Samantha sent him a gamine grin. “I’m Sam and this is my sister Amy.” She wrinkled her nose. “She’s just six, you know.”
Trevor smiled. “Why don’t you two come with me for a few minutes so your mom and your aunt can talk?” He led them both around the house into Sophie’s overgrown flower garden.
Sophie watched for a moment, startled to see how well Trevor interacted with children. She turned her attention back to Anne Marie. They had known each another for almost their whole lives. She hated the idea of driving Anne Marie and the girls away.
“I can explain, Anne Marie,” Sophie began hesitantly.
Her sister-in-law held up a hand. “You don’t have to, Sophie. Despite what Trevor said, I can see there’s something between you two. But you’re an adult and it’s only natural that you wouldn’t want to be alone.”
At least Anne Marie was trying to understand. Sophie felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest. “You know how much I loved Peter,” she said softly.
Tears glistened in Anne Marie’s blue eyes. She nodded her head jerkily. “I know you loved him, Sophie. We all did. How could we not? He was wonderful.”
Answering tears stung in her eyes as images of the years she’d spent with Peter flashed through her mind. “When he and Elizabeth were killed, I didn’t think I’d be able to go on with life. Everything I lived for was gone, gone in fifteen seconds on a dark highway. Most of my life since then has been like a nightmare.”
Her sister-in-law, generally so stoic and distant, reached out and gripped Sophie’s hand. “I know and I’m sorry if I overreacted. It was just so foreign to open the door and see you with another man.”
Sophie sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing with Trevor. It seems far too soon and yet, when I’m with him, I feel happy, truly happy. I haven’t felt like that in a long time.” She frowned, searching for the right words to describe the impact Trevor had had on her life. “He saved me. A month ago, I was ready to die and now it’s like I’m a whole new person. I can’t explain it.”
“If you’re happy, Sophie, then that’s all that matters,” was all Anne Marie said solemnly.
And it was enough.
Trevor wasn’t quite sure how it had come about, but he was walking through Sophie’s backyard with a pair of little girls, picking a bouquet of flowers at the behest of the youngest, Amy.
Amy pointed to a purple pincushion. “Oooh and pick that one too,” she ordered.
Trevor complied, feeling utterly ridiculous carrying about a handful of pastel flowers. The pincushion joined its fellow group of picked flowers after Trevor had mangled the stubborn stem in his efforts.
Amy rolled her eyes at him. “You stink at picking flowers. What kind of a knight in shining armor can’t pick flowers for his princess?”
Trevor stifled a groan. So that was the purpose of all this flower picking. A knight in shining armor, eh? Hell, if only little Amy knew how far off the mark she was with that one. Knights in shining armor didn’t lust after vulnerable widows.
Samantha interrupted his musings with a snort. “All Amy ever talks about is knights and princesses. Younger sisters are so stupid.”
Amy sent her sister a venomous glare. “Are not. Knights and princesses are important. They’re not dumb like soccer. Aunt Sophie used to tell us stories all the time about knights and princesses. Remember, Sam? You liked them too.”
Samantha kicked at a clump of grass. “Right, Ame. That was like, a really long time ago. Sophie doesn’t tell stories anymore. And anyway, soccer’s not dumb.”
“Pick that one,” Amy commanded Trevor, her little finger pointing out a clump of pretty pink flowers. “Aunt Sophie stopped telling us stories when Uncle Peter and Elizabeth died. Mom said it was because Sophie was too sad.”
Sam issued another snort. “She probably just thought you were too old for little-kid stories.”
Amy shot another glare at her sister. “You’re not being very nice. I’m telling Mom.”
“Shut up, Amy,” Samantha ordered, sounding annoyed.
“You’re not allowed to say that,” Amy said triumphantly. “Wait ’til I tell Mom.”
Trevor wisely decided to intervene at that moment before a scuffle ensued. “What else can you tell me about your Aunt Sophie?” He told himself he only asked to keep the girls from ripping out each other’s pigtails.
But in truth, the idea of Sophie spinning tales about knights and princesses enchanted him, intrigued him. He wanted to know more about her. Of course she had stopped telling them after the deaths of her husband and daughter. It was a sobering thought. Trevor had known all along that Sophie was a shattered woman, but he hadn’t realized he would want to be the one to pick up the pieces.
“She’s really good at painting,” Samantha offered, seemingly allowing herself to be sidetracked by Trevor’s query.
“And she loves chocolate-peanut-butter-cup ice cream,” Amy added, not to be outdone by her sister.
“She used to be pretty cool,” Samantha murmured, shrugging her shoulders. “She’d take us to the movies and stuff. But she’s different now. She doesn’t talk or smile too much anymore.”
“Mom says we have to be impatient with her,” Amy said sagely.
“Patient, not impatient, you dodo brain,” Samantha corrected.
But Amy ignored her sister, clapping her hands together and looking up at Trevor like he was the best thing since sliced bread. “I know! You’re Aunt Sophie’s knight in shining armor! Maybe you can make her be like she used to be.”
Trevor swallowed hard. He wasn’t so sure anyone could restore Sophie to her former self. Life had wounded her too much and the scars would remain forever.
He reached down and affectionately ruffled Amy’s blonde hair.
“I’ll try, honey,” he murmured before he could stop himself. “I’ll try.”
“Did I tell you how amazing you look in that dress?” Trevor asked Sophie as he parked in her driveway.
She unfastened her seat belt and turned to him, flustered by his compliment. “Trevor,” she began.
“Sophie,” he interrupted. “It’s a compliment. Say ‘thank you Trevor’ and then invite me inside.”
Sophie smiled at him despite herself. “Thank you, Trevor.”
He frowned at her, looking darkly handsome in the fading light. “What, you’re not going to invite me in?”
She slanted him an arch look. “Why bother when you’ve already invited yourself?”
Lord, but he was a dangerous man. She could like him too much. They had just returned from spending most of the day with Anne Marie and the girls. After lunch, they had gone back to Anne Marie’s house for some additional chatting. Trevor had gotten along well with both Anne Marie and her husband and had been nothing short of amazing with the girls.
She stole a peek at him as she got out of the car, unable to keep her eyes off him for too long. She had caught herself doing it time and again throughout the day, almost as if to make sure that the gorgeous, sweet man at her side was in fact real and not a figment of her imagination. He was almost too good to be true.
The moment Sophie and Trevor entered the front hall and the door clicked shut behind them, she became acutely aware of his masculine presence at her side. She placed her house keys on a side table and turned to him.
She deliberately fixed her eyes on his broad chest, afraid if she met his warm gaze she would be hopelessly in his thrall. His scent, an intoxicating blend of aftershave and unadulterated man invaded her senses, leaving her nerves on edge. She swallowed.
“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” She strove to maintain a casual note in her voice and failed miserably. “I have water, iced tea and orange juice. Or I could make some coffee if you prefer—”
“Sophie,” Trevor broke in, a trace of humor in his deep, rich voice. “Sweetheart, I don’t want anything to eat or drink.”
“What do you want, then?” She was helpless, breathless.
&nbs
p; “This.” His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her body closer until it was pressed against his, giving her every opportunity to protest as he did so. Sophie didn’t, couldn’t. Her body molded to his in a perfect fit.
He cupped her jaw. “And this,” he whispered, pressing a soft, tantalizing kiss to the corner of her mouth.
When she would have turned her head, pressing her lips more fully to his, Trevor pulled back, his smoldering gaze roaming her face. He surprised her by placing another tender kiss on her cheek, followed by one more on each of her eyelids. There was something worshipful in his eyes and in the achingly sweet kisses he rained over her. She trembled with a heady mixture of want and need.
His lips returned to hers, brushing against them in a teasing kiss that left her yearning for more. Sophie kissed him back, meeting his rhythm with one of her own. She opened her mouth, seeking more of him, wanting desperately to taste him. A groan sounded deep in Trevor’s throat as he deepened the kiss in response, his mouth opening against hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. The kiss grew in intensity, hot, open-mouthed and hungry.
God, she wanted him. Wanted him with a deep, burning hunger. She wanted the hardened ridge rising against her stomach to plunge inside her, to take her to mind-shattering release. But giving herself to this man was unthinkable. He had only been in her life for a few weeks and her wounds were still too raw.
She tore her lips from his, her nipples rubbing against his chest with every ragged breath she took. When she opened her mouth to speak, Trevor pressed a gentle finger to her lips.
“It’s too soon, I know,” he murmured, regret evident in his tone. “Trust me, sweetheart. We’ll go at your pace. I won’t rush you into anything you don’t want.”
His words reassured her, curbing the panic that had begun to rear its ugly head inside her. Sophie did trust him, maybe too much.
“Thank you.” She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and pressed the side of her face against his chest. Trevor’s hands caressed the small of her back in a slow, relaxing pattern. She heard his heart thudding a bit too fast beneath her ear. Just being in his arms, knowing he was every bit as affected by their mutual attraction as she was, calmed her.
“When was the last time someone took care of you?” His voice was a pleasant rumble against her ear.
His question took her aback but she remained still, too content in Trevor’s embrace to be induced to move. She thought for a moment.
“Claire helps me out from time to time,” she said at last. “And my mother does her best to call and drop by. Anne Marie and the girls have helped too.”
“That’s not what I mean. When was the last time someone cooked for you, did all the dishes, rubbed the tenseness from your shoulders? That sort of thing.”
She frowned. “Claire invites me over for dinner at least once a week.”
Trevor’s arms tightened around her. “Doesn’t count. Let me take care of you tonight.”
She stiffened, drawing her head back to look at him. “But I thought you said—”
“No strings attached,” he cut in, giving her cheek a brief caress with the back of his hand. “Just me taking care of you. You need it, sweetheart.”
“I can get by on my own, you know.” She felt obligated by self-pride to inform him. “I’ve been doing it for a while now.”
Trevor flashed her the most genuine smile she had ever seen on his beautiful mouth. “I know you can, Sophie, but you deserve to be indulged. Don’t argue with me. All you have to do is walk that cute little butt of yours into the living room and watch TV while I cook you dinner.”
His persuasive tactics were working wonders on her. “You can cook?” For some reason, it surprised her.
“Damn right I can,” he returned with a cocky grin, “and good too, if I say so myself. So what do you say?”
She couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. He wanted to take care of her. Sophie hadn’t even known that men like him existed any longer.
“Okay,” she said, “but I’m not sure how well-stocked my fridge is. When Peter and Elizabeth were alive, I used to…” She trailed off, recognizing the subject as one she didn’t want to broach now, with Trevor. The time had come for her to stop living in the past. “Well. I’ll just head to the living room, then.”
She extricated herself from his embrace and moved away when Trevor caught her wrist.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
She turned back to him, puzzled. “What?”
“Your date tonight,” he reminded her tightly. “Cancel it.”
Sophie bit her lip. Was it just her imagination, or was that jealousy she detected? Of course not, she decided. She was jumping to conclusions.
“Trevor,” she began with an apologetic smile, about to tell him the truth.
“Better yet, I’ll call him and cancel it,” he suggested with a glint in his eyes.
“There is no date,” she confessed, secretly pleased by Trevor’s reaction to the imaginary other man. Perhaps he was just a tiny bit jealous after all.
Trevor frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, about to say that she had made the whole thing up before she thought better of it. The last thing she wanted Trevor to think was that she was pathetic and couldn’t land a decent date. Lord, he’d run, not walk, in the opposite direction.
“He cancelled this morning,” she improvised. It was just a little white lie, she told her protesting conscience. Well, lie was actually a strong word for it. It was really more like artful fictionalizing.
“Forget him,” Trevor said, his thumb caressing her inner wrist. “I’ll be much better company.”
She just smiled at him. “I’m sure you will.”
Two hours later, Sophie and Trevor were sharing a sumptuous dinner. They sat across from one another at her kitchen table, laughing and talking over their meal like old friends.
She swallowed a bite of Trevor’s garlic pasta. “This really is delicious,” she told him again, impressed by his obvious culinary talent. Somehow he had turned the sparse contents of her cabinets and refrigerator into excellent fare. He had cooked penne pasta and tossed it in a homemade white wine garlic sauce. Her nearly stale loaf of bread had been transformed into bruschetta and a modified Caesar salad had started off the meal.
He grinned at her. “You see, I am a great cook.”
“And modest too,” she put in dryly.
“Good of you to notice.” His unrepentant grin was still firmly in place.
She laughed, loving the way being with him made her feel.
“Tell me more about you,” he said suddenly.
She took a sip of the wine he had poured her. “Oh no you don’t. You know enough about me. It’s your turn. Do you have a family? What about your friends?”
Trevor sat back in his chair and raked a hand through his hair as though the question gave him pause. He seemed to weigh his response.
“I have a younger sister Danielle. She’s married and has two kids, one boy and one girl. I visit them often. In fact, I was visiting her when you had your accident.”
“You must be close,” she observed, noting the huskiness that had crept into his voice.
A warm smile lit up his features. “Danielle and I are as close as a brother and sister can be, given the circumstances. Max and Lilly, my nephew and niece, are like my very own.”
“Which explains your rapport with Amy and Sam.”
A hint of red tinged his cheekbones and his look turned sheepish. “Kids like me, for whatever reason.”
It was on the tip of Sophie’s tongue to tell him that kids weren’t the only ones, but she decided against it. He was undoubtedly aware that no woman was immune to him. She took another sip of her wine before continuing the conversation.
“Is it just you and your sister, then?”
Trevor’s gaze suddenly became remote. “As far as I’m concerned.”
It was obvious to Sophie there was a greater
story lurking beneath the surface of Trevor’s words, but he didn’t seem ready to share it with her. She decided to stick to a more comfortable topic. “How old are Lilly and Max?”
He relaxed at her question. “Lilly is six and Max is four. They’re awesome kids.”
She smiled, picturing them in her mind. “I’ve always loved children. When Elizabeth came along, she was like a gift from heaven. She was so beautiful and sweet and all mine.” Her voice caught on the last words as emotions overwhelmed her. “She was an angel.”
He covered her hand with his. “If she was anything like her mother, I’m sure she was,” he said softly.
Sophie kept her gaze lowered to the sight of Trevor’s large hand covering hers. He was so good at saying all the right things. The combination of his tender understanding and her memories of her daughter was too much for her. She bit her lip.
His hand tightened over hers. “Look at me, Sophie.”
She obeyed, raising her gaze to his knowing eyes and starkly beautiful face.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered when he read the pain in her gaze, almost as though he too could somehow feel it. He rose from his chair and pulled her up with him, folding her in a tender embrace.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, clutching him to her, nearly desperate with the need to feel him against her. God, she was such an emotional train wreck. It seemed as though she was always crying on Trevor’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems.”
He traced the curve of her cheek with one finger. “Don’t apologize. The only way you can move on is to let it all out and let go of it.”
His words frightened her even though she could see the truth in them. Letting go of Peter and Elizabeth sounded so final, so painful. And she’d been trying to hold onto their memories for so long now, trying to keep them alive through living in the past. Even so, she could see for the first time that her efforts had literally been killing her.
Reprieve (Love's Second Chance Book 1) Page 7