by Lori Foster
“Or maybe she’d put you out of your misery and take you home with her.”
Cole slanted his brother a look. Usually, Chase was the quietest, but he was damned talkative tonight. “Any particular reason why you want to annoy me right now?”
Chase grinned. “Other than the fact you’re hiding over here in the corner, staring at her like a kid in a candy store with a pounding sweet tooth but no money to buy anything? Nope. There’s no other reason.”
“She refuses to enter the contest.”
“Well damn.” Chase stepped away for a moment to fill an order, then came back to Cole’s side. “You couldn’t talk her into it?”
He shook his head, distracted. “She has a twin.”
“Oh ho, two Sophies. Now that sounds interesting. They’re identical?”
Cole elbowed him. “Yeah. And get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Too crowded, what with yours already being there?”
“Something like that. She says her sister will enter, but she doesn’t want to.” He sighed in disgust. “What is it about Sophie that makes me start fantasizing all kinds of wild things?”
“You tell me.”
Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall beside the ice chest, Cole considered her. “She’s so buttoned down, so serene. Not once in the seven months I’ve known her has she ever missed a night, which means she must not be dating at all.” He studied her dark brown hair, parted in the middle and hanging to her shoulders with only the gentlest of curls. It looked incredibly soft; he wanted to bury his nose against her neck, feel that silky hair on his face, his chest, his abdomen.
He wanted to see it fanned out against his pillows as he covered her with his naked body, wanted to see it tangled and wild as she reached for the pleasure he’d give her.
He shuddered in reaction. “Damn.”
“Care to share those thoughts?”
“No.” Narrow shoulders, but always straight and proud, posture erect. Her skin could make him nuts, so smooth and pale. He wondered if she was that smooth all over, the skin on her thighs and bottom, her breasts, low on her belly. She would smell so sweet—he’d be willing to bet his life on that. Sweet and warm and sexy, just like the woman herself.
“Maybe her sister will give you a break. If they look the same, you could do a little imagining.”
“I don’t want her damn sister. I want her.” He watched Sophie lift the mug of chocolate to her mouth now that the whipped cream was gone. She sipped, then patted her lips with a napkin. “It’s more than just how she looks. It’s her. She smiles at me, and all I can think about is warm skin, heavy breathing, and tangled sheets.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Damn it, I know it. But she shies away from me every time I try to get close. She’s just plain not interested.” He could easily picture the way her wide blue eyes would skip away, avoiding his, how her hands would twist together, how she’d bite her lip. God he loved how she bit her lip.
“Ask her why.”
Cole glared at his brother. “Yeah, right. I can’t even get her to enter the damn contest. How am I going to get her to open up her head to me?”
“There’s a couple of days left. But if she doesn’t enter, what are we going to do?”
Cole shrugged, angered by the prospect. “We’ll pick a different winner. It’s still a good contest. All the local papers have picked it up, so it’s a great promo, even if we didn’t need the publicity. And it’ll only cost us drinks for a month.”
“It’ll also cost you a night on the town, lady’s choice, because none of the rest of us are dumb enough to open that bag of worms. You’re liable to find yourself with a permanent female escort.”
Truth was, he wouldn’t mind a permanent escort, if it was Sophie. He’d spent the better part of his life raising his younger brothers after his parents’ deaths. He didn’t regret the time he’d devoted to his brothers, just the opposite. Their closeness was important to him. But raising three boys, when he wasn’t much more than a boy himself, had been a full-time job with no room for other relationships. He’d had to be content with fleeting female pleasure, the occasional night of passion.
Now Mack was in his last year of college, all the brothers were settled and secure, and Cole was finally free to live his own life. He wanted more. He wanted Sophie.
Damn her for her stubbornness, and for trying to pawn her sister off on him.
Cole walked away as Chase got sidetracked again with customers. He had some paperwork to do and might as well get started, but again, he paused in the hallway leading to his office and stared at Sophie. His plan had been so simple. Valentine’s Day was a time for lovers, so therefore perfect for a contest that would bring the two of them together.
She was a shoe-in to win because his brothers knew how he felt about her, though they were amused because they thought it was mere lust. They didn’t know he spent the better part of his day looking forward to seeing her when she closed her shop, when she’d spend a quiet hour sitting in her favorite booth, talking to him about everything and nothing. They didn’t know he was obsessed with a woman for the first time in his life.
The winner of the contest not only got drinks at the bar free for a month, she would also have her picture taken with all the Winston men. The photo would be prominently displayed on a wall, and each year, another photo would join it as the contest became an annual event.
But best of all, the winner got a night on the town of her choice. Cole had visions of Sophie choosing a nice restaurant for dinner where they’d have plenty of time to talk without the bar’s audience, followed by a little slow dancing where he’d be able to hold her close, move her body against his. He’d feel her thighs brushing his, her belly moving against his groin, her stiff nipples hot against his chest. And they’d eventually end up in bed with those tangled sheets he couldn’t help seeing in his mind.
He didn’t want to meet her sister. But at the same time, his curiosity was extreme. A woman who looked like Sophie, but wasn’t. A woman who could be Sophie, but who wouldn’t be so shy with him. He shook his head even as his body stirred. At that moment, Sophie looked up and their gazes locked. Even from the distance separating them, he felt linked to her, a touch that kicked him in the heart and licked along his muscles, a feeling he’d never experienced with any other woman.
Damn, he wanted her.
He wouldn’t give up. Sooner or later, he’d get Sophie Sheridan exactly where he wanted her, and he’d keep her there for an excruciatingly long, satisfying time.
Chapter Two
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Mack gave a long, low whistle that effortlessly carried through the closed office door. “Will you take a look at that.”
Cole glanced up from his desk and paperwork, wondering what had drawn his brother’s attention. It had been a long, frustrating night, and his eyes were gritty, his head leaden.
“Hubba hubba. Who is she?” Zane asked as he, too, came to loiter in the hallway. Cole frowned and pushed away from his computer.
“Don’t you remember her? I’ll give you a clue. Cole is going to choke on his own tongue—once he gets it back in his mouth.”
“No!” There was a considering pause, then, “Well, yeah, I suppose it could be her. But what did she do to herself?”
“Hell if I know. But she looks good enough to—”
Cole shot out of his chair, his curiosity too extreme to repress. He’d been determined to ignore the sister if and when she showed, and considering it was well after midnight, he figured he wouldn’t have to worry about it.
He jerked the door open and Zane, who’d been leaning on it, almost fell on the floor. Cole helped to right him, then followed Mack’s gaze across the room. Every muscle in his body snapped into iron hardness. He couldn’t move. Hell, he could barely breathe.
Like a sleepwalker, he let go of Zane and started forward. He could hear his brothers snickering behind him, but he ignore
d it. God, she looked good. His heart punched so hard against his ribs he thought he might break something—and he didn’t care.
As he got closer, she looked up, and her smoky blue gaze sank into his. She trembled, her chest drawing deep, quick breaths, and then she smiled.
“Sophie?”
A husky laugh sent fingers of sensation down his spine. “Of course not. I’m her sister, Shelly. And you must be the big, gorgeous owner Sophie’s told me so much about.” Her gaze boldly skimmed down his body, like a hot lick of interest, then back up again. “My my. I have to say, Sophie didn’t exaggerate.”
Cole was floored. Oh, he was interested; after all, he wasn’t dead, and the woman standing in front of him, dressed all in black, was a surefire knockout. But she wasn’t Sophie.
She could be Sophie, he thought, unable to keep his gaze from roaming all over her from head to toe, but the words out of her mouth were words he’d only imagined, not something Sophie would ever actually say to him. She held out her pale, slender hand, and he took it, painfully aware that he had all three of his brothers’ rapt attention.
“Cole Winston,” he said, and his voice sounded deeper than usual, huskier. Arousal rode him hard, making it difficult to form polite conversation. “Sophie told me you might want to enter our contest?”
Her hand lingered in his, small and warm and fragile. It felt just like touching Sophie, sent the same rush of desire pounding through him, and he felt like a cad, like he’d somehow betrayed her. Only Sophie’s touch had ever sizzled his nerve endings this way, but now her sister’s was doing the same.
“Yes.”
That was all she said, and Cole stared. Amazingly, he could see her pulse beating in her slim throat, the fragile skin fluttering as if she were nervous. Or excited.
They were still holding hands. Cole cleared his throat. When he started to pull his hand back, she held on, stepping closer to him. She brought with her the scent of the fresh evening air, brisk and wintery, mixed with the warm, feminine scent of her skin, a scent he recognized. His nostrils flared.
“I didn’t realize Sophie had a sister until today.”
Her gaze lowered, and a wry smile curved her lips— lips the exact replica of Sophie’s lips. His muscles twitched.
With a slight shrug, she whispered, “My sister is a little shy.”
The urge to taste her rushed through him. He hadn’t felt this primal, this turned on, in a long, long time. Even though she wasn’t Sophie, she looked the same, only wilder, more attainable, and his beleaguered male brain reasoned mat she likely even tasted the same. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from pulling her up to his side, wanting to feel her close, wanting to see how her body lined up to his. “Why don’t I show you the rest of the bar?”
Very slowly, her thick lashes lowered. “I’d like that.”
Long-repressed desire for Sophie twisted in his guts. Every image he’d ever formed in his mind slammed into him at once. Slumberous, sated blue eyes, taut nipples and trembling breasts, open, naked thighs. Tangled sheets. He stifled a deep groan and put his hand on her narrow waist through her coat.
They turned, and all three of his brothers jerked around, running into each other, tripping, trying to pretend they were busy doing something besides staring. He could feel their cautious glances as he led Shelly to the back room where the billiard tables were housed, but it was a peripheral awareness; all his attention was on the petite woman beside him, the sound of her anxious breaths reaching his ears above the din of normal conversation and music. There were few people still in the bar so late on such a cold and snowy night, and the two men playing pool took one look at him, grinned, and put down their sticks. They left the room without complaint.
“Can I take your coat?”
Shelly smiled, then slipped it off her shoulders. As Cole stepped behind her to take it, he leaned close, breathing in the scent of warm woman. His stomach muscles knotted and he locked his knees. He tossed her coat— black leather, long and sexy—over one end of a pool table. She turned to face him again, slowly, expectantly. Her sweater was black, emphasizing her pale skin and the richness of her chestnut hair, now pulled on top of her head with a gold clasp, showing her vulnerable nape and small ears, little wisps of baby-fine hair. He wanted to press his mouth there, to watch her shiver in sensation.
His gaze dropped to her breasts, lingered, and amazingly, her nipples puckered, thrusting against the soft, fuzzy material of the sweater. Cole didn’t dare look at her face, knowing he’d be lost, his vague control shot to hell. A few glossy curls had escaped the clasp, and one curved invitingly just above her breast, taunting him, forcing him to imagine her without the sweater. Her breasts were small, but they tantalized him, looking soft and sweet, and he knew her skin would be very pale.
Unable to help himself, he stepped closer. With the coat gone, he saw she was wearing the skinniest pair of black jeans he’d ever seen, jeans that hugged her bottom and showed the long length of her legs. He’d often wondered on the details of Sophie’s build. Her clothing was always somewhat concealing, so that while he knew she was slim, he couldn’t detect all the curves and hollows of her woman’s body.
Shelly’s outfit left little to the imagination, and he wondered if Sophie was built the same, so slight, but so damn feminine. His hands shook.
“Do you play?”
It took a second for his brain to comprehend the words, and when he did, his body stirred. He could easily imagine playing with her, spending long hours toying with her body, learning every little secret, every ultrasensitive spot. He would explore first with his hands, and then with his mouth. He gave her a hot look that made her eyes widen and her lashes flutter. In nervousness? Not likely, considering her bravado.
She stammered slightly. “Pool, I mean. I’ve… I’ve never played, but I’ve often wondered…”
“I’ll teach you,” he heard himself say, even though he knew he should get away from her. She wasn’t Sophie, no matter that he was so turned on he could barely breathe. He couldn’t imagine Sophie ever being so coy, teasing a man in such a way. Damn, he liked it.
“Are you good?”
He’d turned away to move her coat and rack the pool balls, and now he froze, his eyes closing, sexual innuendoes tripping to the tip of his tongue. Hell, he could banter with the best of them, make sexual sport of any conversation, no matter how mundane, but he didn’t want that with this woman. If he ever hoped to make headway with Sophie, if he ever hoped to have her body under his, open to him, accepting him in all ways, then he had to curb his desire now.
He wasn’t a horny kid incapable of maintaining control. He was a grown man and he wanted Sophie, not just for a night, though that was his most immediate craving, but possibly for a lifetime. He wanted to sleep with her every night and wake with her beside him in the morning. He wanted to know every inch of her, heart and soul.
As tempting as he found Shelly, she still wasn’t Sophie. It was the way she looked, being the mirror image of Sophie, that was playing havoc with his libido. Nothing more.
So he summoned a calm he didn’t feel and turned to face the sister. Determination made his guts twist in regret because at the moment, despite all he’d just told himself, he had an erection that throbbed in demand, and it wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.
“Actually,” he said, keeping his gaze resolutely on her face, “I’m a little rusty.”
Her eyes, turning a darker blue, held his. “Then maybe we can warm up together.” Before he could find a retort, she selected a pool cue and came to stand very close to him. “How do I hold the stick?”
With his heart thumping in slow, hard beats, Cole turned her so her back was to him, then guided her to lean slightly over the table, positioning the cue, placing her hands just so. She took her first shot and barely disturbed the colorful balls. One rolled about an inch. Shelly chuckled. “Sorry. I suppose I didn’t do it hard enough?”
Cole felt as if he were dying by slow degrees a
s he once again racked the balls. “Try again, and this time, follow all the way through.”
He straightened and she whispered, “Show me.”
Damn. If he hadn’t wanted to so badly, he could have said no. But for some reason, Shelly drew him as no other woman had, except for Sophie. It didn’t make any sense. He hadn’t even looked at another woman in a sexual way once he’d really gotten to know Sophie and realized how perfect they’d be together.
He walked behind her again, and this time, she bent without his instruction, her small bottom pressing into his lap while his body curved over hers. She wiggled, a soft sound escaping her, and he froze. Almost without his permission, his hands moved, from folding over her hands, to slowly slide up her arms to her elbows, then inward to hold her waist. She was so narrow, so warm. His palms rubbed over the softness of the fuzzy sweater, then higher, feeling her ribs and then the warm weight of her breasts against the backs of his hands.
He hurt; his stomach knotted, his chest felt tight, his erection throbbed. He had to stop or he’d totally forget himself. With a stifled groan, he straightened away from her and took two steps back. Slowly, Shelly laid the cue stick aside and turned to face him.
She tilted her head, eyes wide; something in her gaze looked almost desperate. He ignored it and drew on his nearly depleted control. “Maybe it would be better if I got one of my brothers to instruct you.”
* * *
Distressed, Sophie felt her stomach give a sick flip at his words. He didn’t want her, even with her being so obvious, even with her making herself more appealing, he didn’t want her. She turned away and bit her lip to keep him from seeing her hot blush of mortification. She didn’t blush well, never had. While another woman might get a becoming pink flush to her cheeks, Sophie could feel hot color pulse beneath her skin, from her breasts to her hairline, turning even her nose and ears red. Her skin was so fair that any blushing looked hideous, not attractive.
Zane stuck his head into the room. His gaze skimmed her, his brows lifted curiously, then moved on to his brother. He spoke quietly. “Mack left a while ago. The bar is nearly empty, and Chase is ready to give the last call. I’m going to head on home.”