Sleepless in Savannah

by Rita Herron

  "I love you, Chase."

  Chase curled his hands into her riot of curls. "I love you, too, Maddie. Damn, you get hotter every day."

  "It's this summer heat wave."

  "No, baby, it's you."

  Maddie lapped at his navel. "Thank you for going shopping with me today, honey. I'm sorry Lance and Reid gave you a hard time."

  "They'll get over it." Chase's gaze raked over her seductive outfit—a French-cut black leather bustier with black fishnet stockings. "Anytime you want to go shopping in that lingerie store is fine with me."

  Maddie traced a finger along his inner thigh, teasing. "Is that the reason you gave up beer drinking with the boys for me?"

  Chase's body tightened into a big, quivery mass. "Sweetheart, beer drinking is way overrated."

  Maddie laughed softly and closed her hand around him, torturing him with her touch. Chase moaned and dragged her up to cover his body, then flipped her over and took her mouth, tasting the fiery sweetness that made his wife so hot. Seconds later he slowly untied the ribbons securing the garment together at her chest, then nipped at the rosy tips of her breasts, suckling and laving her as his hands explored the rest of her body. Maddie was always supple and giving, and so damn erotic he would never get enough.

  To think he'd once feared marriage would be confining—hell, now he wanted to confine her on occasion. He pushed her hands above her and pinned her to the bed, teasing her with his aching sex as he kneed her legs apart. Sometimes he wanted to tie her to the bed and keep her there so she would never leave him. He was so damn afraid he'd wake up one morning and be all alone, that he'd once again be the outsider, that all the good things that had happened to him the past few months would have been only a dream. Those nights, he'd wake up in a cold sweat, remembering that orphanage, the holidays he'd gone hungry.

  Panic would literally rob the breath from him. Then, right there in the middle of the night, he'd have to take Maddie to make sure she was real. And thank God, Maddie always responded, always loved him back with the same heat and passion that she had the first time they'd made love. In fact, the chemistry seemed to grow hotter, more intense every day....

  He raised his head and gazed into her eyes, memorizing every precious inch of her, from her fiery auburn hair to that pouty lower lip to the way the two of them lay naked and entwined. He felt exposed, raw, but he didn't care.

  Maddie traced a finger along his jaw. "You have that look in your eye again."

  She always seemed to be able to read him.

  "I guess I'll have to make it go away," she whispered. A sultry smile spread onto her face as she pulled him to her.

  Chase was lost as he popped the snaps at her crotch, then rose above her and slid inside her slick heat. Maddie's moan shook the walls, her wild abandon unleashing his hunger. For the next few minutes he simply buried himself inside her, letting her love wash away any lingering doubts that what they shared would suddenly disappear. She clutched his arms, then clawed at his back as he drove himself deeper, her throaty whispers urging him harder, faster, until they both panted and kissed each other hungrily, their bodies slapping in rhythm as they rode the crest of their love. He felt himself coming apart, sensations spiraling out of control, and lowered his head to flick his tongue across the tips of her breasts again, licking and circling each hardened peak as she stretched her stockinged legs wider, circling her ankles around his hips. Her hands gripped his buttocks, pulling him into the heaven he craved, and he fought to hold off the pleasure. His loud suckling noises echoed through the air as she gasped and writhed beneath him, her sounds of pleasure triggering his own release.

  Seconds later he brushed her hair from her cheek as she curled into his arms. They were both still trembling from the aftermath of their lovemaking. An uncharacteristic bit of emotion swelled in his chest. He'd never let emotions get to him before he'd fallen for his best friend's little sister. "Maddie?"

  She traced a blood-red fingernail down his chest, teasing him again. "Yeah?"

  He had to clear his throat to speak. "This has been the best few months of my life."

  "Mine, too."

  His voice grew low, huskier. "Don't ever leave me."

  She smiled and slid her arms around his neck, then cupped his face and kissed him again, this time slowly, tenderly, filled with love. He finally relaxed.

  "I just wish everyone could be as happy as we are," Maddie whispered.

  Chase quirked a brow at her. "You're talking about Sophie and your brother?"

  Maddie threaded her fingers through his. "I don't understand Lance. He's never treated a woman the way he does Sophie. I thought they'd be so right for each other."

  "You can't fix everyone's life, sweetheart."

  "But Sophie is so wonderful," Maddie argued. "She doesn't deserve to be ditched by him."

  Chase shrugged. There was no winning with his wife when she had her mind made up. Poor Lance.

  Maddie poked out her bottom lip. "And she's leaving tonight with that football player for the weekend."

  "Maybe she'll connect with this guy," Chase suggested.

  "But he's not the one. And he might hurt her. And it's all Lance's fault, because he's so stubborn."

  Chase angled his head to look into her eyes. "And you know all there is about love?"

  She licked her lips. "I know when it feels right."

  His expression sobered as she palmed his erection. "That feels right."

  "Yes, it does." She cuddled into him. "And when I see Sophie and Lance together, it just feels right."

  "If it is, they'll figure it out."

  Maddie tapped her finger on her chin. "Maybe. Or maybe they need some help." She sat up, her beautiful breasts bobbing. Chase's sex leaped toward her.

  Maddie caught the movement and laughed softly. "Hold that thought while I make a quick phone call."

  Uh-oh. "What are you up to now, Maddie?"

  Maddie punched in her brother's number and handed him the remote. "Here, occupy yourself until I get finished."

  Chase chuckled and leaned back against the pillows, but one hand snaked out to knead her breast. How had he gotten so lucky? Not only was he in the bed with a beautiful, delicious woman who loved him, but he had the remote in one hand and her naked breast in the other—what more could a man want?

  * * *

  "Tell me what you want," Lance said to Sophie.

  You. Sophie bit her tongue and rubbed her hand along her cat's back, taking refuge in the fact that at least she had a live-in friend, even if it was a feline.

  "Sophie? I need to know exactly what you have in mind."

  A long, slow, lazy afternoon in bed with the ceiling fan swirling above us to cool us off.

  Thirsty from the heat, or maybe her mouth was dry from looking at Lance, she grabbed a diet Coke to occupy her mouth. Tell me what you want. Lance was referring to the renovations to the Victorian house she'd purchased in the historic district, not making love to her—which was all she could think about. He'd shown up five minutes after she'd arrived home from the show, primed and ready to discuss her house while she had less than an hour to gather her suitcase and head to the airport. She'd packed ahead of time, choosing a silver bikini, strapless sundresses, slingback sandals, and thong underwear, all of which she'd planned to use to lure him into loving her.

  But now she'd be wearing those things for another man. And if her first impressions were true, she'd be fending off Rory's thirteen hands.

  Worse, Lance had made the choice; he'd rather clean out rusty pipes than be with her.

  The irony of the situation and his timing didn't escape her. He'd chosen to work this weekend because she would be gone, meaning he wouldn't have to see her. The message had come through loud and clear, and although she was hardheaded, she had finally gotten it. Even her cat seemed to sense Lance was trouble. He'd snarled and hissed ever since Lance had walked in the door. Protective of his mistress. At least somebody was.

  "Since when did you get
a pet?" Lance asked.

  "Maddie brought him over. He was homeless."

  "Sounds like Maddie, always trying to pair up orphaned creatures."

  She winced. Had Maddie told him about her past? "Maddie's going to drop by and feed her. Be sure not to let her outside," Sophie warned. "She's been declawed and can't protect herself."

  Lance frowned as the cat hissed at him. "She certainly looks like she can take care of herself."

  "Looks can be deceiving."

  His gaze caught hers, tension rippling between them. But Sophie quickly broke the moment. "I've made a list," she said, resorting to what she hoped was a professional tone as she handed him the clipboard where she'd detailed her plans for the house. "I may not be able to swing everything I'd like right away, but I want an estimate anyway. The basics have to be done first, the kitchen needs updating, the bathrooms repaired, retiled, and painted, and if I can afford it, I want to add a breakfast bar in the kitchen."

  Lance paced across the room, examining the space as he ran a finger over the original wood molding. "All right. I'll put together an estimate while you're gone; then I'll start on the bathroom. You'll want the necessities taken care of before you do any cosmetic work."

  "Right." She flicked her bangs from her eyes. "I thought you had work crews to do this kind of thing."

  "They're finishing that subdivision on Skidaway now. While Reid is overseeing them, I thought I'd start here."

  "Great." The man could be in love with the wood grain, but not her.

  "Okeydokey. I guess I'll leave you to it, then."

  Lance paused and looked up at her. "You don't want to sit down and go over things? I'll need to know what type of fixtures you have in mind, if you want tile in the bathroom, and what kind of wood you'd like to use if you want to redo the flooring in here and the rest of the downstairs—"

  "Just look at what I've noted and do the basics for now. I'll decide about those other things when I return."

  "Right."

  Sophie hugged Jazzy good-bye, then breezed past Lance, trying desperately not to brush against his broad chest as she squeezed through the small doorway. It didn't work. Her breasts rubbed his chest and her thigh met his jeans-clad leg, sending heat bolting through her like a lightning rod. "Oh, and see if you can enlarge this doorway. It's entirely too small for this house."

  Especially with you in it.

  Lance's muscular hands wrapped around the edge of the clipboard. "All right, we'll talk when you return."

  "Great." Sophie smiled brightly. "That is, if I'm not too exhausted. I may need a day or two to recover. A weekend with Rory in Cancun is bound to wear me out."

  His smile faltered slightly as she sailed out the door, and she hoped his mind had started spinning with the implications of her comment.

  Let him think she was having a wild love affair, for all she cared. The camera footage that would air next week would corroborate her story.

  And she would never admit any different.

  Chapter 3

  After Sophie left, Lance studied her list. The two-story Victorian house had been built in the 1800s and was supposedly haunted, although he didn't believe in ghosts. It still had much of the original plumbing and wiring, along with the original wood floors, crown moldings topping the ten-foot ceilings, and fretwork on the wraparound front porch. The dining room still boasted velvet wallpaper in a French design, but it was peeling and faded, and the entire house needed painting. Although the kitchen needed modernizing, the previous owners had installed central heat and air, which would eliminate one major cost, and the wood stove in the kitchen and fireplace in the den and all the bedrooms probably offset high heating bills. When Sophie wasn't using a room, she could simply close it off.

  But once he ripped up the chipped bathroom tiles, he might find damage to the subflooring. He was glad she'd picked tiles and left them for him. And if the stains on the kitchen ceiling were what he thought, Sophie might need a new roof. He'd get his men over as soon as possible to replace it.

  At least she'd gotten the house for a song. Many of the older homes in the historic district had fallen into more serious disrepair, and had been auctioned off. There were also special state-funded incentives for buyers to renovate the houses with stipulations that the owners adhere to the guidelines issued by the Historical Society.

  He jotted down questions to ask her when she returned and sketched out the general plan, then decided to walk through the rest of the house before he tackled the bathroom. With Sophie out of town, he might go ahead and tear out the back doorway. He could finish repairing it before she returned, alleviating the need for her to spend the night in the house without being able to lock the doors. Of course, he'd stay over so he could keep an eye on things. The last thing he needed was for Sophie to be robbed because he'd left her place open. Or for that psycho cat of hers to escape and get hurt.

  The phone rang and he hesitated, wondering if he should pick it up. It might be Reid.

  No, Reid would call his cell phone. It had to be Sophie, and he was not her answering machine.

  Three rings, four, and then the message machine picked up. "Hello," Sophie said in that sultry voice that drew his insides into a knot. "You've reached Sophie Lane. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone, but you know the drill; leave a message."

  He told himself to leave the room and not listen, but his feet refused to cooperate. Seconds later another woman's voice echoed over the line. "Sophie, hon, this is Deseree. I saw the 'Dating Game' show, and man, what a catch you found in that jock. You were smart not to choose that dud bachelor number two. Did he have some awful answers or what? He must have crawled out from under a rock."

  "I was faking it," Lance muttered.

  "Anyway, I can't wait to see the footage of the date on TV."

  He rubbed a hand over his face. Neither could he.

  "Anyway, I'll try your cell phone. Have a great time!"

  Lance hissed between his teeth. Sophie was probably already having a great time, indulging in more hanky-panky with the hulk.

  Shaking off the images the caller had conjured in his mind, he took a quick walk through the den, his gaze landing on the country sofa and furnishings. He'd been shocked the first time he'd visited; he'd assumed Sophie would have chrome and glass and white leather, but the furnishings were homey, comfortable. Of course, she had mentioned that most of the furniture had come with the house and that Maddie would help her with the decorating. Would she update the furniture with contemporary pieces or would she opt for antiques and a welcoming atmosphere?

  It didn't matter, he told himself. This was Sophie's house. She could do whatever she wanted. He just hoped she didn't ruin it with some ritzy-looking faux marble or cover the pine floors with cheesy shag carpet.

  He stepped into her bedroom and hesitated, feeling like a voyeur as he skimmed over the four-poster canopy bed with its satiny white comforter. The bed itself looked decadent, everything in the room in its place, except for the red teddy lying at the foot of the bed as if it were waiting on a lover.

  It was not only crotchless but see-through as hell. She might as well wear a piece of saran wrap.

  Worse, the scent of Sophie's perfume, some kind of light floral mixture that reminded him of roses, wafted toward him, stirring sensations that he had no business feeling for a woman he didn't want to want.

  His body hardened anyway. The traitor.

  Had Sophie forgotten the teddy? Had she meant to take it with her to Cancun? And if she had forgotten it, would she crawl into bed tonight totally naked?

  * * *

  Rory would definitely want to get naked this weekend, Sophie thought. She drummed her fingers on the dash as she drove to the airport, desperately trying to think of excuses.

  "Sorry, Rory, but it's the wrong time of the month."

  Lame. Besides, some guys didn't care. And he might even use it against her and remind her that the chances of her getting pregnant were nil.

  "I forgot pro
tection."

  But what if he produced a box of a hundred condoms? And even if he hadn't brought a stash, Cancun, the love nest of Mexico, probably sold them by the case. For all she knew, the maids might leave packages on the pillows at night along with the chocolates.

  "I'm not allowed to sleep with you because of the show."

  Yeah, right. Like he'd believe that.

  "I had too much to drink and want the first time to be really special."

  She could hear his sultry reply—"Honey, I'll make sure it's special."

  "I'm allergic to sand."

  "I'll spread a towel down on the beach."

  Sophie's cell phone rang, cutting off her inner diatribe. She glanced at the number and grimaced. Her mother. Was Deseree in trouble again? Had she been arrested? Or did she need more money?

  Willing herself to remain calm, she clicked the button to answer. "Hello, Deseree."

  "Honey, I saw your show; it was wonderful!"

  Sophie merged into the exit lane in the late-evening traffic. "Thanks."

  "What have you done to your hair, though? I barely recognized you."

  That was the idea.

  Her mother tittered on before Sophie could respond. Thank heavens.

  "Chopping it off like that, dying it that stark black. I did so love your long golden locks." Deseree hesitated on a gust of expelled air, and Sophie pictured her tilting her Virginia Slims up and daintily taking a puff. Her mother was always worried about her image, always wanting to look sophisticated and demure. Odd, considering her chosen profession, or maybe that was the reason she paid such close attention.

  Sophie had never quite understood Deseree. And Deseree hadn't exactly been mother material.

  "I needed a change," Sophie explained, not wanting to hurt her mother's feelings by explaining that she was trying to disguise herself. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized as her old self. She had a new career, a new start in life.

  Sophie's secrets were not to be revealed.

  "And that man you chose, wow, I haven't seen biceps like that since Larry Filch."

  Her mother's on and off live-in lover during Sophie's freshman year. Sophie had marked her years in school by her mother's various boyfriends—she couldn't quite call them relationships—and her various apartments, which she couldn't quite call home.