Bachelor's Bait (5 page)

She frowned. “Excuse me.”

He didn’t reply, just grasped her hand and led her to the couch. He gestured for her to sit down. “Take off your shoes.”

Sophie’s hands flew to her hips as her scowl grew. She clearly didn’t like being told what to do. He didn’t give her a chance to yell at him for his domineering attitude. Instead, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him for a quick kiss.

It had the desired effect. She was stunned speechless long enough for him to get his way. He guided her down onto the couch and pulled off her shoes.

She started to stand, her face flushed, though he wasn’t sure if it was anger or lust supplying the color. “How dare you—”

He lifted her legs and claimed the cushion beneath them, placing her feet on his lap. His relentless grip prevented her from rising. “Hush. I happen to give the world’s best foot massages.” To prove his point, he applied pressure to the sole of one of her feet.

Sophie groaned and fell back against a throw pillow. He repeated the motion on her other foot. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “That feels so good.”

He tried to ignore her almost seductive purr, but it was too late. His cock responded to her soft moans and slow stretches as he continued rubbing her feet. He imagined this was how she’d look if he lifted her skirt and offered her a different kind of massage.

If he touched her pussy right now, how wet would she be?

His hard-on grew larger, the damn thing throbbing almost painfully. Much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, tonight wasn’t going to end with sex, no matter how much his cock may protest. There was still too much distrust floating between them.

He kept working, applying equal measures of deep rubs and soft strokes. Twice her feet brushed against the front placket of his slacks. He wondered if she could feel his erection.

When she rubbed against it once more and lingered, his gaze flew to her face. She was watching him—and she knew
exactly
what she was touching.

She pressed her toes more firmly against his cock, giving her own version of a foot message. Marc swallowed heavily and tried to ignore how fucking good her playful toes felt. But soon he reached a point of no return. He grasped Sophie’s ankle, halting her movements. “I need to leave now, Soph, or I won’t leave at all.”

She lay still. He could practically see the wheels spinning in her brain. She wanted to invite him to stay as much as she wanted him to leave.

Fair enough. It was too soon. He offered her a wry grin. They didn’t know each other well enough. Yet. He’d correct that problem. Sophie was about to start seeing a hell of a lot more of him.

He lifted her legs off his lap and rose. Sophie started to sit up, but he placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back against the cushions. Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sophie sighed softly then accepted his departure with good humor. “Thanks for the warning…and the foot massage. Good night, Marc.”

“Night, princess.”

Chapter Three

Sophie sat in the living room of the house she’d grown up in and marveled over how foreign the place seemed to her these days. The house felt less like a home than the rental she lived in. Since her mother’s death, the place had gotten…colder. Her father employed a full-time housekeeper who kept the place so spotless it looked as if no one lived there at all. Recently Dad had also hired an interior decorator who’d taken out her mother’s comfortable, airy décor and replaced it with the stark, leathery bachelor’s pad she was now sitting in.

When she’d arrived, the housekeeper had led her to this room to wait for her dad, who was on a business call in his office. It was her own family’s home and yet she’d been ushered in like a stranger. She briefly wondered if the woman was standing guard outside the closed door, ready to attack should Sophie attempt to break out.

Rising from the couch, she walked to the mantel, looking at the old pictures that were the only holdout from the days when she and her mother had lived here. There were a couple large, professionally done family portraits of her and her parents. One from when she was only a toddler and another showing her in that horribly awkward middle-school stage. Of all the things her father had thrown out, she was sorry that crappy picture hadn’t been part of the trash.

Sophie’s gaze only touched on the portraits. It was the two smaller informal pictures her mother had framed herself that she preferred.

In one, a very young version of her parents sat side by side in a restaurant, looking at each other and laughing. It was taken before she was born, but it reminded her that her parents had been genuinely in love. Not that she really doubted that. It was simply a trick of time. The more of it that passed and the colder her father became, the less she was able to remember him as the handsome, carefree man who would have moved heaven and earth for his beautiful wife.

The second picture was of Sophie and her dad the day her parents brought her home from the hospital. He was cradling her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held. Her mother hadn’t been the only woman to receive her father’s adoration. At that moment in time, Dad had thought she’d hung the moon too.

She sniffled, trying to batten down the strange sadness that had crept over her.

“Sophia.” Her father’s deep voice rumbled behind her and she was surprised to realize how close he was. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

She blinked quickly in an attempt to hide her tears, then pasted on a fake smile and turned to face him.

Jasper Kennedy was still a handsome man, though now his looks fell more in the distinguished category, rather than the hottie column where Marc resided.

Shit. Why on earth was she thinking about Marc
now
?

She knew why. He was the reason she was here.

“How are you, darling?” her father asked, stepping forward to offer an awkward peck on the cheek.

When had they stopped hugging? When had they become mere acquaintances? Her stomach ached for the days when she could curl up on her daddy’s lap and he’d tell her stories about the places he’d visited, always promising that when she was older, he’d take her with him. The ten-year-old still lurking inside wanted to ask if he’d brought her a souvenir back from his last business trip.

She was becoming maudlin.
Grow up, Soph
.

“I’m fine. How was your trip to Greece?”

Her father gestured to the couch. She resumed her seat as he claimed the oversized leather recliner across from her. “It was very productive.”

“Did you get to see any of the sights? Play tourist?”

Dad grinned, shaking his head. “No time, I’m afraid.”

His answer made her feel even sadder. More than fifteen years had passed since her mother’s death and while Sophie had tried her best to carry on, it occurred to her that her father had moved forward in a way that was less about living and more about existing.

Dad looked at his watch covertly. She was throwing off his routine. Ordinarily that gesture would annoy her, but today she was too melancholy. It was as if her eyes had been opened to some pretty hard truths and she didn’t like facing them.

“I’ve been hearing some rumors.”

Dad, rather absentmindedly, said, “Oh?”

Sophie had spent the past several years getting used to having only half his attention. She wasn’t going to accept it this time. “How could you try to close down the community center? Portland needs that place.”

Her father sighed and she got the sense he wasn’t surprised by what had brought her here. He knew how much she loved the center. What it had meant to her mother. He must have known she would react this way. And yet, he still pursued the purchase.

“I think it’s outgrown its usefulness at this point.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sophia,” he chastised.

He never called her Sophie or Soph anymore. When she’d taken over his party-hostess duties, he’d opted for the formal version of her name. “Sophia” certainly sounded more sophisticated and projected the snooty, detached air her father seemed hell-bent on maintaining. She hadn’t protested the change, though now she wondered if she should have. She hated the way
Sophia
sounded coming from his lips.

“Dad, that place offers so many amazing programs. How can you say it’s not useful?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know. The building is in desperate need of repairs. It’s not safe.”

Her temper sparked. “It was perfectly safe until the building inspector decided to nitpick over a lot of insignificant problems. A leaky sink is a danger? Really?” During his visit to Books and Brew yesterday, Marc had shown her the list of so-called “problems” with the building’s structure. It was obvious the inspector had been encouraged to find problems where none truly existed. Even after a second walk-through—at the request of the community center—the second inspector backed up the first, listing even more insignificant items to be repaired.

Her father’s brow creased. “Who have you been talking to?”

Shit.
“No one.”

Her father wasn’t appeased by the answer but he let it go. “There are other issues besides the facility itself. The board of trustees has made some questionable decisions regarding the use of funds and—”

“And they were audited and cleared.”

Again, Dad fell silent. “You’ve been doing your homework.” For a moment, she thought she detected a small bit of pride in his voice.

“You know what that place means to me. Mom used to take me there for dance lessons when I was little. The summer camps and family picnics were a huge part of my childhood. Why would you try to deprive other children of those experiences?”

Dad rose and walked to the mantel. “How many times have I told you, Sophia? It’s not personal, it’s business.”

She sucked in a deep, furious breath. That fucking line had become his mantra since her mother had died. She hated it. “No. Not this time. This time it
is
personal.”

“The trustees have two months to raise the funds to save the center. After that, I
will
buy the property.”

“To build another shopping mall that the city doesn’t need.”

Dad smiled, but his eyes betrayed no happiness. “Consider this—the money made at that mall will add to your inheritance.”

The words felt like a slap to the face. “I don’t want your fucking money!”

Dad scowled. “Sophia.
Everything
I do, I do for you.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t heap that crap at my feet. Everything you do, you do for
yourself
. But not this time. Thanks to you, I’ve had years of practice organizing fundraisers for worthy causes. You’re about to reap what you’ve sown.”

With that, she headed for the door. For a moment, she thought she heard her father call her back, his gentle voice reminding her of the way it used to sound, but she dismissed it as wishful thinking.

She knew what she had to do, even though the thought of going to war with her dad brought her no joy. In fact, she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Hard.

This wasn’t going to be easy…and she’d need help.

* * * * *

A bell jingled in the lobby but Marc didn’t look up. He was knee-deep in paperwork, trying to find some loophole that could buy the community center more time. Then he faced a long afternoon of preparing a witness for a murder trial that was scheduled to start tomorrow. When it rained, it poured.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to fend off the tension headache building behind his eyes.

“Rough day?”

He glanced up at the sound of Sophie’s voice, pleased to see her.

“I’ve had better.” It had started far too early, after a restless night spent tossing and turning and jacking off while fantasizing about the society princess currently leaning against his doorjamb.

He’d been disappointed when Sophie had called him a couple of days earlier to say Jared had helped her jumpstart her car. To make up for the missed opportunity to see her, he’d stopped by Books and Brew last night for a beer. As usual, the conversation had ended up in a disagreement about her father and, like a jackass, he’d shared too many details about the community center case in a self-serving need to prove he was right. His father
had
always told him pride would be his downfall.

What dear old Dad failed to realize was that when his pride joined forces with his cock, he became the biggest fool on Earth.

Worst part was, even now, he didn’t regret the things he’d told Sophie. His instincts screamed that he could trust her.

“Yeah. My day has pretty much sucked too.” Sophie walked in and claimed one of the two chairs across from his desk. She glanced around the room. “Your office is ridiculously small.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” She was right. Every available inch of space was filled with papers, files, law books. “Free legal aid doesn’t pay much.”

She laughed. “Does it pay anything?”

“A little bit.”

“Not to sound rude, but what made you choose this career path? I mean, I think this is awesome and all, but it seems to me you could be making bank anywhere else.”

He didn’t take offense at her question. God knew it was one he’d been asked a million times in the past few years. “I did the big law firm deal right after graduation. I was on the fast track to a partnership.”

“Sounds profitable.”

“It was. Very.”

“So why would you give that up for this glamorous inside office with no view?” she asked.

“I was twenty-nine with high blood pressure and suffering from my third ulcer in as many years. I didn’t date, ate all my meals at my desk and slept less than five hours a night, usually on the couch in my office. At my yearly checkup, my doctor informed me I was a prime candidate for a heart attack.”

“Ouch.”

“I walked out of his office and realized I was sick of it all. I turned in my resignation and walked away. Decided I’d use my powers for good rather than money.”

Sophie fell silent for a moment. He wondered if she was appalled by his decision.

Sophie glanced around his office once more. “That’s pretty gutsy, Marc. And very, very cool.”

Her words were completely sincere and once again he was struck by how different the real Sophie was from the one he had created in his mind. “My parents’ response was the opposite of yours. You say ‘gutsy’, they say ‘insane’. You say ‘cool’, they say ‘What the hell are you thinking?’.”

Her brow creased and for the first time, he noticed sadness in her eyes. “I guess it’s obvious you went against their advice. Are they okay with your decision now? Are you still close to your parents?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m not going to lie. We had a rough year or two. Lots of family holidays have ended in arguments, but they’re getting there. Enough time has passed that they know my decision wasn’t just a whim. That I’m serious about what I want to do with my life. The main problem was, it was my dad’s law firm that I quit.”

“Jesus.”

Marc chuckled. “Yeah. Well. Dad suffered a minor heart attack last year and I think it’s opened his eyes to why I made the decision I did. Since then, I’ve noticed the disappointed looks he used to heap on me have disappeared. He’s started asking about my work here when before he pretended I didn’t have a job at all.”

“That’s progress then. It’s a shame it took something like a heart attack for him to realize the work you do here is good. And important.”

Her words touched him more than he could say. If anyone would understand how he’d grown up, the pressure that had been put on him to succeed, to make money at any cost, it was probably Sophie.

He’d given up his former life while fighting to keep his identity relatively anonymous in Portland. He was determined to keep all of that in the past, but something about Sophie made him long to share confidences.

Marc pushed the thought away. He’d already stepped over the line last night, telling her things he shouldn’t have. Time to put some space between them. “I don’t think you came here today to hear my life story. What’s up?”