Sleepless in Savannah (22 page)

"Hey, Sophie, it's Rory. Listen, I'll be back in town next week. Hope to see you then."

She checked the next one. "Hi, Sophie, it's George. I really enjoyed our evening together. I've been thinking about it all day." A slight pause. "Anyway, I'd love to take you out Saturday. We could go for a drive along the coast, take a picnic over to Tybee, or if you want, we could try a dinner cruise. Call me."

Sophie noticed the roses on the coffee table and stopped to sniff them. There was no reason she shouldn't call George back and accept his date. No reason at all. He was handsome, intelligent, polite, interesting, romantic....

So why couldn't she stop thinking about Lance?

* * *

Lance backed away, his back digging into the bar. Courtney was practically humping him like a dog in heat right in front of everyone. Hadn't her mother taught her any self-respect? He twisted sideways as a stranger passed by and he accidentally brushed her chest. A funny sound echoed, like water sloshing.
What the hell?

He glanced at her chest—her boobs were jiggling. He'd thought they were fake, but how fake? Did she have water balloons in her bra? She ran her tongue down his neck, and he gently set her back. "It's been nice meeting you, Courtney, but I need to leave. I have an early meeting tomorrow."

"Ahh, sugar, really?" She traced a finger over his chin. "The fun's just getting started."

"I'm sure you can carry on the party without
me."

She brushed a kiss across his mouth. "Will I see you again?"

"I'll call you." Disgusted with himself for being too chicken to be honest, he hurried away—he was going to kill Maddie for sticking this woman on him. Her smile was as fake as her boobs.

Not like Sophie.

Sophie seemed real in every way. Hardworking, serious, ambitious. She was obviously trying to provide a good role model for her lunatic little sister.

And he had hurt her.

Heat suffused him as he walked outside, the music from the neighboring bar wafting toward him. He caught sight of a man and woman strolling along the riverfront, another couple embracing in one of the swings overlooking the water, and loneliness engulfed him.

What was he doing with his life? Building nice houses for other families and couples to grow old in? Putting up walls to keep them safe, yet keeping his own walls in place to protect himself? Going home every night to an empty duplex that he didn't own or bother to clean, much less decorate? Refusing to get involved with Sophie because he wanted to preserve his bachelorhood when he no longer wanted to play bachelor games?

He had lost the thrill of the hunt and the unknown. Or maybe he realized how empty nights with a strange woman felt in the light of morning.

His thoughts scattered. He walked down River Street to the florist, but found it closed, so he popped into one of the gift shops and picked up a silk rose. Then he headed back to his car. He had to see Sophie tonight, to tell her he was sorry for insinuating that she and her sister were not good enough for him or Reid, when all along he'd felt it was the other way around, that he wasn't good enough for her.

If she was still interested in him, he'd like to give it another try. And this time he'd prove that his answers on the "Dating Game" had been lies. He could be romantic.

He really could, dammit.

* * *

Sophie promised herself she'd wash Lance's shirt and return it to him—tomorrow. But she couldn't resist crawling inside the fabric that smelled of him one more time. She had slipped a jazz CD into the machine when the doorbell dinged.
Drat.
Who would be coming by this late?

Maybe Lucy had forgotten her key. Or she might be too smashed to find it in her purse.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she hurried to the door, expecting to find her sister teetering on the other side, but Lance stood on her doorstep holding a red silk rose. His dark eyes skimmed over her, sending a tingle up her spine. Silence stretched between them.

He touched the lapel of her—his—shirt. It was so hot outside that she'd rolled the sleeves up and left the top two buttons unbuttoned.

She was also very naked beneath.

Obviously Lance realized it, because an undeniable look of hunger flared in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Sophie asked. "I thought you'd be spending the night with Courtney."

"Courtney isn't the one I want."

Sophie's hands trembled. Oh, dear heavens, had he said that?

"I came to apologize for hurting your and your sister's feelings."

His softly spoken words brushed her nerve endings. "That's not necessary."

He pressed his hand on the door, pushing it open. "Yes, it is. Can I come in?"

Panic assaulted her, though she didn't know why. Maybe because she hadn't straightened up. And she had already removed her makeup. She felt bare, exposed—especially wearing his shirt. He must think she was foolish....

"Please, Sophie. I can't stop thinking about you."

Oh, sweet Jesus.
Desire splintered through her.

"We can just talk, if that's what you want."

Sophie struggled for a reason to say no. Her secrets... the rules... Maddie had said to be aloof....

"Please give me a chance." He lowered his hand to her cheek, and Sophie was lost. She backed up, allowing him to enter. His heady scent invaded her senses, tying them into knots of pure feminine need.

"I can make some coffee."

"I don't need coffee."

So what did he need? The question hung between them, asked and silently answered.

She turned and led him to the den. She'd already turned out most of the lights, so the dim light from the Victorian lamp painted the room in shadows. Sultry jazz flowed from her speakers, and the glass of wine she'd poured herself sat on the end table.

"Wine?"

"Sure."

Sophie retrieved the bottle and another glass from the kitchen, then poured him a glass, glad to have something to do with her hands. They were shaking now, her entire body engulfed in flames of hunger.

"I realized I've been unfair to you," Lance said. "I want things to be different."

"Different how?"

He accepted the glass from her, his hands caressing her fingertips. "I'm tired of pretending I don't want you. That I don't need you."

Sophie had no idea what to say. "What brought about this sudden change?"

A self-deprecating laugh escaped him. "Let's just say I haven't been sleeping lately. It's given me a lot of time to think."

"I... I don't know, Lance. There's so much between us."
And still so many things you don't know about me.

Lance set the glass down, then slid a hand to the nape of her neck. She leaned into his arm. "We don't have to rush anything. But I want us to get to know each other. For me to prove to you that I'm not the jerk you think I am."

Sophie opened her mouth to refute his statement, but he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, so tenderly that her breath lodged in her throat. Lance tasted like temptation and dark desire, an aphrodisiac too powerful to fight.

Passion overcame her, and she threaded her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he teased her lips apart with his tongue and delved inside. She met him thrust for thrust, a low mutter of yearning ripping from her throat when his hands slowly began to unbutton the shirt she wore. She rubbed her bare foot up his thigh and smiled at his moan of approval, cupping his head as he dipped his mouth to trail kisses down her neck, then lower to her breasts. And when he parted the fabric and licked at her skin, teasing her nipples to taut peaks with his tongue, she called his name and begged him not to stop.

* * *

Lucy and Reid had parked in front of Sophie's house for a good-night kiss. But one good-night kiss led to another, and like teenagers, they were about to get it on in the front seat of his Tahoe. "We could go inside," she whispered.

Reid cupped her hips in his palms, greedily sucking at her neck. "You don't think Sophie would mind?"

Lucy dodged the steering wheel as she climbed on top of Reid and yanked his shirt from his pants. "Who cares?" She panted into his ear. "Besides, your brother's Blazer is in the drive. What do you think he and Sophie are doing this time of night?" Was Lance there to wait up on her and Reid? She'd be damned if she gave him the satisfaction.

"Good point." A chuckle reverberated from his chest, then a low moan as Lucy's tangled hair tickled his bare chest. "God, that feels good, Lucy."

Lucy sighed and pressed her heat into him, flattening her hands on his jaw as she drove her tongue inside his mouth. Reid tasted like heaven, all male desire mingled with the essence of unbridled passion. When this man let go, he would be dynamite.

His hands kneaded her breasts, stroking and teasing, sending pinpoints of pleasure so intense it was almost painful rippling through Lucy's body. She arched her back, threw her hair over her shoulder, and groaned.

But a pair of headlights flickered in her eyes, nearly blinding her. She hesitated, her breath catching for a moment. Was it the police?

Oblivious, Reid began to inch her dress up her thigh, but Lucy spotted the car door opening. A tall, dark-haired man exited.
Dag-nab it. Peter.

What the heck was her mother's old lover doing here?

Reid had her dress pushed up to her waist and was sliding aside her panties with torturous fingers. As much as she hated to stop, she had to. If Peter barged in, revealed his identity, and ruined things for Sophie, Sophie might think Lucy had had something to do with his arrival. Or she'd blame Deseree.

And what if Peter blurted out the truth about the Diva act?

She had promised Sophie to keep her secret.

"Reid, honeydoll." Sophie caught his hands. "We have to stop."

His hands froze on her bare thighs, his body jerking with need. "Why?"

"See that man walking up the drive?"

Reid nodded.

"I... I have to find out what he wants."

"I don't understand."

Lucy searched for a reply, opting for a half truth. "He's someone we know from Vegas."

Reid's face contorted with a mixture of emotions: anger, confusion, maybe a hint of jealousy? "An old boyfriend?"

Lucy bit her lip and smoothed down her dress, untangling her foot and searching for her shoe on the floor of the SUV. "Let's just say he could be trouble."

Pulling her pump on, she jumped from the Tahoe and teetered up the drive, hoping to catch Peter before he ruined things for her and Sophie. But Peter had already opened the door and was stepping inside.

She was so flustered she didn't realize that Reid had followed her until the three of them stood in the foyer together. A clunking sound echoed from the den, and Lucy glanced at the sofa.

No Lance or Sophie. Then a banging sound echoed from behind the furniture and a sock flew over the couch.

"Sophie?" Peter said.

"Lance?" Reid croaked.

Sophie's head bobbed up from behind the sofa. "Peter?"

Lance's head came next. "Reid?"

Then Lance turned to Sophie and asked, "Who the hell is Peter?"

Peter stepped forward, running a hand through his shaggy head of black hair. "I flew in from Vegas for Sophie's show on long-lost lovers."

Chapter 14

Shock stole Sophie's breath. What the devil was Peter doing here? For goodness' sake and in those black leather pants and that silk shirt that made him look like some kind of Hollywood pimp?

Besides, he wasn't a long-lost lover. He was one of Deseree's live-ins, a stripper who'd danced with Sophie and Lucy in the Diva act.

And why had he shown up now, when she and Lance had finally gotten so close to making love?

Speaking of close, she shoved her arms back into the sleeves of Lance's shirt, vaguely cognizant of the fact that he was hastily redressing himself, and that his movements were terse and angry.

"I came about the show, Sophie." Peter's voice echoed with false hurt, but Lance stiffened, obviously believing Peter's act. "But it looks as if my timing is off."

"An understatement," Lance muttered.

Sophie spied his mutinous frown from the corner of her eye. He stuffed his shirt into his jeans in a hurried movement, not bothering to hide the fact that they'd been getting down and dirty. She inched up behind him, conscious that she was wearing a man's shirt, and that her legs and body were bare beneath, bare and still tingling with Lance's loving touches and kisses. Leaving that desire unsated was doing irritating things to her insides, too.

Compared to Peter, Reid and Lucy looked slightly unkempt, a fact that registered milliseconds before Lucy cheerfully offered to make coffee.

"I'm not here for coffee," Lance said in a dark voice, his intense look reminding her that he'd refused the offer earlier and said he wanted something else. That something had been her, and she desperately wanted the entire motley crew to disappear so she could give him what he wanted.

What they both wanted.

"Just exactly whose long-lost lover are you?" Reid asked in a voice that sounded surprisingly territorial.