Reprieve (Love's Second Chance Book 1)

by Scott,Scarlett

  Sophie was aware her face was scarlet. “Amy, honey, Trevor and I aren’t going to be getting married.” A twinge of guilt assailed her when Amy’s face fell, but neither did she want to raise false hopes as Trevor had with his own niece and nephew.

  After seeing Amy safely buckled, Sophie turned and nearly collided with Trevor. “Sorry about that,” she murmured, feeling awkward.

  “No problem,” he said easily. “Let me talk to her for a minute.”

  Sophie nodded and headed around to the driver’s side of the car. She swore she heard Trevor whispering, “Yet, Amy. We aren’t getting married yet.” Then the door slammed closed, making her wonder if she’d heard right.

  Trevor’s apartment was only seven minutes from Sophie’s house. It was a far cry from his New York lifestyle. A glance out her car window as she parked on the street in front of the house revealed it was old but well taken care of. It had a solid red door that looked out of place with the muted tones of the faded bricks.

  Still, she concluded, it looked charming as she made her way to front stoop and pressed the bell. She barely had time to catch her breath before Trevor opened the door. He smiled when he saw her, that charming half-smile that had become so dear to her.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice low and intimate as he uttered that one word of greeting. His smile reached his eyes.

  “Hi.” She was breathless all over again just from looking at him. His long, muscular legs were clad in blue jeans and he wore a crisp, white button-down shirt. He exuded raw sexuality. He looked less formal and more untamable, uncivilized.

  Wicked.

  She became aware of his eyes on her, sliding up and down her body as heatedly as any caress. Sophie tugged at the sundress she’d donned, feeling self-conscious. She’d purchased it several weeks ago and it was a calm, understated pink. It caught on the soft roundness of her stomach, the baby that was growing more apparent with each passing day. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking in choosing to wear it to dinner with Trevor. She probably looked frumpy and hopelessly unattractive. Claire had told Sophie that pink was her color, but she wasn’t so certain.

  As though sensing the vein of her thoughts, Trevor reached out to graze a finger along her jawline. “You look like heaven, Sophie.”

  Heat skittered through her body, both from his touch and his words. How was it he always knew what to say? How was it he could make her feel so much, with just the whisper of a touch or the simplest of sentences?

  She licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “Thank you.”

  He stepped back, removing his tantalizing touch and held open the door for her. “Come inside?”

  She stepped over the threshold, immediately startled by what she saw. Boxes. They were everywhere, lining the walls, piled on a sofa, taped closed and haphazardly labeled. Her gaze flew to him in question.

  He threw her a rueful smile as he closed the door. “I know it’s been a month. I don’t know why I haven’t unpacked yet.”

  A tremor of unease rippled through her. It was clear Trevor regarded this arrangement as semi-permanent. A month had passed and he’d yet to unpack. How long would it be before he missed his New York life and moved back to the city? Another month? Two?

  She regarded him seriously. “You know it isn’t necessary for you to be here.”

  He frowned at her and raked a hand through his hair. “We already discussed this. I’m here because I want to be here, for you and for our baby.”

  She didn’t want to argue with him and spoil the tenuous truce that had existed between them since that day in the cemetery. Sophie turned and set her purse on a nearby cardboard box.

  “How about a tour?” She tried to change the subject.

  “I hate it when you do that,” Trevor bit out, his frown morphing into a scowl.

  “You hate it when I do what?” Sophie was at a loss.

  He closed the gap between them, his strides taking him to within a foot of her. “When you close yourself off from me.” He caught her upper arm in a determined grip when she would have retreated. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  The question took her off guard. “Of course I do.”

  “No,” he persisted, “you don’t. Why is it so hard for you to trust me?”

  She opened her mouth to deny his words again, but Trevor cut her off.

  “Tell me the truth, Sophie.”

  She met his searching gaze. “I guess it’s just hard for me to believe a man like you would truly want to leave New York and a gorgeous woman behind for diapers and an old apartment.”

  “A man like me,” he repeated, his tone dark. “What does that mean? I know I’m far from perfect, but Peter couldn’t have been either.”

  “No,” she agreed evenly, “he wasn’t. And that’s not what I was saying, Trevor. I mean that you’re a successful entrepreneur and could have your pick of women because you’re absolutely gorgeous. Why would a man like that toss aside his lifestyle to live here in Pennsylvania?”

  “Because my child is here,” he said, releasing his hold on her arm to tilt her face up with a finger. “Because you’re here. And for all that you don’t see it, you are more than I deserve.” He paused. “You make my moving here sound like a hardship, Sophie, but it’s not at all. You’ve been to New York. What did you think of it?”

  Her mind was too preoccupied with registering his heady words. Was he really staying here because of her too and not just the baby? Her foolish heart dared to hope.

  “What did you think of it?” he repeated.

  Her brain was still too muddled to manage coherent thought beyond a single word. “Busy,” she offered.

  “Yes.” His finger trailed down her neck, then traced her collarbone. “People and cars and cell phones and so much noise. It’s a superficial world, Sophie, where a measure of a man is how much square footage his weekend home in the Hamptons has. I’m tired of that world and I’m ready for something new. With you and our baby, if you’ll let me.”

  She swallowed. Trevor was being completely honest with her now. She saw it in his eyes. It wasn’t the declaration her heart yearned so desperately to hear. In fact, he was being quite vague.

  “Will you?” His voice was seductive as his fingers continued to play over her collarbone, igniting heat in her veins.

  “Trying something new is ordering Chinese takeout from a different restaurant,” she protested, annoyed to find her voice husky and breathless. “It’s not moving to another state and fathering a baby with a woman you don’t love.”

  There. The words were out, despite that she hadn’t intended to say them. Now it was Trevor’s turn to admit he actually loved her.

  Only he didn’t.

  Instead, he dropped his hand away from her, his expression hardening. “Stop doubting me, Sophie. When I make a promise, I keep it. Maybe my words didn’t come out quite the way I wanted them to. What I meant to say is that I’m ready for the next step in my life. I’ve been ready for a long time but I didn’t know what that step was until you came into my life. This isn’t something I’m doing on a trial-only basis. This is forever.”

  Forever.

  She digested that word, aware it held both promise and pain for her. Only Trevor could decide which one would win out over the other in the end. The baby had forged a relationship between them that nothing could sever. If nothing else, they would always have a child together.

  Oddly enough, the baby chose that moment to move, just the slightest bit, causing a fluttering sensation in her womb. Her hand instinctively splayed over that part of her abdomen as she relished the wonder of new life.

  “What is it? Is something wrong?” Trevor’s demanding voice snapped Sophie out of her thoughts. “Is the baby okay?”

  “He moved,” she told him, taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her abdomen. “Feel him?”

  As if he had heard their conversation, the baby shifted once more, sending a ripple of movement against Trevor’s flattened palm. She smiled, sharing
his wonder.

  “I felt him,” Trevor murmured, sounding stunned. Then he quirked a brow at her. “How do you know the baby’s a he?”

  Sophie shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. This baby feels different.”

  She became aware suddenly of her hand atop his, of his hand against her belly, of his eyes deepening to a molten copper that told her their proximity affected him as well.

  “Sophie.” The way he uttered her name, deeply yet softly, as potent as any caress, made her ache.

  He dipped his head. She tilted her face up to meet him halfway. Their lips touched, his brushing over hers once, twice. Sweet torture. She wound her arms around his neck to pull him closer. The solid, muscular strength of his body pressed into hers, infusing her with a new sense of urgency. When his mouth became more insistent on hers, hot and hungry, she moaned.

  His hands slid around her waist to cup her bottom and press her against his rigid arousal. The ache that had been building inside her blossomed, sending electricity through her body. All her senses were attuned to him, almost painfully so. One of his powerful thighs came between her legs and he guided her backward.

  Her hip connected with the sharp corner of a box, knocking it to the floor from its precarious perch atop two others. There was a thud, followed by what sounded suspiciously like breaking glass.

  They broke apart, breathing heavily. Sophie and Trevor eyed each other in a pregnant silence for a moment.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “The kiss or the box?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  His gaze remained inscrutable as it searched hers. “Both.” He paused, then shot a glance to the fallen box. “I think that one had my wineglasses in it.”

  Sophie followed his gaze to the box, now on its side and noted it was marked “fragile”. From the way it had sounded on impact, the glasses were no longer usable. But it wasn’t broken glass that sent a pang to her heart, it was Trevor’s words.

  I didn’t mean for that to happen.

  Wasn’t that the story of their entire relationship? Sophie wanted to address their problems somehow, to say something meaningful.

  Instead, she offered a lame, “Aren’t you going to see if they’re broken?”

  “I don’t need to look to know,” he responded, sounding annoyed. Whether with himself or with Sophie, it was impossible to tell.

  Sophie suddenly felt awkward. The ease with which they had conducted their relationship for the past month fell away, evaporating into nothingness.

  “Maybe I should go,” she said, reaching down to grasp the strap of her discarded purse.

  “No.” He caught her hand in a firm grip. “Not yet, Sophie. I invited you here for dinner, remember?”

  So he had, but she no longer had an appetite. She was about to say as much when he tugged her hand, leading her back through the maze of boxes to the kitchen. He led her to a polished, square black table flanked by two chairs. He pulled the nearest one out for her and she sat. She couldn’t read the look on Trevor’s face. His reason for wanting her to stay remained a mystery.

  He turned away from her, walking to the outdated kitchen range and opening the oven below it. The delicious aroma of omelets and toast wafted out to tempt her.

  He hadn’t.

  Trevor glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I made you an omelet and toast.” He sent her that grin again. “I can’t make any promises that it’ll be the most delicious breakfast you ever had, but I did my best. I left it in the oven to keep it warm.”

  Several days ago, Sophie had inadvertently mentioned her craving for breakfast food, toast and omelets in particular. It was beyond sweet of him to recall and cook for her. “At least it’s not pancakes,” she teased.

  She watched him dish up the food, admiring his large hands and the efficiency of his movements. Trevor remained a man of contradiction to her. Would she ever understand him completely? Likely, the answer to that question was no. Part of what had initially drawn her to him had been that rare enigmatic quality he possessed.

  When he placed a generously portioned plate of food and a glass of water before her, she looked up at him. “You remembered.”

  He stilled, his eyes serious on hers. “I remember everything you tell me.”

  Before she could respond, he turned away again to retrieve his own plate and glass. When he was seated, Sophie examined her plate with greater detail. The omelet, with spinach, peppers and tomatoes dotting it, looked heavenly. She noticed he’d given her extra toast. Her stomach gave an audible rumble.

  She pressed a hand to her belly, embarrassed.

  Trevor smiled at her. “Baby is hungry. You better oblige him.”

  God, she loved this man. But she held her tongue, too afraid to say the words aloud, too afraid of what the words would mean for their relationship.

  She took a bite of her toast, nearly sighing aloud as flavor exploded on her tongue. Just the right combination of warmth, butter and crunchiness. Her eyes slid briefly closed as she savored the taste.

  “What do you think?”

  She blinked to find Trevor watching her. “It’s delicious. Thank you for this.”

  His sensual mouth curved into a wry smile. “I know this, you and me, is awkward for you, Sophie. I wish I could change that.”

  “Trevor—”

  “What are you doing this week?” he asked suddenly, cutting into what Sophie had been about to say.

  She dropped her toast on her plate and reached for the cloth napkin he’d laid out on the table. “Painting, I suppose. I quit my job at the library on Friday. Between the baby and painting, I thought it best not to stretch myself too thin.”

  More to the point, with the sizable checks she now received from Trevor’s gallery, Sophie no longer needed to supplement her income with the boring deskwork at the library. Her decision had been freeing, the closing of yet another door to the past.

  “I’ve taken off from the gallery,” Trevor stated, bringing her attention back to him.

  His words startled her. “What? For how long?”

  Trevor’s gaze met hers, impenetrable. “Until I decide it’s time to go back.”

  As answers went, his was vague at best, only increasing her curiosity. What did his pronouncement mean? Was he leaving the gallery permanently? What had prompted him to make such a radical decision? Sophie was burning to ask him the questions.

  “Why are you telling me this?” she asked finally.

  “I want us to find where we stand with each another,” he said. “Enough games. We’re adults, Sophie. It’s time to find out what we both truly want.”

  “And what do you want?” She put the question to him, holding her breath as she awaited his response.

  “For today, I want you to agree to stay on Winstead Island with me this week.”

  For today, he had said, a phrase that implied he would want something more in the future. It gave her hope.

  Trevor misinterpreted Sophie’s silence. He clenched his jaw. “You don’t have to answer now. Take some time to think about it.”

  “No,” she said, dismayed when his eyes cooled. “I don’t need time to think about it. I’d love to spend the week with you on the island.”

  A beautiful smile curved his lips. “Then it’s a date.”

  Trevor reached out and took her hand, raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  Hmm. The sunrise needed more crimson to be completely accurate. And the ocean water could use a touch more blue.

  Sophie frowned as she considered her canvas. It was her second day on the island with Trevor and she’d risen early. A glimpse of the beautiful sky out the window had convinced her to pack up her paints and canvas and head out to the beach.

  She dabbed her brush into a fresh blob of crimson paint and applied it to her sunset. A strong gust of warm wind blew the salt spray against her cheeks and ruffled her hai
r as she sat on the blanket she had spread across the sand. She took a deep breath, savoring the beauty and tranquility of the island.

  “I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

  The sound of Trevor’s voice behind her made Sophie start and look over her shoulder. He stood less than a foot away from her, wearing a white shirt and khaki pants. His hair was wet and glistened in the early sun’s rays. He must have showered before coming to find her. Sophie thought he looked incredibly beautiful standing there with his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his lips.

  She wanted to stand up so she didn’t need to crane her neck back quite so far to look at him, but her canvas was resting on her lap. “Good morning,” she said softly.

  Trevor bent down at her side, so close heat radiated from his body to hers. She couldn’t check the impulse to inhale deeply of his scent and examine his profile as he studied her canvas.

  “It’s beautiful, Sophie,” he murmured, turning his head to look at her.

  The sincerity in his eyes humbled her. “It’s rough, just something I painted for me. I love it here on the island so much that I feel the need to paint it.”

  He skimmed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, the small contact shooting warmth through her body. “You are incredible.”

  “Hardly,” she denied, but she had to admit she loved that he thought so.

  “You are,” he insisted. His lips claimed hers. It was the first time he had kissed her since their arrival on the island and Sophie was glad for it.

  But soon, hunger overtook both of them. Trevor angled his mouth over hers, catching the fullness of her lower lip between his teeth. She dropped her paintbrush as her hands came up to frame his face. His skin was hot and roughened by the shadow of stubble on his jaw. Everything about him, from the feel of him, to the smell of him, to his kiss, was intoxicating.

  Sophie opened her mouth, tracing the line of his upper lip with her tongue. He groaned, then sank his hands into her hair and his velvet tongue into her mouth. Sophie wanted to lie back on the sand and pull him atop her, to make love to him right there on the beach in the early morning’s light.