With Good Behavior [Conduct Series #1]

by Jennifer Lane

  “Chavonne,” Sophie said, not fooled by her misdirection. “Answer me. Did my dad tell you to come in here?”

  Reluctantly the nurse looked up from unzipping the bag. “Yes.”

  Rolling her eyes, she inquired, “What exactly did he say?”

  “I’m sorry, Sophie. He grabbed me and asked if it was hospital policy to allow our patients to have sex with their visitors.”

  Sophie’s jaw dropped. “We were not having sex!” She glanced at Grant, whose eyes danced with amusement.

  Chavonne continued. “Your father said he was going to lodge a complaint with my supervisor if we didn’t discharge you right away like we promised. So, I need to get you dressed and out of here.”

  Scooting off the bed, wincing slightly from the movement to her arm, Sophie muttered, “He is some piece of work. I’ll dress myself, thank you very much.”

  “No can do, Ms. Taylor.” Chavonne shook her head firmly. “You need somebody to help you. I want that elbow completely immobile for at least a week.”

  Quiet up to this point, Grant stepped forward. “I’ll help her.”

  Chavonne and Sophie looked over, and he reciprocated with a smoldering gaze that made both women weak in the knees.

  “Um, uh …” Sophie stammered, a blush coloring her neck.

  Grant sidled up behind Sophie, placing his large hands on her small hips. He leaned in, his warm breath feathering her ear as he whispered, “Let’s teach old Will he’d better not try to come between us.”

  Feeling goose-bumps travel up her spine, Sophie’s blush grew deeper. She closed her eyes and leaned against his muscular frame, bolstered by his strength.

  Chavonne hesitated, unsure what to do, but certain she felt like an intruder.

  “It’s okay, Chavonne,” Grant nodded reassuringly. “You can tell Mr. Taylor it would be unwise to come in here for awhile, as his daughter will not be decent.”

  “Maybe you could go get my discharge instructions?” Sophie suggested.

  Rolling her eyes, the nurse exited.

  “Now,” Grant asserted, kneeling down by the bag, “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”

  “Grant, thanks but I can do it myself, really …”

  He stood, holding some folded clothing in his grasp, and gave her a disapproving look. “And what would Dr. Hayes say about that, hmm? I thought you were supposed to work on asking for help?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m never telling you anything about my therapy sessions ever again!”

  He chuckled and clasped her right hand in his, stroking her skin softly. Finally Sophie said, “It’s embarrassing. I can’t even dress myself.”

  “Let me take care of you, Bonnie. Please. After all the hurt I’ve caused you, it will make me feel good to take care of you.”

  Searching his eyes, she finally nodded. He gently loosened the belt of her sling and carefully freed her arm.

  “It doesn’t really matter,” he added, circling around behind her and slowly untying her hospital gown. “I’m only going to rip these clothes right off of you once we’re alone, anyway.”

  He slid the hospital gown off her shoulders, leaving her standing in the cool air-conditioning clad only in her lacy pink panties. Her creamy smooth complexion gave him pause, wanting to take her right then and there, but seeing her shiver slightly, he quickly grabbed her bra from the pile of clothing on the bed.

  “Uh, this should be interesting,” he commented as he faced her, holding up the bra and trying to figure out the best way to put it on.

  “I usually clasp it in front and then slide it around,” she suggested.

  He gulped and reached around her, weaving the bra around the small of her back, bringing his sturdy body closer and causing Sophie’s breath to hitch. She was glad Chavonne had helped her to shower the evening before, and she hoped she smelled as good as he did, his clean soapy scent flooding her senses. Sliding the ends of the lacy garment to the front, right above her navel, he concentrated as his long fingers hooked the eyelets. Skimming and twisting the bra across her skin, he began shimmying it up her ribcage but halted for a moment.

  “Sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t resist.” He leaned down to graze his lips across the baby-soft skin between her breasts.

  Her shivers were less about feeling cold and more about thrilling anticipation, and she inhaled sharply as he tenderly kissed her sternum, his nose nuzzled between her breasts. Her right arm snaked around his back and held on tightly as his lips ravaged her. Finally he returned to standing and gently looped the bra straps over one shoulder, then the other.

  He gave her a jaunty smile. “That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?”

  Reaching for the thin, scoop-neck white T-shirt, Grant draped the neck opening over her ponytail, one hand unleashing her thick hair from the collar and the other lovingly stroking her cheek. He was mesmerized by the flecks of gold and copper in her brown eyes.

  His voice was husky. “There are going to be lots of kisses involved in getting you dressed.”

  “That would be just fine.”

  He inched closer and his lips lingered tantalizingly near hers. Then his full, sensuous mouth caressed hers, passing a jolt of electricity through them both.

  Grasping her right hand while continuing to plant zealous kisses on her lips, he entwined his fingers in hers, fondling the smooth skin of her palm with his thumb. Reluctantly pulling away, he instantly locked his lips to her right shoulder and proceeded to glide his mouth down the length of her arm, leaving a hot, pulsating trail from shoulder to wrist.

  He helped her lift and fold her left arm gently into the short sleeve. His soft lips loitered on the clean bandage above her elbow, and she whimpered only once as he carefully nudged her wrist through the sleeve. He drew the collar over her head then repeated the process with her right arm.

  Her heart raced when he tugged her pink underwear down her legs. Once the panties passed over her ankles she nervously stepped out of them. Sensing her embarrassment, he had a fresh pair waiting for her to step into. A fiery red flushed her face as he guided the silky undergarment over her knees—would he continue his pattern of kissing the body part he dressed?

  Glancing up at her with a mischievous smile, Grant craned his neck around her hip and planted a loud smooch on the curve of her bottom. Chasing her derriere with his lips he managed to connect with another kiss before she shrieked with laughter.

  “Ticklish, Taylor?” he smirked, rising from his knees as he pulled her panties up and promising himself he would soon return to this enticing area (perhaps when her father wasn’t right outside the door!). He gave her a playful swat on the bottom before reaching for her jeans.

  To Sophie’s delight, McSailor skimmed his mouth up and down the length of her legs like a vessel gliding across a body of water, and soon her jeans were also in place. He stood admiring his work, amazed that the casual ensemble looked so classy. She could make any clothing look stylish and chic, such was the grace of Sophie Taylor.

  Her entire body hummed from the heat of his warm lips. With a woozy look, she confessed, “I never want to dress myself again.” He laughed heartily. “Will you dress me every day?”

  “That can be arranged, Bonnie.”

  Delicately replacing her sling, Grant then gathered magazines and books into her bag while Sophie stepped into her flats. She nervously glanced at him, knowing her father was likely waiting in the hallway. “Ready to face the music?”

  Nodding confidently, Grant reasoned, “He can’t be as bad as a Mafia don.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  They emerged from the room, hand in hand, with Sophie’s overnight bag slung over Grant’s shoulder.

  “What took you so long?” Will demanded. Grant felt Sophie’s hand tense in his.

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I have the limo waiting outside for us. Let’s go.”

  Sophie took a deep breath. “Dad, I’m not going home with you.”

&nbs
p; “Of, of course you are!” he sputtered. “Where else are you going to live?”

  “Kirsten’s.”

  “You can’t stay in that blood-stained hovel! Kirsten is at her parents’ right now, and that’s where you should be too. Home.”

  Sophie had not considered the damaged state of Kirsten’s apartment, and she dropped her head. Where was she going to live?

  Grant gave her right hand a soft squeeze. “Sophie? Um, would you like to live, um, to stay, with me?” He leaned in closer and whispered, “How else would I dress you every morning?”

  She smiled. “Yes. I would love to live with you, McSailor.”

  Grant and Sophie shyly grinned at each other while a storm cloud passed over her father’s face.

  “Y-y-you can’t live with him!He’s a felon!”

  Sophie’s grin vanished. “I’m a felon too, if you haven’t noticed, Dad.” Giving Grant’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she promised, “We’ll just have to be felons together.”

  “But you’re not married! Your mother would not approve of this at all.”

  She felt like he’d punched her in the stomach. Grant felt her body trembling next to his, fighting for control. He pulled her closer, as if to shield her.

  “It’s hard to know what Mom would want for me,” she said. “But I do know she’d want me to be happy, to be in love. And Grant is the one person in this world who brings me happiness. I am in love with Grant, whether you accept it or not.”

  Will sighed. “I just worry about you, Sophie.”

  She instantly felt guilty, and stepped forward to give her father a hug. “I love you, Dad,” she said, feeling comforting fatherly pats on her back. “But I can’t live with you right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re being a helicopter parent.”

  “A what?”

  “You’re hovering!”

  He peered at her peculiarly. “Damn shrink talk,” he muttered.

  She tossed her head and her ponytail swayed. “That’s right, Dad. Our family is enmeshed with generational boundary-crossing and emotional over-responsibility. I’m trying to break the dysfunctional communication dyads, but you’re not making it easy.”

  Will groaned, and Grant got the distinct impression they’d argued this way before. Will turned to him and pleaded, “Can’t you do anything with her?”

  Taken aback, Grant faltered. “Um, I have no idea what she just said, sir. I’m afraid I’m not much help.”

  “Good luck with that, then.” Will anxiously cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, extracting a folded check. “I was going to give this to you, uh, at home. But I guess I have to give it to you now.”

  She warily placed the check in the pocket of her jeans. “Thank you.”

  “I gotta go,” her father quickly announced. “Don’t be a stranger.” With those parting words, he strode quickly toward the elevator, leaving them standing in the hospital hallway.

  “Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Sophie said once he was gone.

  “It wasn’t?”

  “What do you mean? My dad and I argue constantly—well, when we’re speaking to each other anyway—and this is one of the first times I actually won.”

  “I never argued with my dad,” Grant said, feeling his cheeks redden with shame.

  A frightened look ghosted his handsome features, and Sophie remembered the awful stories Logan had shared about their father. Grant was free of prison but evidently not free of his past. She hoped eventually she could help him heal.

  She hooked her right arm into his left, attempting to distract him. “Time to go home?”

  “Definitely. But do you mind if we make a stop first?”

  * * *

  The sunlight bounced off the rolling green waves of the Chicago River as Sophie and Grant sat on a bench by the dock, his arm protectively draped over her shoulders.

  “You’re sure he’s on the ship?” Sophie questioned.

  “Yeah, I had the police officer call my apartment from the station, and he wasn’t there, so I bet he’s helping Rog again. I don’t know where else he’d be.”

  On cue, an awful sound hit their ears. They could make out a raspy, off-key shouting, like nails on a chalkboard, and to Grant’s horror he realized Roger was singing. Or rather he was trying to sing, croaking out the ugliest, most abrasive Frank Sinatra interpretation known to humankind. The ship slowly chugged into their line of vision.

  “Oh my God, what is he doing?” Sophie wondered, also aghast. Roger sounded like a dreadful karaoke Elvis.

  “This is bad,” Grant agreed, shaking his head. “If this is his kind of town, I don’t want to live anywhere near it.”

  “Join in, everyone!” Roger called gleefully over the microphone as the ship began docking. His encouragement was met with stunned silence, the passengers cautiously glancing at each other, having no idea what caused the auditory assault on their eardrums.

  Just as he eased the ship alongside the dock, Roger realized there was dead silence onboard. He nervously cleared his throat. “Thank you for choosing Eaton Tours! Please come back soon.”

  Once the ship had docked, passengers streamed down the gangway as if they could not disembark fast enough. Watching the melee, Grant and Sophie shared a bewildered smile. “Sounds like Rog missed you,” Sophie smirked.

  “Grant!” Joe’s thrilled voice filled the air, easily audible over the din of the chattering passengers.

  Grant popped up off the bench, finding his uncle leaping over the gunwale and rushing toward him. Meeting him halfway, Grant launched himself into his uncle’s awaiting embrace and they thumped each other on the back soundly.

  “You’re out! What happened?”

  “They dropped the charge to consorting with known criminals while on parole, and I got an additional year of parole, that’s all.”

  Joe could only smile, the creases of worry lining his face finally smoothing away. “You don’t have to go back inside with your father,” he said, feeling liberation from the vice grip of the Barberi family.

  Grant met his uncle’s clear blue eyes and felt overwhelming gratitude. “I’m already with my father,” he said.

  Joe finally noticed Sophie standing a few feet behind his nephew. Grant turned to bring her forward. He rested his arm across her shoulders while she wrapped hers around his waist, and they faced Joe together.

  “So, she’s the one, huh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Grant nodded, nuzzling in to sneak a kiss on her cheek.

  Joe’s smiling eyes found Sophie’s. “I’m glad you’re here to take care of him, because I have to get back to my captain in Norfolk. We’re shipping out soon.”

  “I’ll try to keep him out of prison for you, Joe.”

  “Hey,” Grant protested. “You’re on parole too.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be done long before you will,” she teased.

  “Holy fuck!” A voice rang out from the deck, and all three immediately knew who it must be. Roger stood at the ship’s railing, hands on his hips. “The parolees busted out! It’s about damn time!”

  “How are you doing, Rog?” Grant asked, boarding the ship with Sophie in tow.

  “Just trying to keep afloat,” he replied. “Since you left me in the lurch, you asshole, I’ve had to take back the reins as docent.”

  “So I heard,” Grant said. Desperately attempting not to laugh, he tried to avoid Sophie’s gaze. “You’re, um, you’re singing now too, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Roger smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. “I thought I’d do a little Frank Sinatra myself. He’s more from my generation than yours, anyway. How’d I sound?”

  “Uh …”

  Sophie cleared her throat, glancing at Grant. “I’ll take this one.” Looking back at the captain, Sophie began, “You know I love you, Rog, and I’m very grateful that you gave me a job. But if you sing again, your business will go straight down the tubes.” Her brown eyes were warm but her message was firm. “Rog, please p
romise me, never sing again.”

  His face fell, and Sophie immediately felt guilty. “But you do such an awesome job navigating, um, running the business …” She quickly tried to cover.

  “Is she right? I’m not a good singer?” Roger pointedly asked Grant and Joe, who exchanged nervous glances.

  Joe attempted a placating tone. “Rog, um, Sophie is a very wise woman. Her father is a successful businessman. Maybe you should take her advice.”

  Just then Grant noticed a teenager in navy-blue coveralls emerging from the lower deck. “Ben?” he called.

  The boy appeared startled. “Uncle Grant!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Joe answered for him. “Ben wanted to make some extra money before school begins, so he’s helping out on the ship.” The two exchanged a knowing glance.

  The truth was Ashley had hit the roof once Joe informed her about Ben’s drug habit, and she’d threatened to cart him off to rehab immediately. Ben had screamed that he’d run away before he went to rehab.

  Somehow, Joe had helped them forge a compromise: Ben would see a local therapist and work on Roger’s ship for a month, and if his subsequent drug test was clean, he wouldn’t have to go to rehab.

  Grant went over to rest his arm on Ben’s shoulders. “So, you’re chief toilet cleaner now!”

  Out of earshot, Roger glared at Joe. “I’m gonna go check the shitters. He better have actually cleaned them this time or he’s getting an earful.”

  Joe stifled a grin. “Give him a few days. He’ll get on board with the program, Rog.”

  Once the ship’s captain headed aft, Joe and Sophie were left alone while Grant and Ben chatted nearby. Joe cast a worried look at Sophie’s sling. “How’s your arm feeling?”

  “Sore,” Sophie admitted. Her right hand reached into her pocket and she felt the folded check. Pulling it out, she offered, “I uh, have some money for Grant’s attorney fees. Will ten thousand cover it?”

  Joe looked shocked. “Where does a parolee come up with ten grand?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “My father gave it to me.”