by Rita Herron
"I know, and I'm sorry." She patted his hand, then reached into her purse and placed a plastic vial on the table in front of him. "But I had to know all those things before we could continue."
He eyed the vial with trepidation. "Continue what?"
"Making a baby."
"A baby?"
"Yes, I joined the singles service to find a sperm donor."
His hands began to shake. "You did what?"
"I want you to father my child." She finally gave him a smile. "Actually, consider yourself lucky. So far I've interviewed fifty-three candidates and no one filled all my requirements except you."
He gulped. He certainly didn't feel lucky. And he had no intention of fathering this lunatic's baby.
"Uh, excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom."
She grinned when he stood, then grabbed his hand. "Don't forget this." She slid the vial into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers around it. Heat scalded Lance's neck as he shoved his fist into his pocket and strode to the bathroom.
Surely he could find a back door....
Chapter 10
Sophie glanced at the door to the coffee shop where she and her date had stopped after dinner, surprised to see Lance peering through the doorway. What was he doing here? And where was this woman he'd planned to meet?
He strode in, his masculine presence suddenly filling the crowded shop and making Jeremy's lean build look almost feminine.
"Basically it requires a multitude of shots," Jeremy said. "Then I go in with the scalpel—actually some patients call it a gum knife..."
Sophie shivered. He had been giving her the basics on performing a root canal—in other words, boring her to tears for the last half hour. The only way she had survived was to people-watch and nod, neither of which he noticed due to his overinflated ego and obsession with himself.
But Lance glanced her way, and she jerked her head toward Jeremy, pretending interest.
As soon as they'd left dinner, Lucy and her date had run off to go clubbing, claiming the coffee shop didn't quite meet Lucy's standards for excitement. At one time it hadn't met Sophie's either. Just last year she'd been content to attend new show openings and parties with Maddie. They'd even gone to that nudist colony. But the upcoming big three-oh—and seeing Maddie settled with a husband—had triggered her own desires for family, stability, love....
"Last week I performed three root canals in a row; then I did an implant for this lady who bit into a caramel and lost her crown. That was a piece of work. I could show you the X rays, if you'd like; it's really fascinating...."
Smile and nod. Maybe she should have gone with Lucy. At least alcohol might dull the drone of his monotone.
Jeremy's beeper sounded. "Sorry, forgot to tell you I'm on call."
Sophie sipped her mocha, praying he had an emergency. "No problem; go ahead."
He popped his cell phone off his belt and clicked in some numbers, his face animated as he spoke. "Okay, ma'am, calm down. Bring the teeth in. I can save them...." Pause. His chest puffed out with pride. "Yes, all right. Meet me at the office."
He snapped the phone shut with a halfhearted sigh. "I'm going to have to call the evening short. A twelve-year-old knocked his front two permanent teeth out in a backyard baseball game."
"By all means, you should go," Sophie said, sorry for the poor child but grateful for the reprieve. "I'll get a taxi home."
"You're sure you don't mind? I can take you first." He squeezed her hands and she noticed his nails were manicured. His skin felt surprisingly soft, too, unlike Lance's work-roughened hands.
So she was odd—she much preferred Lance's calluses and wood-stained fingernails. "I'm sure. Go on; the child needs you."
"Let's do it again, Sophie. I had a wonderful time." He dipped his head and kissed her cheek.
She nodded and smiled again, accepting the obligatory gesture. Sure, he'd had a wonderful time. He'd talked nonstop about himself. Cradling her cup in her hands, she tried to ignore the fact that Lance was walking her way and that he'd seen her date desert her. Seconds later he slid onto the love seat beside her. In a typical manly move, he sat with his big legs spread wide so that they brushed her bare thigh. In spite of the air conditioner, hot air swirled around her, the scent of his body intoxicating. All she could think of was crawling in his arms and burying herself against his chest.
Unfortunately she'd have to settle for crawling into his shirt later on and burying her head against her own pillow.
He was wearing a hint of cologne, too, something slightly woodsy. Because he'd been on a date with another woman.
"Your date ran out on you?" he asked, a little too smugly.
"He's a doctor," Sophie blurted, tugging at the hem of her skirt as Lance's gaze fixated on her legs. "He had an emergency."
His smile faltered slightly. "A doctor, huh? Sounds like a good match."
For a doormat. "How about you? I thought you had plans tonight? Early evening?"
He cut his gaze away from her and sipped his coffee. "A disaster."
"Really?" Too bad. "So, what are you doing here? Following me?"
Lance shrugged. "I saw you come in, thought I'd drop by and tell you that that service you set me up with has some weirdos."
Poor baby. So he was blaming her for his date bombing. And had he really dropped in to tell her that, or did he want to see her? Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she refused to get her hopes up. "What kind of weirdos?"
Lance angled his head to peer down at her, his eyes grave. "Let's just say she wanted more than I was willing to give."
"Like you thought I did?"
His gaze darkened; then a low chuckle reverberated from his chest. "Not quite. She wanted a baby and wanted me to well, er... you know."
Sophie's mouth gaped open. "You're kidding."
He raised his hand in a pledge-type pose. "The gospel. Brought a little plastic cup with her."
Sophie laughed. "Okay, you win."
"Win what?"
"The worst-date contest."
Lance laughed, too, and they actually talked a few minutes, sharing the worst parts of their catastrophic evenings.
"Let me take you home," Lance suggested as they finished their coffee.
Sophie hesitated. She was enjoying their camaraderie too much. "That's not necessary, Lance. I'm a big girl; I'll call a cab—"
"I'm well aware of that," Lance said in a gruff voice. "But I'm still taking you home. My Blazer's down the street. We can discuss the renovations, since we didn't get a chance to earlier."
Of course, work. Nothing personal. "Right." She stood and he lowered his hand to the small of her back, sending a delicious tingle up her spine.
They left the coffee and chocolate scents and chatter behind, only to be engulfed in the fresh fragrances of summer flowers and the sounds of Savannah tourists and the river in the background. The nearly full moon spilled soft light on the sidewalks, the Spanish moss draping the giant live oaks in the small parks creating canopies of privacy as they strolled back to his car. The simple sound of Lance's footsteps on the pavement and his breath in the quiet of the evening stirred her heart to an irregular beat. When she climbed into his Blazer, she couldn't help but notice he'd cleaned the inside.
For another woman.
A surge of jealousy snaked through her. Why couldn't the two of them be together? Why couldn't Lance love her?
He steered the truck away from the downtown area and she savored the short ride. She just hoped she didn't arrive home and find Lucy having sex with her date....
* * *
Lucy had ditched her date after the second dance, claiming she'd spotted her old boyfriend on the dance floor and she didn't want trouble. Not that she hadn't been having fun, but she had something else she needed to do tonight while Sophie and Lance weren't around.
She was going to concoct a potion to help Sophie in the romance department.
Granted, Sophie had all the proper elements—sex appeal in
spades, wit, intelligence—but she had obviously failed with Lance and that Dalton man because she wasn't putting out the right vibes. Lucy had a cure for that, although she was admittedly grateful Lance hadn't decided to pursue her sister.
Lucy wanted her sister to be happy; she really did. But Sophie harbored such a crush on Lance Summers that it worried her.
He was the wrong man for her sister. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Sophie didn't need marriage. She needed someone fun-loving, exciting. A man able to tear her out of her self-imposed prison of responsibility and order and show her how to live. Lance was too solemn, too intense, too tight, unable to loosen up. Lucy hadn't once seen him smile since he'd been working at her sister's. Not like his brother, Reid.
She desperately wanted to see that yumlicious man again.
Opening up her Charms and Talismans book, she found the perfect recipe, a spell to keep Sophie from making mistakes in love. Unearthing her caftan from her suitcase, she put it on, then draped beads around her head just as she'd seen a voodoo priestess do at a festival she'd attended in Vegas. Then she took a small piece of parchment paper, and with the Dove's Blood Ink she'd bought at the magic shop on her way home, drew the configuration of letters shown in the book. Next she blew on the parchment paper to dry the ink, then folded it and slipped it inside Sophie's day purse so she'd have it with her most of the time. The final step—she sprinkled Jinx Removing Salt all around the house, making certain to put it by all the windows and doors.
When she finished, she decided to add a spell to stir sexual desires and help Sophie find new sex partners. A new lover would be the quickest cure for her Lance lust. She hung the talisman over Sophie's front doorway. The charm was supposed to open up hearts at first meeting, allowing love to shine through or making the person want to go to bed with you. The smiling goddess on the talisman denoted the goddess of lust, passion and sensuality. Perfect.
She opened some incense, but a noise sounded at the door. Voices.
Sophie's and a man's? Not Jeremy's.
She sneaked to the window and peeked out, surprised to see Lance on the doorstep with her sister. Thank goodness they hadn't arrived home when she'd been sprinkling the salts around or the charm wouldn't work.
Now all she had to do was gather pebbles and arrange them around a pink candle, then burn it every night for seven minutes at sunset and Sophie would have all the new lovers she could handle. Then she wouldn't need to pine over Lance Summers.
And Lucy wouldn't have to worry about her sister getting married and leaving her alone....
* * *
Lance stood on the front porch of Sophie's house, wondering if she'd bought his earlier story about dropping in the coffee shop to complain about the dating service. When he had passed the shop and seen her with the other guy, he'd had a total out-of-body, freak jealousy attack and followed her in, hoping to get rid of her date for her.
Now he was just damn mesmerized by her sultry presence. Although they'd already talked for over an hour, and he had developed a good understanding of Sophie's plans for the house he still hesitated, reluctant to leave less the good doctor show up to make up for running out on her by administering some mouth-to-mouth. "So you're going to keep the wood flooring?"
"Of course. In fact I want to strip away all the carpet," Sophie said.
He wanted to strip her, Lance thought, his gaze dropping to the low-necked slinky black dress she'd worn for her date. "And have them refinished?"
"That, too." Sophie's green eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight as he inched closer to her. Her back was pressed against the wood molding of the doorway, her delicate face angled upward so she could look into his eyes. Her mouth drew him, made him ache.
"I want the whitewashed look for the kitchen floors," she said.
"And Victorian accessories throughout."
"Absolutely."
He lowered his head toward her. "Craftsmanship is important to you?"
Her voice grew softer. "Only the best."
"It sounds as if you know exactly what you want."
A small smile curved Sophie's lips, triggering sensations inside him. "I do. Things that will last forever," she whispered. "But I'm not sure I can afford everything I want."
His chest squeezed as he feathered a strand of hair away from her cheek. "Cost too high?"
Sophie nodded and licked her lips. "I'm afraid so."
He cupped the base of her head in his hand, his entire body tightening at the way her breath whispered out. Hunger, denial, and need bolted through him. He forgot they were talking about her house and furniture and flooring. The cost of wanting her was too high.
The price of not having her was even more painful.
Unable to control his tortured body's response to the flutter of desire in her eyes, he lowered his mouth and claimed her. The first touch of her lips sent fire burning through his belly; the second had his body hard and throbbing. And when she threaded her fingers in his hair and answered with a slow thrust of her tongue, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her as if his thirst would never be quenched. She dragged her hands over his shoulders and down his back, kneading his muscles with fingertips that urged him to deepen the torture. And he did.
Reason was forgotten.
He gently trailed kisses along her jaw, then up her neck to the sensitive shell of her ear, and lower. Unbearable need pulsed through him. She tasted like fire and sin, and sultry promises that turned his senses inside out with want. His hands tiptoed across her shoulders and down her torso, the pressure of her breasts against his chest intensely erotic. He wanted to touch her there, too, to taste her sweetness and hear her cry out his name as he suckled her. Another sip at her neck and he licked his way down to the curve of her breasts, but suddenly the porch light sprang on.
Seconds later the door burst open. "Sophie!" Lucy's head flounced through the opening. "Oh, my gosh, I didn't mean to interrupt. I heard voices and wanted to make sure that pervert wasn't back."
Lance stiffened, lowering his hands in front of him to hide his erection, while Sophie ran her hands through her hair trying to tame the wild ends. The gesture simply enticed him more.
Then Lucy's words rang through his sex-starved brain. The pervert? So Sophie hadn't informed her sister that he'd been arrested?
"Lucy," Sophie said in a warning voice. "Uh, there wasn't a pervert—"
"There was, too. I saw him, and called the police."
"You called the police?" Lance said.
"Yes, of course. What did you expect me to do, let him stalk us?"
"He wasn't a stalker," Sophie said.
Lance's anger cropped back. "You had me arrested?"
"You're the pervert," Lucy said.
"I'm not a pervert," Lance said tightly, "or a stalker." But before Sophie he was a legendary sleeper—eight to ten hours a night.
"It was a misunderstanding," Sophie said, trying to play peacemaker. "Lucy, Lance was watching the house because he was worried about us with the door missing."
Lucy wrinkled her nose. "Sophie and I can take care of ourselves. We don't need a man; for goodness' sake, we grew up in Vegas."
Sophie gently pushed her sister's arm, urging her back inside. "Lucy, that's enough."
Lance backed away. For some reason Sophie's sister didn't seem to like him.
What had he done to make her disapprove of him?
* * *
"What are you doing home so early? I expected you and loverboy to tie one on." Sophie closed the door, instantly annoyed at the sight of Lucy's things strewn across the den. Knowing her attempts to teach Lucy to be a neatnik were futile, she bit her tongue, more important issues rising to the surface.
Like Lucy's rotten timing. Why had she interrupted her and Lance? And why had she been so hostile?
"I started feeling guilty about leaving you with Jeremy, and decided to come home so we could spend some time together."
Guilt tugged at Sophie for being irritated. Lucy was in to
wn for only the week. If she could give up a man, which was rare for Lucy, in exchange for time with her sister, Sophie shouldn't complain.
She threw her arm around Lucy's shoulders and they walked to the den. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I was just surprised."
"And disappointed because I interrupted you two getting it on." Lucy gave her a curious look. "What exactly is going on between you Lance?"
Sophie dropped onto the sofa, perplexed herself. "I... I'm not sure."
"You were making out?"
Sophie shrugged. "He kissed me."
"I saw that."
Sophie narrowed her eyes. "You interrupted on purpose?"
Lucy winced. "No, I did hear a noise; then I opened the door and saw you." She toyed with the pillow on the sofa. "Are things moving forward with you two?"
"I don't know," Sophie said, miserable. "One minute we were talking about the renovations; the next we were tangled together in a lip-lock."
"He's a good kisser?"
Sophie pressed her fingers to her temple. "The best."
"You're in love with him, aren't you?"
Sophie groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "I'm trying not to be. After all, he did trick himself out of that date with me. And he's given me no reason to think he wants a relationship."
"Then stick to Maddie's rules." Lucy twirled a strand of hair around one finger. "What was rule number five?"
"Make sure his teeth are sunk in; then reel him in."
"His teeth aren't sunk yet?"
"They only nibbled at the surface."
"So it was a good thing I interrupted. You indulged in some foreplay, but it's way too soon to consummate."
Sophie moaned again. She desperately had wanted to consummate things. "Right."
Lucy patted her back sympathetically. "How'd you end up together, anyway? I thought you and Jeremy were having coffee."
"We did." Sophie explained about his emergency. "But I have to admit that I was grateful when he left, Lucy. Jeremy is—"
"Boring."
Sophie laughed. "Dreadfully so."
"Sorry, Soph." Lucy clasped Sophie's hand, a wicked gleam in her eyes that Sophie didn't quite understand. "We'll do better for you next time."