Bachelor's Bait

by Mari Carr

  “Not likely she’d listen to me,” Chuck replied. “We dated a couple of years ago, you know.”

  Marc plastered a nonchalant expression on his face, though he couldn’t imagine Sophie seriously being interested in the buffoon. “Is that so?”

  “Yep.” Chuck leaned closer and lowered his voice. “She broke up with me because I was too big. If you know what I mean.”

  Chuck gave him a cocky wink that had Marc’s hand balling up in a fist. He wasn’t sure exactly why he felt the urge to knock the guy on his ass, but it was pulsing strong and hard. He needed to put some distance between them.

  “Excuse me, Chuck. I promised Mrs. Clarkson a dance.”

  “Oh yeah. Sure thing.”

  Chuck turned around to converse with another real estate agent who’d just joined them. Marc walked straight past the dance floor and outside to the patio, seeking some fresh air.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He’d had a handful of conversations with Sophie and they’d shared a single kiss—albeit a hot one—less than an hour ago. So why was he feeling jealous, almost possessive of her?

  Shit, she was the type of woman he’d spent a lifetime trying to avoid. He didn’t pursue country-club queens, and despite the fact Sophie owned and ran her own business, she was also a big part of the upper crust as well.

  Not to mention he was currently the lawyer working to stop her father’s purchase of the community center. Hell, as long as she continued to defend her father, she could technically be considered not just a conflict of interest, but an adversary.

  He took a deep steadying breath and forced himself to face the truth.

  She’d never be his foe. And now that he thought about it, her past lovers didn’t mean a damn thing either. It was only her future partner he was interested in, because he didn’t have a doubt the next bed Sophie Kennedy slept in would be his. He wanted her. And despite the fact his attraction was dangerous and unbelievably stupid, he wasn’t a man who denied himself what he wanted.

  He took a few minutes to enjoy the quiet evening, letting his new reality sink in before rejoining the party.

  The rest of the night passed quickly as he conversed with several fellow lawyers over Scotch and sodas at the bar. Ordinarily he would have escaped the party shortly after dinner, but tonight he remained, content to chat and watch Sophie in her element.

  As the gathering began to wind down, he offered to walk her to her car. “Thanks for attending.”

  “Anytime.” He considered trying to steal another kiss, but Sophie anticipated the move. She claimed her seat behind the steering wheel so quickly she almost hit her head on the car door.

  He resisted the urge to chuckle and call her coward.

  “Well, good night.” She slammed the door, clearly desperate to make her escape. He took a step away from the car but made no move to head to his truck across the parking lot. Truth be told, he needed her to drive away so he could adjust the hard-on residing in his pants. He’d risk an injury if he attempted walking with it in its current position.

  Sophie turned the key—and nothing. The engine didn’t fire. Twice more she twisted the key, but he could tell from the silence her battery was dead. Marc glanced around the parking lot. They were the last two guests to leave.

  She wearily climbed out of the car. “I don’t suppose you have jumper cables, do you? And if so, do you know how to use them?”

  He shook his head. “I loaned my set to a client a few weeks ago. She hasn’t returned them yet.” He actually didn’t expect to see them again at all. He’d planned to buy new ones. Unfortunately he hadn’t had the time.

  “Great.”

  “How about I give you a ride home? I’ll buy some cables and pick you up in the morning. I can bring you back here and give you a jump before work.” His cock thickened even more as he thought about exactly how he wanted to jump her.

  “Oh, you don’t have to go to all that trouble. I’ll take you up on the ride home then figure out the jumper cables tomorrow. I’m sure Jared, Stephanie’s boyfriend, has some.”

  He gestured toward his truck. “It’s no trouble.” Sophie walked toward his vehicle. He let her get a two-step lead before he did a quick pants adjustment and followed. He opened the passenger door, enjoying her impressed look at his chivalry.

  “I’m not a total heathen.”

  She laughed softly. “I never said you were.”

  Marc climbed behind the steering wheel and started the car. The devil inside prompted him to tackle an issue that had been niggling at him all night, despite his mental pep talk. “So…you and Chuck Nelson were an item.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Jesus. He never wastes much time spilling that tidbit. We dated for two months. It’s a time I like to call my ‘era of low self-esteem’. Fortunately it didn’t take me too long to snap out of it and dump his ass.”

  Marc couldn’t resist teasing her when he stopped at a red light. “According to Chuck, you dumped him because he was too big.”

  Sophie’s jaw dropped.

  He reached over, lightly closing her mouth. “Careful,” he joked, “or you’ll catch flies.”

  “He said that?” Her voice was filled with so much anger, he worried he may have to represent Sophie in court. Her face reflected pure murder.

  “Sophie—” he began, wondering how to calm her down.

  She cut him off. “I said he was the biggest dick, not he had the biggest dick.”

  “Oh well, that’s an easy mistake to make,” Marc teased.

  “I think Chuck and I are going to have a little come-to-Jesus meeting tomorrow. There’s no way I’m going to let him keep spreading that bullshit around. Goddamn pencil-dick ignoramus.”

  Marc laughed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  Sophie tilted her head, her anger dissipating quickly. “Since when have you ever been on anything but my bad side?”

  “Aw, come on, Soph. You know you’re hot for me.”

  She gave him a wicked grin. “Now that I think about it, you and Chuck have a lot in common.”

  He narrowed his eyes, unhappy about being compared to her idiot ex. “We have nothing in common and if you continue to insist we do, I’ll be forced to prove just how different we are.”

  “Turn here. My house is the third one on the left,” she said as he approached her street. A successful dodge for Ms. Kennedy.

  He pulled into her driveway. Again, he was taken aback. Her little house wasn’t ostentatious or fancy. It was small, simple. It actually reminded him a great deal of his house. “Nice place.”

  Sophie’s smile proved she was quite fond of her home. “It’s a rental, not mine, but I love it. The neighborhood’s quiet and safe and the rent is affordable. I’ve been here for nearly two years.”

  Marc got out of the car, intending to open Sophie’s door for her. She beat him to it, stepping out. As he rounded the hood, he caught her wince. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, though she was still grimacing. “My feet are killing me.”

  He glanced down at her high heels. “No wonder.”

  She gave him an annoyed look. “I’m usually fine in my heels, but I was on my feet more than I’d expected tonight. Plus these shoes are new and not exactly broken in.”

  He offered his arm, which she took with unexpected ease, leaning on it enough to let him know she wasn’t kidding about her aching feet. When they reached the front porch, she opened the door then turned to smile at him.

  “Thanks for the ride home.”

  He glanced through the open doorway. She’d left a light on in the living room, allowing him to see part of her couch. “Come on.”

  She frowned. “Excuse me.”

  He didn’t reply, just grasped her hand and led her to the couch. He gestured for her to sit down. “Take off your shoes.”

  Sophie’s hands flew to her hips as her scowl grew. She clearly didn’t like being told what to do. He didn’t give her a chance to yell at him for his domineeri
ng attitude. Instead, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him for a quick kiss.

  It had the desired effect. She was stunned speechless long enough for him to get his way. He guided her down onto the couch and pulled off her shoes.

  She started to stand, her face flushed, though he wasn’t sure if it was anger or lust supplying the color. “How dare you—”

  He lifted her legs and claimed the cushion beneath them, placing her feet on his lap. His relentless grip prevented her from rising. “Hush. I happen to give the world’s best foot massages.” To prove his point, he applied pressure to the sole of one of her feet.

  Sophie groaned and fell back against a throw pillow. He repeated the motion on her other foot. “Holy shit,” she muttered. “That feels so good.”

  He tried to ignore her almost seductive purr, but it was too late. His cock responded to her soft moans and slow stretches as he continued rubbing her feet. He imagined this was how she’d look if he lifted her skirt and offered her a different kind of massage.

  If he touched her pussy right now, how wet would she be?

  His hard-on grew larger, the damn thing throbbing almost painfully. Much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, tonight wasn’t going to end with sex, no matter how much his cock may protest. There was still too much distrust floating between them.

  He kept working, applying equal measures of deep rubs and soft strokes. Twice her feet brushed against the front placket of his slacks. He wondered if she could feel his erection.

  When she rubbed against it once more and lingered, his gaze flew to her face. She was watching him—and she knew exactly what she was touching.

  She pressed her toes more firmly against his cock, giving her own version of a foot message. Marc swallowed heavily and tried to ignore how fucking good her playful toes felt. But soon he reached a point of no return. He grasped Sophie’s ankle, halting her movements. “I need to leave now, Soph, or I won’t leave at all.”

  She lay still. He could practically see the wheels spinning in her brain. She wanted to invite him to stay as much as she wanted him to leave.

  Fair enough. It was too soon. He offered her a wry grin. They didn’t know each other well enough. Yet. He’d correct that problem. Sophie was about to start seeing a hell of a lot more of him.

  He lifted her legs off his lap and rose. Sophie started to sit up, but he placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back against the cushions. Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Sophie sighed softly then accepted his departure with good humor. “Thanks for the warning…and the foot massage. Good night, Marc.”

  “Night, princess.”

  Chapter Three

  Sophie sat in the living room of the house she’d grown up in and marveled over how foreign the place seemed to her these days. The house felt less like a home than the rental she lived in. Since her mother’s death, the place had gotten…colder. Her father employed a full-time housekeeper who kept the place so spotless it looked as if no one lived there at all. Recently Dad had also hired an interior decorator who’d taken out her mother’s comfortable, airy décor and replaced it with the stark, leathery bachelor’s pad she was now sitting in.

  When she’d arrived, the housekeeper had led her to this room to wait for her dad, who was on a business call in his office. It was her own family’s home and yet she’d been ushered in like a stranger. She briefly wondered if the woman was standing guard outside the closed door, ready to attack should Sophie attempt to break out.

  Rising from the couch, she walked to the mantel, looking at the old pictures that were the only holdout from the days when she and her mother had lived here. There were a couple large, professionally done family portraits of her and her parents. One from when she was only a toddler and another showing her in that horribly awkward middle-school stage. Of all the things her father had thrown out, she was sorry that crappy picture hadn’t been part of the trash.

  Sophie’s gaze only touched on the portraits. It was the two smaller informal pictures her mother had framed herself that she preferred.

  In one, a very young version of her parents sat side by side in a restaurant, looking at each other and laughing. It was taken before she was born, but it reminded her that her parents had been genuinely in love. Not that she really doubted that. It was simply a trick of time. The more of it that passed and the colder her father became, the less she was able to remember him as the handsome, carefree man who would have moved heaven and earth for his beautiful wife.

  The second picture was of Sophie and her dad the day her parents brought her home from the hospital. He was cradling her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held. Her mother hadn’t been the only woman to receive her father’s adoration. At that moment in time, Dad had thought she’d hung the moon too.

  She sniffled, trying to batten down the strange sadness that had crept over her.

  “Sophia.” Her father’s deep voice rumbled behind her and she was surprised to realize how close he was. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

  She blinked quickly in an attempt to hide her tears, then pasted on a fake smile and turned to face him.

  Jasper Kennedy was still a handsome man, though now his looks fell more in the distinguished category, rather than the hottie column where Marc resided.

  Shit. Why on earth was she thinking about Marc now?

  She knew why. He was the reason she was here.

  “How are you, darling?” her father asked, stepping forward to offer an awkward peck on the cheek.

  When had they stopped hugging? When had they become mere acquaintances? Her stomach ached for the days when she could curl up on her daddy’s lap and he’d tell her stories about the places he’d visited, always promising that when she was older, he’d take her with him. The ten-year-old still lurking inside wanted to ask if he’d brought her a souvenir back from his last business trip.

  She was becoming maudlin. Grow up, Soph.

  “I’m fine. How was your trip to Greece?”

  Her father gestured to the couch. She resumed her seat as he claimed the oversized leather recliner across from her. “It was very productive.”

  “Did you get to see any of the sights? Play tourist?”

  Dad grinned, shaking his head. “No time, I’m afraid.”

  His answer made her feel even sadder. More than fifteen years had passed since her mother’s death and while Sophie had tried her best to carry on, it occurred to her that her father had moved forward in a way that was less about living and more about existing.

  Dad looked at his watch covertly. She was throwing off his routine. Ordinarily that gesture would annoy her, but today she was too melancholy. It was as if her eyes had been opened to some pretty hard truths and she didn’t like facing them.

  “I’ve been hearing some rumors.”

  Dad, rather absentmindedly, said, “Oh?”

  Sophie had spent the past several years getting used to having only half his attention. She wasn’t going to accept it this time. “How could you try to close down the community center? Portland needs that place.”

  Her father sighed and she got the sense he wasn’t surprised by what had brought her here. He knew how much she loved the center. What it had meant to her mother. He must have known she would react this way. And yet, he still pursued the purchase.

  “I think it’s outgrown its usefulness at this point.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Sophia,” he chastised.

  He never called her Sophie or Soph anymore. When she’d taken over his party-hostess duties, he’d opted for the formal version of her name. “Sophia” certainly sounded more sophisticated and projected the snooty, detached air her father seemed hell-bent on maintaining. She hadn’t protested the change, though now she wondered if she should have. She hated the way Sophia sounded coming from his lips.

  “Dad, that place offers so many amazing pro
grams. How can you say it’s not useful?”

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know. The building is in desperate need of repairs. It’s not safe.”

  Her temper sparked. “It was perfectly safe until the building inspector decided to nitpick over a lot of insignificant problems. A leaky sink is a danger? Really?” During his visit to Books and Brew yesterday, Marc had shown her the list of so-called “problems” with the building’s structure. It was obvious the inspector had been encouraged to find problems where none truly existed. Even after a second walk-through—at the request of the community center—the second inspector backed up the first, listing even more insignificant items to be repaired.

  Her father’s brow creased. “Who have you been talking to?”

  Shit. “No one.”

  Her father wasn’t appeased by the answer but he let it go. “There are other issues besides the facility itself. The board of trustees has made some questionable decisions regarding the use of funds and—”

  “And they were audited and cleared.”

  Again, Dad fell silent. “You’ve been doing your homework.” For a moment, she thought she detected a small bit of pride in his voice.

  “You know what that place means to me. Mom used to take me there for dance lessons when I was little. The summer camps and family picnics were a huge part of my childhood. Why would you try to deprive other children of those experiences?”

  Dad rose and walked to the mantel. “How many times have I told you, Sophia? It’s not personal, it’s business.”

  She sucked in a deep, furious breath. That fucking line had become his mantra since her mother had died. She hated it. “No. Not this time. This time it is personal.”

  “The trustees have two months to raise the funds to save the center. After that, I will buy the property.”

  “To build another shopping mall that the city doesn’t need.”