Authors: Rita Herron
He shrugged. "Just thought we'd get dinner over with so we can talk business."
A smile tugged at the corners of her pouty bow-shaped mouth. "Actually, I thought we'd eat in. I cooked dinner for us."
He couldn't have been more shocked if she said she'd invited him to sleep over. "You cooked?"
"Yeah, gourmet cooking is a hobby of mine."
For some reason, he hadn't pictured her as the domestic type.
His expression must have given away his surprise because she suddenly laughed, a soft, wispy sound that reminded him of wind chimes.
"I suppose you thought I had my food catered every night or ate out."
"I..." Exactly what he'd thought.
"Don't sweat it, Lance. There's a lot about me you don't know." She gestured for him to enter. He did so, taking in her small apartment in surprise. Stuffed bears filled a window seat below a gingham curtain, a collectible brown bear with tiny round glasses propped in one of those useless antique wicker baby carriages. An outdated plaid sofa and a worn leather recliner occupied the small den, the only other furniture was a battered pine entertainment unit with an Ipod player situated on it. Splashes of yellow and blue made the room feel fresh but airy, and a blue braided rug gave it a down-home country feel. All in all, a comfortable homey-looking room.
Not at all what he'd expected.
"Let me see, you thought I'd have all chrome and glass, black lacquer furniture, an ice statue in the formal living room—isn't that what you said?"
Momentarily speechless, he simply stared at her like an idiot.
Her laughter startled him. "Everything isn't always what it appears to be on the surface, Lance."
Exactly what he was afraid of—hidden agendas.
Her gaze drifted toward a wooden trunk that had seen better days. "I've been saving my money for the house," Sophie said, for the first time not quite meeting his eyes. Something about that moment of vulnerability tugged at Lance, making him want to know more about Sophie Lane, and making him want to pull her in his arms and comfort her. But then the moment passed, and he wondered if he'd imagined it.
"I guess I was wrong. But your place, it's nice. Comfortable."
"Well, if that's an apology of sorts, then I accept it." She indicated a small white pine table in the tiny kitchen nook. "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you sit down, and we can talk while I finish the pasta. There's wine on the counter, beer in the fridge. Make yourself at home."
Again, not at all what he expected. What was she up to? Trying to get him relaxed, ply him with liquor, then sneak in her questions?
She busied herself slicing bread and slathering butter on top, tossing the salad and stirring pasta, occasionally sipping her wine while she talked about the house. Strains of a jazz CD played softly in the background. Lance nursed a beer and listened to her plans.
"I don't think I can do everything I want upfront, but I'd like to get started, at least make the house livable," she said, pausing to taste the pasta. Obviously deciding it was done, she dished it up on a huge blue platter, then dribbled a white sauce over the top. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't had time for lunch. The dish smelled like clam sauce and wine and looked delicious.
"Then you'll want to check out the heating, wiring, plumbing, all the basics."
"Since I'll be the only one living there for a while, I'm going to redo the kitchen, bedroom and living area first."
"Sounds practical." Or was that her way of subtly telling him she didn't have a live-in?
She added some kind of homemade dressing to the salad and placed it on the table. His mouth watered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start right in on business. I should have given you a little time to unwind." She turned and toyed with her wineglass, studying him. "How are things, Lance? Business going okay?"
Here she goes with the drill.
"Yeah. We've had a few minor delays but minor problems always go with the territory."
Sophie smiled as she set a yellow plate in front of him and gestured for him to serve himself. "Maddie's so excited about the Tour of Homes. It must be wonderful to have such a close-knit family."
An odd expression darkened her eyes. Envy? Or was she priming him to find out about their father? "Yeah, we stick together," Lance said warily.
Her green eyes flitted over him. "Maddie brags about you all the time, Lance. How you've taken care of her and Reid since your parents died."
His chest wanted to swell with pride. If only he could trust her. "We're family, I couldn't do anything else."
"Well, I want you to know I think it's remarkable. Not every young man would have done the same thing at your age. You must have had to make some sacrifices."
Was she talking from experience or trying to butter him up to find out information on his family? "I couldn't let my folks down. And I intend to continue taking care of the family." She glanced up, her eyes huge beneath those long black lashes, and he realized his voice had sounded harsher than he'd intended. But his words were meant as a warning; he only hoped she accepted his wishes and didn't press the issue. "What about your family, Sophie? Do they live around here?"
Sophie pushed the pasta around on her plate. Interesting that she didn't like being put on the hot spot. "No, they're kind of scattered. I don't see them much."
"Aren't you close?"
"No, not at all. I've been on my own for a long time." Her small shoulders lifted slightly as if to indicate her strained family relationship was unimportant. The gesture made her appear delicate, vulnerable again. And more than a little bit lost.
Whoa, where had that thought come from?
He was doing it, letting her pretty face and that vulnerable look crawl under his skin.
"Look, Sophie, I'm not here to chat or talk about the family." He grabbed a chunk of bread and bit into the grainy thickness. "I think we'd better stick to business."
The warm smile she'd greeted him with instantly disappeared. She rose, then brought some crude sketches to the table. The rest of the dinner they focused on her plans for restoration. When he'd polished off his last bite, she offered him coffee and a slice of the best lemon meringue pie he'd ever tasted. But the conversation remained stilted, and Sophie looked strained and aloof, barely sampling her own dessert.
"I'll work up an estimate for you right away," he said, standing to leave.
She stood also, her petite body moving gracefully across the kitchen to place their dishes in the sink. "Fine. I'll wait on your call."
When she walked him to the door, he lingered for a moment, studying her small apartment, trying to figure her out. She clutched the doorjamb with her dainty fingers, her wide green eyes locking with his. "I appreciate the business advice, Lance."
"No problem."
A whiff of her perfume wafted toward him, sending his body into arousal.
"I didn't mean to upset you earlier, Lance. I meant what I said, that I admired you for taking care of your family. Not everyone is lucky enough to have an older sibling there for them."
His body hardened at the sound of her husky voice, angering him. The only way to
not
be attracted to Sophie Lane was to avoid her. He might as well be straightforward.
"Sophie, I don't know what you're up to, but if you intend to nose around in my life, you can forget it. I don't like the way you exploit other people's lives for TV ratings and parade their secrets in front of the world just to make a buck. It's a sleazy way to make a living, and I don't intend to let my family be a part of your dog-and-pony show."
Her sharp gaze made his gut clench, but he steeled himself against those mesmerizing eyes. "How do you know what my show is like if you don't even watch it?" Sophie asked, her voice a soft, hurt whisper.
Heat suffused Lance's face. He'd never admitted to anyone how many times he'd sat in front of that tube and gawked at her like some silly adolescent boy. Could she possibly know?
"I just know," he said gruffly. Without another word, he said good night, then left with a stack of notes in his hand and a bad case of indigestion that had nothing to do with the gourmet meal he'd consumed.
And everything to do with the fact that he felt like a heel.
He should have felt relieved, he'd skirted her questions and avoided letting his family be caught in a revealing expose on her nosy
Sophie Knows
show.
But her lights flickered off as he drove away, and he had the oddest feeling he'd just screwed up in some major way, that he'd lost something important tonight. Only he had no idea what it could have been and how it might be related to Sophie.
* * *
When Maddie said they were going to christen every room of the house, she meant every room. Including the breakfast bar, the hearth in the master suite and the staircase.
Chase climbed into the hot tub, sinking into the bubbles, and prayed his body wouldn't fail him. So far, it hadn't, but he was getting older, and he'd never had this much sex in one night in his entire life. He'd also
never
had sex this sensational. All because of Maddie.
"You don't mind me taking control?" Maddie asked in a husky whisper.
Chase threw his arms to his side and grinned. "Have your wicked way with me, woman."
Maddie slipped beneath the soft spray of water and bubbles, sliding her leg in between his. "Then put your leg over here. No, turn that way."
Water sloshed over the side of the garden tub as he obeyed.
"Scoot back just a little."
A stream of soapy water trickled across the brand-new floor.
"Here, let me get on top."
The hot tub whirred, spinning frothy water at Maddie's back.
"Oooh, don't move, Chase, that feels good."
Bubbles dotted her pert nipples, more soft frothy waves rippling where Chase's hand rested between her thighs. "Oh, Maddie."
"Wait, I can't reach you—"
"Lean back."
"Oooh, let me turn around... yeah, just like that—"
"I can't believe you were a virgin less than three hours ago."
"Faster, Chase. Faster."
Chase gripped Maddie's hips and thrust inside her. "Where did you learn—"
"Magazines." Maddie dipped her head to kiss behind Chase's ear. "Now, shut up and love me."
Chase covered her mouth with his, and did as she asked, until the world exploded into starlight fragments that tore erotic sensations through him.
Maddie leaned her back against him, panting. "I think I'm having a stroke. My whole body's going numb."
"Should I call the doctor?"
She reached behind her to pull his face toward hers and kissed him. "What are you going to tell him—that you gave me a stroke orgasm?"
Chase chuckled. "That would be a first."
"Good, I'd like to be your first something."
Chase swallowed, guilt beginning to wear down on him.
Maddie's hand snaked beneath the water to cup his sex. "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"Thinking." She traced a line down his damp chest, drawing circles along his inner thigh. "Don't think, Chase. Not yet, anyway."
Chase groaned with pleasure. "Oh, Maddie."
"How about we try—"
He threaded his fingers through her hair. "Again?"
Maddie arched a brow. "What, you're too tired?"
He chuckled and swatted bubbles at her, laughing in delight when she stood, giving him a spectacular view of soap-slicked naked thighs. And he was at just the right level...
With a growl of pleasure, he raised himself on his hands and knees just as she lifted her leg and placed a dainty foot on the side of the tub. Wow, another position came to mind. "Maddie, don't move."
A wicked grin met his gaze. He tried to turn but his hand slipped, his body slid, and he sank beneath the water. Soapy water sloshed into his eyes and onto his face, and he closed his mouth, holding his breath, grasping for control. He reached for something stable, caught Maddie's leg and felt her weight collapse on top of him. Seconds later, he came up sputtering, and heard Maddie laughing as she clutched the tub and stood. Feeling playful, he tried to turn to dunk her, but a sharp pain suddenly exploded in his back.
He let out a yell, clutched his lower spine and clung to the side of the tub, spitting bubbles.
"Chase?"
Sharp pain knifed through his body, shooting down his leg. "Shit, Maddie. I can't believe this."
She sank to her knees beside him, her hand automatically stroking his tense muscles with concern. "What's wrong?"
He groaned as the pain intensified, almost blinding him. "I threw out my damn back."
* * *
Three hours later, Chase groaned and sprawled awkwardly in the backseat of Maddie's car, barely cognizant of his surroundings and the fact that Maddie had helped him from the hospital bed to the wheelchair to the car, and he'd almost crushed her in his drug-induced stupor. Thankfully, the pain pills were dulling the blinding ache in his back, but he'd lost all control of his faculties.
Of course, he'd done that earlier with Maddie when he'd made love to her in every room of his house. And that was
before
the pain pills.
He moaned and tried to mumble an apology, but wound up muttering something incoherent that vaguely resembled "Sorry."
Maddie tried to scoot her arm from behind him and nearly fell on top of him. "Easy, Chase. I just want you to be comfortable."
"Sorwe, so sorwe," he mumbled again.
Maddie patted his arm sympathetically and shut the door. He winced at the movement, gritting his teeth as she opened and shut the front door on the driver's side. They'd had a harried trip to the ER, Maddie in a panic, him in excruciating pain. Now reality had set in.
He had slept with Maddie Summers. Not just slept with her, but repeatedly had wild and crazy sex with her. And he had not only had wild and crazy sex with her, but he'd taken her virginity.
Worst of all, he had betrayed his best friends' trust.
He deserved a fate worse than a back out of whack.
Maddie cranked the car and shifted into gear, jolting the car forward. He dropped his hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the lights outside and his mind from remembering. The effort proved fruitless.