When the door snapped shut Sophie eyed her reflection in the mirror. Don’t just stand there, the Sophie in the mirror admonished. Lose the workout clothes. There really didn’t seem to be anything else to do, so she started stripping down. Within minutes the saleswoman knocked. She peeked out at the smiling woman.
“Here’s the dress.” The woman passed it through and then offered a stack of two shoe boxes. “I brought the shoes in seven and a half, and eight, because you never know with heels. I thought this might also interest you.”
Sophie blinked as the clerk handed her a black satin bra with lace edging. “It works perfectly with the neckline of the dress, and don’t let the prettiness fool you—this little wonder can handle anything. It’ll boost your cleavage so you look like you stepped off the cover of Cosmo.”
Sophie felt her face turn as red as the dress, but she murmured a thanks and took the frilly scrap. In the privacy of the fitting room she wriggled into the bra and paused for a moment to check herself in the mirror.
Wow. The woman was not kidding. While putting her chest front and center went against every deep-seated instinct she’d obeyed since middle school, she remembered how incredibly appreciative Logan had been of those particular assets last night, and deep-seated instinct gave way to a desire to watch his eyes widen and fill with lust—ideally before he ripped the satin-and-lace miracle of engineering right off. She lifted the discreet tag looped around the underwire between her breasts.
Holy crap, $120 for a bra? Maybe he wouldn’t rip it off her after all. Maybe she’d shrug out of it carefully, fold it, and tuck it in the room safe.
“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Kady piped up. “Get out here and show me how the outfit looks.”
“One sec.” Sophie turned around, pulled the dress over her head, zipped it up, and stepped into the shoes. Too anxious to look in the mirror, she held her breath and walked out of the fitting room.
“Oh my God. Sophie, get a load of you.”
“What?” She looked down at herself but she couldn’t force her gaze past the unprecedented amount of cleavage on display. “Do I look like a hooker?” The shock on Kady’s face had her cringing and backing into the fitting room. “I do, don’t I? Like a cheap hooker, which is really funny because I’m wearing a hundred-dollar bra.”
Kady got up and took her arm to stop her retreat. “Get your chicken-butt out here.” She spun Sophie toward the three-way mirror at the opposite end of the room. “Look.”
She looked, and nearly stumbled at the sexy stranger in the glass.
“That dress is made for you,” Kady declared. “It’d be a crime if you didn’t have it.”
In a daze, Sophie reached for the price tag hanging from her right side, and drew in a quick gasp. Au contraire. It would be a crime if she did have it, because the dress cost even more than the bra. She couldn’t even think about the shoes.
Did you not just get a promotion and a raise? Blow the cobwebs off your Visa and buy the outfit.
She turned to the saleswoman hovering nearby. The blonde nodded encouragingly.
“I’ll…um…that is…I’ll take it?” The words came out more like a question than a statement.
“Wonderful. You know, the bra has matching panties. I could have them up front, waiting for you.”
You can’t possibly wear that bra with any of the underwear you own. “Sure,” she mumbled and avoided Kady’s sharp eyes as she ducked back into the fitting room.
By the time she stood outside the shop again, Sophie was two bags heavier and almost five hundred dollars lighter. The panties—and that was a generous word for a triangle of silk and lace dangling from three strategic strips of elastic—set her back another sixty bucks. Certain parts of her actually clenched at the notion of wearing them, but she told herself they couldn’t possibly be as uncomfortable as they looked.
“What are you doing now?” Kady asked.
Calling Visa to assure them there hasn’t been any fraud on my card. “Nothing, why?”
“A good pedicure is mandatory with the shoes you just bought. Come on.” She hooked her arm through Sophie’s. “I know just the place.”
Oh, God, some poor nail technician was going to have her work cut out for her, dealing with a pair of unpampered feet that had been shoved into running shoes all morning. She shuddered at the thought of sharp implements digging into her tender toes.
You survived a bikini wax. You can survive anything.
…
Logan headed downstairs after a grueling afternoon of conference calls with only one objective. Sophie. He stepped out of the elevator and nearly shoved his phone into a potted plant when the damn thing buzzed. A quick look at the screen had him engaging the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“That’s funny. You don’t sound like you’re in jail, the hospital, or the morgue.”
“Why would I be in any of those places?” He tried to sound confused, but he knew where this was going.
“I left you a message two days ago. Where’s my call back?”
Yep. That’s where it was going. Guilt tried to dig a wormhole through his good mood, but he blocked its path. If she’d really needed to reach him, she would have asked his assistant to track him down. “Sorry. I just now got out of jail. Just this minute.”
“Sure you did. A jail called Defy Gravity. You’re working too hard.”
“Mom—”
“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. You looked terrible at Michael’s wedding. Pale. Exhausted. I can’t believe I’m forced to say this is someone who spent the better part of his formative years listening to me scream, ‘Get the hell down from there!’—but you need to go outside and climb something.”
He propped an elbow on the concierge desk and got comfortable. “As it happens, I went climbing today.”
“Hallelujah. Where?”
“Right here at Beaver Creek.”
“Did you and Colton do a climb for old times’ sake? What’s to climb around there? Sounds more like a hike to me.”
“They have a rock wall here at the resort.”
“Rock wall? I know you’ve been deskbound for a while, but that doesn’t seem like much of a challenge for the two of you.”
He considered his next words, and figured, what the hell. “I wasn’t with Colt. I took his little sister Sophie climbing.”
“Sophie…Sophie…I remember her. We met at your graduation. Adorable little thing. Goodness, she’s probably all grown up now.”
“Yes, she is. All grown up.”
“Amazing how that happens.”
“Yep.”
“A man with a reasonable amount of free time could give chase when something amazing crosses his path.”
“Don’t you have enough to keep you busy with one grandkid and another on the way?”
“Consider me the constant gardener. I expect all my seedlings to bear fruit. Besides, Trevor and Kylie had Max. The ultrasounds suggest Michael and Chloe are expecting Cameron rather than Kate. Boys are wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve already raised three of them. I want a girl! So forgive me for getting right down to it, but is Sophie amazing enough to convince you to make some changes and admit there’s a life beyond Defy Gravity?”
He dodged the question because he wasn’t ready to discuss the answer. “All of my friends and family invested in Defy Gravity. I can’t just ignore it and go chase after every new interest I have.”
“We’ve all seen plenty of return on our investment. Plus I have a really nice Defy Gravity parka to keep me warm when your father and I go to Big Bear. I’m happy. I’m proud. And I’m confident in your ability to find the right people to help you manage the business. You don’t owe anybody anything…except your mother, whom you owe a granddaughter.”
“I appreciate the confidence, but as for the rest, you’re getting way ahead of yourself. All I’m planning to do at the moment is attend a dance lesson.”
“You already know how to dance. I spent good money on less
ons.”
His mom had coerced him into taking cotillion in exchange for rock-climbing lessons at the local Y when he was a kid. He’d bite his tongue off before he’d admit it, but the truth was those “stupid dance lessons” had come in handy over the years.
“Thanks for the lessons. Now it’s time for me to put them to use. Love you, Mom. Same to Dad. I’ve gotta—”
“If you really want to thank me, you’ll put them to good use and give me another daughter-in-law.”
“Good-bye, Mom.”
“Say hi to Sophie for me—”
He disconnected, stifling a smile. Maybe he would say hi from his mom, just to watch Sophie’s cheeks go pink at the idea of being a topic of conversation. Just as he reached for the banquet room door, it swung open and Colt stepped through.
“Hey. You’re bailing on the dance lessons and hitting the bar? Isn’t that bad form for the groom?”
“Har-har.” Colt shook his head. “I’ll be back. Kady had a bunch of notes for Julie and she left them in the room. I’m running up to get them for her. This may or may not include a quick stop at the minibar. I neither confirm nor deny.”
“Scotch.” Logan held up two fingers, and then slapped Colt on the shoulder. “Go fetch those notes, honey. Is Sophie already inside? I spoke to her earlier today and I told her I’d meet her in there.” He gestured toward the door.
Colt smiled and nodded. “She is. Thanks for staying on top of her. I owe you.”
Guilt dropped into the pit of his stomach like a cold, hard stone. If Colt knew how “on top” of Sophie he’d been, the only thing his best friend would owe him was an ass-kicking. “You don’t owe me anything. Honestly. Don’t give it another thought.”
“I know damn well if it wasn’t for you riding her ass, she would have skipped the party at Spago, and the scavenger hunt. Hell, Kady ran into Sophie at the shops this afternoon and heard you guys scaled the rock wall earlier today. You’ve done more than just make sure she participates—you’ve gone to the trouble of showing her a good time. I seriously appreciate it.” Colt grinned, stepped away, and pointed at Logan in a way that automatically made Logan think of a gun—and how proficient his friend was with one. “You’re the best, man,” Colt added as he turned and walked off in the direction of the elevators.
Logan ran a hand over his face, surprised to discover he wasn’t drenched in sweat. He was in some tricky shit here, and a smart man would proceed with extreme caution if he didn’t want to lose a friend, and the most amazing woman to cross his path in forever. And all his self-respect, while he was at it. Unfortunately, the warning didn’t stop his eyes from automatically scanning the ballroom for Sophie as soon as he opened the door.
He didn’t spot her. Guests were milling around chatting, a few couples were already dancing. He saw Brock across the ballroom, kicked back in a chair, looking like a guy who might have a flask tucked into a pocket. Valid secondary objective, he decided, and started toward the other groomsman.
He’d barely taken a step when Regan sauntered over, sleek and graceful as a panther, and smiled up at him. “I believe we’re partners.”
Were they? He had no clue how tonight’s dance lesson was supposed to work. Frankly, he hadn’t counted on sticking around long enough to find out—which didn’t sound much like best man behavior. Try to get with the program.
He mustered up a smile, said, “That we are,” and guided her into the dance floor while scanning the room for Sophie. As usual, Regan looked like she’d stepped off the cover of a magazine—all calculated perfection, but undeniably eye-catching. He knew these kinds of women. He worked with them. Admired them. From time to time even slept with them. But tonight, Regan’s carefully tousled waves made him imagine Sophie’s dark, silky hair tumbled over his chest in beautiful disarray as she kissed her way down his body. Regan’s glossy, painted mouth filled him with a hunger for the taste and texture of Sophie’s full, pink, utterly naked lips.
The woman in his arms presented the world with a shiny, chip-resistant shell, but he recognized a veneer when he saw one. He’d stared at his own often enough to know. Sophie didn’t have the veneer. She was brave or honest enough to put her true self out there, vulnerabilities and all, which probably accounted for why she preferred the company of people she knew and trusted. He wanted—needed—to be one of those people.
He moved Regan around the dance floor on autopilot, all the while searching for Sophie.
Tonight’s instructor—some fussy guy with a fake French accent—swept up and “corrected” their stance, but Logan barely noticed the man’s coaching because he finally spotted Sophie across the dance floor. He nearly tripped over his own two feet at the sight of her. She wore a short, sexy red dress that showed off every mouthwatering line of her body. A body Brock currently had plastered against his under the guise of dancing with her.
Oh, hell no. Country Boy had better back off or…shit, Regan was talking to him.
“So, Kady tells me you own your own business? That’s very impressive.”
After the day he’d had, his business was about the least engaging topic imaginable, but he plastered on his company smile and gave her his attention. She was trying to be social. The least he could do was make the same effort. After a few minutes of chitchat, he’d excuse himself and go cut the fuck in on Country Boy.
“Says the successful headhunter,” he replied, hoping to turn the conversation back to her. “You looking to poach one of my executives?” Then, because he caught a glimpse of Sophie looking up at Brock with her big, bottomless brown eyes before they moved out of his line of sight, he spun Regan around.
Regan’s moves were as smooth as the rest of her. She smiled and commented that she didn’t know enough about his business. He recognized it as an invitation to dive into a topic she assumed he’d be interested in discussing, but he couldn’t make himself play along, so he volleyed the conversational ball back at her. “Professional curiosity, of course?”
She really was smooth, or his rough edges were showing, because she picked up on his reluctance and changed course completely. “Maybe I’m considering taking up mountain climbing?”
He nearly burst out laughing at the image of Regan trading in her sky-high heels for a pair of flat, utilitarian climbing shoes and ruining her manicure scrambling up a slab of granite. She couldn’t care less about climbing. Obviously, she just wanted him to talk, and God help her, she’d hit upon a subject he could discuss until she snored. “In that case, let’s skip the business talk and get right to the good stuff.”
She smiled eagerly. He glanced over at Sophie and found himself the recipient of a brooding look. He took a small, perhaps petty measure of satisfaction from her reaction.
He returned his focus to Regan and launched into his standard spiel about the different types of rock climbing, the equipment, and the best places to climb. From the corner of his eye he watched as Sophie said something that made Brock laugh. She glanced his way again. He didn’t know what her game was, but he figured two could play.
He leaned closer to Regan and said, “But this is all theory until you get up on the wall,” which would happen sometime between “hell” and “never” if her expression served as any indication. “I don’t know much about what gyms are the best in New York, but if you ever end up on my side of the States, I’ll take you up.”
Regan stretched her pretty mouth into a smile that didn’t quite hide the no-freaking-way look in her eyes, said, “Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” and then went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
Chapter Ten
Sophie hissed in a breath as Regan put her lips on Logan. Apparently she also dug her fingers into Brock’s arm because he made a noise that sounded almost like a growl. She let go, and stepped back, all too aware she felt like growling, too. The apology that sprang to her lips died away when a quick look at Brock told her his growl had nothing to do with her clutching his arm and everything to do with the kiss between Regan and Loga
n.
How could Logan spend all morning taking her on his own special version of an Outward Bound adventure, telling her how much he enjoyed spending time with her, and then stand there in the middle of a ballroom, smiling that Mr. Perfect smile while Regan put the moves on him? How could she have ignored her own inner voice—the one that had been insisting all along something about his attention didn’t add up, and that it was only a matter of time before somebody more confident and outgoing caught his eye? How could you have let yourself fall for him?
Before any part of her could bother to deny she’d fallen for him, commotion erupted on the other side of the ballroom. Christine yelled at Tyler, poked him in the shoulder, and yelled some more while Kady stood between them like a referee between two battling coaches. Finally Tyler stalked off in one direction, and Christine hobbled away in the other. Kady lost it and burst into tears.
Apparently even smart, tough, slightly intimidating soon-to-be-sister-in-laws had their limits, and Kady’s ended somewhere around watching her brother and her best friend tear into each other mere days before her wedding. Sophie couldn’t really say why she rushed over to comfort Kady. She had Colt to lean on, and he was already running over, but maybe because her own frustration and disappointment were so close to the surface, she empathized. Kady had signed on for a fun-filled week with friends and family, leading up to what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Instead she’d gotten a bunch of drama and conflict. Sophie slapped a lock on her own conflict and drama and headed over to do whatever she could.
In the end, “whatever she could” didn’t turn out to be all that much. Kady was understandably upset by the scene in the ballroom, and Sophie didn’t have the first clue what had gone down between Christine and Tyler, let alone any idea how to fix things. She left Colt and Kady at their door with an utterly useless, “Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”
Right. Why would either of them take comfort from the platitudes of a woman whose idea of conflict resolution generally involved running away? That had to change. She stiffened her spine and marched to the elevator. New Sophie was extremely capable of speaking her mind, and someone was overdue for an earful.
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