Sleepless in Savannah (16 page)

Lucy stepped back and whistled. "Fabulous."

Sophie scrutinized her reflection. "My boobs are hanging out."

Lucy pushed her own goods upward into her bra. "Perfect for Maddie's rules. Strut your stuff but don't let him touch."

"Don't worry about that; I don't intend to hop in the sack with this guy tonight." The doorbell rang and they both dashed from her room. "What was his name, anyway?"

"Jeremy—now be nice." Lucy teetered away for the door while Sophie paused to catch her breath.

Trouble was, Lance filled the hallway with a cabinet he was carting outside. They both paused and waited; then she rushed forward, wondering about could-have-beens. They met in the middle of the corridor, their bodies brushing against each other as they passed. Sophie felt the hard planes of his body and a thousand sensations slivered through her. Lance's intake of breath and the way he drew his shoulders away from her indicated he'd been affected as well. Feeling suddenly wicked, she drew in a deep breath, letting her chest expand and her taut nipples brush his naked, sweaty chest.

His gaze dropped to hers and he stilled, his lower body pulsing against the small of her stomach. Heat speared through Sophie. Hunger darkened the irises of his eyes. Her own breath quickened. His gaze dropped to her lips. She wet them with her tongue. He followed the movement.

"Yoo-hoo, Sophie, Jeremy's here."

Sophie released the breath she'd been holding. Disappointment mingled with desire. "My, er, date."

He shoved the cabinet out of the way and stepped aside. "By all means, have fun. I've got to get going, too—finally decided to try out that singles service you connected me with."

She pasted on a fake smile and headed toward the man waiting at the door, wondering who exactly Lance would be seeing tonight. Remembering Maddie's advice, though, she added an extra little sway to her hips.

She might be through with Lance, but she definitely wanted him to suffer. A tear threatened but she squashed it.

And she definitely wanted him to think of her while he was out with that other bimbo.

* * *

Lance didn't know if he could suffer through the remainder of the evening with this woman. Jamie James smoked like a fiend, ate like a horse, and so far had inhaled three shots of bourbon straight up without batting a false eyelash. And they were false, along with her nails, the nose job, and her boobs, which she had informed him cost thirty-five hundred dollars each, a gift from her third ex-husband in the divorce settlement. In return, she'd given him the Porsche, the second home in Denver, and the live-in-maid whom he was sleeping with.

Her only redeeming quality as far as he was concerned was the fact that she didn't have a police record. She'd told him that right up front, along with her personal and medical history, and a gynecological report that offered way too much information.

He tried to focus on his beer and ignore her inquisition.

"Now, Lance, do you have any serious medical problems?"

Was this first-date conversation these days? If so, he'd been out of touch a long damn time. "No."

"Any venereal diseases?"

Weren't women supposed to be into all that getting-to-know-you chit-chat shit like,
Do you like football or romantic music?

"Uh-oh, what—syphilis? Gonorrhea? AIDS?"

He coughed. "No."

"To all three?"

He yanked at his collar, sweat beading on his forehead. "Yes, to all three."

Horror streaked her face. "Yes, you have all three diseases?"

"No, geesh, I don't have any diseases."

"Thank goodness." She blew a breath between even white teeth, then waved for the bartender. "Prior children?"

His gaze shot to hers. "Definitely not."

"All right, then, I think this might work."

"Excuse me?" He cradled his beer and downed the rest of it. "What might work? You've just given me twenty questions."

"I know, and I'm sorry." She patted his hand, then reached into her purse and placed a plastic vial on the table in front of him. "But I had to know all those things before we could continue."

He eyed the vial with trepidation. "Continue what?"

"Making a baby."

"A baby?"

"Yes, I joined the singles service to find a sperm donor."

His hands began to shake. "You did what?"

"I want you to father my child." She finally gave him a smile. "Actually, consider yourself lucky. So far I've interviewed fifty-three candidates and no one filled all my requirements except you."

He gulped. He certainly didn't feel lucky. And he had no intention of fathering this lunatic's baby.

"Uh, excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom."

She grinned when he stood, then grabbed his hand. "Don't forget this." She slid the vial into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers around it. Heat scalded Lance's neck as he shoved his fist into his pocket and strode to the bathroom.

Surely he could find a back door....

Chapter 10

Sophie glanced at the door to the coffee shop where she and her date had stopped after dinner, surprised to see Lance peering through the doorway. What was he doing here? And where was this woman he'd planned to meet?

He strode in, his masculine presence suddenly filling the crowded shop and making Jeremy's lean build look almost feminine.

"Basically it requires a multitude of shots," Jeremy said. "Then I go in with the scalpel—actually some patients call it a gum knife..."

Sophie shivered. He had been giving her the basics on performing a root canal—in other words, boring her to tears for the last half hour. The only way she had survived was to people-watch and nod, neither of which he noticed due to his overinflated ego and obsession with himself.

But Lance glanced her way, and she jerked her head toward Jeremy, pretending interest.

As soon as they'd left dinner, Lucy and her date had run off to go clubbing, claiming the coffee shop didn't quite meet Lucy's standards for excitement. At one time it hadn't met Sophie's either. Just last year she'd been content to attend new show openings and parties with Maddie. They'd even gone to that nudist colony. But the upcoming big three-oh—and seeing Maddie settled with a husband—had triggered her own desires for family, stability, love....

"Last week I performed three root canals in a row; then I did an implant for this lady who bit into a caramel and lost her crown. That was a piece of work. I could show you the X rays, if you'd like; it's really fascinating...."

Smile and nod.
Maybe she should have gone with Lucy. At least alcohol might dull the drone of his monotone.

Jeremy's beeper sounded. "Sorry, forgot to tell you I'm on call."

Sophie sipped her mocha, praying he had an emergency. "No problem; go ahead."

He popped his cell phone off his belt and clicked in some numbers, his face animated as he spoke. "Okay, ma'am, calm down. Bring the teeth in. I can save them...." Pause. His chest puffed out with pride. "Yes, all right. Meet me at the office."

He snapped the phone shut with a halfhearted sigh. "I'm going to have to call the evening short. A twelve-year-old knocked his front two permanent teeth out in a backyard baseball game."

"By all means, you should go," Sophie said, sorry for the poor child but grateful for the reprieve. "I'll get a taxi home."

"You're sure you don't mind? I can take you first." He squeezed her hands and she noticed his nails were manicured. His skin felt surprisingly soft, too, unlike Lance's work-roughened hands.

So she was odd—she much preferred Lance's calluses and wood-stained fingernails. "I'm sure. Go on; the child needs you."

"Let's do it again, Sophie. I had a wonderful time." He dipped his head and kissed her cheek.

She nodded and smiled again, accepting the obligatory gesture. Sure, he'd had a wonderful time. He'd talked nonstop about himself. Cradling her cup in her hands, she tried to ignore the fact that Lance was walking her way and that he'd seen her date desert her. Seconds later he slid onto the love seat beside her. In a typical manly move, he sat with his big legs spread wide so that they brushed her bare thigh. In spite of the air conditioner, hot air swirled around her, the scent of his body intoxicating. All she could think of was crawling in his arms and burying herself against his chest.

Unfortunately she'd have to settle for crawling into his shirt later on and burying her head against her own pillow.

He was wearing a hint of cologne, too, something slightly woodsy. Because he'd been on a date with another woman.

"Your date ran out on you?" he asked, a little too smugly.

"He's a doctor," Sophie blurted, tugging at the hem of her skirt as Lance's gaze fixated on her legs. "He had an emergency."

His smile faltered slightly. "A doctor, huh? Sounds like a good match."

For a doormat.
"How about you? I thought you had plans tonight? Early evening?"

He cut his gaze away from her and sipped his coffee. "A disaster."

"Really?"
Too bad.
"So, what are you doing here? Following me?"

Lance shrugged. "I saw you come in, thought I'd drop by and tell you that that service you set me up with has some weirdos."

Poor baby.
So he was blaming her for his date bombing. And had he really dropped in to tell her that, or did he want to see her? Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she refused to get her hopes up. "What kind of weirdos?"

Lance angled his head to peer down at her, his eyes grave. "Let's just say she wanted more than I was willing to give."

"Like you thought I did?"

His gaze darkened; then a low chuckle reverberated from his chest. "Not quite. She wanted a baby and wanted me to well, er... you know."

Sophie's mouth gaped open. "You're kidding."

He raised his hand in a pledge-type pose. "The gospel. Brought a little plastic cup with her."

Sophie laughed. "Okay, you win."

"Win what?"

"The worst-date contest."

Lance laughed, too, and they actually talked a few minutes, sharing the worst parts of their catastrophic evenings.

"Let me take you home," Lance suggested as they finished their coffee.

Sophie hesitated. She was enjoying their camaraderie too much. "That's not necessary, Lance. I'm a big girl; I'll call a cab—"

"I'm well aware of that," Lance said in a gruff voice. "But I'm still taking you home. My Blazer's down the street. We can discuss the renovations, since we didn't get a chance to earlier."

Of course, work. Nothing personal
. "Right." She stood and he lowered his hand to the small of her back, sending a delicious tingle up her spine.

They left the coffee and chocolate scents and chatter behind, only to be engulfed in the fresh fragrances of summer flowers and the sounds of Savannah tourists and the river in the background. The nearly full moon spilled soft light on the sidewalks, the Spanish moss draping the giant live oaks in the small parks creating canopies of privacy as they strolled back to his car. The simple sound of Lance's footsteps on the pavement and his breath in the quiet of the evening stirred her heart to an irregular beat. When she climbed into his Blazer, she couldn't help but notice he'd cleaned the inside.

For another woman.

A surge of jealousy snaked through her. Why couldn't the two of them be together? Why couldn't Lance love her?

He steered the truck away from the downtown area and she savored the short ride. She just hoped she didn't arrive home and find Lucy having sex with her date....

* * *

Lucy had ditched her date after the second dance, claiming she'd spotted her old boyfriend on the dance floor and she didn't want trouble. Not that she hadn't been having fun, but she had something else she needed to do tonight while Sophie and Lance weren't around.

She was going to concoct a potion to help Sophie in the romance department.

Granted, Sophie had all the proper elements—sex appeal in spades, wit, intelligence—but she had obviously failed with Lance and that Dalton man because she wasn't putting out the right vibes. Lucy had a cure for that, although she was admittedly grateful Lance hadn't decided to pursue her sister.

Lucy wanted her sister to be happy; she really did. But Sophie harbored such a crush on Lance Summers that it worried her.

He was the wrong man for her sister. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Sophie didn't need marriage. She needed someone fun-loving, exciting. A man able to tear her out of her self-imposed prison of responsibility and order and show her how to live. Lance was too solemn, too intense, too tight, unable to loosen up. Lucy hadn't once seen him smile since he'd been working at her sister's. Not like his brother, Reid.

She desperately wanted to see that yumlicious man again.

Opening up her
Charms and Talismans
book, she found the perfect recipe, a spell to keep Sophie from making mistakes in love. Unearthing her caftan from her suitcase, she put it on, then draped beads around her head just as she'd seen a voodoo priestess do at a festival she'd attended in Vegas. Then she took a small piece of parchment paper, and with the Dove's Blood Ink she'd bought at the magic shop on her way home, drew the configuration of letters shown in the book. Next she blew on the parchment paper to dry the ink, then folded it and slipped it inside Sophie's day purse so she'd have it with her most of the time. The final step—she sprinkled Jinx Removing Salt all around the house, making certain to put it by all the windows and doors.