The Right Time (10 page)

Sophie sat on the side of the bed and worked lotion into her feet.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Keith said.

“I have a lot on my mind. It’s been a long day.” Sophie pulled the sheet up to her waist and turned onto her side away from him. Settling into bed, she fluffed the pillow and closed her eyes, hoping that would be enough to make him leave her alone. “Good night.”

He flicked off the lamp beside the bed. It was quiet for a while, and then he asked, “Are you asleep?’

“No,” Sophie replied, though she was tempted to pretend she was.

“I’m glad you came to dinner with my parents tonight.” His arm snaked around her waist.

She stiffened. “Keith…it’s late.” She pushed at his arm, but his grip only tightened. “I’m tired. I just want to go to sleep.”

“How much longer are we going to do this?” Keith asked in a dull voice.

She didn’t want to fight with him, but she had so much on her mind.

“How much longer, Sophie?” he asked again, his voice sounding harder this time.

“You want everything to be back to the way it was before, and it’s not that easy for me. I need time.”

“Time for what? How much longer are you going to punish me for something that I did in the past? You said you wanted to try again, but I don’t see you putting forth the effort.”

“I
am
putting forth the effort. I came all the way to Chicago, didn’t I? I met your friends and your family because you asked me to.”

“Are you saying you didn’t want to meet them?”

“That’s not what I said. You keep trying to pick a fight, and I don’t want to fight with you. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.” She shut her eyes and hoped the conversation would be over and done with.

“You’re testing me, aren’t you? But I’m not going to fail the test. I meant it when I said I’m going to prove to you that I’m a different man. And I’m going to be the kind of man that you would want to be with. I just need you to be open and honest and give me a chance to prove myself to you. I know I was wrong before, and I’m trying to rectify what I’ve done in the past and be a better boyfriend.”

“I know,” Sophie said quietly.

He kissed her neck. “Come on, Sophie. How much longer are you going to make me wait? Haven’t I been good?”

Closing her eyes, Sophie shut out his words. “Stop.”

He kissed her neck. “Just a quickie,” he murmured.

He pulled her onto her back and braced himself over her, kissing her fully on the mouth. His erection pressed into her stomach and she cringed internally, her hands coming up between them as she twisted her mouth away. “I’m not in the mood.” She spoke softly, so as not to hurt his feelings.

Taking her wrists, Keith pinned them above her head with one hand and kissed her again, harder this time, and she tasted the desperate plea for acceptance and affection.

“Don’t make me beg,” he muttered.

She finally gave in. She’d put off sex with Keith long enough, but maybe intimacy with him was the antidote to forget about Ransom.

Forget him. Forget him.

Yet no matter how much she pleaded, her mind betrayed her. The more she tried to clear her thoughts of Ransom, the more she thought about him. Instead of seeing straight black hair, she saw the thick lushness of Ransom’s dark tresses. Instead of dark brown eyes, sharp blue ones floated into her mind. She could even smell him. His scent was everywhere. All over her. The lines blurred about where she was and who she was with.

Her breathing fractured as she imagined Ransom kissing his way down her chest, groaning as he pushed up the nightshirt and labored over her breasts. Then he moved down to her stomach.

His fingers slipped between her lower lips and played in the moisture between her thighs. “You’re so wet,” he muttered excitedly.

He pulled on a condom and entered her with ease, and Sophie gasped at the intrusion. She gripped his back, shuddering at the sensation of him filling her. His slow, hard strokes stole her breath. She moaned, tossing her head back as pleasurable sensations covered every surface of her skin.

He rubbed a finger across her clit, and a loud, breathless cry erupted from her throat at the same time a powerful orgasm tore through her body. Quivering, panting, she tightened her legs around his hips and buried her face in his damp neck.

When it was over, brown eyes looked down into her face. Out of breath, Keith smiled at her. “Wow. You came hard that time, didn’t you?” He dropped kisses to her mouth and jaw. “Why’d you make me wait so long, hmm? Look how much you enjoyed that.”

He rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

Sophie groaned, biting her lower lip and yanking the sheet to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut. Pity sex while thinking of another man. Something else to add to her list of transgressions.

Minutes later, Keith came back into the room and looped an arm around her waist. “I’m not giving up on us. I hope you aren’t, either.”

Sophie didn’t answer, letting the words sit out there in the dark, wondering if it was already too late for them. Because it certainly was not a good sign to be lying in bed with one man…while thinking about another.

The Atlanta offices of Abraham, MacKenzie & Wong were located smack-dab in the middle of prime real estate in the Midtown Business District, close to a MARTA train station and within walking distance of the Woodruff Arts Center, a not-for-profit dedicated to the promotion of the visual and performing arts. Shopping, offices, and art galleries dominated the commercial landscape, with outdoor recreation easily accessible in perhaps the city’s most well-known greenspace, Piedmont Park.

One hundred attorneys occupied five floors and concentrated in civil, corporate, and family law. When Ransom entered the office on Monday morning, his office was already prepared and the assistant and paralegal assigned to him ready and waiting for the morning briefing. He gathered the rest of the attorneys, a total of ten, all dedicated to making sure the management of Creplar, Inc. did not settle—and if they did, it was the best settlement money could buy.

By Friday, he was already in the groove of the daily grind and not only had the hang of the Creplar case, but kept track of his cases in Chicago, too. The weekend meant poring over more documents to stay abreast of his work, but Ransom decided to do it from the short-term apartment the firm rented for him. Like his condo in Chicago, it boasted a modern design and was situated close to the firm—even closer, as it was within walking distance.

On Saturday, Ransom sat at the desk set up in the living room of the one-bedroom apartment, facing a window that looked out at the Midtown skyline. Files covered in sticky notes sat piled high on his desk, and the legal pad he wrote on contained detailed notes of angles he wanted the associates to follow up on. Despite all the work he had before him, passing cars and people traveling to and fro repeatedly drew his eyes from the legal pad and snagged his attention from the law journal he perused online.

He’d worked in other cities countless times, but there seemed to be so much activity taking place down there without him.

He sighed and pinched his nose.

Standing, he swiped the cell phone from the corner of his desk and searched for Sophie’s number. He’d been here all week and been tempted to call her. He remembered she rode her bike with a cycling club on Saturdays.

For the sake of his sanity, he should leave her alone. She was off limits.

His thumb remained poised over her name, but instead of backing away from seeing her, he considered whether or not he should call first, or simply show up.

At the window he braced an arm above his head. It was early, and not even eight yet. Maybe he could catch them before they left.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and hoped he could rent a bike and buy the clothes he needed to ride at the shop.

Using GPS, he quickly found the juice shop with the bike store next to it. A brisk, short walk down the avenue brought him to the right location, and the area was easily marked by the group of ten cyclists hanging outside in the shared parking lot. He approached the group with a nod and morning greeting, searching for Sophie’s face. When he didn’t see her, he went into the store.

It was a fairly large facility, containing bikes, cycling clothing, and other gear.

Ransom greeted the young black man behind the counter.

“How can I help you today?” He was of average height, with a wiry body and a bald head.

“What time does the group pull out?”

“The Cycle Crew? Eight thirty.”

“A friend of mine told me about them. Are you taking new members?”

“We’re always interested in new members. Who told you about us?”

“Me.” The soft voice came from behind him.

Ransom swung around to see Sophie only a few feet away. His appreciative gaze ran from the two braids on either side of her head, over the red and black biker outfit hugging her curves, and spent extra time on her sexy legs. A flash of memory came to him, of driving between those toned legs, of spreading them wide as he fucked her from behind and she panted her pleasure.

His shaft twitched in greeting.

“Hi.” That was all he could think of to say.

“Hi.”

Their conversation remained awkward, but without the ugliness from the lunch.

He stepped over to her and lowered his voice. “Sophie, last week—”

“Did I hear you correctly? You’re going out with us today?”

She spoke at a normal volume, cutting him off on purpose, and he didn’t know if he should be grateful or push through and force them to tackle their uncomfortable history.

“That’s the plan,” he said.

With her crimson helmet wedged between elbow and hip, her eyes flicked over his clothes. “You’re going to need the works.”

“Already ahead of you. My man here is going to help me out.” He pointed a thumb at the clerk behind the counter.

“We leave in thirty minutes, so you’ll have to be quick. Today we’re riding the Cycle of Death. Think you can handle it?”

“Let me know what you think when you’re trailing behind me,” Ransom quipped, diving headfirst into the banter.

“Ooh, big words coming from a guy who hardly ever gets out to ride. We’ll see how good you are in a little bit. Consider yourself lucky we’re riding the short route today. Only thirty-five miles.”

Hell, that was longer than he’d ridden in a long time, but he’d be damned if he backed down now.

With a saucy grin, Sophie sauntered off, and he watched her progress all the way through the door. Outside, she greeted some of the members with hugs and others with kisses, and eventually joined them in pre-ride warmups.

Behind him, a throat cleared.

Ransom turned to find the young man smiling knowingly at him. “She’s great, isn’t she?”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, she’s something else.”

“One of the nicest people I know, and the club’s founder.”

“Really?”

The young man nodded. “Other people have taken the lead since then. One of them is Eric, who you’ll meet today, but if it wasn’t for Sophie, we wouldn’t have this club.” He came around the counter. “Let me show you what we have.”

They walked through the store, and pretty quickly Ransom purchased padded bike shorts, a lime-green jersey, a helmet, and gloves. Understanding the importance of hydrating and fueling his body while he rode, he went next door to The Juice Fox, where a young woman and Sophie’s mother—he saw the resemblance right away—worked behind the counter.

She was busy ringing up orders from the bikers, and he purchased energy bars and two bottles of water—one he drank right away and the other he saved to slip into the holder on the bike. By the time he’d changed into his clothes, the bike he chose to rent was ready, and he joined the group assembled outside.

Eric, the leader, asked Ransom and another newbie to introduce themselves and tell about their riding experience. The members greeted them and welcomed them to the group, and then Eric took over, explaining the route and making sure everyone who wanted a ride map received one. Rest stops, places where they could rehydrate and replenish food supplies, were marked in green. By eight thirty-five, the group—which had grown to twenty-two—pulled out.

The Cycle of Death started on the main road and veered off into neighborhoods, along uneven terrain and around curves. The ride took approximately four hours, but it was one of the most exhilarating four hours Ransom had experienced in a long time. He stayed near the rear, keeping an average pace to maximize endurance, and kept a steady rhythm when going uphill—alternating between sitting and lifting off the saddle to stretch his muscles. Going downhill, he tucked his arms, elbows, and head, picking up speed as the headwind blew across his face.

The line of cyclists streamed past cars and buildings, stopping several times to replenish. At the last location, he and Sophie sat on a bench outside the rest stop, watching the other members stretch, drink water, and eat snacks.

“You never told me you started this club.”

Sophie peeled a banana and extended it toward him. “How did you find out?”

Ransom broke off a piece. “The guy back at the bike shop told me.”

She finished chewing a piece of the fruit. “I’ve been riding for years, thanks to my dad, who still rides a bike to work every day, by the way. Starting the group was a way for me to take advantage of the bike shop moving in next door and get like-minded people together. It grew bigger than I expected. There are over sixty of us, and about twenty ride out regularly.”

She jumped up from the bench. “Come on, let’s go before we get left behind.”

The rest of the group had started getting on their bikes, gearing up for the final leg of the trip. Groaning, Ransom followed suit and climbed onto his bicycle. Seconds later they were on the road again, circling back to the shop at a leisurely pace. Sophie rode the last few miles alongside him, sometimes getting ahead, but always staying close.

When they were all crowded back into the parking lot, Sophie pulled off her helmet, and he almost reached up to smooth the fuzzy tendrils that framed her face. “Well, what do you think? Will you come back?” she asked.