“Sofia, I’m keeping you,” he whispered.
She glanced up at him, shocked by the determination in his voice. She wasn’t a thing that could be kept, but she was willing to give him a pass. He was sleep-deprived, and all statements made before coffee were ridiculous.
She took him in her mouth.
The coffee percolated and spilled over.
* * *
They’d delayed their departure until the last possible minute and it was dark by the time they made it back to Miami. Jon was humming to himself when they pulled up to the house. Sofia was biting her nails. She had a simple exit plan and ran through it point by point. As soon as Jon parked, she’d grab her bag out of the trunk and make a mad dash to her own car still in the driveway. She had no choice but to make a clean break of it. If she stepped foot in that house, even just to pee, she wouldn’t leave.
Jon opened the garage by remote control and was glad to see the space crammed with boxes. “Yes!”
“What happened here?” Sofia asked.
“I’m officially moved in. I paid some guys to do this while we were gone.”
“Can those same guys help me?”
“Move your stuff here?” he asked. In the dark, his grin flashed white. “I can arrange it.”
Sofia made an effort to laugh at the joke. “Actually, Jon, I think it’s time—”
He got out of the car before she finished her sentence and went straight to the trunk. He had both their bags by the time she caught up with him.
“I’ll take mine. Thanks.”
“This?” He lifted her stuffed weekender as if it weighed nothing. “I got it.”
She looked past him at the house; its geometric facade was intriguing and inviting. She knew all too well every convenience and comfort it had to offer.
“I’m hungry,” he said. “That drive gave me an appetite. What should we order?”
He spoke casually, as if they weren’t in the middle of a power struggle, which they absolutely were. Sofia’s stomach betrayed her, growling a response. The last thing she wanted was to drive back to Miguel’s place and have to scavenger for food on her own.
Plus, she had to pee.
In the morning, she told herself. You can leave in the morning.
“How about pizza?” he asked, looking very cool.
“Pizza is good.”
She walked past him, heading up the driveway to the front door. She hadn’t conceded a thing, she reasoned. She’d come to this decision on her own. Still, the gleam of amusement in Jon’s eyes when he joined her on the front steps annoyed her. Desperate for the last word, she said, “Don’t forget to close the garage door.”
* * *
They took the pizza out to the yard. It felt good to be back, Sofia had to admit. It felt too good. She turned to Jon seated beside her on a low teak bench facing the pool. “Jon?”
He nodded, taking a healthy bite out of a slice of pepperoni pizza. Her slice was half eaten on her paper plate. Her stomach was in knots.
“In the morning—”
“Sofia,” he mumbled, his mouth full. “Isn’t this good pizza?”
Oh, God. How adorable was he?
She dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “It’s the best.”
* * *
In the morning, Sofia brushed her teeth while Jon ran the shower. She watched him undress in the bathroom mirror, really just stepping out of a pair of shorts and kicking it to the side. Her heart lurched forward. When he gestured for her to join him, she yanked off her T-shirt without a moment’s pause. Water blasted out of six showerheads, massaging her aching muscles. Jon squeezed the last of her shower gel into his rough palm and lathered her body. He was working the suds down her legs when she felt the imperative to speak up again.
“Jon, after work,” she said, “I’ll be heading straight—”
Jon reached for a bar of soap and rubbed it between her legs. Desire shot through her, forcing her head back. Her hair got caught in the shower stream. With warm water pouring over her and Jon’s strong fingers inside her, she came close to orgasm. But then he abruptly cut off the water, wrapped her in a towel and carried her into the bedroom.
On the bed, she tossed aside the towel and moved quickly to sit astride him.
“Hold it.”
He reached for the last of the condoms on the bedside table. She worked to make his task impossible. Her eager hands explored him everywhere. She stroked the wide plane of his back, enjoying the play of his muscles. When she moved in for a kiss, he pulled away.
“What have you been trying so hard to tell me?” he asked.
Sofia froze. Her timing had been off all along, but now really wasn’t the time to get into it.
He brushed her hair away from her face. “You want to leave me? Is that it?”
She softened in his arms. “I don’t want to. But I think it’s time.”
He kissed her neck. By now, he’d figured out all her tender spots. “If you don’t want to, and I don’t want you to, what’s there to think about?”
“I can’t stay here.”
“We don’t have to tell anybody,” he said. “I can keep your secrets, too.”
That sounded like a plan that she could get behind. Maybe. She wasn’t sure. She’d have to think about it. Although, what he called secrecy, she called discretion. But they could debate that later. For the moment, she had more pressing concerns. She traced his lips with her fingers, asking again for that kiss. He drew her to him and kissed her like no man had ever kissed her. He made love to her with that same masterful assurance.
Was there really anything to think about?
Chapter 16
“Lay it on me,” Jon said to Stephanie. “How much trouble is Ramirez in?”
As soon as Jon returned to work, he’d made a beeline to Stephanie Conwell’s office. His number one focus, taking priority over his own caseload, was to clear Sofia’s ex’s name. He had no intention of sitting idly by while that bastard drained Sofia, taking advantage of her misguided sense of loyalty. And, as a matter of pride, he could not lose this case. He’d promised Sofia he’d stay on top of things, which really meant he’d handle it.
“The state alleges sales taxes were collected on used cars, but not remitted, right? It’s not clear that Mr. Ramirez had any knowledge of this. Our client was in charge of the new car division, mostly leases. Not much wiggle room there. However, two businesses operated under the same umbrella. There is a used car division. I’m still looking into it. So far he’s complied with all my requests and has been very cooperative.”
Jon stood to leave. “Let me know if there are any developments.”
“Of course,” Stephanie said. “On another note, how did your vacation go?”
“A man takes two days off and it’s news,” Jon said.
“In this place, yes,” she said. “But you look so rested and happy. It makes me want to get away.”
“Not before you clear Ramirez of all charges. Then I’ll pay for your vacation myself.”
Jon whistled as he took the stairs down to his floor. He owed his happiness to Sofia. And now, keeping her close and protected was his goal. Without saying too much, they’d reached an agreement this morning. He wanted her to stay. She wanted to stay. But it was a temporary solution. So long as her past held her back, they couldn’t move forward.
Back at his desk, Jon thumbed through his calendar but his thoughts remained with Sofia. If she let him, he’d be the man Franco had not been. He’d clear up the messes of her past and give her the future she deserved. If she let him.
* * *
“Welcome to Star Island!” Leila cried. “I’m your host.”
Two days later, Sofia was back in her element, in pencil skirts and peep-toe pumps. Leila was serving her real-estate gold on a platter: twenty-th
ousand square feet of waterfront paradise on an exclusive island off Miami Beach.
“What do you think?” Leila asked.
“I’m speechless,” Sofia replied.
In fact, she was thinking Jon was going to die when she told him about this house later tonight. It had all his favorite toys: a bay front and a rooftop pool, a garage big enough to hold six cars, a master suite with sunset views.
Leila walked over to what at first glance appeared to be a framed glass wall. “These doors retract,” she said. “And when they do...boom!” She opened her arms wide to encompass the city skyline and cruise ships in the distance.
Sofia slipped off her sunglasses and eyed the empty room more critically—retracting doors and all. Promoting this property would be a huge project. It was bound to cement her reputation as a top Miami player. Whatever Leila and Nick were expecting from her, she had to exceed it. This wasn’t the time to cash in friendship bonus chips.
“Can you imagine living here?” Leila asked.
It was a question Leila asked often. Can you imagine it? Living in this colossal home? No, Sofia couldn’t imagine it. She preferred her present address, albeit only temporary. It was far cozier, for one thing. This felt like a hollowed-out palace. The vast windswept rooms were drafty. The front door opened to an atrium complete with a koi pond, and that was grand and all, but not as practical as you’d think. At the end of a long day, where did you toss your shoes and drop your purse? What if you stumbled in at two in the morning and fell into the pond? Sofia looked around for a surface to lean on. There were none.
Sofia said, “It’s kinda empty, though...”
“Don’t worry. We’re having the entire house staged. That’s going to set us back, but I think it’s worth it.”
They weren’t alone in the twenty-two-million-dollar house. A photographer was snapping photos in the kitchen and, out in the yard, an insect-shaped drone was buzzing about. “For aerial footage,” Leila had explained. “Our buyer could be a Russian oligarch or a Hollywood producer. The property has to show well online.”
“When was it built?” Sofia asked as tactfully as she could. Despite the retractable this and that and the outstanding views, the house didn’t read modern to her.
“In the nineties,” Leila replied. “I know, it’s basically a teardown, but it comes with approved plans from a cool French architect. Très chic.”
“Twenty-two million for a teardown?” Sofia commented.
Leila explained that the price was low for Star Island. “We’re basically selling the land.”
“Then why waste your money staging it?” Sofia asked. “If everyone who walks through those retractable doors knows the deal, what’s the point?”
Leila looked doubtful. “Don’t you think it needs a little something?”
Sofia looked around. All that gleaming polished terrazzo reminded her of a showroom. It was actually a pretty good space to display art.
“We could team with a gallery,” Sofia proposed. “Turn this floor into an indoor–outdoor sculpture garden. We throw a fabulous party, invite the art scene, every dealer, collector and artist trending on Instagram. We lure the bloggers and the press. Last minute, we invite the top brokers and developers, as if you’re doing them a favor.”
Leila snapped her fingers. “I like your thinking. You should take a staycation more often. That’s the most creative idea you’ve had all year.”
In a cherry-red wrap dress, Leila was practically the Pinterest poster child of a well-balanced life. And Sofia, at last in a good place, no longer resented her for it.
Once the insect drone had moved on to the front yard, they ventured out to the deck. The long and slender pool was sexy in the way it curved along the bay. Sofia closed her eyes and imagined the possibilities.
“How’s Jon?” Leila asked.
“He’s so good,” Sofia replied, without thinking.
“That answers almost all of my questions,” Leila said.
“I mean...he’s a good person,” Sofia stammered.
Leila frowned. “Here I thought setting you up in the house would’ve done it. I’m disappointed. What a waste of sexual chemistry.”
Sofia slipped on her sunglasses, desperate for cover. “You think we have chemistry?”
“Let’s just say if anyone strikes a match near you two,” Leila said, “it’ll start a wildfire to ravage the Everglades.”
“Okay, you got me!” Sofia was walking-on-clouds happy and didn’t want to hide it. “Jon and I are a thing.”
Leila celebrated the news with a shout. When she calmed down, she said, “You’ve got a lot of unpacking to do, young lady.”
“Can’t we skip that part?” Sofia asked.
“Sorry! I don’t make the rules,” Leila said. “You’re the star of the telenovela now.”
Not too long ago, Sofia had been hungry for the details of Leila’s private life, the ups and downs, twists and turns of her soap-style relationship. Now that the spotlight was on her, the glare was giving her a headache. Sofia had no choice but to indulge her public. She fed some details to Leila, including the trip to Key West. When she was done, Leila glared at her, more pissed than anything.
“Let me get this straight,” Leila said. “You told Merci and her friends before me?”
“They ambushed me!” Sofia cried. “I had no choice.”
“I’m out of the loop. How am I out of the loop?”
“There’s no loop.”
“You told Nick that you split up with Franco weeks before telling me.”
“That was in the heat of the moment, and I’m sorry.”
Leila rested her elbows on the rail. “Everyone is keeping things from me.”
“What are you talking about?” Sofia asked.
“I get the sense Nick’s hiding something,” Leila replied.
“Knowing Nick, it’s probably work stuff,” Sofia said. “The man has a one-track mind.”
“The last time he hid ‘work stuff’ from me, he was moving to another state.”
Sofia wrote this off as nonsense. “He bought a house! He’s not going anywhere.”
Leila gave her a look as if to ask how she could be so naive. But Sofia was clear. She had no idea how things would work out with Jon, but she was sure Nick loved Leila.
Leila turned to her with a gleam in her eyes. “Please tell me Jon’s as good as I think he is.”
There were things Sofia would not share. This wasn’t one of them. “He is...amazing.”
“Yes!” Leila balled her fists and punched the air. “I love it! You two are so cool together.”
Leila’s opinion mattered. Hadn’t she determined that she and Franco were no good together? On that subject, Sofia had a follow-up question. “Why did you think Franco and I weren’t a good fit?”
Leila slid her an anxious look. “Aren’t we done with that?”
Sofia bristled. “We’re done! Yes, but—”
Leila wouldn’t back down. “But what?”
“But what did you see that I didn’t?” Sofia asked.
How had Leila been so sure? Sofia hadn’t seen the red flags until it was too late. What if she made the same mistake with Jon?
“You were different around him,” Leila said. “We’d have so much fun when he wasn’t around. But whenever he joined us, you were tense. You two bickered a lot.”
Sofia took mental notes. Tension. Bickering.
“You and Jon get along,” Leila said. “It isn’t forced. I noticed it from day one. And you look so happy now.”
Sofia nodded. She had discovered a lazy, happy side of herself that she liked.
Leila took her time before saying anything more. Sofia got the sense that she was weighing her words. “You’ve always been so serious, Sofia. Why not live a little? Don’t worry about the future. Relax and have some
fun.”
There was that word again.
* * *
The word dogged Sofia, long after she’d returned to her office. Serious was just another way of saying boring, wasn’t it? She mulled it over during a meeting with Ericka. Her associate of five years had put in a formal request to take over the private-event arm of the business, mainly the baby showers, office parties and bachelorette bashes.
“This would lighten your load,” Ericka said. “Leaving you free to pursue real estate and corporate clients.”
“This new expanded role comes with a raise, I guess?” Sofia asked.
“Yes,” Ericka said. “And commission for every new client I bring in.”
Ericka had joined her team straight after graduating from FIU’s hospitality program. She’d paid her dues. If Sofia wanted to keep her, she’d have to promote her.
“Think about it,” Ericka said before leaving her office.
Sofia promised she would, and went right back to thinking about the things she and Leila had discussed.
Why had she been so eager to wrap things up with Jon? As soon as they’d left Mile Marker behind, Sofia had started planning an exit strategy. She’d been so determined to make a clean break. It was as if a day or two of fun was all she could handle. Boring.
* * *
Sofia took a meeting with a local charity for elderly protection looking to throw an unconventional fundraiser. Then she spent the afternoon researching art galleries, particularly the lesser-known spots in the outskirts of Wynwood. Shortly before closing time, Miguel stopped by with a few things she’d asked for. Sofia took inventory: three work dresses, a pair of heels and her heavy-duty makeup bag. Just enough for a week or so. She had no intention of staying with Jon indefinitely, but what was the harm in lingering a while?
“You forgot my perfume,” she said.
“I’m not your personal assistant,” Miguel said.
“I know, and I thanked you ten times.”
Miguel had their father’s brown-sugar complexion and watery green eyes, but none of his easy personality. He was cranky and easily excitable. Like Sofia, though, he worked hard. After all, he’d grown their dad’s construction business, expanding from Miami-Dade County to Broward and Palm Beach.
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