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

by Cate Beauman

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Thanks for all your help.”

  “I’m glad I could. Bye.”

  “Bye.” He hung up.

  “So?” She swallowed, clutching her hands in her lap.

  “It’s over.”

  “It’s over,” she repeated cautiously.

  “Eric wants the cash, but he’s signing something Jeremiah drew up saying he’ll leave you alone.”

  “He’s going to leave me alone.”

  “Yeah.” But he knew that was a bunch of bullshit. Someone who’d gone to the lengths Eric had wouldn’t just walk away.

  “And he has to?”

  “If he doesn’t want to end up in court.”

  “Okay.” She stood. “Okay,” she said again on a shaky laugh. “Do we need to take the money to the police?” She hurried to her bag.

  It bothered him that she didn’t seem to care about what happened today or the fact that she was handing over the cash she’d earned. “Jeremiah will meet us here in the morning.”

  “I can’t believe this is over,” she said again walking to him, hugging him.

  He pulled her to his side, holding her closer, sliding his hand down her back. “Are you sure you don’t want to file charges for the abuse?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But we have the thumb drive. You have proof.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about the past or what happened at the police station a few hours ago. I just want to get on a plane, go home, and move on with my life.” She drew back, her arms around his waist. “This is such good news.”

  It was good news if Eric stuck to his end of the deal, but that was doubtful. He gave her a small smile. “We should head to bed.”

  “I might actually be able to sleep. Maybe.” She crawled across the mattress and slid under the covers. “I can’t wait to see Murphy. I miss him so much.”

  He picked up his laptop and lay on the bed next to her. “Let’s see if we can get a flight out of here.” He wanted them back in LA as much as Sophie wanted to go. The more miles they had between themselves and Eric Winthrop, the better.

  ~~~~

  Eric sat back in his home office, staring at the paperwork his attorney had urged him to sign—for cooperation’s sake, of course. He’d argued the point for almost an hour, loathing the fact that Sophie had maneuvered the entire situation to her advantage, but somehow the stupid bitch had done just that.

  She was here in Maine, just miles away. She was afraid, but more, she was married. David confirmed Sophie and her new husband had filed their license in Los Angeles yesterday. He’d followed the happy couple around Bangor and the surrounding area, yet he still couldn’t believe it. Everything was ruined. The five million dollars he’d rightfully earned now belonged to that muscled goon who manhandled him in the police station.

  He picked up the crystal glass on his desk, his hand shaking, his breath heaving as he swirled his top-shelf whiskey. “Stupid, stupid Sophie,” he murmured. But this time she’d been smart. He chucked his glass, letting it fly against the wall, waiting for the satisfaction his random bouts of destruction brought, but the sensation was irritatingly absent. Sophie Burke—or McCabe—won this round, but she had to know he never came in last.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Sophie sat sandwiched between Stone and Abby in the noisy restaurant, swallowing the last sip of her strawberry daiquiri. The music was loud, the food good, the company even better. She’d never been on a double date before, but now that she was, she couldn’t wait for the next one. Abby had picked the spot, insisting they kick off the first-ever Sophie McCabe birthday eve celebration. She’d been content to spend a quiet evening at home with Stone, but this was a great alternative.

  “Do you want another one?” Abby gestured to her empty glass.

  “No thanks. One is good for me.”

  “Jerrod and I are going to dance.” Abby wiggled her brows as her husband gave her a pained look. “You guys wanna join us?”

  “No,” Stone answered for Sophie.

  “Aw, party poopers.”

  “I’ll dance with you.” Sophie smiled.

  Abby beamed. “Great. Come on.” She took her hand, walking with her to the busy dance floor in the center of the dining area.

  “I’m not really much of a dancer.”

  “That’s okay. Just have fun.” Abby raised her hands above her head, moving her hips to the beat in her slinky red dress.

  Sophie did her best to copy in her black mid-thigh length skirt and white, clinging crocheted racer-back top. She swayed left and right, laughing, surprised to realize she actually had rhythm.

  “Awesome!” Abby took her hand again and they both spun around. “Your hair looks amazing tonight, by the way.”

  She smiled, brushing back the glossy locks she’d curled at the ends. “Thanks. Marco sent me a bottle of some shine stuff and a new curling iron, along with detailed instructions.”

  “Well, he didn’t do you wrong.”

  “He certainly didn’t. I’ll have to swing by Lily Brand this week and thank him for thinking of me.”

  “I happen to know firsthand that Marco is smitten with you.”

  She blinked her surprise. “He is?”

  “He thinks you’re ‘a gentle beauty with great hair.’ And that’s a direct quote.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to think of that. “I don’t want to take advantage of—”

  “He’s gay, Sophie.” Abby grinned. “He just really likes you.”

  “Oh.” She smiled her relief. “Okay. I feel much better about that.”

  She looked over to where Stone and Jerrod sat, talking and watching. Stone wore a simple white Ethan Cooke Security t-shirt with blue jeans and one of those kerchiefs that tucked back his hair—and made her mouth water.

  He motioned for her to come to him with a crook of his finger. Grinning, she shook her head, pointing to the spot next to her. He shook his head in response and she shrugged, turning back to Abby. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

  “Sure they are.” She grinned mischievously, winking. “I know for a fact Jerrod can only hold out for so long. He can’t keep his hands off me.”

  As if on cue, Jerrod stood and made his way over.

  “See?”

  She laughed. “I guess so.”

  “I’m going to have to cut in,” Jerrod said, pulling Abby against him, wrapping her up tight as a cute man sporting a charming smile and crew cut took Sophie’s hand.

  “Looking lovely tonight, hottie.” He tugged her further into the crowd. “Let’s dance.”

  “Uh… I don’t know.”

  “Come on.” He turned up the wattage on his grin. “It’ll be fun.”

  “I—”

  Stone appeared, tapping the guy’s shoulder. “Beat it.”

  Frowning, Mr. Crew Cut opened his mouth to protest.

  “That’s my wife. Go find your own.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Sophie called as the man walked off, secretly thrilled Stone had come.

  He clutched her hips, tugging her close. “I’m still new to this whole marriage thing, but I’m pretty sure flaunting other men in your spouse’s face is bad form.”

  Grinning, she laced her hands behind his neck as they moved slowly, despite the upbeat tempo. “That’s what I’ve heard, but you’re here dancing with me, so it all worked out.”

  “Smooth operator, huh?”

  She chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  He smiled. “You feeling any older?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not twenty-five yet.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Another couple hours.”

  “That’s two more hours to treasure my early twenties.”

  He raised his brow. “I’ve heard that thirty is the new eighty.”

  She laughed. “I realize you’ve come to terms with your ripe old age since you’re mere months from transitioning to the big three-oh, but I�
��m still adjusting.”

  “I see.”

  She smiled, absolutely, perfectly happy now that Stone was home from his week-and-a-half of impromptu travel. From the moment their flight from Maine touched down at LAX until late last night he’d been gone. First, the star-studded Hollywood gala kept him away, then the last-second, weeklong trip to London. He’d kissed her good and long when he stumbled through the door at two o’ clock this morning, gave Murphy a quick tummy rub, and disappeared into the trailer until Abby’s afternoon phone call woke him. “Are you tired?”

  He shook his head. “Not too bad.”

  “Thanks for coming out with us. I know you would rather be home.”

  “I wouldn’t mind being home.” He held her gaze, his meaning perfectly clear. They both wanted to pick up where they’d left off in the hotel.

  Her stomach tightened with the rush of nervous anticipation. For days she’d thought of the way he’d touched her and made her feel. Stone kept gifting her new experiences. Tonight she hoped he would give her the rest. Snagging her lip, she looked down, wondering how to tell him she wanted him to make her his lover.

  “Or we can stay right here. This works for me too.”

  He was giving her the option, ultimately letting her decide how the rest of the evening would go. She met his gaze. “We—we could go.”

  He took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles, sending a cascade of heat along her skin with the promise in his eyes. “We should say goodnight to Abby and Jerrod.”

  “I—yes.” She swallowed. “Okay.”

  They walked over to where Abby and Jerrod snuggled together, laughing.

  “Um, we’re going to go.”

  “Oh.” Abby freed herself from Jerrod’s arms. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, holding Abby’s gaze, knowing the moment her friend understood.

  “All right then.” Abby hugged her tight. “Take care and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “I will.”

  “Call me tomorrow.”

  “Definitely.” She hugged Jerrod. “Thanks for the fun.”

  “You’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.”

  Stone exchanged a hug with Abby and a handshake with Jerrod. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He took her hand as they made their way to the Mustang. “You wanna stop and walk the beach first?”

  She shook her head. “I’m ready to go home.” She wanted him to put her out of her misery and take her to bed.

  He opened her door, closed her in, and walked around to his side. Minutes later, they took the quick right onto Ocean Ave, merging onto Highway One. He grabbed her hand, holding it as he got up to speed among the busy flow of traffic.

  She sent him a smile. “I was thinking—” Her phone rang—her new phone Stone had convinced her to get with a service plan instead of the pay-as-you-go, now that she didn’t have to worry about hiding. “I’m going to ignore that.”

  “Go ahead and answer. There aren’t many people who have your number. If someone’s calling, there’s a reason.”

  “That’s true.” Regretfully, she withdrew her hand from his and dug into her purse, pulling out the phone. “Hello?”

  “Sophie, it’s Lily.”

  She pressed a hand to her ear, trying to hear over the wind blowing in through the open windows. “Lily?”

  Stone raised his brows.

  “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank—thank you.”

  “Listen, I’ll keep this short. Abby said you had dinner plans tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. We just left, actually.”

  “I’ll keep it short anyway. I want your jewelry for the next fashion show. Abby shared your idea for a Freedom line. I’ve seen your work. I like the whole concept. I’d like to meet with you tomorrow at eleven to discuss terms and get a contract worked up.”

  Her eyes grew huge as she swatted at Stone’s arm. “Uh, yes. Yes. I can do that.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then. Bring samples.”

  “Okay.” The line disconnected in her ear. “Hello?” Frowning, she pulled the phone back. Lily didn’t mess around. She put the phone away, trying to digest the conversation she’d just had. “Holy cow. Holy cow.”

  “What? You’re killing me here, Soph.”

  “I just got off the phone with Lily Thomas.”

  “I know.”

  “The same Lily Thomas who wants to sit down and talk a contract tomorrow for my own jewelry line.” She laughed. “I can’t believe this.” She squealed, doing a quick boogie in her seat. “I really can’t believe this.”

  He grinned. “That’s freaking awesome.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Sighing her contentment, she stared out her window, looking up to the stars, stunned by the changes her life had taken in so short a time—home, marriage, friends, the career she’d always dreamed of.

  Stone slowed, taking the turn toward the cliffs, traveling to the top of his road, and stopped in his spot in the driveway. “What are you thinking about?”

  “About how lucky I am.” She looked at him. “I’m so lucky, Stone.”

  “You deserve a little luck.”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Are you getting out?” He gestured to the door.

  “Yeah.” She got out, meeting him at the front bumper.

  He pulled her into a hug. “Congratulations, Soph.”

  She closed her eyes, holding on. “Thanks.”

  “You deserve this.”

  “Thank you.” She pressed her lips to his, once, twice, too excited to be shy.

  He locked his hands around her waist. “I guess we’re going to have to schedule another celebration. Do you want to call Abby?”

  The only thing she wanted to think about right now was him. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  “I can get behind that.” He kissed her, pulling an inch away, and came back, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. “Mmm. Strawberry.”

  “The daiquiri.”

  “Tastes good,” he murmured, sampling again, molding her hips with his hands, wandering to her butt, pulling them heat to heat.

  She hummed with the whippy, rushing thrill.

  “Come on, Soph,” he said against her mouth.

  She nodded, walking with him to the house.

  He pulled her against him again when they reached the entrance, pressing her to the solid wood of the door.

  She locked her arms around the back of his neck. “Thanks for tonight.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Dinner was incredible.”

  “I don’t want to talk about food.”

  “Right.” She licked her lips as her nerves came back.

  “I want to show you something.”

  She was certain he was going to show her all kinds of things. “Okay.”

  He let them into the house, and Murphy ran out, peed, and came back in.

  “Hi, baby boy.” She crouched down, rubbing her sweet puppy as his tail wagged frantically. “You’re a good boy. Yes you are.”

  Murphy licked her cheek.

  “Aw, thanks. Go lay back down and get some sleep.” She stood as Murphy wandered over to the bed she’d bought him.

  “You finished?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He snagged her hand, walking with her down the hallway, and flipped on the light switch.

  She gasped, staring at the big oak sleigh bed and matching furnishings set up around the half-finished space. “Stone, this is beautiful.”

  “I still have work to do in here.” He drew her further into the room. “We’ll have to pull all of this out when I get ready to do the floor, but I wanted you to have this in the meantime—a real place to sleep.”

  She took in the pretty ivory and pale-green wedding ring quilt, brushed nickel lamps on the bedside tables, and flourishing plants tucked in beautifully glazed pots by the window. “I love it.”

  “Wren helped me
pick out everything.”

  “You two did an excellent job.”

  “You’re sure you like it?”

  She nodded, making her way to the bed, touching the soft fabric of the blankets. “Definitely. It’s perfect.”

  He walked to her, sliding the hair back from her shoulders. “Happy birthday, Soph.”

  “Thank you.” She snagged her lip, unsure of what to do as he stared in her eyes.

  He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her in the dim light of the new lamps, drawing out their tender embrace until she thought she might melt right there.

  She slipped out of her sandals and eased back, pulling off her shirt, and made a grab for the front clasp of her bra.

  He pressed his hand over hers, halting her movements. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m—I’m getting undressed.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  There was always a rush. He was supposed to be naked by now and she lying on the bed ready to receive him. “I just thought—”

  “I want to do this.” He kissed her chin. “I want to peel off your clothes.” He brushed his lips along her jaw while he slid his palms over the fabric of her bra.

  Closing her eyes, she let loose a shaky breath as her nipples responded to his teasing thumbs.

  “I’m going to touch you.” He pulled at the clasp, catching her breasts as they fell. “And taste.” He brought his mouth to sensitive skin, lapping, nibbling, suckling.

  She moaned, settling her hands on his hips, absorbing the flickers of delicious sensations while he pressed kisses to her neck and unzipped her skirt, sending it to the floor. She tipped her heavy head to the side as his tongue trailed a hot line along her collarbone and he clutched at her butt, over her panties, then under.

  “God, Soph,” he groaned. “You’re so soft.”

  Kissing him, she went after the snap on his jeans.

  He pulled back. “Not yet.”

  They should be finished by now. There were never soft kisses and gentle touches. This wasn’t the way she knew. “I’m—I’m not—when?”

  “When we’re ready.”

  She looked down at the bulge in his jeans. “I want you to be satisfied.”

  He took her hand, pressing it against him. “Does that feel like I’m unsatisfied?”