Sophie's Playboy (2 page)

10

Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

"It's been a while since you've come home for a visit," Kira said. "Why don't you spend the weekend with us?"

Sophie shook her head. There was a reason she hadn't been home. Last year she'd spent as much time as possible in Brook Hollow, soaking up her family's energy, watching the soap opera that had become Kira's life, maintaining her connections to the hometown grapevine. Now, it hurt more than it helped.

Another bus went by with one of those stupid billboards on the side. Kira aimed her thumb over her shoulder. "It can't hurt, sis. It's right up your alley."

Sophie ignored her.

* * * *

Parker Cornwall loved to golf. Some found that absurd.

Golfing, especially at The Club, was supposed to be a business activity. If he was part of the foursome, it was often a "get Parker's money" activity. He didn't mind that. He'd made an awful lot of it by giving it away. Or investing it, anyway.

But every once in a while Parker was able to golf for fun.

To join a couple of his closer friends, soak in the sunshine and the smell of freshly cut grass, and whack the hell out of a little white ball.

He lifted his driver over his head and stretched. "Who's joining us?" he asked his friend, Jason Wenrick. The pharmaceutical heir took a couple of practice swings before answering.

"Some friend of Darlene's."

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

Parker grunted. Jason's fiancée was a certified socialite, but a sweet girl. Whatever fluff-pot friend she brought would keep her occupied and let Parker concentrate on the purity of golf. He hoped. The Club insisted on foursomes to get maximum use of the course, or he'd golf by himself.

"Here they come."

Parker turned and saw the two women coming down the walk. Darlene, bless her pretty little blond-to-the-roots head, was unmistakable in her hot pink golf skirt and white shirt.

Her visor matched the skirt. Her friend was more reasonably dressed in loose khaki pants and a yellow golf shirt. She had sleek, dark blond hair pulled back out of her way and a white visor with The Club logo clear even at this distance.

They drew closer and he recognized the curves under the conservative clothes. His left hand slipped and the driver fell, bonking him on the head.

Sophie Macgregor.

"Hey, Biff!" Darlene leaned up to kiss his cheek and Parker tried not to let her see his grimace. He hated the nickname with a passion, but it had been handed down from his father and everyone used it, no matter what he tried to do. He looked at Sophie and saw the smirk on her face. It made him want to kiss her.

Most of what she did made him want to kiss her.

He stepped back as Darlene set up her first drive. Sophie stood on Jason's other side, appropriately quiet while the other woman swung. It didn't help. Darlene's drive sliced into the woods.

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

"Shooters!" Darlene stomped her foot and pouted. Jason comforted her. Sophie smiled in commiseration.

Parker lusted after Sophie.

He still hadn't unstuck his tongue to say anything to her.

When Jason rejoined him and Sophie stepped up to drive, Parker leaned close to his friend and murmured, "Sophie Macgregor and Darlene are friends?"

"Yeah, who'd have thought it? Sophie the Shark and Darlene the Dimwit." Jason laughed at his own joke, but Parker only shook his head. Jason would learn. Darlene the Dimwit wasn't deaf, and the glare she shot him promised retribution later.

If Sophie had heard the jab, though, she ignored it and them as she set up for her shot. Her movements were efficient, practiced, much like her business moves. Parker had never golfed with her before, but had seen her on the course and was familiar with her company. So he wasn't surprised when her drive was long and straight. He was surprised, though, when he realized she'd driven from the rear tee. Even more surprised a moment later when his ball landed a good three yards behind hers.

Her first flaw.

The foursome made small talk as they walked. Parker watched Sophie choose her iron, admired the long line of her body when she stroked, and tried not to feel like a junior high geek as they moved ahead to the putting green.

He didn't know why he was so obsessed with Sophie. He didn't know her at all, except what he witnessed at The Club.

She was a complex woman, not the type he was used to. He'd 13

Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

seen her talk business like the most seasoned Wall-Streeter, act coy as a kitten, and discuss with intelligence topics as wide-ranging as oil drilling, auto mechanics, and the latest formal line by Valentino. He hadn't made a move on her, uncertain what would work to pique her interest rather than her defense mechanisms. He'd been unsurprised when she'd courted him the other day on her bosses' behalf.

Disappointed, but unsurprised.

Sophie also played great golf, and was smart enough not to mention MultiMicroTech until Parker pulled even with her at the fourth hole.

"Have you had a chance to look at the proposal I sent over?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I glanced at it. It's not that enticing."

She bristled and he hid a smile. "Not enticing? If we can get this component on the market within the next three months, we'll corner it."

And she was off. Parker was actually grateful as they approached the next tee. Maybe if she kept her mouth running about business, he could tune her out and focus on his golf game.

* * * *

Sophie couldn't keep her mouth shut. She didn't know what prompted the facts and figures and assertions and promises to keep spewing, but as long as her feet were moving, her mouth was flapping. She did manage to pause it when they golfed, but as soon as they were done it started again.

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

Biff moved ahead of her to find his ball, which had rolled off the fairway. She hung back and cursed herself six ways from Sunday.

"Honey, you won't catch Biff Cornwall that way."

Sophie frowned at Darlene. "What are you talking about?"

The younger woman took a practice swing. "You're yammerin' on like a hungry Pekingese. Biff likes his women to be a bit more ... reserved."

Sophie laughed, but it pained her that Darlene the Dimwit could see something she herself couldn't.

"I'm not interested in Biff Cornwall," she assured Darlene.

"I'm only interested in his money. And only," she continued when Darlene's fuchsia lips parted, "for business."

"O-kay-ee." Darlene shrugged. "Your loss." She moved ahead. Sophie followed slowly and tried not to ask Darlene for advice. She was not interested in Biff Cornwall.

Just like she wasn't interested in that radio promotion, right?

Right.

* * * *

The radio station looked much like any other office, Sophie thought as she followed the program director through a large room filled to bursting with tiny cubicles. She distracted her nerves by counting. Ten down, three across. Narrow aisles.

Definitely not wheelchair accessible.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that." She hurried to catch up with the little man who talked very fast.

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

"This promotion has been a disaster," Stevie was saying over his shoulder as he strode toward the door with the "on the air" light above it. "Only six responses, one backed out, another didn't show up. I'm so glad you're early. I hope you're prepared."

Thus ended the distraction of the nerves. They flared to life, buzzing at Sophie about how she hadn't thought about this at all after she'd impulsively registered online at work during another horrifyingly dull day last week. The only thing she could think of was the black Porsche that had almost hit her on her way over here.

The "on the air" light blinked off and Stevie shoved the studio door open. The room was a blur of activity that Sophie couldn't keep track of, then suddenly she was in the pilot's chair and ready to go. Or nearly ready.

The dark-haired woman on the other side of the glass—

Sophie assumed she was the producer—made a motion at her. Sophie tried to remember what they had just told her about buttons and switches. The headphones slipped backward and she caught them, tightening the band. She could hear the commercial's closing jingle, then the recorded station identification and promo for DJ-For-A-Day.

"Welcome back to WNRK! I'm Melina Van Horn, and this hour our featured host is Sophie Macgregor." The voice continued with the short—dull—bio Sophie had given them and she realized the producer was the one speaking.

What the hell am I going to say?
She couldn't very well rant about the Porsche.

Or could she?

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

Melina aimed a finger at her and Sophie recognized it as

"take it away!"

"Good afternoon, Boston, and welcome to the fifth circle of hell!" She caught the alarmed expression on Melina's face and the stunned one on Stevie's through another window in front of her. She ignored them and rushed on, afraid they were going to yank her already. "Where did people in this town learn to drive? Today I was almost run down in a crosswalk by some macho man who apparently doesn't think pedestrian right-of-way applies when he's driving. Then there are the people who never learned how to use their stick. You know, the little one on the left that turns on your blinkers?

"Been on the highway lately? If you have, I'm sure you've noticed that they replaced all the yield signs at the ramps with stop signs. They must have, since no one seems to know the term 'get up to speed.' If they do, they only apply it in the board room."

She paused and took a deep breath. "Wow, that feels good!" She noticed some flashing lights under the "phone"

label. "Anyone else feel like ranting? Call now, 555-3246,"

she read the number off a cheat sheet taped above the console, "and get some sympathy."

Melina caught her eye and mouthed a name while holding up two fingers. Sophie nodded.

"Bruce, line two. What's your rant?"

"Slow drivers in the left lane, Sophie. Why can't they get over? The
middle
lane is the travel lane, the
right
lane is the slow lane. Let those of us with somewhere to go use the left lane. The
passing
lane."

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

"You've got a point there, Bruce. On the other hand, I get riled when I'm passing a tractor trailer and some redneck rides my tail, flashing his lights at me. Where am I supposed to go? Under the truck? Thanks for ranting, Bruce. John, line one, you're on the air."

"Hi, Sophie. I'm a state trooper, and I'd like to remind people that we have a speed limit on these highways for a reason. You only need to see the aftermath of a high-speed accident once. You don't want to see it from the inside."

"Duly noted, Trooper John, and duly chastised, aren't we, Bruce?" Sophie tossed off a salute and moved on to the next caller. Before she knew it twenty minutes had gone by and Melina cut her off for a commercial. Stevie bustled in the door.

"Sophie, that's great! You're doing great! Except for that

'hell' slip. Not supposed to say that. But you've got the phones on fire. Hit a nerve. Can you stay longer?"

Sophie raised her eyebrows at him. "How much longer?"

"About an hour. The next guy doesn't look like he's going to show."

Sophie shrugged. "Sure." She was having fun.

She lost track of time, and breaks, and callers. Topics fed off each other. From driving to cars to trunk space to suitcases to golf clubs to various complaints about local courses. Sophie found she had a knack for cutting off callers when they started to repeat themselves.

"Thanks, Tonio, for your rant. Next caller is Parker.

Whatcha got to say, Parker?"

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Sophie's Playboy

by Natalie Damschroder

"I don't think your callers understand the purity of golf, Sophie."

"What do you mean?"

"The course isn't supposed to be perfect to each person's specifications. The caller who didn't like water hazards hasn't learned how to avoid them. That's the challenge of the sport."

Sophie snorted. "Sport? Golf isn't a sport. It's outdoor politics."

"To some. But to others, it's more." He continued, and Sophie found herself caught up in his voice. What he was saying faded and she concentrated on smooth, rich tones in her ear. She knew someone with a voice like that. Someone

... someone ... well, whoever it was, she doubted they spoke so reverently about swatting a little white ball across the grass.

"Well, you have to admit, it's not very athletic," she said, baiting him, just to keep him on the line.

"Not athletic? Haven't you ever golfed, woman? Try it.

Nine holes. You won't be able to get out of bed the next day.

It's low impact, but stretches and strengthens important muscles."

"Yeah, the ones you use to get in and out of the cart."

Melina made a circular motion with her hand and Sophie thanked Parker for calling. "That's it for me today, folks. If you enjoyed the show, call WNRK. After some of the things I said today I may be looking for a new day job."

The commercial came on, the "on the air" light blinked off, and Sophie pulled the heavy headphones off and laid them on 19

Sophie's Playboy

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the console. Surprisingly, though she'd have expected to feel relief, she missed them already.

Stevie and Melina entered the room through opposite doors.

"Great job!" Stevie grabbed her hand and pumped her arm. "Thanks for saving our you-know-whats. Not everyone can keep something like that up for four hours with no preparation."