Sophie got a little wet just thinking about running her hands along the back she was now staring at, stripping it of the brown corduroy shirt he was wearing tucked into the usual jeans. She continued her fantasy, seeing those shoulders above her, poised over her.
Matt would be a much better lover than Paul. Paul’s shoulders were almost boyish, his chest too thin, too bony. Matt’s ribs were solid, his abs firm. And his hips—
“Okay, you got the schedule done?”
Sophie blushed when he turned and caught her ogling him, and then, with new confidence gained from her enviably thin body, patted the sofa beside her. “Come and see,” she said, smiling with the right amount of innocence and seductiveness—as she’d practiced in the mirror all week.
She couldn’t appear too eager, or he might not respect her. Matt was deep; he’d only go for a woman who could meet him on that level. But at the same time, she didn’t want to discourage him. She had to let him know that when he was ready to make his move, she wouldn’t reject him.
Disappointment crashed through her when he rolled his chair over, still sitting in it, and positioned it in front of the couch. Until she figured out that if she shifted forward, their knees could touch. And their forearms, too, if she held out the schedule at a certain angle.
“I’ve got Daniel doing preset and teardown,” she told him, all business while they discussed the show she was managing that week. “That way, if he does any damage, we’ll be the only ones who have to know about it.”
“Good thinking.” Matt nodded, giving as much attention to her schedule as he had to his lighting design.
This was how she knew Matt liked her so much. He valued every single thing she did.
“What are you going to do with him during the show?” he asked.
“Have him on call in the shop in case of emergency, and toward the end, send him out for pizza and soda. A late supper for the crew before they begin teardown.”
“You’re good!” Matt gave her the half grin that always melted her insides, his dark eyes meeting hers with such intimacy she almost forgot what she’d been talking about.
They discussed a couple of logistical problems the man on the fly rail was going to need help with during the show—not enough to require a second person but something she’d have to compensate for with someone already on crew. They talked about who’d be doing the lights, who was on audio. She would be calling the show from backstage.
And all the while, Sophie was aware of Matt’s knee rubbing almost imperceptibly against hers. Aware of the sprinkling of dark hair on the back of his lean, strong hand.
Aware of those lips, so close to her own.
Someday she was going to make those lips smile. Really smile. Until his eyes reflected the joy he found in her. Thinking about the moment he experienced his first orgasm inside her, with her, Sophie almost couldn’t breathe. Her love for him hurt so much.
“…I’d really like you to think about it, Soph.”
She’d been watching his lips move, not listening to what he was saying. Figuring it was just more background about the show, she felt pretty confident she could handle that on her own. His abbreviation of her name had been what got her attention.
She loved it when he did that. As if they were intimate enough for him to assume that familiarity. No one called her Soph. She usually forbade it, as the name made her feel gargantuan—and taken for granted. Like an overstuffed piece of furniture. But when Matt said it…
“Think about what?” she asked when he fell silent, giving her no clue to what he was talking about.
“Speaking with Dr. Langford.”
Sophie stiffened, their future love life temporarily forgotten. “I don’t need a doctor.”
She was on top of things, more aware of her own body, more attuned to taking care of it than she’d ever been before. She knew the dangers of losing too much weight—and she’d watch for them if she ever got down to the weight she needed to be. Until then, she hadn’t lost too much.
“She’s not a doctor in the medical sense,” Matt said. His eyes were warm, caring, as he looked at her. It wasn’t a look she’d ever seen before. His concern was the nicest gift she’d ever had.
“So what kind of doctor is she?” she asked, softening. Anything to keep that look focused on her just a little bit longer.
“She teaches psychology here at Montford.”
Sophie frowned, wishing she was a little more clued in. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing, sound stupid. Or worse, have him know she hadn’t been listening.
It wouldn’t matter so much if she could tell him why she hadn’t been listening. But they weren’t that intimate yet.
“I’m a theater major,” she said, lobbing that one over, hoping it would fly.
“But you had some questions about your future last week….”
“And you cleared them up for me,” she assured him quickly. Did he think she wanted to change majors?
God forbid! She couldn’t have Matt thinking she wanted to leave him.
“I love it here,” she told him, infusing her voice with the love she felt for him.
Matt was such a loner it must hurt him a lot more than most people to be left.
And hurting Matt was the one thing Sophie could never do. She loved him too much.
“I told her a little about you,” Matt said. “She thought maybe the two of you could chat, that she could give you some…some womanly insights I wouldn’t have. You know, you mentioned about your mother and—”
“You told her about my mother?” Sophie wanted to crawl under the couch and die. Matt had told another woman the things Sophie had shared with him in confidence.
If the humiliation didn’t kill her, jealousy would.
“No.” She’d been so wrapped up in her own misery, she’d almost missed his reply. Thankfully she didn’t.
“I didn’t tell her anything specific about what you said,” Matt continued slowly. Sophie was particularly fond of the way he chose his words so carefully. So deliberately. It meant he was sincere when he told her how good she was. “I just said that my star student was thinking about quitting school. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen.”
“You didn’t,” Sophie assured him, needing him to know the credit was all his. “You said exactly what I needed to hear. I’m already registered for next semester.”
“Good,” he said, nodding. He scooted his chair back a little, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together between them.
Sophie missed the warmth of his knees. But at least he hadn’t ended their meeting.
“I’d still like you to talk to Dr. Langford, Soph,” he said when she thought they’d finished with all that. “The doubts might resurface, and I don’t want to take any chances on losing you.”
Well, when he put it like that… “Then, of course I’ll talk to her. Will you set something up for me?”
She really liked the idea of Matt taking care of her this way.
“I’ll be seeing her tonight,” he said. “I’ll speak to her about it then.”
Sophie’s whole day crashed. He couldn’t be seeing her tonight. Matt didn’t date; everyone knew that. Who was this Dr. Langford, anyway?
She wanted to tell him to forget it, forget setting anything up for her, but then stopped herself. Maybe she needed to meet this Dr. Langford just to set the record straight. Matt and Sophie had an understanding. She needed him. Had been waiting for him to choose the time, day or night, when they’d cross that line from student and teacher to lovers. To the relationship they both wanted so badly.
No psychology professor was going to blow it for them now.
“I can see her tomorrow right before class,” she told him, thinking it might be a good idea to have him discuss her with his friend, after all. At least when they were together tonight, he’d be taking Sophie with him.
Dr. Langford couldn’t help but get the significance of that.
“I thought y
ou had an English-lit class right before you came to me.”
God, she loved it when he talked so possessively. And just that quickly, forgave him for whatever he was doing with Dr. Langford that evening.
“I do, but my teacher’s in Phoenix tomorrow giving some paper at ASU. We were allowed to go as extra credit, but I couldn’t because it’s show week.”
She knew he’d appreciate how dedicated she was.
“And you don’t want to take advantage of the opportunity to sleep in?”
She about melted right there on the couch when he said that. It made her crazy to know he thought about her in her bed.
“No,” she told him. What she wanted was to know, the whole time she was with Dr. Langford, that she’d be going straight to Matt afterward.
“Okay,” he said, standing, his hands on the back of his chair. “Unless you hear from me, plan on being at her office at nine tomorrow morning.”
Their meeting was over. Sophie understood. He could only be this close to her for short periods without making a move. He was, after all, a mature and incredibly virile man.
Flicking her blond hair, she smiled at the thought. As for her—she was almost perfect. If he’d only give her another month or two…
CHAPTER TWELVE
“YOU DON’T HAVE to come here at all, but if you’re going to come, you can’t just take out the trash and pretend that last night didn’t happen.”
Phyllis had been waiting for Matt to say something the whole ten minutes he’d been in her house taking care of chores. Other than a grunted hello, he hadn’t said a word. He was on his way out the kitchen door with the trash and she was afraid he’d just go on home from there.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, disappeared with the one small bag of garbage he’d collected. He was wearing jeans and a brown corduroy shirt, and from out of nowhere Phyllis was remembering how he’d looked with no shirt at all, those powerful shoulders above her, how the smooth skin, the rippling muscles of his back, had felt to her touch.
She wasn’t wearing jeans today. She’d very proudly donned leggings and a long chenille off-white sweater that morning because the button on the black jeans she’d been planning to wear had refused to fasten. A fact she’d bragged about to Tory when she’d spoken with her on the phone after school. Still in Phoenix, Tory was due to come home the next day.
Ben was there, too. He hadn’t left the hospital since he’d arrived the day before. Alex was staying with the Montford clan at Montford Mansion.
“Anything else you need done tonight?”
Matt was standing just inside her back door. He was looking at her, but there were no windows to his soul tonight. Only walls.
“I need you to talk to me,” she said honestly. She’d been unable to concentrate all day, thoughts of him popping up at odd times, usually when she’d been trying to concentrate on something else.
Like teaching class.
One of her students had reminded her of Matt today. He looked nothing like him. Acted nothing like him. But he’d been wearing a maroon leather jacket…
Moving not an inch from the door, he pulled up the zipper of his brown leather jacket. “I talked to Sophie.”
It wasn’t what she’d thought he was going to say. “And?”
“She agreed to meet with you.”
“Oh!” Phyllis hadn’t expected that. At least not so soon, so easily. Maybe the girl wasn’t in as much trouble as Phyllis had suspected. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning at nine okay with you?”
“Perfect. That’s right in the middle of my office hours.”
“Good.” He unzipped his jacket, rubbing the tab back and forth between thumb and forefinger. “I might just be wasting your time with her,” he said, his free hand on the doorknob. “She seemed fine today. Said she was fine.”
Phyllis frowned. “But you told me her lack of concentration’s been a problem all semester.”
“It has. Today, though, she seemed in top form. We went over the schedule for this week’s show and she’s done a great job. Had everything well thought out. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
High praise indeed. She’d have said the words out loud but couldn’t rely on his sense of humor. Not at the moment, anyway.
“Could be she ate well yesterday or got enough sleep last night,” she said now. “The symptoms you described happened over a period of time. The weight loss, for instance.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. He rubbed his hand over his face, then pulled open her back door. “I’m sure you’re right. I’d really just like the whole thing to disappear.”
Phyllis gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” For a brief moment there was warmth in his eyes. “I’ll be in my office if you need to talk to me….”
That sounded very much like goodbye.
Sure enough, Phyllis watched him turn and step one foot outside.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
“Matt.”
Looking over his shoulder at her, Matt raised a brow in question.
“Can’t we talk about last night?”
“I think enough has been said.”
She knew that wasn’t true. Not by a long shot. But she also knew when to push and when pushing was just going to push someone completely away. Matt was leaving without any push at all.
And if she let him go, he might never come back. Not as her friend. The man she’d slowly been getting to know. The real Matt Sheffield.
So she’d start out slow. See if she could regain the trust she’d done nothing to lose.
“How old were you when you went to prison?”
“Twenty-four.” His back still to her, he spoke to her yard.
It was cold outside. She should ask him to shut the door. But the November chill was a small price to find him again.
“How long were you there?”
“Two years.”
A long time.
While she did some quick math, he turned around, but his expression wasn’t encouraging. She had a feeling he was searching for words that would tactfully tell her to mind her own business.
She had a feeling he wouldn’t find any. Because he was her business. If you considered the baby growing inside her.
And Phyllis did. Every minute of every day.
“So you had your teaching degree before you…were incarcerated?”
“My bachelor’s. I went for my master’s when I got out.”
“Did your time in prison have anything to do with your father or your family?”
“No.”
“You aren’t going to tell me why you were there, are you?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She nodded, holding his gaze steadfastly. “I can live with that.”
He blinked, stared her down.
“I mean it,” she said. “You served your time. Whatever you did is in the past. Let’s leave it there.”
Still he stared. Said nothing.
“The question is,” she said slowly, “can you leave it there?”
“I left it there the minute I left there.”
Arms folded casually, Phyllis crossed one ankle over the other. Retreating with body language. Because it was the only way she could retreat.
“If it’s behind you, then why should it have any effect on your being a father?”
Clenching his jaw, he stood there staring at her once again, but the invisible barrier between his gaze and hers couldn’t be missed. She suspected he was keeping himself in place by sheer force of will. He carefully, deliberately, closed the door.
“The reason I was in prison is not the issue.”
“It’s not.”
“No. I was not guilty of the charges.” The words were clipped, succinct.
“But you served the time, anyway.”
“Part of it.”
Phyllis nodded, consciously slowing herself down. Her thoughts were flying in several diff
erent directions. There was so much she wanted to know. She was usually better at waiting people out. Letting them talk in their own time. But with Matt, she had a feeling there wouldn’t be such a time. He’d been alone so long that not talking seemed to have become more natural to him than talking.
“So what happened?”
“I was acquitted.”
Frowning, she watched him, wishing she could read minds as she’d often been accused of doing. He was confusing her.
“So, if you didn’t do anything wrong—and your name’s even been cleared—where’s the problem?”
“I didn’t say I did nothing wrong—only that I wasn’t guilty of the crime I was sent up for.”
Oh. More questions. Assessing every nuance on his face, she determined that now was not the time to ask them.
“I grew up the child of a convict. My brother grew up the child of a convict. So, for that matter, did a cousin of mine. The stigma that carries does something to a kid.”
“What stigma?”
“Doubt. Fear. People judge.”
Okay, she could see that. “Why do they have to know?”
“You spend enough time with someone, it eventually comes out.”
She supposed he was right. Holes in one’s past were usually revealed, unpleasant truths exposed.
“And they always judge the kid by the father?” she asked mildly.
“Don’t most people judge a book by its cover?”
“Maybe at first, but those who just walk away from it don’t matter, and those who pick it up and read it find out almost immediately that a bad cover can hide a gem.”
The muscles in his jaw tightened again. The look in those dark eyes intensified.
“A kid looks to his parents for an example. It’s an undeniable and, I think, unchangeable fact. Doesn’t matter that the example’s rotten, doesn’t even matter that the kid knows it’s rotten, it’s still his parent. The person who cares for him, provides for him. The person whose blood runs in his veins.”
She couldn’t argue with that. He was absolutely right.
“And when a kid’s surrounded by bad examples, he’s more apt to believe himself capable of such things.” His eyes were trained somewhere in the middle of the room, but they were vacant. He spoke in a monotone.
Just Around the Corner Page 13
