An Irresistible Temptation (18 page)

“You’re thinking too much, Soph, I can tell.
Come on. I’ll get you home and you can think about what I’ve
said.”

In a few minutes, they were at her door.

“It has been very strange to be with you
again,” she admitted, looking up into his familiar face with his
pale skin and reddish cheeks. His blond hair was cut shorter than
before and his blue eyes gazed at her becomingly.

“Strange in a good way?” he asked, leaning
against her door jam.

“Yes. You know, it seemed as though
everything happened so fast last year. One minute, I was in Rome
planning my move to England and the adjustment from sunshine to
rain and pasta to pork pies. Then the next minute,” she trailed
off, picturing her small flat in Rome and how lonely it was after
he’d left without her.

“It’s good to see you, Philip, truly, and to
know that you still care for me,” she admitted.

“Oh, I do.” With that, he reached for her and
she let him pull her into his arms, until her stomach and hips were
snug against his. Her senses were assaulted by the familiar feel of
him and the scent of him. As she smelled the familiar sweet orange
aroma of his skin, the image of the long-necked glass bottle with
its pretty yellow, blue, and green label that held his Florida
Water aftershave popped into her head. She sighed as his hands
settled at her waist.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie, that I hurt you.”

She stared into his eyes. He hadn’t seemed
sorry when he’d left her. He’d been excited at his new start. That
had hurt most of all, how easily he’d seemed to part with her.

“I’ll never do that again.” He lowered his
lips to hers, his mouth pressing firmly, intimately against her
own. He felt familiar, and she clasped her hands behind his neck.
It was the same as it always had been.

It was so utterly different than kissing
Riley.

Riley! She jumped back from Philip, feeling
disloyal that Riley’s name had popped into her head when her mouth
was joined to another man’s.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said,
stepping away from his bemused expression; perhaps he was thinking
she was overcome with emotion due to his kiss. She closed the door
and sat on her bed. Then she flung herself back, letting her legs
remain hanging over the side.

Sophie groaned. It was nothing like Riley’s
kiss. Her heart was not racing, her stomach was not clenching, her
female parts were not tingling. It had been pleasant, nothing more.
Philip’s kiss had not changed; she had. She knew how exciting a
kiss could be.

As she lay on the bed, she imagined Riley
leaning over her, slanting his lips across hers, teasing her mouth
open, biting her lower lip with a sensual nibble. Just thinking of
him and her womanly core was prickling with anticipation. He would
lay his weight on her and his tongue would move into her mouth and
touch hers. And she would long for more.

She wanted to lift her own skirts and touch
herself to ease the feeling of desire. She wanted to run to Riley
and say to hell with his promise to Eliza, she would let him take
her, even if it was only for a night, even if he could never be
hers.

She hummed, thinking over what she’d eaten
that day, in accordance with the current ideas that certain foods,
such as pork, eggs, salt-meat, candy, pies and cakes, pepper,
pickles and condiments—damnation, just about anything really!—could
cause her to feel this fervent desire for release. Balderdash! She
simply wanted Riley, though she supposed that she ought to want the
calmer affection she felt for Philip.

But she wanted Riley. She lifted her
skirts.

When she awoke the next morning, she forgot
for an instant that Philip was in San Francisco, a block away at
The Palace. Then she remembered his kiss. Could she love someone
and experience only that tepid feeling in his embrace? She thought
of what she’d done after and stretched languorously. Damn Riley for
tempting her with his perfect kisses!

She did not want to go to Williamstown or to
Amherst as Philip’s wife. But she could almost see herself living
back in Boston or in Cambridge while Philip attended Harvard. She
would, perhaps, teach at the Conservatory and her life would be
settled. She yawned widely.

Oh dear! She could see it but she wasn’t sure
she liked it. Still, she remembered how warm and full her heart had
once been at the notion of being Mrs. Philip Wainright.
She
could feel that way again, couldn’t she?

Startled by the knock at her door, Sophie
knew a moment later that it was Carling. Carling! Her first date
with Egbert! She jumped out of bed and grabbed her wrap and threw
open the door.

“Tell me everything!” they both said at
once.

“You first,” they both said again. Then they
dissolved in laughter, Sophie pulling Carling into the room where
they sat down on the rumpled bed.

Carling eyed it mischievously until Sophie
smacked her on the arm.

“Well, what happened then?” Carling asked.
“Go on, you first.”

“Just dinner with my old friend, Philip.”

“Just dinner,” Carling mimicked. “And no
hanky-panky?”

“Carling!” Sophie pretended to be shocked.
“Well, if you must know, he did kiss me goodnight. But that was
all. He wants to take up where we left off, apparently.”

“And your Riley?”

“I’ve told you, he’s not
my
Riley.
Anyway, he came only to give me some tablets for my hand.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly. Now, tell me how it went with
Egbert.”

Carling smiled shyly, an unusual occurrence
for her. Sophie beamed back.

“Well?”

“He’s very nice. We had a lovely meal and . .
.”

“And?”

“He said that I was beautiful.” She put her
face in her hands and squealed. Then she looked up with her eyes
shining. “He asked me to be his girl. Can you believe it?”

“Well, of course I can. Why not? And you are
beautiful.”

“He also said I was smart and that it
wouldn’t have mattered to him how pretty I was if I didn’t have a
brain and a bit of spunk.” She hugged herself. “Oh, Sophie, I’m so
happy.”

“I can see that, love. You deserve it. And I
think he’s a good man and an excellent match. Imagine you at your
own vineyard. Madame of all you survey.” They laughed hard.

“Yes, well, it’s still a bit of a dream, but
why not? I mean, we could do it as well as anyone, right?”

“Better, I should think,” Sophie said. “So,
will it be strange to work for him now that you’re his girl?”

“Nah, I never much obeyed him anyway, not
that he’d know that, of course!”

They hugged. “I better get to work,” Carling
said. “We can’t all be ladies of leisure like you.”

Sophie sobered after she left. She didn’t
want to be a lady of leisure. She dressed and went downstairs. It
was early. The bar was deserted. She sat at the piano and rested
her hands on the cover. Then slowly, she opened it. With her good
hand, she played a few notes and relaxed. Or tried to. But she felt
like a one-handed juggler in the sideshow. If she couldn’t play
anymore, then perhaps being Philip’s wife was her next best
option.

*****

“The four of us? Out to dinner?”

“Carling, please stop repeating everything I
say,” Sophie admonished. “Yes, if you and Egbert want to, that is.
Philip and I used to have a group of friends in Rome. And we can’t
just keep staring at each other while we eat every meal. It’s been
a week and that’s starting to get stale.”

Carling giggled. “It will only be Egbert’s
and my second time out together.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to stick to you
like tar. We can leave you to your after-dinner drinks if you’re
sick of our company and want to be alone with your fellow.”

Carling blushed, something she did often when
Egbert’s name came up. Sophie was happy for her friend, and thought
her presence would alleviate a little of the strain between herself
and Philip. He was courting her as if she were a duchess. Flowers,
chocolates, dinners, and then kisses after dinner and the constant
pressure to do even more.

The previous evening, he’d pressed her
against the wall and insinuated his leg between her skirts, his
hands roaming up and down her body. They had done that numerous
times before when they’d been a couple in Rome, their rooms so
close they could just about climb from his balcony to hers.
Sometimes they’d touched each other lying down on his bed. More
than once over the years, she’d pushed for him to go even further,
driven to distraction by his caresses and uninhibited by too much
Italian red wine. Back then, he’d been the one to put her off,
saying he was a gentleman who could wait until they were
married.

Sophie was not prudish, but now she had to be
sure that this was her path in life—to be his wife—before she gave
herself entirely to Philip. He’d hurt her badly before and she
couldn’t help feeling he wanted to be intimate with her in order to
seal their arrangement and lock her in to accepting him.

She’d had no further contact from Riley. Even
when she’d gone to the hospital for a checkup on her hand, hoping
to glimpse him in such an innocent setting, she’d been
disappointed. She knew she had to put him out of her mind.

“We’ll see you at The Oakdale, at 7
sharp.”

Sophie was trying to look forward to it. At 5
o’clock, she was out of the bath and considering her choice of
clothing when there was a knock on her door. One of the
housekeepers had agreed to do her laundry in the hotel’s wash room
for a small fee. She opened the door and turned away to pick up her
linen bag of soiled clothes.

“It’s all ready,” she said.

“Ready for what?”

Riley’s voice stopped her in her tracks.
Putting her hand to her throat, she could feel her pulse start to
race. She looked at him, dressed in traveling clothes and had a
sense of foreboding.

“What are you doing here?”

At this juncture, Sophie knew it would not
look good if Philip, or anyone for that matter, came upon them.
Riley shouldn’t have come up to her room, certainly not after
dusk—and she in only her dressing gown.

“I came to say goodbye.”

She took a step backward into the room as if
struck. Her insides clenched and she felt suddenly ill. It would
take very little for her to scrunch up her face and cry. She’d left
him behind in Spring City; that had been hard, but if she was
honest with herself, she’d felt hopeful that she’d meet him again
in San Francisco, which she had.

Now, after being in and out of his life for
weeks, it was even more difficult to let him go.

“You’re going back to Colorado?”

“Tonight. It’s an emergency. Eliza’s father
isn’t well.”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t go without telling you goodbye.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I couldn’t leave without
seeing you again.” He stepped closer and she stepped back.

“Riley,” she warned.

“I know,” he said somewhat harshly, dropping
his hands that he’d raised to hold her. “I know. I can’t touch you.
I have no right to touch you.”

But, oh God, how she wanted him to, and she
wanted to touch him back. Sophie wanted to put her hands on his
arms and feel his strength and run her fingers over his muscles the
way she did the keys of her piano. She wanted to rest her palms on
his solid chest as he held her close and then she wanted to touch
his silken cocoa-colored hair.

She clenched her injured hand in her good one
and kept them locked together. His eyes went to them.

“You should be getting the bandages off soon.
Did you take the pain tablets?”

“No, I didn’t need them.”

“I’m glad.” Clearly, he was stalling.

Sophie had to get him out of her room. Before
the maid came. Before Philip arrived. Before she begged him to kiss
her.

“You had better go,” she said, feeling grim.
“You’re taking the ferry to Alameda?”

“Yes.” His eyes drifted to her mouth.

She saw no point in mentioning that Philip
had come to woo her and take her back east. It would change
nothing. She would offer no ultimatum, no coercion or manipulation.
They’d been honest with each other from the start.

She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to
say. This was so unlike when Philip left her in Rome. She’d been
shocked and even a little hysterical, while he’d spouted platitudes
about it being for the best.

With Riley, she’d known it was coming, and
instead of surprise, she felt calm acceptance along with the
bone-deep sadness, and plainly, he was as sadly resigned as she
was.

Regarding her own future, she was uncertain
of anything except that she couldn’t be near Riley after he married
Eliza. It would be torture at that point. And now? Now, she had to
get him out of her presence immediately. Something unthinkable
would happen. They were like gunpowder and sparks.

He stepped closer again and she had nowhere
to go, her legs pressed up against her bed.

“Riley.” Her voice was barely above a
whisper. It sounded pleading to her own ears.
Please leave
quickly. Please kiss me before you go.

As if she’d spoken out loud, he leaned toward
her, and in the next instant, their bodies were pressed together,
their lips followed suit. His kiss seemed to take all the thought
from her brain and send warmth flooding through her.

He groaned, bringing his hands up to cradle
her face as their kiss deepened.

“Sophie,” his voice was a sigh and then he
nibbled her lower lip before pulling away. “I hate leaving you,” he
said, his forehead against hers.

“Philip will be here shortly.”

He stiffened but didn’t release her. “I don’t
care for the man. He hurt you.”

Apparently, men were good at doing that, she
thought bitterly.