Saving Sophie: Book Seven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Cate Beauman

  “I doubt I’ll ever put it fully behind me, but time helps, and support and wanting to win by living a full, happy life. When we have people in our lives that care, they want to help if you’ll let them.”

  She nodded, hearing and understanding Abby’s message. “It’s a wonderful feeling.”

  “There’s a whole group of men and women who will rally around you. All you have to do is ask.”

  She had so much more than she ever thought she would. “And I’m so grateful.”

  “Right now you need to do what feels right for you. Everything will fall into place after that.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  ~~~~

  Sophie sat back on the comfy new cream-colored couch that had been delivered earlier in the evening, half listening to the murmurs from the television while she doodled bold new designs she would love to see featured on Lily Thomas’ runway. She sighed her frustration as the pretty necklace came to life on the sketchpad she held in her lap, resenting Eric’s latest victory. She’d run thousands of miles to get away from him, yet he still controlled her life. She swiped at her damp hair with a bad-tempered shove and stood in her pink-striped pajama shorts and tank top, too restless to be still.

  She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her conversation with Abby and the ideas that had popped into her head on her drive home. Abby’s new Escape line was a powerhouse in the markets. What if there was a Freedom line of jewelry available that complimented Abby’s designs?

  Burke Jewelry could be huge, and a chunk of the profits would help Abby and Lily fund more Stowers House locations. She’d almost called Abby while she drove down the Santa Monica Freeway as the excitement and possibilities gave her a rush of enthusiasm she hadn’t felt in such a long time—but then she’d thought of what that would mean to her safe, quiet life and shoved her phone back in her purse.

  She sat down with a huff, glancing out the curtain-less windows, realizing she’d been too distracted with her creations to focus on the ever-present willies that snuck up on her when she was home alone late at night. Stone’s serene hilltop oasis turned downright creepy after the sun went down. Anyone could be out there on his stretch of land that faded into the canyons, and she would never know. Shuddering, she picked up the remote and turned up the romantic comedy she hadn’t paid any attention to, finding comfort in the noise as she yawned, trying to decide whether to continue with her work or go to sleep.

  Murphy stretched himself out on the floor, rolling to his back, and snored on. Clearly he wasn’t bothered by the dark. Smiling, she glanced at the pretty wall clock she’d suggested to Stone when they’d been out and about a few days ago. One-thirty. “Definitely time for bed,” she murmured, standing again as headlights cut across the living room window. Her shoulders automatically tensed and relaxed when she recognized the sound of Stone’s Mustang rolling to a stop.

  Seconds later, his car door slammed and he unlocked the front door, stepping inside.

  “Good morning,” she said before her smile vanished and she gasped, rushing to him, gently touching the nasty bruising along his cheekbone. “What happened?”

  He evaded her fingers. “Rough night.”

  “I’d say.” She winced, still staring at his cheek. “Come on.” She took his hand, pulling him with her to the kitchen. “Let’s get something cool on that. Go ahead and take a seat.” She opened the freezer door, searching for a good substitute for an ice pack. She spotted the baggie of blueberries she had on hand for her smoothies. “I guess this will have to do.” She pulled the package out and closed the door.

  “It’s just a bump.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he leaned against the counter in jeans and a black polo shirt.

  “That’s more than a bump. It’s really swollen.” She grabbed a fresh dishtowel from the drawer and wrapped it around the frozen bag of fruit. “Sit. Please,” she added when he made no attempt to honor her request.

  He sat down in the chair and leaned back, closing his eyes with a long sigh.

  She crouched between his legs. “Here we go,” she murmured, gently pressing the bag against his swollen cheek.

  His eyes flew open.

  She took his hand, settling it on his makeshift icepack. “Go ahead and hold this in place for a few minutes. Hopefully nothing’s broken,” she said, moving in closer, tsking as she scrutinized the tender skin surrounding the deep, dark bruising. “I’ll get you a couple of Tylenol.”

  He snagged her wrist before she could stand. “I’m fine.”

  She glanced down at his hand holding her in place, noting his raw knuckles. Frowning, she pulled his hand up for a closer inspection in the dim kitchen light. “Look at you. What on earth happened tonight?”

  “Bar brawl.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to think of that.

  “On the clock. Shane and I pulled duty for Skeeter and Joseph Sharpe, you know, the pop singers? We ended up in some seedy club over in West Hollywood. Things got a little ugly when a couple of guys didn’t like their girlfriends posing for pictures and getting autographs.”

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “The ladies thought Skeeter and Joseph should sign their boobs, then they proceeded to shove their tongues down Skeeter and Joseph’s throats. All hell broke loose after that.”

  “Oh,” she said again, blinking. “How often do your clients sign breasts?”

  He grinned. “More often than you’d think.”

  She smiled. “Who knew?”

  “You have no idea what goes on at some of those places.”

  “I don’t think I want to.”

  He shook his head. “You definitely don’t.”

  “Well then…” Her thoughts died away as she looked down, realizing they were still holding hands. She glanced up, meeting his intense gaze, swallowing as his thumb began to move against her skin. “I, uh…I should probably…”

  “You curious, Soph?” he asked as his eyes darted to her mouth.

  “I’m…” She swallowed again, her heart pounding as Stone set the bag of blueberries on the table and moved forward in his seat.

  “I’ve been wondering,” he said quietly, settling his hands around her waist, pulling her up to her knees, never breaking eye contact as he touched his lips to hers with gentle pressure.

  She stiffened from the shock of heat, bunching her fists against the tops of his thighs with the rush of nerves. “Stone, I—”

  “Relax,” he murmured, holding her gaze, pressing his mouth to hers again. “Relax,” he repeated, moving in for the third time, slowly coaxing her into following his lead.

  Closing her eyes, surrendering, she leaned into his chest as his rough palms moved up and down the sides of her waist, teasing the skin of her back and stomach, intoxicating her with his potent flavor as he seduced her with the clever strokes of his skilled tongue.

  His fingers traveled along her spine, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps as his hands moved into her hair.

  She gripped the sides of his shirt when he eased slowly away, then came back for more. A small, helpless sound escaped her throat as he changed angles, plundering, then gradually broke their embrace, holding her gaze.

  She licked her lips, savoring the dark taste of Stone while she stared into his eyes.

  He slid the pad of his thumb along her jaw. “You pack a punch, Soph.”

  “You too.” She shuddered out a trembling breath. She’d never been kissed like that before.

  He smiled. “Thanks for the blueberries.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I should probably head to the trailer.” He stood, pulling her to her feet. “I have to catch my flight in a few hours.”

  “Okay.” She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, trying to appear as relaxed as Stone seemed to be, even though her insides were a jittery, fabulous mess. “So you’ll be back on Tuesday, right?”

  “Should be if everything goes as planne
d. I’ll have to see how my stop off in New York City goes and the couple other places I have to hit before I can head home. But I’ll see you in the morning before I leave.”

  “Okay.” She nodded.

  “Thanks again.” He held up the package of frozen fruit, smiling, and turned toward the living room.

  “Oh, wait.” She hurried after him. “I didn’t get you any Tylenol.”

  He stopped, turning back. “I have some in the trailer.”

  “Okay then.” She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to kiss her again. “Good night.”

  “Night, Soph.” He twisted the lock on the knob and shut the door behind him.

  She pressed a hand to her hammering heart and blew out a long, slow breath, watching him head toward the trailer. “Holy crap,” she sighed. Was this what the girls had been talking about at the get-together the other night? She finally understood what it felt like to want more. Stone was gentle yet demanding, and she craved another sample. Shivering, she remembered his work-rough hands teasing the sensitive skin below the hem of her shirt. She touched her lips and smiled, hoping he would try to kiss her tomorrow before he left her for two days.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stone sat in the small diner, sipping his coffee as he looked at the notes he was typing into a report for Ethan on the Bangor Concert Center. The mid-summer, five-stop concert tour for Smash would be a mix of large and small venues with Bangor, Maine, being the final stop before the team and band headed back to Los Angeles. Over the last forty-eight hours, he’d been to Hartford, Boston, Manchester, Portland, and now Bangor in a whirlwind of meetings and site tours on behalf of Ethan Cooke Security. Now that the facilities had been looked over and preliminary safety concerns discussed, he wanted to go home; he wanted to see Sophie. Hesitating, he reached for his cellphone and dialed hers. It was only seven twenty in LA, but she would be up. He was just checking in on the house anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  He turned his cup in its saucer, loving that her voice brightened when she heard his. “How are things on the home front?”

  “Good. Great. The guy down at the appliance store called yesterday. Everything’s on time for delivery next Friday.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks for handling that.”

  “Of course.”

  He settled back in his booth, draping his arm over the top, relaxed for the first time since early Sunday morning. “What else is going on beside refrigerator deliveries?”

  “Well, I have a lunch meeting with Janice this afternoon. She said something about needing more product again already.” She laughed with a hint of disbelief. “And Janice has a girlfriend who’s going to tag along to our luncheon. She wants to talk about putting some of my stuff in her store up in Monterey.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around all of my good fortune.”

  “You deserve it.” And she did. Sophie worked her ass off every single day.

  “Thank you. How are you?”

  “Ready to come home.” Now that they were talking he couldn’t get there fast enough.

  “Do you think you’ll be here for dinner?”

  “Depends on what time you plan to eat. I should land right around five, but then I have to deal with rush hour.”

  “So I’ll fix something for seven thirty. I have a surprise for you.”

  He frowned. “You do?”

  “Mmhm.” Murphy barked in the background. “Oh, Murphy’s ready for his run. I should go.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Bye.” He hung up and shook his head, smiling. Having someone to go home to was a pretty good deal. Sophie sounded happy, and he rarely saw that haunted look in those gorgeous eyes anymore. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since she picked up Murphy and waved the dog’s paw at him while he drove down the driveway Sunday morning. He’d replayed their late night kiss in the kitchen countless times, wishing he’d given in to his need to do it again before he left, but he’d wanted time to think. Sophie had been shy and sweet, but he hadn’t been kidding when he told her she packed a punch. He’d satisfied his curiosities; he’d gotten a taste of her mouth, but something that should have been simple was turning out to be anything but.

  “You all set, honey?” the waitress asked as she stopped next to his table.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get you your check.”

  “I’ll just come up to the register and pay.”

  “Whatever you want, honey.”

  He tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table by his half-empty cup and slid his laptop back into its case, shouldering his bag and carryon, and walked to the cash register.

  Rhoda punched his order for coffee, eggs, and bacon into the ancient machine. “Five-fifty.”

  He handed over another ten as he glanced at the announcements stuck on the pegboard and froze when he spotted the flyer with Sophie’s picture on it, reading “Bangor Police Department” at the top of the sheet. He moved closer, trying to read the rest of the page, but it was covered by the information on the pancake breakfast and festivities at the local college. “You got a lot of crime around here?” He asked Rhonda, gesturing to the snapshot of Sophie’s Maine license photo.

  Rhoda looked to where he pointed. “Oh no, that’s Sophie.” She tsked with a shake of her head. “Poor girl got cold feet and took off with a pile of Eric’s money. Runaway Bride Syndrome or whatnot.”

  He fought to listen as he flashed back to the wad of cash he’d seen at the bottom of her backpack.

  “Eric’s heartbroken.” She shook her head again. “I always thought Sophie was a sweet one. She’s so shy and quiet—always has been. Now I’m just not so sure.”

  He grunted, not so sure himself.

  “Looks like there might be a touch of tart to go along with all of that sugar.” Rhoda held four ones and two quarters out to him. “Your change, honey.”

  “Keep it.”

  “Sure thing. You have a nice day.” She pocketed the money and turned toward the kitchen.

  He glanced over his shoulder, yanking the paper off the board, and walked out the door, heading for the airport as he stared down at the woman he’d found himself tangled up with.

  Ten hours later, Stone punched the gas, passing a vehicle a mile away from his house. He’d been sick all day, replaying his conversation with the waitress over and over. Sophie was engaged, but worse, she was a thief. He shook his throbbing head, letting loose a humorless laugh, trying to figure out how he’d fallen for her act.

  Sophie Burke was a smooth one. He had to give her that. She’d done a hell of a job of hosing him over. Poor, shy Sophie with the sad eyes wasn’t in trouble; she was a first class con artist.

  He turned up the drive, spotting her car parked in its typical spot, then glanced at the bright light pouring from big panes of glass and pretty planters of white flowers she’d added around the space. He gripped the steering wheel tight, absorbing the rush of hurt and anger, hating her a little for making him want the illusion she’d painted.

  How long had she planned to reel him in? How much longer did she plan to wait before she added to her thick envelope and ripped him off too? He’d be damned if she’d take a piece of his heart with her the way she had the poor sucker back in Maine. Swearing, he got out as he spotted her walking by the window in a pretty powder-blue sundress. He cursed her again, longing for her despite it all. It was time for Sophie Burke to move the hell on.

  ~~~~

  Sophie rushed around the kitchen, pausing to fuss with the cloth napkins that were already perfectly folded and in place. She glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, eagerly awaiting Stone’s arrival. He would be home any minute.

  She took their wedge salads out of the fridge and set them at each of their settings on the brand-new table she’d had custom made for the space. The splurge had been mighty, bu
t the light maple wood with its chunky masculine feel was perfect, even if the kitchen construction hadn’t started yet. She knew Stone’s plans and couldn’t wait to surprise him with her gift.

  She opened the oven, peeking in at her roasted prime rib, grinning with the rush of anticipation when she heard the Mustang pull up. “He’s here,” she said to Murphy. “Stone’s home.”

  Murphy wagged his tail and rushed to the front door as she did. She smoothed down her strapless, mid-thigh sundress and stepped outside, standing under the pale light of the entryway, revved with an excitement she hadn’t felt...ever.

  Stone slammed his door and started her way in the dark.

  Her heart beat faster as she studied his broad shoulders in his polo shirt and the tailored cut of his slacks. He wore professional clothing, but the clean lines of his outfit did nothing to lessen his bad-boy edge. “Welcome home,” she called.

  He didn’t respond as he moved closer.

  Her smile dimmed. “Did you have a bad trip?”

  “I guess you could say that.” He walked passed her and went into the living room, ignoring Murphy’s yips for affection as he dropped his bag to the floor.

  “Rough flight?” she asked, following him inside, growing uneasy, reading his tense body language.

  “Not so much.” He slid his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw as he held her gaze.

  She swallowed, growing more uncomfortable under his impenetrable stare. “The traffic then?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty typical.”

  “Stone, what’s the matter?”

  He reached down and grabbed a sheet of paper from his laptop case, handing it up to her. “Look familiar?”

  Her eyes popped wide as she studied her picture beneath the Bangor Police Department heading. A surge of icy cold tingles rushed through her veins as the breath backed up in her throat and the blood drained from her face. “What—where did you get this?”