Games of Fire (57 page)

“You mean besides the fact that it’s my first Valentine’s with a boyfriend?”

“So you want to go because of me?”

Now she was severely confused. “I don’t understand. Of course you’re the reason I want to go! I mean, not the only reason. I want to hang out with my friends and stuff, but yeah, I want to be with you.”

He beamed. “Good! Be ready for eight.”

Sophie blinked. “What?”

But he was gone, disappearing down the hall.

He ignored her questions after school. He ignored her threatening, bribing and attempt at seduction. The latter only complicated things when her father walked out of the house to find them pressed against the side of his car, in a very R-rated embrace. But before Spencer left her to stumble her way inside, he grinned and said, “Don’t forget. Eight.”

Again, he was gone before she could press him.

Inside, she eyed her parents, silently wondering if they had somehow changed their minds in the last six hours and had opted to let her go. Neither made any indication that this was the case, especially when she made hints that it was getting late and she should get ready for bed. Both her parents had stared at her oddly.

“It’s only five,” her mother said. That was her first hint that they hadn’t changed their minds.

All throughout supper, Sophie watched her parents, waiting for them to say something, but they idly chattered on about their day and the plans they were making for the weekend. Neither said a word about the party or Sophie’s punishment.

“Your father and I are going out for a few hours,” her mother told her, already dressed in a beautiful taffeta dress in gun metal gray. Her hair was swept back and twisted into an elegant French bun at the back of her skull. She wore diamonds around her throat, dripping from her ears and glittering from around her wrist. She looked beautiful. The last time her mother had made this much of an attempt, it was because she was on her way to an old rival’s wedding.

“Mom!” was all Sophie could think to say. “Who’s getting married?”

Her mother blinked eyes that looked large and smoky. “Married? No one.”

“You just look like really, really gorgeous!” Sophie said, unable to bottle the awe in her tone.

Beneath her artificial blush, her mother’s cheeks darkened further. “Oh, this old thing?” She smoothed a hand over nonexistent wrinkles. “Thank you.”

“Where are you guys going?” she asked.

Her mother fiddled with the cute, black clutch purse in her hand. “Mark and Janice phoned earlier. They invited us to Mark’s Valentine’s Day part
y at his work. It’s at some snazzy hotel in Whistler Village.” A look of girly delight crossed her mother’s face. “You know how I love Whistler.”

As excited as Sophie was for her parents, she couldn’t help pointing out, “Whistler is like a two hour drive. What time is the party?”

Her mother’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall that read seven. “Eight.”

Eight. That sneaky devil!
It all suddenly made sense what Spencer was up to. It took a great deal of effort to keep her grin off her face as she focused on what her mother was saying.

“We’ll be back a little after midnight. Do you think you’ll be all right alone?”

“Yeah, of course!” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, like she didn’t want to squeal and giggle. “I’ll read or something.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay home, do you understand? This is your chance to prove to your father that you are responsible and can take punishment like an adult.”

Not sure what Spencer’s plans were exactly and not wanting to lie, Sophie gave a small smile of understanding, neither a confirmation nor disagreement.

“Right?” her mother pressed, clearly not fooled by the smile alone.

Thankfully, her father hurried down the steps then, saving Sophie from having to agree to anything she may or may not have to break later.

“Dad!”

He looked dashing in his dark tux, his hair combed back and his face freshly shaven.  He smoothed a hand down his front, looking bashful, but pleased. “Haven’t worn this old thing in years!”

“Mom might need to carry a weapon with her,” Sophie teased. “You’re going to have women hitting on you all night!”

Twin flags of pink darkened her father’s face, making Sophie and her mother laugh.

“All right you two.” He pushed his way to the door, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Let’s go before it gets late.”

Still laughing, her mother turned to Sophie, touched her arm. “Lock and alarm the house while we’re gone.”

Agreeing, Sophie pushed them out of the house and watched as they hurried to her father’s SUV and pull out of the driveway. She shut the door and locked it. Spinning on her heels, she hurried to where her cell phone lay on the coffee table and texted Spencer.

“What R U planning?”

It took a little while before a response flashed on the screen.
“U have 1/2 hour.”

Making a face at the screen, she tossed the phone on the sofa and bolted upstairs to shower and change. She was slipping the last pin into her hair, piling it in a messy knot at the back of her head, when the doorbell rang. The sound of it had her stomach rocketing up into her throat. She did a quick turn in front of the mirror, taking inventory of her red dress, her hair, her makeup and shoes. Everything looked in place and properly zipped up. She started to wipe her hands on the skirt of her dress before stopping herself. She snatched up her old towel she’d tossed on the floor after her shower and wiped the sweat from her palms. She tossed it carelessly behind the door before hurrying to answer.

“Coming!” she called, yanking open the door. “Sorry! I—” Her words died in her throat. They leaked from her tongue in incoherent garble. She stared, no longer trusting her eye’s ability to distinguish fantasy from reality. “Spencer?”

He stood tall and beautiful in a
solid black tux that could have been sewn on to fit every perfect curve of him. His hair was swept off his face and combed to the side. In his hand, he held a single lily, a shade darker than her dress.

“You’re going to catch flies that way, Blondie,” he teased, nudging her chin.

She snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks mirroring the color of her dress. He stepped over the threshold, invading her personal space and seducing her with the subtle hint of spices and toothpaste. Gently, he shut the door behind him, sealing them in … alone. Sophie tried not to fidget.

“You look incredible, Sophie,” he murmured quietly, taking her in from head to toe in a manner that left very little doubt in her mind just how much he meant it.

She nervously smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you.”

He offered her the flower. “Jessie told me your dress was red,” he said. “I know most girls like roses, but you’re not most girls.”

She accepted the bloom with trembling fingers. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a red lily before.”

“It’s an Asiatic lily,” he said, then shrugged. “That’s what the lady at the floral boutique said.”

Sophie laughed. “It’s still beautiful. Thank you.” She went up on her toes, still frustratingly short despite her four inch heels, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll get my jacket.”

“No jacket needed,” he said, stopping her before she could take off.

“No jacket?” She frowned. “I thought we were … ”

“Nope.” His arms snaked around her middle, drawing her into him. “We’re staying right here, just you and me.”

The idea of having him completely to herself, filled her with a flood of elation.

“Is that all right with you?” he asked, tipping his head slightly to the side.

Her arms wound around his shoulders. “Very all right!”

He smiled, letting his hands travel up her back. His smile slipped when his fingers grazed the stretch of skin not concealed by fabric. The tips glided experimentally up the column of her spine, following the ridges up to the strap and back down to where the skirt began. The slow caress drew a shiver from her that he couldn’t have missed.

He drew in a sharp breath and moistened his lips. “It looks so innocent from the front.”

Flustered and delighted by his response, Sophie giggled. “Do you like it?”

He chuckled weakly. “I think maybe a little too much.”

There wasn’t any loud music or flashing lights. There wasn’t a crowd of half drunken teenagers in the midst of copulating and her friends weren’t there, but it would always be one of Sophie’s favorite Valentine
’s.

They cuddled on the sofa and flipped through channels. Spencer even opted to let her pick a cheesy romance. They spent most of the movie kissing anyway. Halfway in, they raided the kitchen. Spencer ditched his blazer and shoes and loosened the first two buttons on his
dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. Sophie kicked off her shoes and removed the pins from her hair, letting the tendrils fall in deep curls down her back. They laughed and joked as they tossed some leftovers together on two plates and popped them into the microwave. Spencer hoisted her up on the counter as they waited for the microwave to heat up their meals and kissed her.

“I have to tell you something,” Spencer
said, pulling back. “I heard you the afternoon you talked to Jamie at school. I was coming out to meet you and … I heard everything.”

Sophie blinked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to, but I was so confused. No girl has ever turned Jamie down, at least never the way you did.” He grinned a little. “I especially loved the part where you said you would always pick me.”

Warmth seeped into her cheeks. “I meant it.”

“I know.” He touched her jawline with a hooked finger. “That was the moment I knew I was completely gone over you.”

That explained the ravaging kiss on her sofa and the confession in his bedroom. She had been so worried about telling him
that she hadn’t considered he’d overheard her.

“You should have told me,” she said.

He chuckled weakly. “I was still reeling with the image of you slapping Jamie down.” He kissed her. “You were so damn sexy. If you hadn’t taken off, I probably would have kissed you right there.”

With a smile, she wound her arms around his neck. “Kiss me now.”

With a growl and something that sounded suspiciously like
gladly,
he pressed his lips to hers, branding her with the heat of his kiss. His hands slipped beneath her skirt to rest comfortably on her bare hips. He jerked her closer to the lip of the counter and wedged himself between her knees. Sophie gasped, lifting her head to peer down into his face.

“We
… we could come back for these,” she whispered, so nervous she shook with it.

Spencer didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He hefted her easily off the counter and into his arms. Sophie locked her legs around his waist as he stalked purposefully back to the sofa.

“My room,” she whispered, barely breathing, grateful her face was pressed in his neck.

Spencer
faltered, coming to a rigid halt. “Sophie … ”

“I want to.” She bit her lip while she waited for him to respond.

Against her chest, his heart cracked loudly, matching the nervous flutter of hers. It tattooed his uncertainty and excitement and fears into hers, assuring her all the more that this was what she wanted.

“You called your dad today at lunch didn’t you?”

“Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“You asked him to invite my parents to his party.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She held her breath as she waited for him to respond.

“Because I wanted to be with you tonight and since your parents wouldn’t let you go I thought … ”

She exhaled slowly. “I want to be with you, too, Spencer.” She braced herself before adding. “I want it to be tonight.”

He hesitated a second longer before he was hurrying with her still in his arms up the stairs. He followed her directions to her room and crossed to her bed.

“I’ll stop,” he murmured, lowering her down on
the mattress.  “You just have to—”

She kissed him, silencing his words. Carefully, he moved on top of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head. For several long minutes, he just kissed her, their lips the only part of them touching. She was the one to reach for the buttons on his dress shirt. He seemed to still all over.

“Do you have anything?” she asked, trying to trace his face in the dark.

Thankfully, he understood what she meant. His gulp was audible. “No. I wasn’t expecting
…”

Despite the situation and the awkwardness of it, Sophie giggled. “I think my parents do in their room. I’ll be right back.”

“Sophie.” He grabbed her arm before she could leave. “Are you sure about this? I swear I can wait.”

She kissed him. “I’m sure.”

It took a whole lot less time than she had expected to find what she was looking for and return to her room. Spencer was sitting on her bed, his hair no longer swept back, but a mess around his face as if he’d been rifling his hands through them. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and the sight of his chest made Sophie’s mouth water. But she controlled the animalistic urge to jump him.