by Mari Carr
A huge smile covered his face. Sophie couldn’t resist leaning closer to kiss him. He accepted her embrace then deepened it. They’d spent hours last night just kissing and yet, Sophie still wanted more.
“Anybody ever tell you how sexy you look in the morning?” he murmured against her lips.
She shook her head, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her hair. She’d fallen asleep with wet hair after their shower last night. There was no way she looked like anything less than a disaster. “Perjury is a crime.”
“Didn’t realize I was under oath.” Marc grasped her hand, pulling it away from her hair. “But even if I was, I’d still say the same.”
“And you think you’re not romantic.”
He laughed as she sighed softly. Damn. Suddenly the idea of falling for Marc seemed like an understatement. Stephanie was right. She was ass over tit and showing no signs of straightening herself out.
Marc pushed her to her back, climbing over her. She opened her legs for him, the reaction coming so naturally already.
He belonged there. She belonged here.
It was time Sophie put aside all her feelings of doubt and did something that didn’t come naturally to her.
She took a leap of faith.
Chapter Six
Sophie walked into Books and Brew feeling like a million bucks.
“You’re late,” Stephanie called out from behind the bar.
“I don’t care. You’re lucky I’m here at all.”
Jayne’s head popped up from behind a bookshelf. “Hot damn. You had sex.”
Sophie grinned and nodded. “I did and it was incredible, amazing, un-fucking-believable.”
Elias, one of their regulars, looked up from the newspaper he was reading and grinned. “Good for you, Sophie,” he said, before returning his attention to local happenings.
Sophie looked over and noticed Stephanie texting. She rolled her eyes. “Jeez. Calling Jordan down again?”
Stephanie looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “She’ll kill me if I don’t.”
Sophie placed her purse behind the bar and grabbed an apron. Nothing could bring her down today. She was on cloud nine, flying a hundred feet above the ground.
Jordan appeared at the bottom of the stairs and made a beeline for the bar. “I want to hear all about the sex, but first—you did it!”
Sophie frowned, confused. “I know I did it. I thought that’s why you were rushing down here. To hear the dirty details.”
“No,” Jordan said, laughing. “Not Marc. The fundraiser. You raised the funds! We hit the goal!”
Sophie’s jaw dropped. She’d suspected last night that they had done well, but in her heart, she knew they were still short. Jordan, ever the bookkeeper, had offered to stay late to count the money. Sophie had expected bad news, so she’d decided to escape with Marc and postpone hearing the dire results until today. “How? I was sort of counting in my head, Jordan. I know I’m not great at math but I’m not that bad. We didn’t hit it.”
“Gabriel was true to his word. He matched what we made, but you’re right, it still wasn’t enough. So he made some phone calls. He didn’t have any luck. Then, first thing this morning, Rich Gregory called to say someone had stepped forward and covered the remaining shortfall. The center is saved!”
“Who?”
Jordan shrugged. “We don’t know. Rich said the donation was made anonymously. Besides, who cares who? You did it!”
Stephanie and Jayne had come over as Jordan shared the good news. They exchanged hugs and high-fives. “I can’t believe it,” Sophie said over and over.
“So enough of that. I want to hear about last night. Was he worth the money you paid?” Stephanie asked with a wink.
Sophie snorted. “Real nice, Steph. It’s not like I was hiring him to be some sort of paid escort.”
Jayne leaned closer. “Was it romantic? Marc strikes me as a candlelight-and-roses kind of guy.”
Stephanie sighed dramatically. “Real life is not like those goddamn regency romance novels you read, Jayne.”
Jayne held up her hand in talk-to-it fashion while keeping her attention focused on Sophie.
Sophie smiled. “He definitely has romantic tendencies. He brought me breakfast in bed this morning.”
Jayne smirked at Stephanie. “See.”
Stephanie never went down without a fight. “I saw you two when you left here. Twenty bucks says you never made it out of the truck before you jumped each other.”
Technically, Stephanie was wrong. Sophie had definitely gotten out of the truck before Marc had shoved her against it and kissed her so hard her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “We made it out of the truck.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Stephanie hummed. “How far out of the truck?”
“We had sex on the floor right inside his front door.”
Jordan laughed. “Jesus. I bet that was hot.”
Sophie couldn’t contain her glee. “It was the hottest sexual experience of my life. I’ve never had a guy want me that badly.”
“And the sex was that good?” Jordan asked.
Sophie sighed. “Heaven on earth.”
Jayne shook her head. “Damn. That’s three of you getting laid now. I’m starting to feel like the odd guy out.”
Sophie wrapped her arm around Jayne’s shoulders. “Your day is coming, Jayne. I promise.”
Jayne crossed her arms. “Yeah, well. I hope it comes while I’m still young enough to try some of the more interesting poses in the Kama Sutra.”
Stephanie’s gaze jerked to Jayne. “Since when do you read the Kama Sutra?”
Jayne blushed. “Uh…a friend loaned it to me.”
“What friend?” Stephanie asked.
“None of your business.” Jayne turned and walked back to the box of new books she’d been shelving when Sophie walked in.
Sophie’s brows rose at Jayne’s unexpected spunkiness.
“Who the hell gave her the Kama Sutra?” Stephanie repeated.
Jordan and Sophie both shrugged.
“Oh shit. Elias asked for another drink ten minutes ago.” Stephanie swiftly walked behind the bar to pour Elias his usual Scotch.
Sophie followed. “I’ll take it to him.”
Picking up the glass, she crossed the room. “Hi, Elias.”
“Hello, Sophie. It sounds like you had a good night.”
Sophie grinned. “It was the best night of my life.”
“High praise. Marc Garrett is a very lucky man.”
Sophie started to reply, but something outside caught her eye. “Crap,” she muttered as she absentmindedly placed Elias’ drink on the table before him.
“Something wrong?”
“My dad’s limo just pulled up out front.”
Elias followed her gaze to the front windows. “I see.”
Sophie glanced back at Elias. He’d been Books and Brew’s most faithful customer since they’d opened the doors. He’d also become a friend. “I can tell by your tone you know what’s going on. With the community center?”
Elias nodded. “Jayne filled me in on the details. Preying on my sympathy as part of her plea to get me to participate in that auction last night.”
Sophie had been shocked when she’d seen Elias’ name on the list of eligible bachelors—until she’d heard it was Jayne who’d convinced him. Elias seemed to have a soft spot for her shy friend. She also knew for a fact that Jayne was harboring a huge crush on the science professor as well. “As I recall, yours was one of the highest bids of the night.” Unfortunately, Jayne wasn’t the winner.
Elias shook his head. “Don’t remind me. My ‘date’ has already called twice to confirm the details. Something tells me I’m in for a long night.”
Sophie smiled. “You’re a good sport.” She glanced back toward the door nervously, just in time to see her father step out of the limo. Her first instinct was to flee, to run out the back door.
“Be brave, Sophie.”
“What?�
�� she asked, looking at Elias once more.
“You’ve already done the hard part. You fought Goliath and won. Don’t belittle that victory by hiding now.”
Much as she hated to admit it, Elias was right. The bell above the door jingled, announcing Dad’s arrival. She stood up straighter as she turned to face him.
Dad crossed the room, nodding a silent hello to Elias. The greeting was returned.
“Sophie. Could I have a moment of your time?” Dad asked.
She nodded, hoping her legs—which suddenly felt like Jell-O—would support her. She followed Dad to a quiet table in the corner. It was only as she took her seat that she realized he’d called her “Sophie”.
“Rich Gregory called me this morning,” Dad started.
Sophie didn’t reply. Sounded as if the chairman had spent most of his morning on the telephone.
“He said that you’d raised the funds to save the center.”
She tried to read his voice or his face. Hell, she’d take any hint as to how he was handling the news that she’d defeated him, but—as always—her father was impassive. “The fundraiser last night surpassed all of our expectations.”
“Yes,” her father said. “I read about your bachelor auction in the paper this morning. I have to say, Sophie, I’m a bit disappointed and more than a little hurt.”
It was the first time in ages she heard a tinge of the man her father used to be, before the loss of her mother, before work had consumed him and turned him into an emotionless shell of his former self.
She resisted the urge to apologize. For years she’d tried to please her dad. Agreeing to go on the dates he set up for her, serving as his hostess at parties, playing the role of a dutiful daughter. She’d done it all even as he’d slipped further and further away from her with each passing day. “I told you I would do everything in my power to save the center. I didn’t do any of this behind your back.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant—I’m upset that you didn’t think to include me as one of the bachelors. It’s not as easy as you might think for a man my age to meet available women. God knows I’m not about to try one of those online dating service things.”
Sophie’s jaw dropped as shock hit. She glanced around the bar, trying to decide if she was actually awake.
“Close your mouth, Soph, or you’ll catch flies.”
She laughed, the sound bursting out of her before she could call it back. Marc had said the exact same thing to her once.
“You would have participated in the auction?”
Dad nodded. “I would have.”
“But why? Why would you take part in something that would hurt you financially? What happened to ‘it’s not personal, it’s business’?”
Dad reached out and took her hand. She swallowed heavily, trying to dislodge the lump created by the sweet gesture. “I was wrong. I felt terrible after our disagreement. I walked over to the mantel and forced myself to look at those pictures. Did you know I haven’t looked at them once since your mother died?”
Sophie frowned. “Then why leave them there? You’ve remodeled the whole house. Why keep the pictures if they bothered you so much?”
Dad shrugged. “I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t put them away. But when I stood there remembering those days, I realized I’ve put you away. Tucked you over to one side because it hurt too much to…” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his brow. When he looked at her again, he seemed to have composed himself. “Please tell me it’s not too late for me to make things right with you again. I miss you, Sophie.”
As she looked into the eyes of her beloved father, a light went on. “You were the anonymous donor, weren’t you?”
Her father gave her a noncommittal smile.
Sophie was torn between laughter and tears. Her beloved daddy was back—and he’d saved the community center for her.
There was so much they needed to say to each other, but Marc walked into Books and Brew before she could speak. The look of concern on his face when he saw her sequestered in the corner with her dad was immediate. She raised her hand to wave and smiled so he’d know everything was okay.
“You know Marc Garrett?” Dad asked.
Sophie nodded. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure how much more to say.
“I think I understand now. He was your source. That’s how you knew so many details about the center’s financial troubles that day you came by the house.”
She bit her lip, unwilling to risk unleashing her dad’s anger on Marc.
“Are the two of you dating?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure “dating” was a word she could use. Truth was, they’d yet to go out on a proper date, though he had certainly wined and dined her. Still, it was an easier explanation than admitting to her father they’d spent hours last night fucking each other into oblivion. “Yes. We are.”
Dad smiled. “He’s a good match for you. I couldn’t have found a better suitor myself.”
Sophie tilted her head, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “Really? You’ve been setting me up with rich, snotty guys for years. You can’t seriously sit here and say you’re okay with me dating a dirt-poor free-aid attorney.”
Dad’s smile dimmed but before he could say anything, Marc approached the table.
“Hi, Soph,” he said cautiously. “Mr. Kennedy.”
Dad stood up and proffered his hand, which Marc shook. “Call me Jasper. I understand you’re dating my little girl.”
Marc glanced down at her. Sophie felt her face flush as the familiar twinge of fear crept through her. Their relationship was still too new, too fragile in her mind. How long would it take for her to believe it was all real?
“That’s right,” Marc said, smiling warmly. He held out his hand and she took it, rising. “Sophie’s my girlfriend.”
Sophie giggled at the way he stressed girlfriend, as he if was trying the word on for size. She noticed her father studying her face carefully. She wasn’t sure what he saw reflected there, but whatever it was seemed to set his mind at ease.
“I’m glad to hear it. Any chance you’ll eventually open up a West Coast branch of your father’s firm? I suspect the Garrett name would find success in any city.”
“The Garrett name?” Sophie asked, feeling slightly uneasy.
Dad looked at her quizzically. “The Garrett law firm is one of the most prestigious and profitable organizations on the East Coast.”
Sophie turned her attention to Marc as this new fact about her boyfriend fell into place. “You’re rich?” she asked.
Marc didn’t reply at first, then he cleared his throat uneasily. “Technically, my family is rich.”
Her father, not catching the undertones in their conversation, chuckled. “Semantics, my dear boy. Filthy rich, I’d say.”
“Filthy rich,” she repeated, her gaze narrowing.
This time her tone alerted her father there was something wrong. “Well, I mean, I guess I could be overestimating his family’s wealth or…”
Marc’s guilty expression said that her father’s guess had been dead-on. “No, I don’t think you were,” she said softly.
“Sophie—” Marc began.
She held up her finger to stop him. “Wait.”
She turned to her father. Too many things were falling in on her at once. She needed to deal with the men in her life one at a time. “Dad, it’s not too late.”
Dad’s brow creased for a moment then cleared when he realized what she was saying. His smile grew. “Thank God. I thought I’d lost you for good. I love you, Soph. That never stopped, never went away. I just lost my way and—”
“I know.” She took a step closer, walking into her father’s embrace. He hugged her tightly. The strength of his arms and the memories of being held like this as a child crept up on her. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “I love you too,” she whispered against his chest.
Dad pulled away and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Come by for lunch tomorrow? I have a m
eeting arranged with Rich Gregory about future plans for the community center. He and I are hoping we can convince you to spearhead some of the programs.”
For years, she’d resisted her life and the path she’d seemed destined to walk, feeling as though it wasn’t a worthy calling. Now she understood she had a knack for organizing charity events, planning parties, fundraising. And more than that, it was something she enjoyed. “I’d like that.”
“You are so much like your mother.”
Her father’s compliment filled Sophie’s heart until she feared it would burst.
Dad said his goodbyes to her and Marc and she watched as he walked to his limo.
Once he was gone, she turned her attention to Marc—the millionaire-pauper lawyer.
“Sophie, I can—”
She ignored him, looking over her shoulder toward the back of the bar. “Come with me.”
Marc looked as if he wanted to insist she hear him out, but instead he followed when she led him to the storeroom. Once they were inside, she shut the door. The small space reminded her of the coat closet.
Marc’s face resembled that of a man standing before the firing squad. It took all the strength she had not to laugh.
“Are you going to give me a chance to explain?”
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”
“Goddamn it, Soph! I know we haven’t been seeing each other that long, but I think I’ve at least earned the right to—”
“I don’t care,” she said louder. “I don’t care about your family’s prestigious name or law firm or money. I know why you didn’t tell me. Jesus, Marc. Do you really think I don’t get it?”
He fell silent. She could tell he was still uncertain.
“I’m actually a bit jealous of your bravery. I never for a moment considered moving away from Portland, moving someplace where Jasper Kennedy’s name meant nothing. Instead, I’ve lived here my entire life, allowing my dad to set me up with eligible men because the guys I would have liked to date were too intimidated by my father’s wealth to ask me out.”
Marc frowned. “You really don’t care?”
