Wrapped in You (27 page)

“I don't know why we had to pass this back and forth,” she went on, crossing her arms over her chest. “Braxton already delivered it once.”

She didn't know why? Zach flipped the folder open and leafed through the pages. His sketch wasn't there.

“Was this all there was when you got it?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course,” she replied. “Those are the drawings I put in there. Should there be something else?”

“I had . . .” Zach flipped through them once more. Maybe it had fallen out.

“What?” she asked, taking a step closer. “What are you looking for?”

Focusing back on Sophie, he saw the shimmer in her eyes as she tried in vain to blink tears away. “With all of your images of this home in the past, I put my image of my future, our future.”

“Ours,” she repeated. “And you think we have a future together? Because I'm positive you were the one who never wanted to marry. Never wanted a relationship, and you walked out on me.”

Zach gripped the edge of the folder. “I am guilty of all of those things. I've never denied that I'm no good for you, Sophie, and I deserve every bit of penance you give me.”

Damn it, now his own eyes were burning. This moment meant too much. He couldn't let her slip out of his life again. Nothing else mattered but her forgiveness.

“You saw the drawing.”

Sophie nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell me you understood my sad excuse for a love note.”

Sophie swiped at her damp cheeks. As much as he wanted to reach for her, the ball was in her court. She was in complete control, because when he'd tried to be in control of things, his life had gone all to hell.

“Explain it to me.”

Zach ran a dirty hand over his equally dirty, sweaty beard. “You're not going to make this easy, are you?”

“When you work for what you want, you appreciate it more.”

Zach dropped the folder with a
smack
onto the wood floor before he reached for Sophie. He couldn't stand the separation another second. Framing her face between his palms, he used the pads of his thumbs to swipe away fresh tear tracks.

“I've never appreciated or loved anyone more than you,” he vowed. “I've just got a terrible way of showing it.”

“Yes, you do.” She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his. “I don't know what you want, Zach. I only know I can't keep doing this. I can't—”

He cut her off with his mouth. He'd missed that sweet taste, those soft sighs when she gave herself to him. Zach wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. By the time he eased his mouth away, Sophie was gripping his shoulders as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to hold him or not.

“Relax,” he murmured against her lips. “I've got you, I've got us. I don't care if you have to think about this or if you need to wait and build your trust back up. I'll fight for this until you're in my life permanently. I won't lose you, Sophie. I'll never walk away from you again and damn it, I'm going to marry you.”

Sophie gasped. “What?”

He nipped her lips once more before pulling away and running his hands up and down her back. “One day, if you'll have me, I want to marry you. I know you deserve better than anything I could ever offer, but I'll love you more than anybody else could ever think of.”

He hadn't even realized he'd shed a tear until Sophie's delicate fingertips slid across his cheek. “I know you don't want kids, and I can't actually give them to you, but could we adopt?”

Zach laughed. “Does this mean you'll marry me one day?”

Sophie looped her arms around his neck, and her wide smile only made more tears slip down her face. “I'll marry you any day you want. You're mine forever, Zach Monroe.”

Those words coming from her lips were more than he ever dared to hope for. “I'll adopt and raise a family with you in my old house,” he told her. “For now we have Brock, and I'm hoping to get custody of him. He's legally living with me now. If his mother shows up, then a hearing will be necessary. I will definitely fight that, but she's nowhere to be found and I doubt she's even concerned he's gone.”

Sophie threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him. “He's so lucky to have you, and so am I.”

“What do you say we head home?” he suggested as he held on to her hips. “We can tell Brock the good news. He was worried.”

Sophie stepped out of his arms and reached for the hem of her dress. “Why don't we stay here and make our own memories?”

The dress slid up and over her head as she toed off her sandals. Sophie stood in the foyer wearing nothing but a smile and a matching pale pink bra and panty set.

“I'm sweaty,” he protested.

Sophie laughed as she closed the space between them. “That's just the way I like you.”

When she jerked his shirt off and started on his belt, Zach wasn't about to protest. “I love you, Sophie Allen. I'm going to marry you as soon as possible.”

With a wicked grin, she unfastened his jeans. “I'm a little busy at the moment. I'm about to make love to my fiancé.”

Zach moved her hands away and lifted her into his arms, laughing when she squealed. As he carried her to the sitting room to a sheet-covered sofa, Zach knew this was just the start of the family he'd always said he didn't want.

Thankfully, Sophie had managed to break through his stubborn, hardheaded ways.

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Jules Bennett's next Monroe Brothers romance,

 

CAUGHT UP IN YOU
,

 

coming in December 2016
wherever print and eBooks are sold!

Just try it
, she said.
It will be fun
, she said.

And that manipulative conversation with Sophie, his soon-to-be sister-in-law, is why Braxton now found himself wearing nothing but his boxer briefs and a towel, waiting for a massage.

A massage. He might as well turn in his man card now and go ahead and sign up for a facial and a pedicure while he was here.

Braxton Monroe and his brothers were gearing up to open a women-only resort and spa, in honor of their late sister, Chelsea. The business had been her dream, so how could they ignore something she'd been so passionate about?

With the resort set to open the first of the year, and the open house just a week before Christmas, they needed to hire a masseuse. In the beginning, they weren't sure if they wanted one on hand the first day the resort was open, but finally decided they wanted to do this up right and do it up big, just like Chelsea would've wanted.

Sophie had just sold a house to a new lady in town, and after some apparent girl bonding, Sophie wanted the guys to check out this applicant for the masseuse position.

And because the woman was new to the small town of Haven, Georgia, and not currently employed, Braxton was now in this stranger's home. He'd been half naked in a strange woman's house before, but usually under much different circumstances. Braxton hoped like hell Sophie hadn't lied when she'd said she'd checked out the woman's credentials.

Thankfully, Sophie had driven him over here to help with the awkwardness of the situation. Though he'd questioned her in the car when she started acting weird. She never gave him a straight answer when he asked about the naughty grin on her face, and he was almost afraid to see how this was going to play out. Okay, he wasn't almost afraid, he was flat-out terrified.

He also had no clue why he couldn't meet the potential employee before she came in and rubbed her hands all over him. But Sophie had insisted he was to undress and wait in the room, because he needed to have the full “client experience.” Yet again, how the hell had he ended up with his ass up and his head in a doughnut-shaped hole?

Braxton groaned as he realized how foolish he looked lying there. For all he knew, this was a prank orchestrated by his brothers. No doubt Zach and Liam were back at the resort laughing their asses off at his expense. There would be payback.

The door behind him clicked and footsteps shuffled across the glossy wood floor. Braxton didn't lift his head, didn't want to see whoever had just walked in. He'd had more than enough of pampered rich girls to last him a lifetime. He'd seen the designer bag by the front door, Prada if his ex had taught him anything. The last thing he wanted was to deal with another label-snob.

Bitterness was a pill he'd been trying to swallow for months . . . It still wasn't going down.

Braxton wanted to get this humiliation over with so he could go back home to his punching bag, drink a beer, fondle his remote, and try to regain some of his masculinity. First, he had to get this damn warped interview process over with.

The pocket door to the room slid open, then shut with a soft
whoosh
. Braxton attempted to mentally prepare himself for the next hour of the unknown.

“Good morning, Mr. Monroe.” The soft, almost angelic voice washed over him, hitting him straight in the gut with a punch of lust. That was definitely something he hadn't prepared for. “My name is Cora. Have you ever had a massage before?”

Braxton grunted out a laugh. “First, call me Braxton. Formalities aren't necessary when you're going to have your hands on me. Second, no, I haven't, but I lost a game of rock, paper, scissors with my brothers, and my so-called friend drove me so I wouldn't be able to back out.”

Her soft laugh seemed to caress his bare skin. “I assure you, by the time I'm done, you'll be glad you lost that game.”

Between that laugh and her sultry tone, he was getting more turned on than he should. Seriously? That was new to him. For the past several months he'd been a bit . . . social with the ladies. Normally it was a flirty smile, a heavy-lidded lingering gaze, or a blatant touch that set him in motion.

Did Cora have a sultry smile or bedroom eyes? Tall, short? Did she have curves, or more of an athletic build? Did she dress classy to match that Prada bag, or was she more laid-back?

He gritted his teeth. He was here for a job interview, not to visualize the body that belonged to that sexy voice. He shouldn't care, because the last thing he needed was to be tied in knots over a woman . . . any woman. Physicality was his best friend lately, and he was just fine with that.

Braxton closed his eyes, listening to the soft movements, the subtle clangs of containers being opened, closed. He had no clue what to expect, but when something small and warm rested against the top of his spine, he stiffened.

“What's that?” he asked.

“Hot stones. I'll be placing them down your spine. Would you like me to explain each step as I go so you're more comfortable, or do you prefer quiet? Each client is different, but since this is basically an interview, I feel I should tell you everything so you understand what it is that I can offer.”

What she can offer? With a voice like that . . . Braxton bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't start hitting on a potential employee. Yes, he'd gotten a bit more outgoing since his engagement debacle, but there was a time and a place. This was neither, nor.

Cora carefully rested the stones down his spine, which he had to admit was rather nice. Damn it. He refused to like this. He was here under duress. Why was he already thinking of her on a first-name basis? Oh yeah, because she was about to rub him.

“While I'm working I can tell you about myself.”

Yeah, something he should've thought of. This was his chance to interview her for the position, and they desperately needed someone to fill the role. Sophie absolutely swore this woman was the one for the job, but she'd insisted one of the brothers interview her to make sure. Focusing while getting a rubdown was a bit difficult, in his defense. Damn it, that felt too good. Should he be enjoying himself this much?

“I've been a licensed masseuse for two years.” Her calm, relaxing voice cut off his thoughts. “Not very long, but I went to college first and I have my degree in accounting.”

Okay, so that told him two things: She had her head on straight for getting a degree, which the nerdy professor in him admired. And she was still young, almost a decade younger than him, which was just another reason he needed to keep his lustful thoughts out of his head. Just because her voice was silky smooth didn't mean he had to react to it or start to fantasize about what she looked like.

While the rocks stayed in position, Cora's hands started gliding in short, smooth strokes from the middle of his back down to his side. Braxton had to catch himself from groaning. No, he wasn't here to enjoy the process, he was here to see if she would work out in their spa. In his defense, though, he could see how women would eat up this type of pampering. And that's precisely what they needed for this women-only resort and spa he and his brothers were going to open.

Belle Vous was a vision of their late sister, Chelsea, and the Monroe boys were fighting like hell to make sure this resort was unlike anything around. They didn't want to just open their doors and hope for the best. They wanted, just like their beautiful sister had, to make the business thrive. They wanted this to be a place women came to relax from work, from family, from life in general. Chelsea had wanted that because their adoptive mother had put her life on hold to ensure they all had an amazing life. The woman had never asked for anything for herself; everything was for her family. Chelsea's dream was to cater to those women who were constantly giving.

“Why aren't you working as an accountant?” he asked, impressed he could form a coherent sentence while she worked her magic. Oh man, those hands of hers were talented. And he had no idea why there were rocks down his back, but this was absolutely amazing.

Fine. He was enjoying every second of this, but that didn't mean he had to admit it to anyone.

Her hands stilled for only a split second before she replied, “Personal reasons. Being a masseuse gives me more freedom. I love helping people relax. In a world where everything is rushed and hectic, I think people need to take more time for themselves. To work at a resort as unique as this one would be perfect.”

Something about her passion, her need for freedom, reminded Braxton of Chelsea. His late sister would already love Cora for this position in the spa. And Braxton had to admit, he could get used to this treatment . . . still without anyone knowing, of course.

“I'm going to use some oil now,” she told him, still in that soft, made-for-the-bedroom voice. No, damn it. She wasn't made for a bedroom, at least not his. “Do you prefer a scent or unscented? I keep both for allergy reasons, and for men who prefer not to smell like flowers or fruit. Everyone is different and I like to please each client.”

Oh man. She was killing him. Killing. Him.

His mind drifted to areas it shouldn't. He didn't need to think about being pleased in any other way than by finding the perfect employee.

Braxton laughed at his wayward thoughts and how quickly he'd strayed off course. “Unscented is fine. Do you have many male clients?”

“I did where I was working,” she replied easily. “I had quite a variety, actually. CEOs, blue-collar workers. Granted, most of them were private about their guilty pleasure, but that's fine. I understand the need for them to feel masculine. I've learned how to keep secrets, and every client has them.”

Her hands slathered together seconds before the warm, oily glide took over. He had to swallow back the groan that threatened to slip out. Mercy, he hadn't expected to really enjoy this. Braxton didn't know if all massages were this sensual or if he'd hit the masseuse jackpot, but this woman and her clever hands could rub him all day.

Best. Interview. Ever. Maybe he needed to hold more interviews for possible masseuses. Or not. That was one thing he'd never live down, if either of his brothers thought he actually liked this.

“Why the move to Haven?” he asked. “I was told you lived in Atlanta.”

Her hands traveled to the other side of his back. The oil slid easily between her palms and his skin, making him think of other, very unprofessional thoughts.

“My family is in Atlanta, but I've never wanted to stay there. I'm not a big-city girl. Too rushed, too chaotic for me.” She finished his back, then moved to shift the towel over his backside as she placed more oil on the tops of his thighs. “I love Savannah, always have. Several summers ago I came to Haven with a friend and instantly fell in love with the small-town charm.”

Was she trying to get away from the city or her family? Or both? There was a story there, but right now Braxton was having a hard enough time controlling his urges. With her digging into the backs of his thighs . . . he couldn't delve into her personal issues.

“Can you tell me more about the resort?” she asked, moving down the table to work on his lower legs. “Sophie told me enough to have me interested in what three guys would want with a women's resort.”

Braxton chuckled, lifting his hands to settle on either side of his face on the cushy doughnut pillow. “We're either really smart or we're about to make total fools of ourselves.”

“Personally, I think the idea is brilliant. Working moms, young, single women looking for a getaway, sisters, moms and daughters. You'll have a whole host of women flocking to this resort.”

He didn't know why her approval pleased him. Cora with the sultry voice and the talented hands had clearly taken control of his mind and every single thought. Who knew a masseuse held so much power?

“Our sister, Chelsea, bought this house a few years back. She always loved to travel and take off on a whim. The one place she always wanted to see was Paris.” He focused on the story, not on the fact she was now on his thigh again, up near very personal territory. “She had a vision for this place that none of us knew about until she passed away almost a year ago.”

Cora's hands froze. “I'm so sorry. I had no idea you'd lost someone that close.”

Braxton still couldn't believe it himself. Not a day went by that he didn't want to send Chelsea a text, but just as quickly as that thought would hit, the pain of the emptiness would replace it. That ache, it hadn't lessened one bit. The pain was just as fierce, just as crippling; he'd just grown accustomed to living with a hole in his life. He didn't like this new chapter without her, but he would go on living and honor her memory. The alternative of letting his grief consume him wasn't an option. Chelsea was a strong woman, and he'd be damned if he'd let her down.

“We're getting along.” The simple reply for emotions that were anything but. “We're doing this for her, to keep her alive the only way we know how.”

Cora smoothed the towel back in place. She brushed against the side of his leg as she moved toward his feet. “You must be a strong family to support each other like this.”

There was a wistfulness to her tone, almost a longing. None of his concern. Sexy women were one thing, baggage and anything personal was a whole other level he ran fast and far from. Being jilted by a so-called love could make a man a bit jaded . . . or at least wake him up to how careless people were with other's hearts.