a distinguished-looking man who was dressed in a formal tuxedo, complete with arm candy. The woman he’d brought was young enough to be his daughter.
Which was, Sherry discovered several minutes later, exactly who the young woman was.
For the next forty-five minutes, until they were politely requested to go into the theater proper and take their seats, what seemed like an endless stream of people flowed by them, all wanting to spend a moment with someone they deemed to be one of the most influential men in the current business world. Sin-Jin conducted himself like someone to the manor born.
He was, she noted, charming to all of them. But even so, there remained that small distance between him and whoever he was talking to, that small distance that established him as ruler of his domain and testified that anyone he spoke with was just a separate island that was drifting by.
It was clearly his evening. And he had chosen to share it with her. Pretty heady stuff, Sherry mused. Even headier was that he introduced her to people as exactly who she was, ar eporter for the Bedford World News. That in of itself garnered her more than one surprised look.
The moment the first bell chimed, alerting them to the fact that there were five minutes unti
l the curtain went up, Sherry felt his hand slip to the small of her back.
“Time to go in,” he told her. “And none too soon,” he murmured under his breath.
She wasn’t sure if he was addressing the remark to her, or if she just happened to overhear him talk to himself. Was he weary of these people who tried to curry his favor? When did the attention stop being flattery and become tedious?
One of the red-jacketed ushers showed them to their seats. They were located front-row center. Sherry was duly impressed.
“Wow, it certainly pays to hang around you.” Taking her seat, she looked at Sin-Jin. God, but he did have a hell of a good-looking profile, she thought. “Does everyone always fall all over themselves around you?”
His eyes when he turned them on her made her feel as if she was the only one in the room. “You don’t.”
“I don’t want anything—” She saw his eyebrow go up. Just one. Why was that so incredibly sexy? “All right,” she relented, “except for an interview.”
“You might want something,” he observed, “but you’re not pandering.”
She lifted a slim, bare shoulder, then let it drop.
He found himself wanting to skim his fingers along the curve of skin. “It’s not my way.”
She was right. As annoyingly determined as she had come on, Sherry hadn’t been about to flatter him in order to get what she wanted. Maybe that, he thought as the lights began to dim and he settled back, was why he was attracted to her.
In any case, it would be over with soon.
“You seemed to be living every beat of that music.” The house lights were going up, signaling an intermission. He’d been watching her almost as much as he’d been watching the performers. He couldn’t recall seeing anyone enjoy themselves as much as she was.
“I love musicals.” She wasn’t embarrassed to make the statement. She got her love of music from her father, who had sung with the church choir as a boy and had sung her to sleep with old beer-drinking songs he’d learned in his youth. “There’s something wondrous about feeling the beat vibrating in your chest. It makes you feel as if you were part of what was happening.”
The last number before intermission had been one lifted from West Side Story. “Doesn’t seeing a gang member suddenly break into song and execute intricate dance steps offend your sense of reality?”
She had a very healthy sense of reality—and enjoyed tucking it away on occasion. “Nope. It enhances it.”
“Come again?”
Unless he felt the same way, she didn’t think that he could begin to understand what she was talking about, but she gave it a try anyway. “Watching things like West Side Story and Riverdance make reality bearable to me sometimes.”
He shook his head, amused. “If you say so.”
What kind of person was this woman sitting beside him? Sin-Jin had to admit his curiosity about her surprised him. Under normal circumstances he would have sworn he didn’t have a curious bone in his body.
And yet questions about her were occurring to him at an alarming rate. Questions such as why the father of her child wasn’t at her side. She’d never mentioned the man to him, or commented about his absence.
It was ironic. For all her chatter, she seemed to be as private a person as he was.
The performance, complete with one intermission and three encores, lasted a little more than three hours. And then it took them almost another forty-five minutes to make their way out of the three-story building, even though he tried to hurry along their progress to the entrance.
Everyone, she noted, was determined to secure their five minutes with him. Twice he flashed an apologetic look in her direction. That he gave any thought at all to her comfort both intrigued and pleased her.
She amused herself by listening. When the jargon became too technical and boring, Sherry turned her attention to the handsomely bound program she’d been handed just before taking her seat the first time. What caught her attention were the last three pages. They were completely devoted to the names of donors who had given generously to the foundation that was to oversee the immediate management of the theater.
Skimming over the list, it surprised her to see a familiar name. John Fletcher was one of the chief contributors, his name printed in the group of donors who were categorized as being in the Platinum Club, reflecting donations over a hundred thousand dollars. She wondered if it was the same John Fletcher whose cabin Sin-Jin had gone to. It was obvious that the man was as wealthy as Sin-Jin.
Was this John Fletcher a boyhood friend? A silent partner?
Sherry could feel her mind waking as possibilities began to suggest themselves to her. She began making mental notes.
“Tired?”
Lost in thought, the sound of his voice took a moment to penetrate. She realized that she’d just stifled a yawn. But that had nothing to do with him.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re yawning,” he pointed out.
She was trying not to pay attention to the way his breath on her neck made her skin tingle. “New mothers don’t get to sleep much.”
Rather than say something along the lines that it would only be a few more minutes, he cut short his conversation with the latest group of men who had tried to commandeer his time.
“Sorry, I’m afraid that Ms. Campbell needs to make an early night of it.”
“That’s right,” she said as he took her arm and made for the exit again, “make me the bad guy.” She glanced at her watch. It was just a little after midnight. “I guess I really am Cinderella,” she murmured.
The air was bracing as they finally made it outside. Sin-Jin handed the valet his ticket before turning in her direction. When he did, there was amusement in his eyes. “You feel like Cinderella?”
She went for the obvious rather than tell him that she’d felt that way for most of the evening. “It’s just a little after midnight.”
How was it that she looked even better to him now than she had when he’d first picked her up at her home? “Does this mean that your dress is going to disappear?”
He was flirting with her, she thought. Something else she wouldn’t have thought he was capable of. Sherry laughed. “Don’t look so hopeful.”
His look made her feel warm.
“I don’t believe in missing opportunities.”
The car arrived just then. She silently blessed the valet. The young man hurried out of the vehicle and went to hold the door open for her.
She slid in and waited until Sin-Jin got behind the wheel. “You were very patient tonight.”
He turned the engine on, not sure what she was driving at. “With anyone in particular?”
That was just it. “With everyone.”
Just what kind of image did she have of him? “Did you expect me to snarl?”
She looked at his profile for a long moment as he wove his Mercedes into the stream of traffic and they joined the slow-moving process of vehicles that were trying to make good their escape from the parking lot.
“I’m not exactly sure what I expect you to do anymore.”
He kept his eyes forward. That makes two of us, he thought.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Sheila looked surprised to see them walk into the house. She checked her watch to make sure she hadn’t lost track of time and fallen asleep. Twelve-thirty. She felt disappointment unfurling inside her.
Getting off the sofa, she crossed to the foyer and met them halfway. “I wasn’t expecting you back until two or three in the morning.” She saw Sherry glance toward the stairs. It brought back memories of her own waltz with new motherhood and made her smile. “The baby’s fine. I just put him down.”
Sherry did a quick mental calculation. That gave her four hours before he woke up again—give or take an hour. She sincerely hoped her son was in a generous mood. Then again, she was probably not going to get any sleep tonight, not in her present wired state.
She smiled her gratitude at her mother. “I really
appreciate this, Mom.”
Her purse in hand, Sheila was already making for the front door. She was obviously anxious to leave the two of them alone. “Anytime.”
Sherry slanted a glance toward Sin-Jin. Rather than leave her on her doorstep, he’d come inside with her when she’d unlocked the door. Nerves began to do pirouettes through her. If her mother left, she’d be alone with him. Alone with a man who’d flattered her, who’d flirted with her, and who she found immensely attractive.
Everything in her system cried out Mayday. Sherry looked to her mother for help, knowing it was probably as futile as grabbing on to a soda straw while drowning in the ocean. “Mom, you don’t have to run out the second we walk in.”
Her hand on the doorknob, Sheila was already opening the front door. “Now that he’s retired, your father hates to sleep alone.”
Sherry frowned. The excuse didn’t jibe with her mother’s earlier statement. “But you just said that you expected me to be in by three o’clock.”
Rather than try to regroup, Sheila merely gave her daughter a patient, loving look. “It’s too late to argue, sweetheart.” Crossing back quickly, she kissed her daughter’s cheek, whispered, “Have fun,” in her ear and sailed back to the front door. She was gone in an instant.
Sherry stared after her mother as the door closed, a sinking feeling taking up residence in the pit of her stomach. The rest of her was humming with an anticipation she was trying vainly not to acknowledge.
“What did she say?”
She turned around, a little startled to discover that there was no space between them. She didn’t remember Sin-Jin being this close a moment ago. Had the room gotten smaller somehow?
“She told me to have fun.”
She pressed her lips together, telling herself she was being childish. It wasn’t as if she was a vestal virgin and besides, he probably wasn’t going to do anything anyway.
A Billionaire and a Baby Page 13
