There was a knock on the glass door and Roan opened it to let Heather in. She was out of breath from running with Reede’s heavy medical bag.
“What happened?” she asked, looking at Carter’s bloody face. “You look like you ran into the side of a building.”
“Reede hit him,” Roan said proudly.
“Not possible,” Heather said. “He wouldn’t—” She looked at the doc. “You hit him?”
“Temporary insanity,” Reede said as he gently examined Carter’s nose. Heather and Sophie went to get some hot water and clean cloths.
“I take it Sophie told you what I did to her,” Carter said softly.
“Oh yeah,” Reede said.
Roan was hovering in the background, watching the two men. Carter Treeborne was as blond as Reede was dark, as gentle-seeming as Reede was intense. It looked like the second time around Sophie had chosen a different direction.
Sophie and Heather returned with cloths and water, and Reede stood back as Heather cleaned Carter’s face.
Sophie put her hand on Reede’s arm and nodded upward. He followed her up the stairs.
The instant they were alone, he started apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’ve never hit anybody. At least not since I was in grade school. I know I have a temper, but this was—”
He stopped talking because Sophie kissed him. It was a sweet kiss and he couldn’t help feeling that it had more meaning than the more intimate times they’d shared together. “What was that for?”
“To say thanks. I’ve never before had anyone do something like that for me. It was wrong, of course, and you shouldn’t have done it, but thank you.”
“It was a gut reaction and you’re right, I shouldn’t have. As a doctor I took an oath to—”
“I know,” she said. “Come in the kitchen and I’ll get you something to eat.”
He followed her and sat on a stool and watched while she pulled leftover chicken and salad out of the fridge. “Why is he here?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said.
“He wants you back.”
“That’s a nice thought.”
“What?!”
She smiled as she put the plate before him. “Every woman dreams of the man who dumped her begging her to return. Do you think he’ll go on his knees to me?”
“Excuse me if I don’t find any humor in this.”
“Roan said I’d turned you into a blithering idiot but I didn’t believe him until today.”
“My cousin talks too much.” He bit into the chicken. “You have to tell him to leave.”
“I’m not going to,” Sophie said.
Reede nearly choked on his food. “You can’t . . . ” He trailed off. “But maybe you want him. Maybe you want to go back to Texas and live with some kid who’s going to own a mega corporation. Maybe you—”
“If you’re trying to make me angry, you’re succeeding,” she said.
Reede stopped talking.
“Carter was good help today, and I need that.”
“You said that Russell is sending someone.”
“I know.” She told him of Russ’s offer of a job teaching sculpting.
“But that’s great! You can set up a studio in the craft house.”
“Run that and this place too?” she asked.
Reede looked at her but said nothing. He knew what he wanted. Since he’d met Sophie he’d felt strongly about her. From their first phone call when he’d poured his heart out to her he’d felt the connection. On the surface it looked as though they hadn’t known each other long, but he knew that what he felt was timeless. He’d loved only two women in his life.
When the first one didn’t want him he’d been so devastated that he’d almost taken his own life. For years he’d been only half alive.
The truth was that he’d only truly revived after he’d met Sophie. He’d told himself that he’d never again feel that deep bond with another woman, but he’d felt it with her.
He liked everything about her, from the look of her to the way she was afraid of things but didn’t let that stop her.
But now, facing this situation of dealing with this man who had hurt her, this man whom she’d loved, was terrifying him. In Africa he’d once faced a lioness on the hunt. He’d been alone, with no weapon, and no cover, but he’d stood his ground and she’d walked away. Later, Reede’s legs had given out from under him and he’d collapsed, but he knew what he’d faced.
That day and that lioness were nothing compared to the thought of Sophie being alone with her former lover.
He remembered Al quoting Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater and that’s exactly how Reede felt now. He wanted to grab Sophie and lock her away. He didn’t want to do anything to risk losing her.
He took a deep breath. What he was about to say was the hardest, most courageous thing he’d ever said in his life. “Sophie, what do you want to do?”
“What an extraordinary thought,” she said as she turned away. Her first impulse was to say that she wanted him, Reede, but then she remembered quiet times with Carter. No walking across beams, no dealing with men pinned to trees. Every moment she’d spent with Carter had been good—up until the very last, that is. If it was true that he’d come back here for her, didn’t she owe it to herself to find out what she wanted? Reede? Carter? Or maybe she’d get a job as a sculptor at some movie studio in LA and work on the next Hobbit film.
When she turned back to Reede she was smiling. “I don’t know.”
“You look like that’s a good thing.” There was no smile on his face.
“I have choices,” she said. “Wonderful choices and I’m going to take my time deciding what I want to do.”
“But—” he began.
“First of all, I’m going to talk to Carter. Alone. I’m going to see what he’s after, whether it’s me as a woman or me as a thief. For my own peace of mind I need to get the cookbook problem settled.”
Reede sat down on the couch in the living room and watched her. This was a Sophie he hadn’t seen before. But he liked her. “And what if he’s here for you?”
She looked into Reede’s eyes and thought about lying, but she couldn’t do it. “I’ll have to see about that. I don’t know if I genuinely loved him or not. He’s a Treeborne in a town owned by that family. I think that had a lot of influence on me. To go from high school boys making lewd remarks to me to the same kids holding doors open for me was heady. It felt so good it changed me. Changed how I felt about myself. Does that make sense?”
“I understand what you’re saying, but the people in Edilean hold doors open for you because you’re a fellow human being.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen that. But they’ve also done things for me because of you.” Her face changed to pleading. “I want to see if I can do things on my own. Is that so difficult to understand?”
“No, it’s not,” he said as he stood up and looked at her. “I grew up here but I needed to find my own place in the world. Sophie, I’m going to tell you the truth. I love you. I’ve been in love with you almost from our first conversation. If I were a pirate I’d kidnap you and hold you prisoner until you said you loved me too. If this were medieval times I’d offer your guardian a cartload of gold for your hand.”
She couldn’t help but take a step toward him.
“But I can’t do any of those things, so I’m going to wait. And I’m going to do anything I can to help you. But first—”
He took a step toward her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her. He kissed her with all the longing, all the desire, and most of all, with all the love that he felt for her.
Her knees went weak, her arms limp at her side—and Reede dropped her. He just flat out let her go, and she fell down onto the couch.
“But I warn you that I don’t play fair,” he said as she stared up at him, still unable to catch her breath.
She sat there blinking as he left her apartment.
Nineteen
Heather came up the stairs,
tiptoeing quietly. “Are you okay?” she asked Sophie, who was still sitting on the couch and blinking.
Sophie nodded.
“I have to go back to work, but do you need anything?”
“A cold shower,” Sophie murmured.
“Oh yeah? That sounds promising. I’m sorry about your lack of help today. Maybe tomorrow we can get someone. If you want to stay here, that is.”
“Yes, I do,” Sophie said, and it was the first time in a long while that she was absolutely sure of a decision. She got off the sofa and headed toward the stairs. “What kind of soup do you think I should make for tomorrow?”
“Cream of broccoli. That way you have fewer vegetables to chop.”
“Good idea, thanks.” Sophie was beginning to recover herself. What had Reede meant when he’d said that he didn’t play fair?
“That man, Carter . . . Is he really Treeborne Foods?”
“Heir apparent. If his father doesn’t disown him because of me,” Sophie said but didn’t explain.
“He says he’s waiting to talk to you. Want me to send him up here?”
“No!” Sophie said. Her apartment was too intimate, too . . . too personal.
“Are you in love with him?” Heather asked and she looked like she was expecting the worst.
Sophie hadn’t known Heather long enough to confide in her, and besides, right now she wasn’t sure about anything. “I think I better talk to him.”
“If you don’t want to be alone with him, I could stay.”
Sophie thought that was an odd offer, as Heather was Reede’s only nurse so he needed her. But then Heather had gone to a lot of trouble to keep Sophie from finding out who Reede was. “No, but thank you. I need to talk to him by myself.”
“Okay, but if I can be of help with anything . . . ” Heather trailed off, not seeming to know what to say. Turning, she left the apartment.
Sophie took a moment to refresh her makeup and comb her hair before going downstairs to face Carter. Her mind was ringing with the awful things he’d said the last time she spoke to him. That was when they’d made love and when she’d sneaked back in to steal the cookbook. Right now she wished she’d remembered to ask Reede what he’d done about that book. He’d said small things but she’d never heard the whole story.
For a moment Sophie stood at the head of the stairs, and it took all her strength to make herself go down.
Carter was wiping the stainless counter and when he saw Sophie he put down his cloth and went toward her. He seemed about to do their usual greeting of a cheek kiss, but she stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said. “Habit. Can we talk?”
“I don’t have a lot to say.” Her back was rigid, her eyes unforgiving as she stared at him.
He nodded toward a booth in the back, but she took a seat in front of the big window to the street. They sat down, across from each other. While Carter leaned forward, his arms on the table, Sophie sat upright in the chair, which was a foot out from the table.
“I think I should tell you what my father is trying to do to me,” Carter began. “Maybe if I explain the horrible, medieval thing—”
“Carter, I have to make lots of soup for tomorrow, so I really don’t have time to hear about what your daddy is doing to you. Besides, whatever it is, I’m sure I can top it. What I want to know is what you’re doing about the cookbook I stole.”
Carter looked surprised at her words. “Nothing.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“I’m not doing anything about the cookbook and I don’t plan to. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Sophie wasn’t sure she believed him. “That’s the Treeborne cookbook,” she said. “It’s worth everything. Your family never shows it to an outsider. They—”
“The whole thing is and always has been a publicity gimmick. Yes, my great-grandmother had a cookbook and—”
“In code.”
Carter smirked. “Yeah. A code made up by her. She had a drunken husband who sold everything she owned, so she made it useless to him.”
“Do you know what it says?”
“Yes I do, since she told her son when he decided to go into the frozen food business and it’s been passed down to me.”
“So the ads are true, and when your father sees that the cookbook is missing he’ll—”
“Do nothing,” Carter said. “Right now all he can think about is merging with the Palmer cannery. That’s why he wants me to marry the owner’s daughter. She’s a serious druggie.”
Sophie glared at him. “Is this where I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Poor you. Married to make a deal. Sounds like the title of a book.”
Carter looked at her for a moment. “You don’t seem like the woman I knew.”
“The one who had to be nice to local football heroes in the hope of getting a tip? Or the one who had to give up a career and stay in a town run by Treebornes? Or maybe you mean the one who was swept off her feet by the son of the town tyrant for a summer fling?”
Carter couldn’t help a smile. “Whoever she was, I liked her.” He lowered his lashes and his voice. “No, Sophie, I loved her. In fact, I’ve come here to ask you to marry me.”
While she stared at him in astonishment, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a ring box, which she recognized as a design created by her friend Kim. “I stopped in a little jewelry store when I got here yesterday and I bought you a ring.” He went down on one knee and as he opened the box he said, “Sophie Kincaid, will you—”
She got up from the chair, walked to behind the counter, and put on an apron.
Carter, his face red with embarrassment, got up, closed the box, put it on the table, and went to her. “Sophie?”
She was scrubbing the clean countertop.
“Sophie, please talk to me.”
When she looked at him, her face was furious. “So that’s it?” she said through clenched teeth. “You walk in here and expect me to say yes to a marriage proposal? Then what? I throw my arms around your neck and all is forgiven? Do you even remember what you said to me before you shoved me out the front door?”
“I didn’t mean to be so physical, but I was afraid my father would come home. If he saw you there he might have said some really cruel things to you.”
“Cruel? Like what you said to me? Your father couldn’t have hurt me as much as you did. To be able to do that you have to know a lot about a person—as you did about me. All those months when we were together and I’d confided so much to you! You used every bit of it to cut me down.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t try to make me think you didn’t mean to hurt me. You meant every dagger slash. And you know what? You had thought about every bit of it, planned it. You did mean it!”
“You’re right,” Carter said, “but my father—”
He broke off because someone had knocked on the door. Standing outside was a short, stout man with gray hair, and he was holding a two-foot-square piece of plywood with a plastic covered lump on it. Over his shoulder was a big canvas satchel.
“Not now,” Sophie mumbled. “We’re closed!”
The man gave a sad, pleading look at Sophie and gestured toward the object he was holding. It was familiar to her. She knew it was a sculpture he was in the process of making and he wanted her to look at it. Critique it.
“Come back later,” she said, then looked at Carter.
But he’d gone to the door and was unlocking it.
“I’m—” the gray-haired man said, but Carter cut him off.
“Sophie, this is Henry,” Carter said.
There was a split second when the older man looked surprised, and he gave Carter a hard look, as though trying to remember him, but then he recovered his equilibrium and looked back at Sophie.
“Henry,” Sophie said, her voice angry, “now is not the time for this. I’ll look at what you’ve made later.”
Carter took the platform from the man and set it on a table. “Should I .
. . ?”
“Sure,” Henry said, looking from him to Sophie and back again. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the pastor said you were here and that you’d know what to do with this. It’s not quite right, but I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it.”
Carter unwrapped the plastic to expose a foot-tall clay sculpture of a Revolutionary soldier. He was leaning on his rifle and looking as weary as a man at war would be.
“That’s great,” Carter said enthusiastically. “Really wonderful. You are a man of enormous talent, and your technique is beyond anything—”
“Stop it!” Sophie snapped. “Really, Carter, just stop talking about things you know nothing about. This figure is out of proportion. If he were real he’d be five feet on the bottom and six feet on the top.” She was so angry at Carter that she didn’t think about what she was doing but grabbed the legs of the clay man and squeezed until she was almost down to the steel armature underneath.
“This is what you always do, isn’t it, Carter? You look at something—or someone—and think it’s absolutely perfect. You’re fascinated with it. But then when you spend time around it, you begin to see that she isn’t what you thought. Get me an ice pick.”
“What?”
“Get her an ice pick,” Henry barked, and Carter ran to search through drawers until he found one.
Sophie dug the pick into the clay to make an adhesive surface. She glanced pointedly at Henry who was watching her with an intensity usually reserved for brain surgery. “Is that bag empty?”
Quickly, he set it on the table, opened it, and pulled out a lump of plastic-wrapped clay, and unrolled a canvas carrier full of plastic and metal sculpting tools. She grabbed the clay, pulled off the wrap, and began to knead it into the legs. Her hands worked with lightning speed as she rearranged the clay. She was greatly hindered by the steel structure underneath but she was able to add a half inch length onto the man’s legs.
“What did young Treeborne do to you?” Henry asked.
“He told me I wasn’t the kind of woman a man married,” Sophie answered. “To bed, yes. Wed, no.”
Henry gave Carter a look that said he was an idiot.
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