“Vince.” She laughed. “I’m okay.”
He set her down and studied her. “You smell like smoke, and you sounded terrible on the phone. What happened?”
“Come in.” She gestured to the sofa and headed over to it.
“How bad is the damage over there?”
“The roof collapsed. Half the walls are gone. The other half are charred. They were lucky to contain it. The church has one wall with damage, but the rest is still standing.” She leaned forward and dropped her head in her hands. “There’s no way anything left in there is salvageable. Not after the flames and the smoke and all that water. I should’ve moved the historic documents to a safe location. Why didn’t I? Now we’ll have this historic building with nothing historic left to put in it.”
His large warm hand rubbed her back. “We still have some things. That fireplace, right? The original windows. You said you were getting the chandelier back from the town hall attic. Maybe they have some old papers stored there too. That place is wall-to-wall file cabinets.”
That hadn’t occurred to her. “Maybe.”
He stroked her hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”
She straightened. “I know I didn’t set the fire, but I should’ve done more. I know about archival storage. I just…I guess I wasn’t thinking. The annex was just supposed to be a short-term solution.”
“You were distracted by working with a sexy beast.”
She reluctantly smiled. “Oh, Vince.”
“Do they know what caused the fire?”
“No, but the pastor wasn’t home. He lives in the house next to the church. Nobody saw anything until the smoke.” She shook her head. “There was so much smoke.” All those old papers ruined.
“I want to talk to the fire department. See if it was an accident or arson.”
She stiffened at the mention of arson. She was a little worried her dad had been involved. He’d been really worked up about working with the Marinos, and he’d been doing crazy things lately. It wasn’t just the alpaca farm. He’d been calling the home phone from his cell while he was at home, even though he didn’t like to use his cell, just to listen to her mom on the voicemail. He’d even been reading self-help books like The Nitwit’s Guide to Saving a Marriage and Supercoupling for Super Couples. Not to mention the fact that he slept with her mom’s winter coat under his pillow. (She’d taken her clothes with her, but didn’t need the coat in Florida.) The last thing they needed was an investigation into her dad after he’d taken all that money from the company. Even if he was innocent, an investigation would destroy his reputation. No one would want to work with him.
“I’m sure it wasn’t deliberate,” she said.
“Could’ve been someone who wanted to sabotage the project,” Vince said.
“No.”
“Or maybe someone that didn’t like the project,” he said.
Her temper flared. “You mean my dad!” It was fine for her to think it. An entirely different thing for Vince to throw stones at her dad.
“Calm down,” he said as his hand slid into her hair, cupping the back of her neck. “It could’ve been anyone.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” she said right before he squeezed the back of her neck, easing some of the tension there. She had no willpower when it came to those hands.
“You’re so tense.”
“I’m upset! The fire—”
Next thing she knew she was face down on the sofa. He’d flipped her there in one quick move, and she landed stretched out across the length of the sofa. “Vince!” she protested.
But then those strong hands were massaging her shoulders and working their way down her back, and she surrendered to the most delicious massage of her life.
~ ~ ~
By Tuesday, the investigators had concluded arson. Sophia had spoken with the police, cleared her name, but she’d been forced to admit she didn’t know where her dad was when no one could get in touch with him for questioning. She hadn’t been allowed in the annex to inspect the collection because it was still under investigation, but it was clear from her view through the window that nothing was left. She’d gone to the town hall and discovered, thankfully, that they stored historic tax and real estate records there. What had been lost were volumes of surveys, original maps, and several histories that had been written about the town going back to 1920. Also, some first editions of local authors, including one by Mark Twain. She felt sick about the whole thing.
After several days of being a nervous wreck, waiting at home for her dad to return, and praying that he hadn’t been involved, she finally gave up. He wasn’t coming home. He was completely unreachable, and she hated that it implied guilt, hated thinking her own father would sabotage the project she’d worked so hard on to save their family business. If it was true, this was one mess that even she couldn’t make right.
Her boss was on her back about coming back to the city, so she finally decided on Friday to move back to her old brownstone apartment in Brooklyn. Their office was there and most of their consulting jobs were in the city. She’d leave the Clover Park Library project in Vince’s capable hands until she was needed when the historic designation application came back. It pained her to think of all Clover Park had lost on account of her and her family. This was the best choice for everyone.
It was the day before Halloween, and she had plans to meet up with friends at a costume party. It almost felt normal. She wouldn’t be seeing Vince tonight, which was fine. They had their own lives. He’d said he was going out tonight for drinks with the guys and Brooklyn was too damn far a commute on a Friday night. He wasn’t happy with her move, but she wasn’t sure what exactly he’d expected from her. Yes, they’d had amazing sex and three official dates (she wouldn’t count the times they went straight to bed as dates), but it wasn’t like she was going to move in with him. And she couldn’t stay at her parents’ house, a frazzled mess waiting for her dad to return home.
She wore a kitty-cat costume with a black body suit, a headband with kitty ears, and a tail. Her roommate, Roger, wore a black tux with a sign taped to his front that read I’m sorry. He was a formal apology. She couldn’t help but smile every time she saw him. The bell rang shrilly.
She answered the door, and her hand went to her throat. Vince was standing there in a Marino and Sons construction shirt under a brown leather jacket, looking all kinds of sexy. It was shocking the instant arousal just seeing him produced—heart pounding, hot all over, damp between the legs. She’d never felt like that just from looking at someone.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you were getting a drink with the guys tonight.”
“I changed my mind.” He stepped inside, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her with him into the apartment before claiming her mouth. The door slammed shut behind him. His lips were hard and demanding, his tongue thrust deep, and she sank against him, a puddle of need.
Roger cleared his throat. Vince pulled back, glowered at Roger, and turned back to her. “Who the hell is that?”
“He’s my roommate. Vince, this is Roger.” Roger was a very sweet website designer with shaggy dirty blond hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a huge collection of bowties. He had a girlfriend in Canada. At least he said he did. Sophia had never met the woman.
Roger extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Vince stared at the offered hand. “You have a guy roommate!” he boomed.
Sophia grimaced. Roger cringed. “Just friends,” Roger quickly said.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Vince said, pumping Roger’s hand.
“Got it,” Roger said, discreetly shaking his hand out after Vince released it. He turned to her. “Are you still going to the party or…”
“Of course,” Sophia said. “I’m sure Evelyn won’t mind if I bring a guest. Just a minute.” She backed a few steps away to text Evelyn just to be sure and heard Vince saying he was in construction.
Roger laughed a little too
hard. “I guess someone has to be. I can’t even put together a shelf. I’m in website design.”
“Guess someone has to be,” Vince said.
“You wear a hard hat to work?” Roger asked. “Do you sit on a girder and eat from a lunchbox?”
Sophia cringed and glanced up to see Roger elbow Vince, who did a quick blocking move that pushed Roger’s arm away.
Roger went on. “Ever bury someone in the concrete?”
“I wear a hard hat when I need to,” Vince said. “You watch a lot of TV? Cuz you sound like all you know is some stereotype about construction workers. And just because I’m Italian doesn’t mean I’m Mafia.”
“No, no, of course not,” Roger said.
“Yo, Soph!” Vince called. She winced. It really made him sound coarse and ill-mannered to call her that way. “You believe this guy?”
Her cell chimed back with a text. Evelyn was fine with her bringing a guest. She looked at Vince in his jeans and long-sleeve Marino Construction shirt. She should get him a costume. Maybe Roger had something.
“Soph?” Vince asked. The uncertainty in his usually confident voice pulled at her.
She hurried over. “Evelyn says it’s okay. And Roger, behave yourself. We law-abiding Italians take offense to Mafia references.”
“Sorry,” Roger said.
Vince hauled her against his side and kissed the top of her head. She felt simultaneously manhandled and the gentlest of touches with that kiss. And wasn’t that just Vince in a nutshell? Gruff and rough and yet surprisingly gentle at times.
She looked up at him. “It’s a costume party. You want to see if Roger has something—”
“I’ve got those funny glasses with the nose and mustache from when I was an identity thief,” Roger offered. The costume was just the glasses and a hoodie covered with Hello, my name is stickers. Roger had a great sense of humor.
“Nah,” Vince said. “I don’t need a costume.”
“Let me get the wine and we can go,” Sophia said. She snagged the bottle, and they made the short walk to Evelyn’s while Sophia scrambled to find conversation that both Vince and Roger could join in. Roger wanted to fill her in on the latest gossip among their friends—who had hooked up with who, who had rekindled old flames—while Vince wanted to fill her in on the latest with construction on the library project. They talked over each other, each vying for her attention.
“Please!” she said. “I can only listen to one of you at a time.”
“Sorry, Vince,” Roger said. “I have a lot to catch Sophia up on. She hasn’t been around much the last few months.”
“She’s been with me,” Vince said, dropping his arm over her shoulders.
Roger was undeterred by Vince’s menacing tone and went on and on about Betsy getting back with Bob, and Tilly and her unending on-again, off-again relationship with Holden.
They made it to the party. She kissed Evelyn on the cheek, handed over the wine, and introduced Vince.
“H-hi,” Evelyn said before turning bright red.
“Hello,” Vince said in his deep, melodic voice. “Thank you for having me.”
Oh, thank goodness, his manners were back. Vince surprised her, charming all of her girl friends, who were all reduced to blushing and stammering. Everyone exclaimed over his construction worker “costume” and he didn’t correct them, just let them fawn all over him. Evelyn even squeezed his bicep. Yes, he was gorgeous, but she hadn’t thought her intellectual friends would be reduced to stammering and simpering in his presence. He gave her a wink and a smile. The men on the other hand…Vince was gruff and aggressive, making sure they all knew he was her boyfriend.
The talk turned to politics, her friends were all liberals, but liked to argue both sides of every issue for sport. Vince ignored the talk, instead standing at her side, his hand rubbing up and down her back, occasionally shifting to run up and down her side, keeping her hot and bothered. She couldn’t tell if he was having a good time or not. He’d gotten so quiet. After an hour or so, Evelyn called for a game of charades.
“When can we get out of here?” Vince whispered in her ear.
“You’re not having a good time?”
He wrapped one arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip. “This isn’t my scene.”
“It’s my scene.”
He hauled her against his side. “I want you.”
“You can have me later.”
His hand shifted, his fingers spreading wide across her belly, setting off tingles of sensation to all of her favorite parts. “I want you now.”
“Come on over, guys!” Evelyn caroled.
Sophia held up a finger. “Just a minute.”
Vince turned her to face him, his deep brown eyes burning into hers. “Soph,” he said in a low, husky voice, “I held up my end. I showed you fisting the sheets. Now it’s your turn.”
She throbbed. Her turn? With that delicious body? To do as she pleased? He never let her take control. He nodded at her, seeming to read her mind.
She turned and looked at Evelyn, who smiled and waved them over. Vince’s hand connected with her ass and squeezed, hot and possessive.
“We’re going to pass,” Sophia squeaked. She stepped away from him. “Vince has to get back home soon.”
“It’s Friday night,” Evelyn said. “Come on. Have a little fun.”
But Vince was already pulling her from the room. “Bye,” she called. “Thank you!”
“Bye,” Vince boomed.
Chapter Nineteen
Sophia was thoroughly enjoying torturing Vince with hot kisses and little nibbles all over that delicious muscular body. He was naked, lying on his back in her bed with his hands laced behind his head as she insisted. He looked like an honest-to-God centerfold, and he was hers to play with all night long. She’d already explored his neck and delicious chest with a brief stop to revel in those massive biceps. By the time she licked his happy trail, he was breathing hard. He jerked as she got closer to her target. Then she took him in her mouth, and he hissed out a breath. She pulled back, ran her tongue up and down his length, and then took him in deep. He groaned, and his hand gripped her hair, keeping her on him. A few more long suctioning strokes, and he jackknifed up, flipped her on her back, and settled between her legs.
“Vince, you said it was my turn.”
He kissed her gently and pulled back to look in her eyes. “You had your turn, dream girl. You’re too good at that.”
She smiled. “I am?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to know why.”
“I want more of my turn,” she pouted.
He nipped her lower lip. “I never let someone else take charge in bed. You’re the first.”
“Then let me do more.”
He didn’t deny her, but he didn’t let her up either. Instead he reached for a condom and rolled it on. Then he lifted her hips at just the right angle and slid deep. She moaned, and he stilled. He stroked her hair back from her face. “I love you, Soph.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“No, I don’t—” Her reply was cut off with a kiss and then there was no more conversation as her body responded to him as he demanded at his pace for as long as he pleased.
~ ~ ~
Vince pulled Sophia close and held her for a long time. He’d never experienced the intensity of what he had with Sophia in bed. He loved her, and though it pained him that she hadn’t returned the words, he didn’t regret saying them for the first time ever. It felt good to have someone to love.
Her hand was rubbing his chest absentmindedly. “Vince, I’m worried.”
He pulled her tighter against him, ready to help with whatever it was. “Worried about what?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment. He waited.
“I-I can’t get in touch with my dad,” she finally said. “It’s been a week and I don’t know where he is.” She lifted her head, he
r eyes full of pain and worry, and Vince wanted nothing more than to take all that pain and worry away. “What if something happened to him? It’s not like him to be out of touch so long.”
“Shh.” He pressed her head down to his chest. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a grown man. Tough like a pit bull, right?”
She let out a shaky breath.
“Go to sleep,” he said.
“I can’t. I haven’t slept well ever since the fire.” She lifted her head again and the look of painful conflict on her face was more than he could take. He knew if it was her dad behind the fire, she’d be devastated. He’d protect her from that at all costs.
The hard truth was—her dad was the only one with a strong motive. He didn’t want them working together, didn’t like Vince hanging around his daughter, and had threatened to take over the project. Not only that, he had no alibi for the day of the fire and, most damning, he’d gone into hiding.
If Sophia’s dad showed up at the groundbreaking ceremony on Monday, as Vince suspected he would, being the publicity whore he was, he planned on talking to him about the arson and how to make this problem go away. Because if the police found out, both companies would be sunk.
He flipped her onto her back in one quick move. “I’m gonna wear you out, Soph. And then you’ll sleep.”
“Vince! Not everything can be fixed—”
He claimed her mouth, stroked her hard and firm, and she quieted, heating against him, opening to him. She was his to love, to protect, and, yes, to fix any problems she brought to him by any means necessary.
~ ~ ~
The glow from Vince's declaration of love and long night of tender loving wore off the next morning when he got up early and left the bed. Sophia squeezed her eyes shut tight over the sting of tears. How could he say he loved her and yet never let her in? Maybe he didn’t really love her. Maybe it just slipped out in the throes of passion.
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