Until I'm Yours (11 page)

“I thought you said we were going out.” She steps into the house, walking past me to inspect the foyer and large front room.

I step onto the stoop and wave the car on. I’ll call him back later for the ride home.

“I didn’t say we were going out.” I close the door and lean against it. “I said we’d have dinner. See the difference?”

“I do now.” Sofie glances around the Brooklyn Heights brownstone foyer, looking beyond it to the warm comfort of the living room with its dark leather tones and Persian rugs. “Nice place you got here.”

“My sister’s actually. She and her husband and the kids are in Berlin for his job.” I shrug. “Worked out perfectly. He’s there for two years, and I stay here when I’m in New York.”

“This big place all to yourself?”

“Actually, Harold and Henri, our assistant, stay here, too. We work out of my brother-in-law’s office.”

“Cozy.” She gives the room another glance before looking back to me, waiting for my next move.

“Well, come in.”

She walks ahead of me, smelling incredible and looking even better. A dress, the color of chocolate mousse, hugs the dips and curves of her long body. It’s short, mid-thigh, leaving the length of her legs bare. It plunges so low in the back that she’s naked from her shoulders to the curve of her waist, an expanse of creamy skin begging to be touched. It’s a dress made of silk and drama and sex, woven together to draw and hold a man’s attention.

I’m only a man.

And this particular dress…I remember it from her office the night of Bennett’s rooftop party.

“So I dressed up for nothing?” She glances at me over her shoulder.

I take her wrist, pulling her around to face me again. Our eyes catch and hold, and I realize the molecular structure of our relationship has changed after our argument this morning. The air still sizzles between us, but there is something softer, more vulnerable, uncertain, behind Sofie’s eyes. And she can’t hide it from me anymore. I’d like to think she doesn’t want to, but I know better.

“Not for nothing. You dressed up for me.” My eyes glide down nearly six feet of perfection and back up to meet her eyes. “Isn’t this the dress I liked?”

She drops her lashes, pressing her lips together against a smile.

“It was already at the office, so…”

“Hmmmm. Convenience. I get it.” I gently pull her by the wrist toward the dining room. “Well, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She stops when she sees the table, set with our dinner, fresh flowers, and candles. “This is…wow.”

Her eyes climb the few inches separating us before looking back to the table. Walking farther into the dining room, I pull her seat out and then take the one across from her.

“I would have come to get you, but the day got away from me and I needed to cook dinner, so I sent a car.”

“No problem. My day was chaos, too.”

“Your timing was perfect.” I gesture for her to eat. “The steaks are fresh off the grill.”

She’s just staring at the food, and something occurs to me. Dammit, Sofie’s a model. She may not even eat meat. She may barely eat anything to stay in that kind of shape, as far as I know.

“Do you not eat meat?” I’m halfway out of my seat. “I bet there’s something in the freezer I could—”

“I eat meat.” She picks up her fork and knife, slicing into the tender steak with relish. “I eat it all, and I’m starving. I was just surprised. You made this?”

I inch back into my seat with a grin, digging into my own food.

“It was nothing. Just steak and a salad.”

Her moan of pleasure sends my blood pressure through the roof and has me wondering if she’ll moan for me like that when the time comes.

“Artichokes.” She closes her eyes, relishing the forkful of her salad. “My favorite.”

She’s not the only one who remembers details. Point one for Bishop.

“What made you decide to cook dinner for me at home for our first…date?”

I wanted you all to myself.

“I thought we gave New York enough of a show this morning.”

I expected her to grin, to laugh about it, but she puts her fork down, wipes her mouth at the corners, and looks at me directly.

“I want to apologize again for the things I said.” She studies her hands in her lap. “I just…I’m not the kind of woman you’d usually date, and I’m not sure what you want from me. Guess I overreacted.”

“How would you know what kind of woman I usually date?” I set my own knife and fork down.

“Maybe I don’t.” A small smile teases her full lips. “I just assumed.”

“Well, tonight is about us getting to know each other so we don’t have to assume anymore.” I give her a straight look, no smile, but not hard. “You won’t ever have to wonder what I want, Sofie. I don’t play games. I told you I want to get to know you, and that’s what it is.”

Her eyes probe mine for a few more seconds, trying to discern the validity of my statement. She finally picks up her fork and resumes eating, gobbling up the artichoke salad without another word.

“I’m sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth with one hand. “I’m so greedy, but I skipped lunch today by mistake, and I love artichokes.”

She narrows her eyes.

“But you know that, don’t you?”

I grin, going at my steak without acknowledging her comment.

“You know a lot of things,” Sofie continues, taking a sip of the red I pulled from my sister’s cellar. “How’d you get my private number, for instance?”

“Oh, that.” I lean back, sipping my wine. “I can be very resourceful.”

“Now that I don’t doubt.”

Her husky laugh does things to me. Caresses my ears. Drifts up her throat and over my skin like the pads of her fingers might—lightly. Most of all it just makes me want to laugh, too.

“And my barre class?” She frowns even while a smile plays around her mouth. “How are you feeling, by the way? Jalene’s class is no joke.”

“I’m sore in some unusual places,” I admit, capturing her eyes over the rim of her wine glass. “But it was worth it.”

She blinks a few times before setting her wineglass down.

“We’ll see if you still think that by the end of the evening.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on folded hands. “Now that you have me, what exactly do you want to know?”

I’m like a kid in a candy store, not sure where to start, so I figure I’ll start at the beginning. Or close to it.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

I find that this question sometimes tells me a lot. Not what people say, but how far from it they landed in adulthood. It helps me get to their dreams and the things that drive them.

“You want the honest answer?” Her brows are all the way up, eyes serious.

“I want nothing but honest answers.”

“When I grew up I wanted to be Walsh Bennett’s wife.” Her lips lift at one corner, bitter on one side, sweet on the other. “That’s what I thought I was supposed to be almost from the beginning.”

“I knew you two dated briefly,” I say with a frown, “but I didn’t know it was that serious.”

And I don’t like it. It’s unreasonable how much I resent that she had deep feelings for Walsh. She told me to my face she was fucking Rip, and it didn’t feel like this. Maybe because I know Walsh could handle her, and Rip never could.

“My mother raised me to believe that Walsh would be king and I would be his queen, and we would rule Bennett Enterprises and as much of the world as we could acquire.” Sofie shakes her head. “I accepted that as my path, and decided I would love Walsh till the day I died.”

Her bitter laugh disrupts the quiet of the house.

“Except he fell in love with someone else.” Sofie shrugs her slim shoulders. “But even before Kerris, it wasn’t me. Not really. He’d always been in other relationships, and so had I. I thought we’d sow our wild oats and then settle down together. Only he’s settled down, and I’m still sowing.”

“Should I worry that you’re still in love with a married man?”

Sofie’s eyes widen and snap to mine.

“A married man? What? Who said…what?”

“Walsh, Sofie.” Who did she think I meant? “Do you still have feelings for Walsh?”

“Oh! No, of course not.” What looks like relief settles over her face. “I mean, for a long time I resented Kerris because I thought she took something that should have been mine, but I realize it never was. It took me a while, but I got over it.”

“But you and Walsh did date for a while, right?”

“Briefly, but it was right after Kerris married Cam, Walsh’s best friend. I sensed Walsh had feelings for her and swooped in. Kind of a rebound thing. It didn’t last. Between Walsh and me, nor between Kerris and Cam. He’s married to Walsh’s cousin Jo now.”

“Wait. Kerris used to be married to Walsh’s best friend? And Cam…what?”

What kind of twisted mess have I stepped into?

“It’s complicated.” Sofie laughs and shakes her head. “I guess everyone ended up where they were supposed to be in the end. The four of them paired off, and me…”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Well, me right back where I was before.” She raises guarded eyes. “Me, playing the field. On the loose. Emphasis on
loose
. Isn’t that what they say about me?”

“Why would I listen to secondhand information when I have you here and can get it from the horse’s mouth?”

“Oh, I’m a horse now, am I?”

We share a smile, both returning to our plates and our own thoughts for a few minutes.

“What about your parents?” I venture after a few more bites. “Were you close growing up?”

“Not really.” Sofie drags her fork through the remains of her salad. “You’ve met them. We weren’t exactly the model family. My father…well, let’s just say the only deal he needed me to close, I never could, and that was Walsh.”

She shrugs, glancing around the room before returning her eyes to me.

“I didn’t help matters by deciding not to go to college, modeling, living the way I have.” Sofie’s lashes drop, casting shadows on her cheeks in the candlelight. “I’m over disappointing him.”

No she’s not. It’s obvious that she’s a daddy’s girl to a daddy who doesn’t care enough. If I didn’t have reason to dislike Ernest Baston before, I have it now.

“You’re so successful, Sof.” I reach across and hold her hand. “He should be proud.”

“Well, he’s not.” A fake laugh slips between her lips. “Not sure my mother is either, frankly. I think she was more disappointed about Walsh than my father and I were.”

“You two weren’t ever close either?”

“I always thought I was too much like my father for my mother to like me.” Sofie gestures to her face and hair. “Physically, yes, but maybe deep down, I’m just like him, and she sees it. And being as close to him as she is, knowing him the way she does and how he’s hurt her, I can’t imagine she’d want to risk it with someone so like him. At least that’s why I assumed we were never close.”

“You’re not like him.” I squeeze her slim fingers. “I don’t believe we’re held captive to our parentage. We make choices about who we want to be. Everything isn’t in our control, but the most important things are. Kindness, compassion, character. If I thought you were anything like your father, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, no matter how gorgeous you are.”

Sofie looks at me, humor alive in her vibrant green eyes.

“Good to know you’re not
completely
immune to my looks.”

My eyes travel over the flawless face, the silvery hair, the fine bones in her shoulders, the high, full breasts. I’m not immune. Matter of fact, if there’s a vaccine for the way I feel when I look at Sofie, I don’t want it.

“I wouldn’t say immune, no.”

She drops her lashes and dips her head, freeing her eyes from the connection burning the air between us across the candlelit table.

“So enough about me,” she says. “Let’s talk about you.”

I set my elbows on the table, holding my chin in one hand.

“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Family?” She widens her eyes and smiles. “Please tell me yours is better than mine.”

I feel my face relax and an almost involuntary smile take over.

“My family is amazing.”

“Figures.”

We laugh together for a moment before I continue.

“There’s seven of us kids.”

“Seven?” Sofie doesn’t try to hide her astonishment. “That’s like a litter.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Mama didn’t have us all at once like puppies, Sofie. My mother’s Irish Catholic. There were gonna be lots of kids.” I shake my head at how different our upbringings were. “There’s five girls and my brother and me.”

“I always wanted a brother or a sister. A big family sounds kind of great.”

“It had its moments.” Memories of our fights and squabbles and good times as kids make me smile. “We didn’t have much. Mama was a teacher, and my pops was a postman, so with seven kids, every dollar was stretched pretty thin. Lots of hand-me-downs.”

I grin to make sure she knows it wasn’t so bad.

“You should have seen me in my sister’s dresses.”

Our laughs wrap around each other across the table, blending in a way I like the sound of. Making me consider how it’ll feel to wrap my arms around her again. That kiss in the coat room haunted me all day. She’s haunted me all day. Hell, who am I kidding? Sofie’s haunted me since the moment I saw her on that billboard in Times Square.

“Are they like you? Successful globetrotters?” she teases.

“Ha! Yeah, right.” I shake my head. “Three of the girls are stay-at-home moms. They wouldn’t have it any other way, and love it. One sister is a junior at Duke, studying math. She wants to teach. The other sister is a senior, about to graduate from Michigan State. She’s pre-med. Knowing Darcy, she’ll end up doing Doctors Without Borders or something. And my brother, that idiot, is a sports agent.”

I pull out my phone because I’m that guy who has pictures of his family everywhere all the time.

“Wanna see my nieces and nephews?”

She nods, smiling at me. I cross over to take the chair beside her, flipping through pictures of us at Christmas, at my beach house on family vacations, at dance recitals for my nieces, and at little league baseball and pee wee football for my nephews.