by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson
But Sophy had always had more than herself to consider. She loved her parents and had never wanted to embarrass them. As she was the judge’s daughter it would have made the perfect salacious storyline—if she’d gone off the rails, been a teen drinker, teen pregnant, or got into drugs. But she’d done none of those things. She’d tried to be the perfect kid—even when she knew she was a disappointment in not following them into the law. She’d even tried to find the perfect boyfriend. If she couldn’t live up to the family name she’d marry someone who would. She’d been so naïve—her ex had only wanted her for what he could get out of it—the connection to her family. She supposed it served her right.
She was the boring, goody two-shoes who’d been embarrassingly naïve. Now she was in the habit of playing safe. Not playing at all. Not taking risks.
She never discussed her family with anyone at all now. Privacy had been important anyway, discretion a must. People were put off just as much as they were intrigued, as if they thought she’d run to her father if they mentioned anything even slightly shady. It was as if they expected her to be a pillar of morality, never once veering from doing right.
And in truth she was.
‘Is this job full-time?’ Rosanna asked.
‘Initially.’
‘You know your problem, Soph?’
‘Go on, enlighten me.’
‘You’re too sweet. Why don’t you ever say no to them? Why don’t you ever say no to me?’
‘How can I?’ Sophy argued. ‘You let me move in.’ She hadn’t wanted to stay with her parents. But hadn’t wanted to live alone either—at least, not all the time.
Rosanna shrugged. ‘I’m hardly here. It’s a selfish move on my part—you’re a good house-sitter.’
‘Yes.’ Sophy laughed, not in the least offended, knowing Rosanna didn’t mean it.
‘But when are you going to get those pieces finished?’
Sophy bit her lip. She’d known Ro would bring it up eventually. ‘I don’t know that I can.’
‘You’re doing it, Sophy. This is such a great opportunity.’
‘You’ve just told me to learn to say no.’
‘Only to the things you don’t really want. This is something you do want, isn’t it? This is something to push for. Put your ambition first for once.’
‘I will.’ Sophy groaned, but Rosanna was right of course. ‘When are you back?’
‘Later in the week. Another flying visit home and then off again.’
‘You don’t get tired of it?’
‘No.’
And perhaps if they saw each other more they’d drive each other nuts. The taxi finally pulled up and Rosanna strutted down to get it, her ponytail swinging, her ultrahigh heels tapping and her trolley rattling along the concrete path.
‘Don’t say yes to anything else while I’m away,’ she called as she got into the cab. ‘I mean it.’ She stopped and opened the door again to holler, ‘Especially not Lorenzo Hall!’
‘Kittens have claws, you know.’
‘Not enough to make a mark on a man like him.’
Laughing, Sophy shut the front door. Rested against it for a moment, listening to the vast silence Rosanna had left behind her. She’d been right. Lorenzo was out of her league. And probably not genuinely interested anyway—he was just amusing himself by making her squirm.
Rosanna was right about something else too. Sophy needed to finish up her pieces and prepare for the exhibition. It was a fantastic opportunity and she shouldn’t blow it. Inspired, she went into her room and got to work on them—kept working late into the night. Once she got into it the excitement flowed and she decided to make the most of her lunch break—she had no time to waste if she wanted to get enough made.
She got to work early the next day to get ahead. She opened the window in the office to let the fresh spring air in. Looking down, she saw Lorenzo was out the back. Wide brush in hand, he was covering the graffiti with black paint—to match the rest of the fence. So it bothered him enough at last? Sophy thought it was a bit of a shame. But, unable to resist, she watched. His jeans hung that little bit low on his hips, an old tee was stretched across his broad shoulders. His feet were bare. He had his phone trapped between ear and shoulder and his voice carried across the still yard. As did his laughter.
She should probably close the window.
Instead she switched on her computer. She’d concentrate on the work. Not listen to every word winging through the window.
‘So what’s the castle like?’ Lorenzo asked.
Alex had taken Dani to Italy on a belated but extended honeymoon. They were staying in some castle for a few weeks.
‘Amazing. As it should be for the price. How’s Cara?’
‘Shattered but holding her own, I think.’ He swirled the brush through the paint. ‘She loved the flowers. She said the baby is tiny but she’s doing well.’
‘You’ve not been to see her yet?’
‘No.’ Lorenzo winced.
‘Renz—’
‘Not my scene, Alex, you know that.’ Happy families weren’t him. He was concerned for Cara, of course he was, and he’d sent over a ton of presents, asked if there was anything he could do. Of course there wasn’t, she and her husband and their entire extended families had it together. So he didn’t have to go and feel awkward around them.
‘What about the Whistle Fund? Did you find someone to help out?’ Alex moved on.
‘Yeah,’ Lorenzo sighed. ‘Cara did—a friend’s younger sister or something. One of those socialites who likes to be involved.’ Lorenzo jabbed a fence paling with the brush. ‘She’s so damn efficient. Organised. Officious. She looks like a frigid girl scout.’
Alex laughed. ‘So many adjectives, Renz—she bothering you?’
‘No.’ If only he knew.
Alex laughed even harder—okay, so he knew he was lying. ‘So she’s a babe?’
Lorenzo slapped some paint on even thicker. Yes, she was a babe. In more ways than one. All big blue eyes and blonde hair that begged to be ruffled. Hot-looking but with an air of innocence that Lorenzo wasn’t at all sure that he should taint. ‘She’s doing the job. That’s all that matters.’
The job would be done—brilliantly—and he’d find a permanent replacement very soon. Because he had too much else to do to be fixating on her all the time like this.
He ended the call to Alex, finished up the fence. Picking up the can, he swung round, glanced up to the first floor. The window to her office was open but he couldn’t see anyone sitting at the desk. Kat must have opened it.
He jogged up to his apartment—scrubbed the paint off in the shower. But he had an itch that just had to be scratched. He had to go have another look, see if he could make her spark again. It was like she’d put some kind of homing device in him, drawing him near. He went down to Reception and stole the mail from Kat’s tray. Then his feet just went to where she was.
Irresistible.
‘You going out with your boyfriend tonight?’ he asked. So lame. So unsubtle.
She froze where she was bent over a pile of papers.
‘You should come to the bar. It’s the opening night.’
‘You’re that desperate for customers?’ She looked up, all frost. Touchy this morning.
‘Actually no. We’re confident it’ll do the business. I just thought you might like to see it.’ He leaned his frame against the door. ‘It’s a nice little place, intimate. You can cuddle on a sofa in the corner.’ Would she be the type to cuddle in public? Somehow he didn’t think so—she had that aloof thing going. ‘Or you can work up a sweat on the dance floor. Oh… ‘he paused deliberately ‘… you’ll be on the sofa, then, won’t you?’
‘I like to dance.’
His muscles tightened at the unexpected tinge of boldness in her tone, he looked harder at her.
‘But I already have plans for tonight.’ Oh, she was ultra cool—it made him suspect she was even hotter beneath.
‘With your boyfr
iend?’ Yeah, again, real subtle. But he really needed to know. Now.
Sophy gave up pretending to look at the file in front of her. ‘No,’ she said as calmly as she could—tricky given the anger zooming round and round her veins, searching for a way out. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’
‘No?’ Annoyingly he didn’t sound that surprised. Worse, he looked pleased about it.
‘I don’t want one.’ Damn, she’d tacked that on too quickly, sounded too vehement. And they both knew it.
His brows lifted. ‘Why’s that?’ He put the mail on her desk, the action bringing him even closer to her. ‘Did some twerp break your heart?’
She took a moment to draw breath—so she could answer with icy precision. ‘What makes you think I have a heart?’ She bit the words out with the experience of seven years’ elocution lessons behind her. ‘We frigid girl scouts don’t bother with them. We find machinery to be more efficient.’
Slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze—it clashed with his for a long, long time. His own eyes revealed nothing, yet seemed to penetrate her façade—delving into her secrets. She felt the blush rising—stupidly—when he was the one who’d been so rude. He’d said it. She’d only overheard it by mistake. So why was she the one feeling so uncomfortable now?
‘Struck a nerve, did I?’ Without breaking the stare he walked around her desk. ‘I only said you look like that, not that you actually are.’
‘Same difference.’ All her nerves were prickling now.
His smile sharpened. ‘But I already know you’re quite capable of feeling something.’
She just stared at him, fighting to slow her pulse.
‘Anger.’ He grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the chair. ‘Are you very angry with me, Sophy?’
He was inappropriately close—again—holding her tight, yet she didn’t fight to step back. She refused to let him intimidate her, or to play with her.
‘Do you want me to make it better?’ His arms looped around her, hands warm and firm on her waist.
‘How are you planning to do that?’ She took a quick breath, shaking inside, but stabbed him with some sarcasm. ‘With a kiss?’
‘Isn’t that how it works?’ He leaned closer, spearing her with his dark, unreadable eyes. ‘Isn’t that what you want?’
‘No.’ Now she was even more angry. Because he was right. It was what she wanted. What she’d been wanting since she first laid eyes on him, and especially since she’d been in his apartment and touched him. But she didn’t want it like this. ‘I don’t think it would make it better.’
‘No?’
‘I think it would make it worse.’ She flashed at him. ‘Don’t patronise me, Lorenzo. You think you’re better than me? You think I’m some robot? Some spoilt, bored socialite? Spending all my time doing this and that for everyone else? You think I don’t have ambition of my own? Dreams of my own? Desires of my own?’
She shut up, suddenly aware she was verbally vomiting an ancient bitterness that she’d never wanted to talk about to anyone, certainly not to him.
His hold on her tightened. ‘I don’t think that. But obviously you think some people do.’
Yeah, a little bubbling mass of resentment, that was her.
‘Why didn’t you say no to working here, if you had other things you wanted to do?’ He made it sound so simple.
But she never said no—not to that kind of request. And she did have some time to help. She liked to help. It make her feel useful, needed. Except now it felt as if Lorenzo had been laughing at her willingness and her diligence. Were they all laughing at her? Was she valued at all or were her efforts just taken for granted?
Tired. That was her problem. Tired and frustrated and overwhelmed. And he wasn’t helping—towering over her like this, tormenting her all the time. She looked straight down to the floor as tears sprang in her eyes. ‘Forget it.’
‘No.’ He took her chin in firm fingers and tilted her head back up so he could see her face. A half-swallowed growl sounded. ‘You’re really upset.’
‘My wounded pride will get over it,’ she snapped, cross with her stupid weakness. ‘I don’t care what you think. I’m here to do a job. Now I’m going to get on with it.’
‘Not until I apologise.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be the type to say sorry.’
‘And you think I’m the one making assumptions?’ His eyes glinted but the smallest of smiles appeared. ‘Okay, I don’t say it often. But when I do, I mean it.’ He stroked her jaw. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ She shrugged, too crushed to accept it with good grace and determined not to let that smile have its usual disabling effect. ‘I don’t care what you think about me.’
His smile deepened just a touch. Okay, so she was protesting too much.
She sighed as a flicker of good humour returned to her. ‘Don’t get big-headed about it. I care too much what everyone thinks about me.’
‘What you think matters to me too.’
Okay, so now his niceness was making it worse. Embarrassed, she shifted. ‘Look, just forget it.’
‘No.’ His grip tightened. ‘I’m going to make it better. I’m going to do it anyway. It’s been on the cards for days. You know that.’
She froze, her body rendered immobile with anticipation overload. All she could do was gaze up at him—drowning in his eyes, yearning for that beautiful mouth to touch her.
And then it did.
A butterfly-light brush of lips on skin—a shade too close to her mouth to be a safe kiss on the cheek. And he lingered too long for it to be safe too.
‘Better?’ His question almost inaudible, but she heard it, felt it as his lips grazed her as he asked.
‘No.’
The smallest of pauses as they stood—intent hovering. Only a couple of inches separated their bodies, only a millimetre separated their lips. She could feel his heat, and smell his fresh soapy scent. A tremor ran through her as anticipation almost broke her nerve. Suddenly he moved—that merest fraction, the littlest drop to her mouth. His lips were warm, and they clung.
Her eyes closed, her body blanking everything so it could focus only on the touch. His gentleness so unexpected, the rush of sensation pierced through her.
A moan—was it her? The softness, the slowness, the sweetness overwhelmed her. She trembled again and his hands tightened. This wasn’t enough.
And then it was over.
She couldn’t breathe. She saw his eyes zooming in on her. Jet black now. Intense. Beautiful. Time and motion stopped for a moment that felt like infinity. Her every nerve was wired, waiting, wanting. Would he come back—would he kiss her again?
‘No,’ he said roughly, stepping back. His hands dropped—leaving her suddenly cold. ‘You were right. I was wrong.’ He walked out of the door. ‘I really am sorry.’
CHAPTER FOUR
SOPHY managed to stay standing ‘til Lorenzo was out of sight, then collapsed into the chair. Fisting her hands over her eyes, shoulders rising—blocking all sensation. Just for a second. Just to stay sane. Her whole body tingled, as if she’d been zapped by some kind of extra-terrestrial ray-gun making all her cells jiggle.
The disappointment was devastating.
Why had he stopped? She knew he’d felt it—she’d seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. But he’d practically run away.
If she was Rosanna she’d have been the one to move that second time. It would have taken nothing—the slightest tilt of her chin to resume the contact. She’d had it on a platter. Yet she hadn’t taken the chance.
Now she was mad with herself for wishing she had, even madder for having been so damn passive. Why hadn’t she had the guts to take the risk? But she’d been knocked—first by his words, second by the kiss and the emotion that had flooded through her.
And now he was sorry? Not just for what she’d overheard, but for kissing her. She understood. But she couldn’t understand how he could regret it. He’d felt it as she had; that kind
of chemistry couldn’t be one-sided.
And she wanted more. She really wanted more. A fire had been lit in her belly and it needed feeding. Except it looked as if she was going to be left starving.
Well, she was taking her lunch break today. She was working to rule and jolly well going to work on her own project. Spurred on by what she’d said to him—she did have her own ambition. And now, more than ever, she was determined to make it. She’d do this exhibition and show them all she had more to her than great organisational skills. She had dreams—and she’d make them real.
That had been a mistake. Oh, man, had that been a mistake. Lorenzo’s body hurt as he moved—every cell rebelling as he made himself walk away.
Yeah, she had emotions all right—her want for him so hot and sweet. He wanted to bury himself completely in the delectable softness she offered.
She’d stared at him. Just waiting with her eyes so huge. It was like corrupting an innocent. She really was a good girl, wasn’t she? And Lorenzo never messed with good girls. Ever. Things got too messy. And it was obvious things with Sophy would get nuclear messy. Hell, she’d been crushed by that stupid comment he’d made to Alex. Her big eyes brimming with hurt—from just a few silly words. And he felt bad for it—an absolute heel. Because she hadn’t deserved it. He didn’t like feeling guilty.
And now he knew for sure there was no way in hell she was frigid. She wasn’t just warm either. She had volcanic qualities. Like a snow-capped mountain, she was capable of blasting fire when you least expected it, able to melt granite with her heat.
That just made it fifty times worse because he ached to make her tremble again and again. Being with her, in her, would be more than explosive, it would be some kind of divine experience. But if she was hurt by just a few words, no way could she handle a short-term fling. And that was all he ever did. She was a relationship woman. Ms Monogamous.
She was far too good for him—literally. He just wasn’t crossing that line. It didn’t matter how hot he was for her, it wasn’t going to happen. Because Mr Monogamous he wasn’t. He’d tried it once when he’d been young and naïve enough to think the past wouldn’t matter. He’d been shot down and wasn’t taking a hit like that again. Sure, he liked women—lots of women—for the physical fun of sex. No more than three times with a partner—preferably in the same night. That wasn’t a kind of deal straight, sweet Sophy could handle.