Sophia extended the gift. “I’m coming to your party.”
“Who invited you?” Alice Anne sneered.
“You did.” Sophia gulped back tears. Her knees felt watery. “You got up in front of the whole class and said everyone was invited.”
“Everyone except bastards.”
“But I brought you a present,” Sophia whispered, the awful word Alice Anne had uttered cutting her like a knife.
“You don’t belong here,” Alice Anne said, roughly snatching the present away.
“Why?” Sophia had cried. “Why don’t I belong?”
“Look at you.” Alice Anne swept a disdainful hand at Sophia’s handmade dress. “You look like a rag picker.”
“Rag picker, rag picker,” the other children chorused.
“And you don’t even have a daddy,” the cruel girl had continued. “Bet you were so ugly when you were born, he ran off and left you for the crows to pick your eyes out.”
“No!” Sophia had denied.
“But even the crows wouldn’t peck you,” the girl gloated.
“Yeah,” the other children jeered.
Tears streaming down her face, Sophia had turned down the steps and ran, the children’s derisive laughter ringing in her ears. She’d gone back to the road and sat there for two hours waiting for Jannette to return. It had been the most humiliating event in Sophia’s young life. She was a bastard. That meant she didn’t have a daddy.
She stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked, vowing when she had kids, she would make sure they had a daddy so no one could ever ridicule them.
“This,” Jannette had said, afterward, trying hard to console Sophia, “is why you must never ever let a boy talk you into his bed until you are married. Do you understand?”
Sophia had nodded.
“Your father lied to me. He made promises he couldn’t keep and then he left us.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jannette had said bitterly.
“Did he think I was ugly?”
“Oh, sweetie, he never even saw you. You’re not to blame. Not at all. But you must promise me one thing, Sophia.”
“What thing, Mama?”
“When you grow up, you must marry a rich man who can take care of you. If you marry a man with lots of money, people like Alice Anne Aubrey won’t make fun of you anymore. You will have a big house of your own and you can throw all the lavish birthday parties you want. Promise me that, Sophia.”
“I promise, Mommy.”
Shu-Shu meowed to be let down, jerking Sophia back to the present. Tears dampened the corner of her eyes and she brushed them away. The sound of a motorcycle engine rumbled close by.
She glanced across the road.
The Harley-Davidson pulled to a stop outside her front gate.
Sophia held her breath.
It was Mike.
Their gazes met. Held.
Her heart slowed curiously.
He looked like a black knight on a black charger sitting there in the moonlight, enticing her to come play, to be a bad girl.
No.
Sophia.
He never opened his mouth and yet he called to her, his eyes beseeching her to cross the yard and join him. She could hear his mental beckoning in her head.
She could not. She would not go to him. She owed it to herself, to her mother and to the child she once had been to never lose sight of her goals. She would not be destroyed by lust as Jannette had been. She would marry a man who could provide her with all the things she never had and so desperately wanted. One way or the other, she was determined to win Michael Barrington’s heart, and she would not allow Mike, with his sexy smile and irresponsible ways to sway her from her goal. Swallowing hard against the pain, Sophia turned her back on him and disappeared inside the house.
Chapter Seven
Why had he gone to Sophia’s house? Mike asked himself. What had he hoped to gain from appearing outside her gate at midnight? Had he secretly been fantasizing that, overjoyed to see him, Sophia would fling her body on the back of his motorcycle and tell him to ride like the wind? Had he imagined a repeat performance of what had happened between them in her office? Had he been hoping, at least in some small corner of his heart, that she would declare her undying devotion to him and renounce her ridiculous infatuation with Michael Barrington?
No. Truthfully, his motivation had been much simpler than that.
He’d been unable to stop himself from going to her. She’d dominated his mind, eclipsed his good sense, shattered his self-control.
Helplessly Mike had been drawn to Sophia’s house. It was as if Cupid himself had spirited the Harley to Sand Mesa Heights.
But obviously Cupid had been on a futile mission. Sophia was not interested in pursuing a relationship with him.
He knew she’d seen him. There was no mistaking it. When he’d driven up to find her standing on the porch staring at him, his pulse had thudded in his throat, excited by the sight of her in those thin, white cotton pajamas and robe.
For one magical instant, Mike had believed that she was going to walk up the stone path, push open the gate and step out into the street.
He’d held his breath.
Their eyes had met.
Then Sophia had made a conscious decision. He’d seen it in her eyes.
She’d purposefully turned her back on him and walked away.
Not one word of greeting, not a wave, not a smile.
Instead she’d offered a cold shoulder.
He hadn’t mistaken the message. His stomach had snarled into a knot more tangled than the deception he’d been weaving since pretending to be Mike the mailman.
How could he hold Sophia accountable? He’d gotten himself into the fix. From the very first his father had been opposed to the idea of him cloaking his identity. Rex had said it would lead to misunderstandings and that the employees would resent not being trusted. But Michael, sure he was right, had insisted. Now he wondered about how prudent that choice had been. If he had listened to his father, this situation between him and Sophia would not be an issue.
Yes, but you wouldn’t have the chance to find out conclusively if Sophia can love you for yourself, he reminded himself.
Sighing, Mike drove into the driveway of his condo. He depressed the button on his garage door opener and rolled the motorcycle inside.
He had no other alternative. If he wanted to find out what was truly in Sophia’s heart, he had to step back and give her breathing room. To withdraw and give her the opportunity to think things through. Mike could be patient. After all, he had all the time in the world.
Mike never mentioned his midnight motorcycle ride to her house. Nor did he speak of the sizzling kisses they’d shared in her office on Friday evening. In fact, he barely spoke to her at all. When he came for the mail, he mumbled a brief hello and left as quickly as possible.
Good, Sophia thought to herself by Wednesday of the week following their tête-à-tête. He’s realized how futile a relationship between us would be, so he’s letting things cool off. Very good.
So why did she feel so crummy?
Mike had obviously gotten the hint that she wasn’t interested.
But was that the truth?
Sophia stared out her window at the Phoenix skyline and drew in a sharp breath. Absentmindedly, she tapped a pencil against her desk. It was for the best. Jannette did not want her involved with Mike. And how could she blame her mother? Mike was irresponsible and undisciplined. Sophia could never count on a man who had no ambitions, no hopes or dreams. No matter how handsome Mike might be or how fast her pulse raced whenever he entered the room, she could not depend on him. Ultimately that was what marriage came down to—having someone you could depend on. Someone who would always be honest with you, no matter what. Mike simply did not fit the bill.
Concentrate on Michael Barrington. He’ll be home in less than two weeks.
Except instead of comforting her, that thought carried its
own trepidation. Strangely enough, her boss hadn’t called in to the office since last Friday. It was as if both men in her life were ignoring her.
What if Michael Barrington wasn’t attracted to her? Or what if it turned out that she wasn’t physically attracted to him?
Before her close encounter of the erotic kind with Mike the mailman, Sophia would have dismissed sexual compatibility as unimportant. But since last Friday night, when Mike’s gentle hands and roving mouth had taught her the true meaning of arousal, she could no longer deny than chemistry was an essential ingredient of a loving relationship.
Olivia had been correct.
Now that Sophia had gotten a taste of the pleasures a man’s body could offer, there was no going back. Her list of necessary requirements for a husband was growing longer and more difficult to fulfill.
But she refused to give up hope. In every other way, Michael Barrington was the perfect man. She’d know soon enough if they could past the sexual compatibility hurdle.
Sophia flipped her desk calendar over and marked through today’s date. Ten more days until the company picnic. Ten more days before Michael Barrington came home. Ten more days until she knew for sure. Could he make her feel as attractive as Mike made her feel? Could Michael make her feel wanted?
In the meantime, she was grateful that Mike seemed to be avoiding her. It made things so much easier.
The phone rang.
Sighing, Sophia reached for it. “Michael Barrington’s office. Sophia Shepherd speaking. How may I help you?”
The deep chuckle on the other end of the line set her heart to thumping. “You sound awfully serious this morning. Is something amiss, Sophia?”
“Mr. Barrington,” she exclaimed.
“Wait a minute. What did I tell you to call me?”
“Michael.” She grinned, and felt her cheeks turn pink.
“I’m calling to bring you up to speed on the Helsberg account. Ready to take notes?”
“Ready,” Sophia assured him, amazed at how quickly her gloomy mood had lifted.
Michael launched into the details of their latest hotel acquisition while she furiously took notes. They conducted business for several minutes then, when she sensed a lull in the conversation, she dared to broach the question that had been on her mind all weekend.
“Have you cemented your plans for the company picnic?” she asked timidly. “Are you still planning to be home by next Saturday?”
“Got the plane tickets.”
“Do you?” she breathed. “Really?”
“Really.” He chuckled again. The sound heated her bones, melted her heart.
“Are you coming to meet everyone at the office before you go to the picnic?” she asked.
“No time. My plane doesn’t get in until late Friday night.”
“But,” Sophia protested, “I won’t know what you look like.”
“I’ll still be a mystery then.”
“How will I recognize you?”
“I’ll be wearing blue shorts and a white T-shirt,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll be watching for you.”
“You’re not anxious to meet me in person, are you?”
“A little,” she confessed. “And nervous, too.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” he replied. “Unless you’re hiding something from me.”
Sophia’s laugh was shaky. “What could I be hiding from you?”
“Everyone has a few skeletons in their closet, Sophia.”
“Not everyone,” she denied vehemently. Mike was not a skeleton. They hadn’t done anything more than serious necking. “Do you have skeletons, Michael?”
“You bet I do,” he whispered huskily, then rang off without another word.
Michael hung up the phone. He rose to his feet, folded his arms across his chest and walked over to the floor-length windows of his father’s executive office. He stared out at the parking lot beyond. Soon, this would be his office, his domain, but for now, it still belonged to Rex, who was, at this very moment, leaning back in his swivel leather chair, studying him with a hard eye.
“What do you think is the best way to go about revealing my identity to the employees?” Mike asked.
“Call a meeting and I’ll introduce you. But I’ll warn you now, Michael, this isn’t going to be easy. The employees have come to know you as Mike the mailman. Don’t be surprised if they resent you for spying on them.”
“Dad, it had to be done. If I hadn’t gone undercover to study how the company works I would never have discovered that my ex-assistant was selling secrets to the competition or that Pete Randall in the stockroom had been stealing us blind for years.”
“Your charade served its purpose,” Rex said, “but I can’t help wondering if it’s not going to cost you more in the long run.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked sharply.
“The price of goodwill. By hiding your identity and circulating among the employees without their knowledge, they’re going to feel like they can’t trust you.”
“Ha! I’m the one who can’t trust them.”
“I realize that,” Rex said simply. “And it’s your shortcoming, not theirs.”
Michael frowned and stared at his father. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve got a problem with trust, son.”
“I wonder why that is,” Mike replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
A pained expression crossed Rex’s face. “I know I wasn’t always there for you and I’ll sorely regret it. But you’ve got to let go of the past. I’ve tried to make amends to you. This one character flaw is keeping you from becoming a truly great executive. You need to learn to delegate more. You can’t do everything yourself.”
“You’re right,” Michael admitted.
“I know I’m partly to blame. We rose up the social scale so quickly. I know there were a lot of kids who pretended to be your friend because of who you were. You never knew who to trust. I know that bothered you. I also know that Erica made things worse. But you can’t go around being suspicious of everyone all the time. Sometimes you’ve simply got to trust people.”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with questioning motives, Dad. Everyone, no matter how nice, has a hidden agenda. Some might say you go to the opposite extreme, that you want people to like you so much that you’ll turn a deaf ear to a bad situation.”
Anger flared in Rex’s dark green eyes. “I’ve learned a few things over the years about human nature son, things they don’t teach you in Harvard Business School. You have to trust people until they give you a reason not to.”
Michael sighed. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. But if he were honest with himself wouldn’t he admit that over the course of the past few months spent as Mike the mailman, he’d had actually enjoyed being spontaneous and carefree?
It was similar to the experiences of his rebellious days when he’d left home after a major argument with Rex. It had been fun, assuming a new persona, claiming the identity of a man who accepted people at face value. In a way, it was like reclaiming his youth, going back in time when his life consisted of something more than working to amass more money. As Mike, he’d found a level of acceptance he’d been unable to believe in as the boss’s son. When he was Mike, he knew that everyone liked him for himself. Michael Barrington never enjoyed that luxury.
“Dad, it’s one thing to put your faith in your employees, but it’s something else to be so trusting that you allow them to rip you off.”
“Maybe so.” Rex shrugged. “But in just a few weeks, the problem is all yours. I will be relaxing on the beach in Maui.”
“You’ve earned it.”
“What about Sophia?” Rex asked. “When are you going to tell her? You can’t just come to work one day and let her find Mike the mailman sitting in her boss’s office.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve got to tell her privately.”
Michael
blew out his breath. It would not be easy. “All right.”
“A boss and his secretary have a special relationship,” Rex said. “One that’s usually built on trust. Don’t be surprised if Sophia feels even more betrayed than everyone else.”
“Why should she feel betrayed? I’m the one she’s been plotting to marry.”
“Don’t judge her too harshly, Michael. In case you haven’t noticed, marrying the boss has reached epic proportions in this company. We’re all one big happy family and I for one happen to like things that way. Sophia just got caught up in the emotional sweep. Even Mildred’s been getting ideas.”
Michael’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Dad? Really? You and Mildred, an item?”
“Are you honestly surprised?” Rex asked, amusement written on his face. “Mildred’s been my anchor ever since your mother died. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
“Still, I never thought...”
“What’s the matter, son? You think you young folks have a patent on love?” Rex grinned naughtily.
“Well, no. I think it’s great, Dad. Congratulations.” Michael strode across the room to pump his father’s hand. “You deserve all the happiness life has to offer.”
“So do you, son.” Rex’s face sobered. “That’s why I’ve been lecturing you about trust. Until you can learn to trust a woman, you’re never going to get married.”
He did want to get married, Michael realized with a start. But he was afraid. Afraid of loving and not being loved in return. Afraid of losing that love once he found it, like his father had lost his mother. Afraid to trust, to let down his guard. And the only woman he desired was the one female he simply could not trust.
“You look very nice, Sophia,” Jannette complimented her.
They drove along the highway, headed west toward the lake. The smell of fried chicken escaped from the picnic basket in the back seat.
“Thanks.”
Sophia was dressed in blue denim skorts and a white cotton blouse. She had orchestrated for her clothing to mimic the outfit Michael planned to wear. Sophia had heard some psychologist on a radio call-in talk show say that men liked for their women to dress as they did. It was considered a sign of synergy.
I Married the Boss! Page 9