Her Fill-In Fiancé (6 page)

 

“I can't believe Sam and Drew thought they could have a party without planning
anything!
” Sophia complained over the ringing bell as Jake held the diner door open for her.

It had to be his imagination, but as she brushed by, Jake thought he caught a hint of the strawberry cheesecake she'd ordered earlier. Sitting next to Sophia, he'd regretted his own decision to forgo dessert. Wishing he'd gone for it, too, as if that might somehow curb the craving that had come over him when she licked a syrup-coated crumb from her lower lip…

“Can you?”

Hearing the demand in her voice, Jake forced himself to focus on what Sophia was saying as she turned to face him. The morning haze had burned off enough while they were in the diner for the hint of sunlight to strike sparks of red in her short, dark hair. Her brown eyes snapped with frustration, but not even that fire could hide the panic in her expression.

“Maybe they were waiting for your input,” Jake suggested.

He had his own opinion about her two brothers. While he was willing to bet neither had much party planning experience, he also suspected they were more on the ball than Sophia realized. They knew she wouldn't allow their parents'
anniversary to be a total failure, and he didn't think it was a coincidence that they'd put Sophia in charge.

“If my brothers were waiting for anything, it was to stick me with doing all the work.”

“They did say they'd handle the drinks and entertainment,” Jake pointed out.

“Right. Leaving me to take care of the invitations, food and decorations.”

“Which will be amazing, thanks to you.”

She gave an inelegant snort. “I totally know Sam and Drew were buttering me up so they don't have to do any more of the work than absolutely necessary, but why are you?”

Jake definitely did not want to think too hard about buttering Sophia up, at least not if he was expected to continue any kind of conversation. Clearing his throat, he said, “I'm just telling it like it is. I mean, look at the way you've taken charge. You had a meeting with Rolly's manager and a menu including your parents' favorite foods set up before our lunch even arrived.”

“That wasn't exactly hard. My brothers aren't the only ones who come here all the time. Most of the staff probably knows what my parents like to order. And with the party being outside, the decorations will be easy enough. Cut flowers on the tables and some balloons.”

Her smile faded, and Jake thought about the one obligation he hadn't mentioned—inviting her parents' friends. She'd argued so strongly when her brothers decided she should make the calls, Jake hadn't expected her to agree. But when Drew pointed out she was the one with easiest access to their mother's phone directory and Sam assured her it would be a piece of cake, Sophia reluctantly gave in.

But she seemed to want to get it over with—and to get out of town—as quickly as possible.

He'd asked Sophia that morning what was in Chicago for her. She hadn't given him much of an answer, and he didn't care much for the one he'd come up with on his own. He was doing his best to ignore the nagging reminder, not wanting to look too closely, knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid the possibility if he did.

The father of her child was in Chicago.

“Jake?
Jake?
”

Realizing Sophia had been calling his name, he forced aside the memories. “Sorry. I was looking around. Driving in was my first time seeing the town. Any chance of getting a tour?”

Just as she had when Sam suggested she be the one to invite most of the town to her parents' party, Sophia looked more than willing to simply disappear. She glanced up and down the street in front of the diner like a convict on the lam. “There's not much to see.”

Hoping to dispel the haunted look in her eyes, Jake caught her hand. His thumb again found the simple silver ring on her middle finger and spun it around. Sophia's breath caught, a hint of color rising to her cheeks, reminding Jake of the instant attraction between them from the moment they met. An attraction he might have used to his advantage, but not one he'd merely fabricated, no matter what Sophia thought.

His gaze dropped to her parted lips, remembering the way she'd looked straight from the shower—her short, dark hair caught up in a towel, her face fresh and free of any makeup, the clean scent of soap clinging to her damp skin.… The old saying about playing with fire rang true as his body started to burn. Breaking focus and taking a deep breath, he pointed out, “This is your hometown, but I've never been here before, remember? There's everything to see. And I can guarantee it'll all be worthwhile with you by my side, giving me an insider's view.”

Sophia stared up at him, her eyes narrowing, as if mentally trying to take him apart to see how he worked without any true interest in putting him back together again. It took more willpower than he would have thought not to shift beneath her gaze. Eventually, she turned and started walking. “So you want me to show some of the local flavor?”

Again, not a phrase that should be running through his head if he wanted to keep from pulling Sophia into his arms and experiencing some serious
local flavor.

Looking around for a quick distraction, he caught sight of the biggest building on the block. “Is that the grocery store where your dad used to work?”

With its false front and wooden sign proclaiming Leary's Grocery & Goods, the building reached for an old-fashioned air, but failed to deliver. It was too big, too bulky, lacking the subtle charm of the rest of the town.

“Yeah,” she said, her pace picking up speed. “My dad worked there practically his whole life. He started as a box boy when he was a kid and made his way up to manager. He worked for the Learys for more than forty years.”

Pride or maybe amazement should have filled her voice, but instead, bitterness like black, day-old coffee dripped from her words.

As a PI, Jake hated stepping into a situation without knowing all the factors; surveillance had always been his strong suit. He could study a subject for weeks if needed, anything to find out all he could. But for all the time he'd spent observing Sophia, for all the time he'd spent with her, he was stumbling around in the dark.

“Sophia…”

“You said you wanted the tour, so you better keep up,” she tossed over her shoulder as she turned a corner at the end of the block.

But that was part of the problem, Jake thought. He was already two steps behind.

He lengthened his pace, trying to catch up at least physically, and nearly crashed into Sophia's back as she came to an abrupt halt. His hands instantly rose to cup her shoulders, and for a brief moment, he felt her relax into his touch. It would be so easy to pull her back against his chest, to feel the warm curve of her body against his own…

Instead, Jake let go and turned his attention to the Victorian building in front of them. Canopied by a gingerbread-trimmed front porch, the storefront window was embossed with the words “The Hope Chest” in fancy script, and from what Jake could see, the shop sold a bit of everything.

A tangle of bracelets and necklaces spilled from a jewelry box sitting on an antique mirrored vanity. A white wrought-iron bench displayed a collection of floral pillows and patchwork quilts. Angel statues in various poses modeled a collection of hats and even a sparkling tiara or two. A partially open armoire hinted at a row of demure nightgowns and robes, and yet slipped between the off-white and pale-pink silks was a flaming-red satin number.

Jake had to smile at the sexy mixed in with all the sweet, a combination that reminded him of the woman at his side.

“This shop was one of my favorite places to come when I was a kid. Hope was always finding and bringing new things into the store—sometimes priceless antiques, sometimes a box of junk she'd bought for fifty cents at a rummage sale. Walking through the aisles was like exploring a treasure trove.” She held up her hand, showing off the silver filigree band on her middle finger. “I bought this with the first paycheck I earned working here…”

Her voice trailed off, and Jake had a pretty good idea what caused the now familiar shadows creeping in. Quickly changing the topic, he said, “You know, it's funny.”

“What is?”

He angled his head toward the window display. “I don't see any cartoon frogs.”

Awareness colored Sophia's cheeks even as she protested, “Hope isn't the flannel and frog type.”

“Too bad,” Jake mused. After that morning, he'd certainly decided
he
was.

It was easier after that, strolling along Main Street and more of its Victorian houses and quaint shops. A bed and breakfast, a beauty parlor, a curio shop with its share of souvenirs….

A bell above the wooden door chimed as Sophia pushed it open and the hardwood floors creaked beneath their feet, telling stories of time gone by. Old-fashioned candy jars lined the checkout counter. Even from a few feet away, Jake thought he could pick up a hint of peppermint and cinnamon coming from the brightly colored canes.

A postcard display caught his eye, and Jake reached for a black-and-white photo of the town taken when horse-drawn carriages still tooled down Main Street. “This is amazing. This picture was taken over a hundred years ago, but if you step outside, you can still see these buildings today.”

“Can I help you, sir?” A white-haired man in his sixties leaned over the counter toward Jake, a hint of a frown pulling at his bushy brows despite the polite offer.

Jake wondered at first if maybe it was his imagination that the storekeeper had purposely ignored Sophia. One glance in her direction, though, and he saw how she'd half turned away from the man as if she could somehow avoid a direct blow from the obvious slight. Definitely not his imagination.

“Just looking,” he answered.

The storekeeper's frown remained as much of a fixture, Jake thought, as the town's Victorian landmarks. As he slid the postcard back in its slot, Sophia murmured, “Nothing
ever changes, that's for sure. Maybe it's living with all this history that makes it so hard for people to forget the past.”

“If you want to go, we can leave right now,” Jake offered, lowering his voice so only she could hear. He might not know what was going on, but he refused to keep Sophia in an uncomfortable position for a second longer than necessary. Yet neither did he want to give the shopkeeper the satisfaction of thinking he'd run Sophia out. “Or we could stay a while just to piss this guy off.”

He met Sophia's brown eyes, and as their gazes held, he watched as strength and determination straightened her shoulders, shored up her spine and brought a hint of color back to her cheeks. It was crazy to think he had anything to do with her recovery. Crazier still to think he could feel a connection, a current of electricity arcing between them, and that together they balanced out each other's strengths and weaknesses.…

Sophia bit her bottom lip but not before he saw her start to smile. “We can't leave yet. Not until we find you a souvenir to commemorate your time in Clearville.”

His attention still on that teasing hint of a smile, Jake could think of only one memento he longed to take with him when he left Clearville, but it wasn't for sale. He was going to have to earn that one.

Refocusing on the display rack and ignoring the rush of desire quickening his pulse, he asked, “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” she paused, getting into the spirit of shopping for useless souvenirs, “how about a magnet in the shape of California? A deck of cards showing off our coastline? A snow globe of the town?”

“As hard as all those are to resist, I'll have to pass. I have my eye on these…” Reaching past Sophia's head to a
different display, he grabbed a funky, gold-rimmed pair of sunglasses that would have done the King proud.

“Don't even start.” Sophia held up a warning finger as she backed away, but a reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.

On their first date in St. Louis, they'd taken a walk around the mall while waiting for a movie to begin. Inside a small costume jewelry store, they found a sunglasses display filled with crazy styles. They'd spent so much time trying on the outrageous frames and laughing at their silly reflections, they'd ended up missing the movie.

The film had been a comedy, he remembered, one he still hadn't gone to, knowing he wouldn't enjoy it as much or laugh nearly as hard as he had in the small shop with Sophia.

“Are you sure?” he asked, lowering the glasses toward her face. “Because these really look like you.”

“No way.” Sophia ducked away and insisted, “Those have ‘Jake' written all over them.”

She reached for the frames, but Jake didn't let go and their fingers entwined around the thin plastic. If he thought they'd experienced a connection, a current before, he had no doubt of it now. He half expected to see sparks striking where their skin met. Sophia sucked in a quick breath that somehow seemed to pull the air straight from his lungs…

The bell above the door chimed, announcing the arrivals of new customers, and the shopkeeper called out a greeting much warmer than the welcome Jake and Sophia had received. It was enough to break the moment, and she slowly withdrew her hand.

“You know, I don't really think those are you after all.”

“I'd have to agree,” he said, sliding the sunglasses back in place. “What do you say we get out of here?”

“Good idea.”

Sophia was quiet as they left the shop and walked around the rest of town. If the guy hadn't been thirty years his
senior, Jake would have been tempted to go back to the store to make him pay for wiping away what had been Sophia's first genuine smile at him since she'd arrived.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

“Like you said, this town never lets you forget the past.”