Wrapped in You (6 page)

“Call me Sherry,” she reminded him, as she did every time. “I'm really sorry to bother you so late.”

Yeah, she looked so upset about showing up at his door wearing a halter top that left several inches of cleavage all squished together and threatening to spill out. At this time of night did most women have on a fresh layer of bright red lipstick and perfectly teased hair?

“I have a leak in my roof right in my upstairs bedroom. Over my bed.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, sending them to an even higher level. Some men might find her blatant approach sexy. He wasn't one of those men.

Zach tried not to sigh as he glanced around her at the perfectly clear spring evening, stars twinkling bright, full moon beaming down.

He brought his gaze back to her. “It's not raining.”

She lifted a shoulder and smiled. “You never know when it will start. It is spring and all.”

Cringing at her pathetic attempt to get him into her house, Zach gave her the only option available. “I can have a guy over there tomorrow.”

“Oh, I was hoping you would fix it yourself. I'm not sure I trust anybody else.”

Zach gritted his teeth and gripped the edge of his door. No way in hell was he setting foot in her bedroom. She'd probably chain him there and he'd never be heard from again.

“If I didn't trust my guys, they wouldn't be working for me.” He had to remain professional, though she seriously tested his patience—and that was on a good day. “I'll have someone at your place by ten o'clock.”

She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, but Zach was already in a mood before her visit. Right now it was best he be left alone to his surly mood.

“I'm in the middle of something right now,” he told her, stepping back to close the door. “Nathan will be more than happy to help with your problem.”

She nodded, but her pout remained. “Thank you, Zach. I knew I could count on you.”

“No problem. Good night.”

He closed the door, flicking the dead bolt back into a secure position. The thought of that woman sinking her sparkly red claws into him terrified him. There was a market for fake, processed, teased, perfumed, reconstructed bodies, but Zach wasn't in that check-out line.

He preferred the type of woman who was a bit more natural, a bit more discrete. A woman who was oblivious to her power, didn't exploit her assets.

Who knows, maybe Nathan went for that over-the-top type of woman. Either he'd be thrilled or pissed that Zach sent him. Either way, Zach was staying far away from that house and that woman if he could help it.

Cursing as he pounded back up the steps, Zach hated how his newly divorced neighbor was throwing herself at him, and he wasn't the least bit interested. Zach should want someone like Sherry. He was a man with breath in his lungs and he was turning down her not-so-subtle hint for a booty call.

Most men would call Zach a fool. Perhaps he was, but Miss Bleached and Baked wasn't doing it for him and there were certain things a man couldn't fake.

He stepped back into the bathroom, stared at the shower, and let out a sigh. The house was too quiet, and quiet led to thinking, which was not something he wanted to do.

If he started thinking, he'd start planning on things to do with Chelsea's mansion. That would turn into thinking about talking with his brothers. His brothers who still weren't on the same page as him and were contemplating Sophie's proposal. And once again his thoughts would circle back to Sophie.

So, yeah. He needed music, fast and loud, in order to finish this tile project and start planning his attack in regards to the Sunset Lake property.

There had to be a way to keep his sister's dream alive.

Later that evening, Sophie tied her robe around her waist, covering the evidence of the surgeries on her hip and abdomen. Hiding the physical marks was the easy part. How did she cover the emotional ones? The scars that cut so deep into her heart they left her crippled in so many ways.

And not that she thought of herself as crippled; her limp and inability to have children weren't what kept her emotionally scarred. It was the fact that each time she saw the marring on her skin, she thought of Zach, of how he continually punished himself by pushing people away. Maybe he'd come around now, with Chelsea gone. Maybe losing his sister would open his eyes to the fact that life was short.

Damp tendrils of hair clung to her neck from her jasmine bubble bath. Now that she was relaxed, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed with a good book and escape into someone else's life until she tumbled off into sleep. Many mornings she'd woken with a book still in her hand, or she'd find it had fallen to the floor.

She'd just stepped into the hallway to go through the house to turn off lights when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the clock at the end of the hall, she was surprised anyone would be here this late. Padding down the hallway leading to the foyer, she took in the shape of the figure beyond the etched glass. A little surprised, she flicked the lock and pulled the door open.

“Martin, what are you doing here?”

Still dressed in a suit even though the spring evening was rather warm, he smiled and stepped over the threshold. Sophie eased back, allowing him room, and he shut the door behind him.

“I wanted to apologize for postponing our date again.” He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. “Forgive me?”

“It's not a big deal,” she told him. Though she'd hated being put off at the last minute, she was at least used to it. She also refused to sit around and worry over a man. “I know you're busy. Besides, the free evening gave me a chance to go to Chelsea's apartment and get some things.”

Martin's brown eyes studied her face. “What on earth did she have that you would want?”

Sophie didn't want to get into this. Martin had never kept his opinion of Chelsea and her free ways to himself. He'd thought Chelsea was a bad influence on Sophie, but Sophie ignored his misguided opinion. Chelsea died just after Sophie and Martin started dating, and Martin had offered a bit of comfort, but he just didn't understand the pain.

“There were some pictures and a few other things I'd gotten her through the years.” Sophie turned and headed toward the living room. “Come on in and have a seat.”

Her hip was so much better since soaking in a hot tub. Falling in front of Zach still left her feeling ridiculous, and she hated even more the amount of concern and anger she'd seen in his eyes when he'd looked down at her lying on the floor.

After leaving Chelsea's, Sophie had gone over and over in her mind about the revelation in those black binders. She had no clue what Zach would do with that information, but he'd asked her to keep it to herself, so she intended to do just that. Loyalties ran deep, even if their relationship had been severed.

“I can't stay long,” he told her, as if there was ever a large chunk of time carved out for her. “I stopped by because I saw your porch lights still on, so I knew you were up.”

Of course he wouldn't stay long. She totally understood he was a busy man. Still, just once she'd like to come first. They'd dated six months; maybe he was ready to move on. Maybe she was.

When he'd asked her out initially, she'd agreed to see him because, well, he was the exact type she'd been told over and over she should be looking for. Her parents had definite goals for her, but as time went on, Sophie realized her goals for herself were vastly different.

Dating Martin hadn't been bad, just boring. Boring meant comfortable, and Sophie found herself afraid to step from her comfort zone. So here they were, months later, and Sophie wasn't quite sure what step to take next.

She eased down on the sofa, but Martin simply leaned against the doorway. “Do you want to start seeing other people?” she found herself asking before she could filter the words.

Martin stood straight up, his eyes wide. “Why would you ask such a thing? Of course I don't want to see other people.”

Sophie crossed her legs, tugging the edge of the robe over her thighs when the thin material threatened to slide open. “We're both so busy, I just didn't know if it was the workloads that kept us apart or if you were trying to tell me something.”

Martin crossed the room and sank onto the cushion next to her. Placing his hands on hers, he waited until she turned to face him before he spoke.

“You know we're perfect for each other, Sophie. Our lives and backgrounds are so similar. We have the same vision for the future.” His thumbs stroked her knuckles. “This has just been a busy quarter, and we have another couple weeks of meetings. How about this Saturday we do something special? We'll go to that new restaurant we've been meaning to get to for a month now. Nothing will interfere. I promise.”

The idea of him putting effort into their relationship warmed her. “Sounds good.”

“Have you heard from the Monroes about the property? I figured you would've called me with an answer by now.”

Sophie shook her head. While she knew where Zach stood, she wanted to wait until all the brothers had agreed on a decision. “They're getting back to me by Friday. They wanted to think about the offer.”

Martin's jaw clenched. “I would've thought with your strong connection you would've convinced them this was the best decision.”

“I gave them my opinion, but I can't make them take the deal.” Irritated that he assumed she could wave her magic wand and get three very different men to agree on one major topic was ridiculous. “If they don't want to sell, there's nothing I can do. Or anybody else, for that matter. They're pretty strong-willed.”

Instantly his face softened, and his hand came up to her cheek as he stroked her skin. “Sorry. Of course you can't. I just know how much we would love to get that historical property. It could be renovated and really bring in more tourists.”

Laying a quick kiss on her lips, Martin came to his feet. “I need to get going. I'll wait to hear from you on Friday about the property and I'll call and get reservations for Saturday.”

Sophie walked him to the door. “I can't wait.”

Martin pulled her into his arms and kissed her good night before walking out the door. Even though she didn't get all tingly when they kissed, didn't crave or ache for his touch, Sophie was realistic. She read way too many romance novels. There was a reason they were labeled “fiction.” People didn't actually yearn for someone, didn't have sensations shooting through them at just a touch.

No, what she and Martin had was easy. Isn't that how relationships were supposed to be?

So why did she keep going back to how Zach had looked at her earlier? When she'd fallen, when she was leaving? Both times he looked torn, almost scared. And she'd definitely felt something beneath that heavy-lidded gaze of his.

Shutting off all the lights, Sophie headed back to her bedroom. The fact that Zach Monroe could make her insides tingle just proved her point. The romances she read about and realistic expectations were at opposite ends of the spectrum.

* * *

Zach popped the top off his Mountain Dew and made his way out to his deck. The sun had all but set and he'd lit a fire in the fire pit a while ago. Nothing like a fire on a late spring night to end a shitty day.

At stressful times like this he wished he still drank. That lesson had been learned—several times over, as a matter of fact. Between the raging alcoholic sperm donor that helped create him, the strung-out woman who brought him into this world, and the mess he made of his life at twenty-one, Zach had promised himself never again. Because he knew if he started right now, he might never stop. Drinking did help numb the pain, blocking the reality that always loomed in the near distance. Unfortunately, that haze had to wear off sometime, and those were the moments Zach never wanted to face again.

The last time reality had smacked him hard in the face and he'd come to, he'd seen Sophie and Liam unconscious and bleeding . . . because of him.

Glancing down at his scarred knuckles, Zach didn't need the visual reminder. Every single day of his life he replayed the accident he'd caused. He replayed the terror that had gripped him. He could still feel the glass shatter against his skin, slicing deep as he busted the back glass in the cab of the truck to climb out and go find help. No matter the penance he paid in jail, no matter the distance he kept from Sophie, nothing would erase that nightmare movie that played over and over in his mind.

Dropping his head back against the chair, Zach focused on the crackling fire and the embers that were starting to settle at the bottom of the pit. Always focusing on the past was no way to try to move forward. He found himself wanting desperately to push ahead.

With Chelsea's death and now her vision coming to the surface, he wanted to come out on top. Wanted to take back control of his life instead of having life control him.

Relaxing on his patio after a day's work always helped him unwind. Settling into the chair his father had made brought him some sort of peace each evening. He needed that peace, no matter how small. Actually, discovering Chelsea's ideas might be just what he needed to focus on, to move into that area where he could be proud of something he'd done.

Zach's cell vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out. Braxton's name lit up the screen. He wasn't in the mood for a chat, but he wasn't in the mood for much else either, so he might as well answer.

“Yeah.”

“Wow, always so chipper,” Braxton greeted. “You home?”

“Yeah.”

Where else would he be on a Saturday night? He randomly dated. Very randomly.

“A man of few words. Thought I'd swing by,” Braxton told him.

“I'm on the deck.”

“Be there in five,” Braxton told him.

He hung up, figuring his brother had come to some decision regarding the property. Braxton lived about ten minutes away, but he taught college in Savannah. With Braxton on spring break, he shouldn't have to go back until next week. Plenty of time to get this decision finalized.

A car door slammed and within seconds Braxton rounded the house and stepped up onto the deck. He didn't say a word as he passed right by Zach, slid open the patio door, then came back out with a can of diet Coke. He settled in the other Adirondack chair and sighed, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles.

“That bad, huh?” Zach asked.

“That frustrating,” Braxton corrected before taking a hefty drink. “What's got you sitting out here in the dark alone?”

“Just thinking.”

“You're always so elaborate with words.”

Zach shrugged. “You're the one who uses all the words, Professor.”

Braxton taught history and economics. He'd always been the brainy one, the intelligent one. He even sported that polished cut with hair gel or whatever the hell he put in his blond hair to keep it in place. But Braxton did don the occasional scruff, just enough to avoid looking like an old, boring college professor.

At least all of his tats were covered. Apparently employers didn't like the ink. Just another reason Zach enjoyed working for himself.

Zach finished off his drink and tossed the can into the trash at the edge of the deck. “I assume you're here about the property.”

Braxton's can tapped against the wood armrest. “Yeah.”

Silence settled around them until Zach glanced over at his brother. “Are you keeping your answer to yourself, or do you intend to share?”

“I'm not ready to sell.”

Relief slithered through Zach and he released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. “And Liam?”

“He understands my decision, but he doesn't want the burden of the house.”

Zach tapped his fingers against the edge of the chair. Once he informed Braxton of Chelsea's wishes, he might not want the burden either.

“I went to Chelsea's apartment yesterday.”

Braxton turned in his seat. “Why didn't you call me? I would've gone with you.”

With a shrug, Zach went on. “I started boxing up some of her things. I need to have the apartment empty by the end of the month.”

“Stubborn ass,” Braxton muttered around the drink as he took another swig. “I'm on break. Why not ask for help?”

“She doesn't have that much.” Zach crossed his ankles, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “I found something.”

“What?”

“Chelsea kept binders with pictures, notes, and detailed plans regarding the Sunset Lake house.”

Braxton set his can down beside the chair and raked a hand down his face. “I can tell by the look on your face you're already worried what my reaction will be. Go ahead, tell me. Chelsea had some crazy ideas, so I doubt anything could shock me at this point.”

Zach wanted to laugh. “She wanted to open a women-only resort and spa.”

“Seriously? She would've been great at something like that. I knew she had some good business sense in that sometimes flighty head of hers.” Braxton's smile faltered, his eyes narrowed. “Wait. Don't tell me—”

Zach allowed a smile to stretch across his face. Smiling always felt so foreign to him, he'd not had many reasons to do so in his life. Seeing Braxton's stunned expression and a hint of pissed-off thrown in was certainly an occasion to release the grin.