An Irresistible Temptation (16 page)

“How do you know this?”

“We had coffee together the other day, and
then we talked about . . . things.”

“Things?” Sophie couldn’t mask the
hopefulness in her voice.

“Oh, don’t you start.” Carling said. “He’s
way too proper for me. Stuffy and pompous and—”

“Rather good looking and smart and clearly
has the ability to take care of a wife.”

Sophie knew Carling could see all those good
points for herself, and sure enough, Carling added, “He
is
rather handsome, especially when he has that dreamy look in his
eyes, talking about what he’d like to do with his life. He’s got
big ideas for his future.”

Sophie tilted her head. “Oh? You mean scaring
all the staff at The Palace isn’t enough for him?”

Carling chuckled. “Truthfully, he’s not so
scary. He just likes to keep things under control. That’s part of
his job. But he’d rather grow grapes. Not in San Francisco. Maybe
up the coast a bit. He thinks he’d like to have a winery, and
perhaps have a little inn, too.”

“Really? I never would have imagined he was
dreaming of all that.”

“I know,” Carling said, looking thoughtful.
“But he’s got a lot hidden under his suit.”

They both shrieked with laughter as they
realized what her words imported.

“Does he now?” Sophie asked, when she could
breathe again. “And how would a nice girl like you know?”

“Get on with you.” Carling was blushing
profusely. “You know what I meant. Anyway, you’re right. I don’t
believe he means to be stuffy or pompous. At least, not all the
time. I’d like to get to know him better and I’m starting to think
he feels the same about me.” She hugged herself. “No word from your
Riley?”

“I don’t think I’ll hear anything more from
him.” That blackest of black thoughts stole all the merriment she’d
been feeling.

“If it’s any consolation, Soph, I think you
did the right thing. A man can’t eat his cake and have it, too.
Either one or the other, I say.”

Sophie nodded.
A box of broken cake. A
broken heart or two. What’s the difference?

“By now, Miss Prentice might’ve had her fill
of San Francisco and gone back to Spring City to wait for her
doctor to return,” Carling mused.

Sophie couldn’t imagine choosing Spring City
over San Francisco. But if Riley were the deciding factor, then she
would think again?

“Personally, I wouldn’t care where Riley
Dalcourt was, Timbuktu or Mongolia, I’d want to be with him. I
mean, if I loved him, that is. I’m not saying that I do, mind you.”
She could see she wasn’t fooling Carling one bit. “Honestly, I
don’t know what that woman’s waiting for.”

“Well, if
she
feels as
he
does,
meaning not much, then maybe she’d rather be a single lady.”

“Oh, it makes my head spin,” Sophie admitted.
“Frankly, I’m glad I’m not in the middle of it anymore. Let them
sort it out.”

“Yes, get on with it, I say.”

“I know you do, Carling. I know you do.”

*****

Sophie spied Egbert studying his clipboard
and stopped. She observed him for a moment. His tall frame was on
the thin side, but at least he carried no paunch. Perhaps a few
years working a vineyard would fill him out nicely and give him a
few hard muscles the way . . .

She stopped her thoughts from straying to a
certain dusty cowboy doctor. Egbert would look after Carling,
Sophie was sure. And her friend deserved a little looking after.
Perhaps, he needed the tiniest of pushes in the right
direction.

“Good day, Egbert.”

“Sophie.” He inclined his head. She was glad
they were on a first-name basis as she now was with most of the
staff at both the hotels. They were all starting to feel like
friends. “What can I do for you?” he asked a bit stiffly, as, most
likely, he was all kinds of busy and didn’t have time to stop to
help her.

“Oh, nothing. I was hoping Carling was on a
break.”

“Ten minutes, she will be. You can wait in
the break room if you like, though I shouldn’t let you.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Freddie doesn’t let
any non-Granders in his break room.”

“Mr. Vern, the restaurant manager?”

“Yes, why I think Carling knows Freddie, too.
I believe he went walking with her a couple weeks ago.” She was
stretching the truth a bit, but he had walked her home that one
time at Sophie’s request.

She saw Egbert frown. Just then, Carling
appeared at one end of the lobby, walking briskly with a hotel
guest. She flashed them both a grin and gave a little wave behind
her back as she passed by. She looked vibrant, efficient, happy.
And beautiful. What man wouldn’t want her? Egbert’s eyes followed
her progress until she was out of sight.

“Could you tell me one thing before I go,
Egbert?”

Distracted, he mumbled, “I suppose so.”

“Can you tell me if Miss Prentice has checked
out?”

He gave her his full attention. “Guest
information is strictly confidential.”

She produced her warmest smile. “Oh, Egbert,
I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t know the answer. I’m sure some
things are above your station.”

He bristled. “Of course I am aware that Miss
Prentice has left The Palace. No guest information is above my
station, as you so delicately put it.”

“Of course,” Sophie said. “Well, I’ll wait
for Carling in the break room. If you speak with her, let her know
I’m here. I wouldn’t want her to go looking for me at The Grand by
mistake. Though I’m sure Freddie would be happy to see her
again.”

Sophie hoped she hadn’t gone too far with
that last line. She would keep her fingers crossed that Egbert did,
indeed, talk to Carling and ask her out on a proper date before the
day was through.

So Eliza was gone. That told her almost
nothing. Would they marry soon or wait? It was none of her business
anyway. After a cup of tea with Carling, during which she tried
hard not to mention Egbert, Sophie headed to The Grand’s reception
desk where her mail was delivered. Once or twice a week, she
checked it, hoping for a letter from home or an employment offer
from the symphony or the opera house. She waited patiently while
the clerk searched.

“Miss Sophie Malloy,” he confirmed, handing
her a letter that she could see at once was from Boston. Addressed
in her younger sister’s hand, she had no doubt it would be full of
news of their mother and how Reed was getting along as a proud
father. It made her heart ache with missing them all. And her
newest nephew would grow up without her. She stuffed it in her
purse to read with her evening meal.

With no job to do, no friend to be with, no
man to take her out, Sophie took a horse-drawn bob-tail car
directly to Woodward’s Gardens, not caring that it was a long way.
After all, what mattered the time when she was at such loose ends?
She’d wanted to see the so-called “Central Park of the Pacific,”
though she would have dearly loved to experience it with . . .
Carling. Yes, Carling, not Riley.

At first, she thought the specter of Riley
would hang over her entire visit to the park, but as she wandered
the museum, looking at the collectibles, and then breathed the
fragrant air of the conservatory with its exotic and tropical
plants, she started to feel better.

Eventually, she ate a meal, listening to the
pipe organ and nearly gathered up the courage to ask if she could
play it. In the end, she decided not to; it was too early to try
and the bandages would hamper any attempt. Basically, she was
scared to find out that her career was over before it had even
begun.

By the time she made her way home, it was
dusk. Her feet were tired and even her hand was aching under the
bandages, which made her feel irritable. Even so, she let Stan, the
evening elevator operator, tell her about a guest who was so
terrified of the lift, she had to be held in place by her husband.
Sophie liked his stories, but she knew from experience if she
encouraged him, she’d spend the next ten minutes trapped listening
to him before he opened the elevator’s gate and doors.

Blissfully, she sank onto her bed. But no
sooner had she removed her bonnet and gloves and prepared to put
her feet up than a brisk knock sounded on her door. She knew it
wasn’t Carling by the lack of a singsong voice calling her
name.

Riley—her mind leapt to the conclusion. It
probably hadn’t been that difficult for him to find her new place
of abode. Did his coming mean he’d called off his engagement to
Eliza? He would have understood from their last encounter that she
didn’t want to see him if that weren’t the case.

She patted her hair and smoothed her
shirtwaist.
Oh, how ridiculous of her!
He’d seen her in her
shift—what matter her clothing appearance! Girding herself for the
next onslaught of desire at his mere presence, she took a deep
breath and opened the door.

“Sophie, I found you at last.”

“Oh my God. Philip!”

His boyish face smiled at her. “Is that a
happy greeting or are you very angry with me?”

She was speechless for a moment. He was
absolutely the last person she expected to see and seemed, thus,
like an apparition.
Was she happy to see him?
She was unsure
through the tumult of feelings, but she thought that, indeed, she
was. He seemed like the part of her life that was stable and
comfortable. He was the love of her university days and her travels
in Europe. He was her Philip.

“No, I’m not angry. Just surprised beyond all
measure.”

“Is it too improper for me to enter your
room?”

Sophie considered for a moment, then turned
to survey her small domain. It was her entire home at the moment.
The bed was neatly made; her clothes and unmentionables were all
tucked away. She gestured for him to enter.

“I suppose it is all right. You may sit on
the bed if you like.”

“After all,” he said, striding in and filling
the space, “we are not strangers to each other.”

She blushed. No, not by half. This
golden-haired man had kissed her many more times than Riley
Dalcourt, and yet . . .

“How did you find me? Why are you in San
Francisco? What about Oxford?”

He looked delighted. “So many questions.
Before I answer any, I want to apologize. Frankly, I’m shocked
you’re even speaking to me. I used you horribly.”

Sophie was shocked, too, but for a different
reason. Searching her heart, she wondered at the lack of despair,
which used to rear its head at the mere thought of Philip. Along
with emptiness and anger. But all three had vanished, brushed away
completely by Riley’s scorching kisses and his heated touch.
How
well her heart had healed!
Philip expected her to still be,
perhaps, crushed by his abrupt forsaking of her. That was simply no
longer the case.

She smiled benignly at him. “Philip, how can
I hold you responsible for your true feelings? One can’t force
love, no matter how convenient.” She’d certainly learned that from
Eliza and Riley.

“But we’d been a couple for a long while,” he
continued, seeming to want her to dredge up some semblance of
grief.

“I accept your apology for leaving me for the
famed halls of Oxford. I do.”

He looked as though he wanted to pursue the
subject of broken hearts, but after a moment, he let it go.

“You look wonderful, Sophie,” he said. She
held up her bandaged hand, unable to believe he hadn’t noticed it
for himself. She’d been back to Dr. Finley and had the first
bandages removed and now wore a smaller white wrap. Still, her hand
looked like an Egyptian mummy’s.

“Christ, Sophie, what happened?”

“I had a bit of an accident,” she told
him.

“Your family said nothing about it.”

“They don’t know,” she admitted.

“Can you still play? What about your
career?”

She shrugged. “Time will tell. It’s only been
a few weeks. But I have it on good authority that my fingers will
heal just fine.” She thought of Riley’s promise and smiled. “Still,
it is rather inconvenient. Nerve-wracking, actually.” Rather like
having the former love of your life appear out of nowhere. “How did
you find me, Philip? And why are you here?”

He didn’t answer at once. Instead, he patted
the bed. “Will you sit?”

She sat, keeping a good distance between
them.

“I won’t bite, you know?” He looked serious
for a moment. “I’ve missed you, Sophie.”

She didn’t know what to say. She
had
missed him, but not anymore. She could remember the feelings she
had for him, then the intense pain, but now, she had so many other
feelings crowding her heart.

“I went to your mother’s house first and
learned you’d gone to Colorado, and then on to the west coast. I
was flabbergasted. You were so far away. I think I supposed that
you’d always be right where I could find you.”

“When you wanted me.”

“Touché.” He looked down at his own lap. “So
here I am. Your family had your address quite wrong, however.”

“I moved here after my accident. This is
temporary until my hand heals and I start to play again.”

“Where were you playing? Your mother
mentioned that you had some prospects at the symphony.”

She was saved from answering by a brisk knock
at her door. Now she was in a dilemma. Answer it and risk someone
finding out she had a man in her room. Or ignore it and miss
something important, a message from Carling, perhaps. She stood up
and opened the door.

“Freddie,” Sophie said, with false
jocularity. There was no way to hide the presence of another
person, unless she somehow grew quite a bit wider.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me—”
He stopped dead as he saw the blond man on her bed, sitting very
comfortably, arms crossed over his chest.