The Right Time (3 page)

“That’s a very unusual name.” She faced him, one arm resting on the table.

“I get that a lot. My family has this weird tradition of giving all the men in the family first names that begin with the letter R. They were getting close to running out of names when I came along.”

She laughed again, and he didn’t care if it was fake or genuine. He liked the sound and wouldn’t mind hearing it again, and often.

“Do you gamble?” he asked.

“I’ve played the slots a few times, but never roulette.” Her gaze swept the table. “I don’t know much about it.”

“Apparently neither do I. Which number do you think I should choose?”

Her gray eyes widened. “I have no idea. I don’t want that kind of pressure.”

“No pressure. Like I said, I haven’t had much luck, so you can’t possibly make things any worse. Pick a number.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin, gaze jumping from one number to the next. “How about thirty-three?”

“Thirty-three it is.” Ransom placed his chips in the square.

Sophie gasped. “You’re really going to do that?”

Her shock amused him. “Absolutely.”

After making a last call for bets, the croupier spun the wheel. The white ball bounced across the numbers and eventually stopped.

“Black, thirty-three,” the croupier called.

Sophie’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth, muffling a squeal.

“You
are
good luck,” Ransom said. He collected his winnings. “Come on, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

He stood and Sophie joined him.

“I should be buying you a drink. After all, you saved me.”

“Enough of that hero nonsense. I’m buying because it’s the least I could do for helping me win back some of the money I lost.” He also wanted to get her alone to get to know her better.

Ransom cashed in his chips, and they walked through the busy casino toward the bar where they sat on stools at one end. “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

“A white wine spritzer, please.”

“A white wine spritzer for the lady, and a rum and Coke for me,” he instructed the bartender. Then he gave Sophie his undivided attention. “What made you choose lucky number thirty-three?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know how lucky it would be. I picked that number because tomorrow is my birthday, and I’ll be thirty-three.”

“Well, happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Brilliant teeth flashed in a smile that beamed across her face.

“Are your girlfriends joining you later?”

“No, I’m here by myself.”

“No way. What about a boyfriend?” He was on a blatant fishing expedition.

Her smile tightened a little. Interesting.

“He’s not here, either.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Believe it.” She shifted on the stool.

Ransom stroked his chin, noting her crestfallen expression. “Trouble in paradise?”

She sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“The clipped response and your expression gave it away. What happened?”

“He’s just…always been an ass, and then he did the most asshole-y thing imaginable.”

For a split second, a grimace of pain crossed her features. If he’d glanced away, he would have missed it.

“He cheated on me with the waitress at my favorite vegetarian restaurant. Needless to say, I was devastated and can never go back there again.”

“He really is an ass.”

“Of course he’s been blowing up my phone, calling constantly and saying how sorry he is and how it’ll never happen again.”

“But you’re not falling for it?”

“I…” Her brow wrinkled. “We’ve been together for a long time, so I’m kinda…torn, I guess. The truth is, he seldom made time for me before, and now the tables have turned. I’m not giving him any of my time. He probably doesn’t even remember my birthday is on Sunday.”

“Sounds like an inattentive idiot.”

“He is. One who only cares about himself and his needs, and never keeps his promises. That’s his MO. Make a promise, break a promise. Anything and everything is much more important than me. Now we can add cheater to his list of flaws.” She took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent like that.”

She blushed, and the pink color brightened her cheeks in a becoming way.

“No need to apologize. Seems like you needed to get that off your chest.”

“I guess I did.” She absentmindedly rubbed the surface of the bar with the tip of one finger.

“Feel better now?” Ransom asked.

“I do, actually. Why is it so easy to talk to strangers and tell them your business?”

“Because talking to a stranger is not as embarrassing as talking to someone who knows you well, and there’s less judgment.”

“Hmm…makes sense.”

The bartender dropped their drinks onto the bar, and Ransom handed over a few bills. “Keep the change.”

Sophie closed salmon-pink lips around the little straw and took a sip, and his groin tightened at the thought of her wrapping those same plump lips around him and sucking.

“Good?”

“Delicious.” She stirred the spritzer and took another quick sip. “Now you know all about me, how about sharing a little about you? Are you in the Bahamas for business or pleasure?”

“A little bit of both. I’m here for a wedding.”

“Are you in the wedding business?”

She uncrossed and crossed her legs, drawing his eyes. Ransom wondered if she did that on purpose. She had to know she had amazing legs—shapely, toned, and definitely eye-catching.

“The bride and groom are colleagues of mine.”

“Oh really? What do you do? Wait, let me guess. Banking?”

“No.”

“Are you a consultant of some kind?”

“You could say that.”

Her eyebrows arrowed down. “Okay, tell me.”

“I’m a civil attorney for a law firm out of Chicago. I protect my clients against frivolous lawsuits. Wait a minute, what was that look?”

Sophie fixed her face. “What look?”

“The look you just gave me, as if I’m scum and all of a sudden you wish you hadn’t agreed to have a drink with me.”

“Scum might be a bit of an exaggeration,” she said, her gaze scurrying away from his.

“But?” Ransom prompted.

“Okay, I might as well come clean. I sort of suspected you were an attorney, but I hoped you weren’t. The a-hole I told you about…he’s a lawyer, too. Interestingly enough, he says civil attorneys are among the worst of the lot. You don’t exactly have a good reputation.” She wrinkled her round little nose.

“I’m a little offended,” Ransom said, mildly amused but accustomed to people either being impressed by his profession or viewing him with suspicion. “Everyone deserves representation.”

“You’re not the least bit concerned about the poor individuals being taken advantage of?”

“Poor individuals?” he scoffed, plastering an exaggerated expression of shock on his face.

Sophie laughed, and her entire face lit up. She twirled a lock of silky-looking hair around a finger. “Oh right, you’re on the side of the companies. But come on, all lawsuits are
not
frivolous.”

“The vast majority of them are, trust me.”

“A man who truly enjoys his work, I see.” She swirled the thin straw in her glass. “Don’t you feel any guilt at all?” She sipped the spritzer, eyeing him through her lashes, blatantly flirtatious.

“Like I said, everyone deserves representation.”

“Are you telling me you have zero guilt?”

“None whatsoever. If I didn’t represent these companies, someone else would. If you saw the way people try to squeeze my clients dry for millions of dollars, often due to their own negligence, you’d understand.”

She studied him for a moment, eyes soft, chin resting on her hand. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Do you enjoy your work?”

That was a tough question. In the early years, he did, but nowadays he considered practicing law a means to an end. His profession allowed him to live a different life from the one he’d known, growing up on a struggling farm in Oklahoma. He drove a luxury vehicle, owned a condo in the commercial core of the third most populous city in the country, and had a closet filled with enough high-end suits to open a men’s clothing store. So while the thrill of winning was no longer there, he earned a more-than-comfortable living. The career he really wanted to pursue—the one that no one knew about—could not offer him the lifestyle he now enjoyed.

“After practicing for eleven years, I make a good living,” he said. “What about you? Do you enjoy your job?”

“Most days.”

“What days do you not like it?”

“When we’re disrespected or treated like slaves. Or when we’re diminished to being mere sex objects instead of professionals with a job to do.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Often enough that it’s bothersome, but not enough to make me quit.”

His eyes flicked over her, appreciating her curvaceous body. Round hips. Full breasts. He understood why men might view her in a sexual way. She was certainly easy on the eyes.

Sophie groaned. “Not you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way you looked at me is exactly the kind of thing I hate.”

“You’re wrong about me.”

“It was in the eyes.” She pointed two fingers at hers.

“Oh, the eyes. What else do you see in my eyes, Sophie?” He folded his arms on the bar and leaned closer—unnecessarily so—to feel her out. She didn’t move away. In fact, she shifted closer.

“I see a man who probably works very hard,” she said, voice dipping lower.

The corners of his mouth tipped up into a slow smile. “I do work hard, and I’m very good at what I do. Sometimes I need to let off a little steam.”

“Would you like to let off some steam now?” she purred.

“As a matter of fact, I would.”

She tilted her head. “What did you have in mind?”

His lurid thoughts might be too much for her right now. “I’m open to suggestions. What would you like to do tonight?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Only if you’d say yes.”

She clasped her hands atop her knee. “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well then, we should get you fed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to get me into any trouble, are you?”

“We’re in the Bahamas. Of course there’s going to be trouble.” He enjoyed teasing her.

“Getting into trouble is not exactly my forte.”

“Lucky for you, it happens to be mine. So why don’t you keep a lonely attorney company?”

“I don’t believe you’re lonely.”

“I won’t be if you’re with me.”

Sophie pursed her lips, thinking. “All right. Where to?” she asked.

“Follow me.”

He extended his arm, she took it, and they left.

Sophie wasn’t very hungry. She just wanted to spend more time with Ransom. He intrigued her. Turned out he wasn’t very hungry either, as he’d eaten at the wedding reception. They settled on the Sea Glass lounge, located at The Cove Atlantis, which served tapas and a signature collection of cocktails.

“Mmm.” Sophie raised the glass to the waiter after tasting her martini. The strawberry-infused drink contained the perfect balance of fruit flavor, gin, and vermouth.

She tucked into her arugula salad, picking up a wedge of grapefruit and a slice of beet with the fork. Across the table, Ransom ignored his small plate of braised short ribs, studying her. She quirked a brow at him.

“How long have you been a vegetarian?” he asked.

She chewed slowly and swallowed. It always amused her how curious other people were about her diet, something she considered mundane.

“Since I was sixteen. My mother is a nutritionist, which means I grew up eating healthy, with an appreciation of food and how it affects our well-being. She taught me much better than she realized. I took her admonishments to heart—maybe too much.” She laughed. At his curious expression, she expounded. “By the time I was thirteen, I no longer ate red meat. Then I started doing research on the benefits of a plant-based diet. By the time I was sixteen, I had cut out all meat and seafood.”

“And you haven’t had any meat since you were sixteen?” He sounded surprised. He ate a morsel of the short ribs, and a bit of the brown sauce stayed on his lower lip. He lapped it up with his tongue, and Sophie caught her breath.

Damn.

She cleared her throat. “Um, not exactly. My freshman year in college, I was craving a cheeseburger and decided to satisfy the craving. Just that one time. Bad idea.” She shivered at the memory. “The beef wreaked havoc with my stomach. Without going into the science of it, I shocked my digestive system and was sick for days. My mother warned me that if I wanted to try meat again, I needed to ease into it with smaller portions and something lean, like fish or chicken breasts.” She popped a piece of arugula in her mouth with her fingers, enjoying the slightly bitter taste. “On rare occasions—and I do mean rare, like count-on-one-hand rare—I get a craving, but honestly, it’s been so long, I don’t miss meat. If I ever plan to dip my toes back in, I would do it in a much smarter way than I did fifteen years ago.”

“How long have you been a flight attendant?” He set the empty plate, cleaned of all the meat, off to the side. Despite not being hungry, he clearly had a healthy appetite.

“Nine years and counting.”

“Is that what you’ve always wanted to do?”

“Before I started working for Noble Airlines, no. But now, I love what I do. I’ve met everyone from celebrities to teachers to…you name it. I like meeting different people, and I get to travel at a very, very low cost. Before, I used to manage my mother’s shop. She runs a juice and smoothie bar in Atlanta. Now, in any given week, I’m chilling poolside in Miami or hiking the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. I visit Paris regularly, where I have to make a stop at my favorite bakery in the sixth arrondissement for their flaky, buttery croissants and to-die-for desserts, and just two months ago I was sipping a cold drink on a beach in the Virgin Islands. Life couldn’t be better.”

“It’s not all great trips and flexible schedules,” Ransom said. “You must have some crazy stories to tell, like that jerk who almost took your arm.”

“I do have some crazy stories. I could tell you about the passenger who sat in the middle of the aisle and wouldn’t move because he couldn’t get the seat he wanted. We had to have him escorted off the plane. And I can’t tell you how many times couples have tried to join the mile-high club. That happens more often than I’d like.”