Hanging On (16 page)

Sophia hated feeling like this. Drew sent directions to his house again—in case she deleted them the first time. When she checked her messages after work, her airways closed off, choking with emotion. She wondered how he would take it if she went directly from work to his house.

Technically, it was already Sunday…

Shaking off the feeling, she forced herself to breathe and drive home. It was just sex. If she kept telling herself that, she might eventually believe it.

The alternative was unacceptable. She couldn’t have these feelings. Not again. She swore it would never happen again.

She worked on the proposal for Christopher’s firm, but that didn’t stop thoughts of Drew from invading her mind. They weren’t just sexual thoughts. Never once did she picture him naked. Okay, maybe she did a couple of times. Mostly, she thought about him. She pictured him reclining on a lawn chair in her backyard, a cold glass of lemonade in his hand as they relaxed and talked about nothing at all. She pictured him surprising her with tickets to see a Shakespeare play. She wondered if he would participate in the pickup softball games she and Daniel seemed to find all over this time of the year. She wondered if he would volunteer to help demonstrate to victims of violence how to fight back against an attacker.

Sophia shook away that last thought. Even if everything else went well, that wasn’t a part of her life she wanted to share with him. She didn’t want him to know.

He was generous, thoughtful, and fun. He had a sense of humor and not much of a temper. Even when he was angry, it was a calm anger, like he accepted the emotion and he knew what it took to work through it.

He wasn’t ashamed of anything. Her lovers were all submissives, each with some kind of shame to hide, some kind of shame to mask what she

137

carried. She envied him, and she wished he were there with her. Somehow, she knew he would lie in bed with her, hold her in his arms until the panic subsided. Without too much imagination, she could feel his arms enveloping her in warmth and safety. She wanted him there with her, and that was a dangerous thing to want.

Sophia ran on the treadmill in her basement until she couldn’t stay awake, and then she dragged her sweaty, exhausted ass to bed and slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

The shrill ringing of the phone woke her. She sat up slowly, blinking at the shaft of light that peeked from a gap between her curtains and beamed her in the eyes. In no hurry to answer the phone, she rolled from bed and made her way into the bathroom for a shower. She would change the sheets before she left. A glance at the clock predicted that her late start would make it a late night.

She called Drew from the road. He hadn’t lied when he mentioned he lived and worked an hour from her house. The messages in her voicemail were both from him. The call that woke Sophia was his second attempt to reach her.

When she did make it to his subdivision, she stopped cold. The stop was literal because the entrances to the exclusive area were gated. She hadn’t even known they had places like that in Michigan. It wasn’t California or New York or Miami. The biggest movie star lived in Chelsea, located somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and she could never remember who it was, but she had been to Chelsea once. It was a cute little town.

Drew lived in an exclusive area of Bloomfield Hills, which was itself an exclusive area. Even Sabrina and Ellen, cloistered away in their big houses in Milford, weren’t this inaccessible. If this didn’t bring to light the economic disparities between Sophia and Drew, she didn’t know what could.

The uniformed guard at the gate was unarmed, which made her feel better. He sauntered casually to her car and stopped under the awning that guaranteed trucks over a certain height could not gain entrance there, clipboard in hand.

“Good afternoon, Miss. Can I have your name?” His eyes raked over her relatively new Fusion, the expression in his eyes clearly stating she didn’t belong inside as a guest. She qualified as domestic help, maybe, but not as a
138

guest. She had never even noticed what kind of car Drew drove. She only knew it was a silver sedan.

“Sophia DiMarco.” God help her, she was self-conscious about giving her name. Tension settled in her chest. Everything about this was wrong.

This was the Fates reinforcing her trepidation, telling her that being with Drew was dangerous. She battled the urge to flee. How could she explain to Drew that she got all the way to his gate and turned into a chicken? She tried dumping him before, and it hadn’t worked out too well. Now that he knew how he affected her, she knew he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

“Ms. DiMarco, Mr. Snow is expecting you. I have a gate key for you.” He slid a card with a magnetic strip from his clipboard and handed it to her.

“It’s a guest pass, good for the rest of this month. You can use it at any unmanned entrance. Just slide it in the reader, and the gate will lift. You’ll need it to exit from those areas as well.” Now she knew the real reason for her trepidation. This was the equivalent of giving her his class ring. He might have apologized for calling her his girlfriend, and he might have taken her to a bar as a friend, but his attitude toward Sophia hadn’t changed. If he gave her the key to his house, she would run as fast as she could the opposite way. And then, in a shaking, sweaty mass puddled on the floor in defeat, she would add it to her key ring.

The gatekeeper gave her directions to Drew’s house. As she drove through the quiet, tree-lined streets, she gawked at the glimpses of the mansions set deep in what she estimated to be five-acre parcels. Some of them had to be at least ten acres.

Even with the gate around the entire subdivision, most of the homes had another gate at the driveway. They must have been remote-operated because she didn’t see anyone getting out of their cars to open them. Some houses with gates kept them open. Drew’s house was one of those.

She parked in the curve of his driveway near the door. His landscaping was immaculate. Beds of manicured foliage and blooming flowers were tastefully scattered, accenting the beauty of his mansion. The house itself was brick and cedar siding, done in warm earth tones. Dread settled its cold self in her stomach. Everything about Drew’s house underlined how mismatched they were. Then, the worst of her trepidation lifted, and with it, her spirits.

139

She didn’t belong in his world. This was just sex, nothing more. He was slumming. When he was ready to settle down, he would find a woman from a “good” family who would please his parents.

The door opened as she climbed the steps, and she hoped to hell he didn’t have a butler. Sun glinted through the trees near the entrance, temporarily blinding Sophia. Her next step moved her into the shade. Drew stood on the porch wearing only jeans, the ornate, dark wooden door open behind him.

Her smile widened as she came closer. He was barefoot and shirtless, his naked chest glistening in the sunlight. She wore a short skirt and a lacy top that accented the curves of her breasts and made her waist seem thinner than it was. The gleam in his eye was pure lust.

His hands rested casually on his hips until she was within reach. They were on hers before she knew he moved, pulling her closer until her hips were nestled against his.

“I missed you,” he whispered. The words brushed over her skin, and she was trembling before he kissed her.

It was a light kiss, the kind that invited something deeper, but didn’t demand. She needed this kind of gentle approach, this reassurance that she still called the shots, even if it wasn’t true. This instinctual understanding was yet another thing she liked about him.

“I’m glad you came. I was starting to think you changed your mind.”

“You promised chocolate and told me to bring my vibrator. No woman could resist an invitation like that.”

The smile he gave her was affectionate, an appreciation of her sense of humor instead of something lustful. She would have been more comfortable with something lustful. He reached around to hold the door with one hand while the other found the small of her back. His gentle touch guided her into his home and fed a need for tenderness she couldn’t seem to shake.

She wanted him to take her straight to his bedroom and tear off her clothes, but he didn’t. Her “lovers” were never given such courtesy. She directed them to the basement straightaway. Some made it to her bedroom later, but they all started out in the same place.

“Would you like a tour?”

The foyer could easily have swallowed half of her house. It was a wide room with twin curving staircases that led to a second-floor balcony. The
140

room was a study in contrasts, dark woods and creamy walls. The detail in the woodwork was exquisite. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling.

“You live alone?” She meant it as a joke. She knew he lived alone, but the house was far larger than anything she had ever seen.

Her parents were working-class people. Sophia’s father owned his own landscape company, and he still did much of the physical work. Her mother stayed home with Daniel and Sophia until they were both in middle school, and then she went back to work as a nurse. They weren’t poor, but they never had anything like this. She had no business being there. She felt like an impostor.

“Until you’re willing to move in.” His qualification was quiet and serious.

She ignored it and answered his original question. “A tour isn’t necessary. Just promise me you haven’t been eating onions and take me to your bedroom.”

He grinned widely. “I see you missed me, too.” Unwilling to answer, she looked away, tracing the banisters with her eyes, following the upward curve. She had only seen the foyer, but she couldn’t help thinking it was an awfully large house for one person. “Do you get lonely here?”

She regretted the question immediately. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking personal questions. They had the effect of encouraging Drew in ways she didn’t want to encourage him.

“My parents live just down the street,” he said, pointing in the direction of what she assumed to be their house. “My sister moved to Minneapolis last fall to finish her PhD, so they have nothing else to divert their attention.

Ginny’s mom lives a couple of streets over. We all grew up in this neighborhood. I know pretty much everyone.” She understood the parts he wasn’t saying, too. He liked being close to his past. Emotion choked her before she shook it away. She wished she could be close to her past. She wished her life wasn’t broken into two distinct before-and-after sections. The part she was in now alienated her from the part she wished to be in—that ignorant, innocent place she would never know again. Even Drew was a part of the “now” instead of the “then.” She wouldn’t know him if she hadn’t met Ellen.

141

“Have you had lunch? Or breakfast? It’s after two, but you seem to sleep late on Sundays.”

Drew had been the cause of her sleeplessness both times she had slept excessively late on a Sunday. Heat rose to her cheeks. “I had breakfast before I came. You won’t have to worry about me passing out from hunger.

I’m up to the physical exertion.”

His chuckle was a low rumble in his throat. “In that case…” He gestured to the set of stairs on the left. The light pressure of his hand at her back guided her through the wide hallways.

The master suite was larger than her entire house. Double doors opened to an elegant sitting room decorated with accents of strong blues and browns. She had never thought those two colors were very compatible, but they worked here, giving the room a classic, yet homey feel.

At the far end, another set of French doors opened to a wide balcony, where it looked like he had a hot tub. Across the room, a third set of French doors, flung open to invite further inquiry, opened to the actual bedroom part of the suite. The blue-and-brown theme continued into that room.

Sophia stopped in the doorway, her eyes fastened on the king-sized bed.

The comforter, patterned with blue and cream blocks, was folded clumsily across the bed. It looked more as if he’d tossed it aside during the night than purposely placed there. The sheets were rumpled from use.

Her gaze swept the room. From what she had seen, the rest of the house was tidy and clean. This room, where he must spend a significant amount of time, was messy. Clothes were strewn everywhere, some on the furniture, some on the floor. The vast size saved it from being a complete disaster.

“My housekeeper doesn’t come in until tomorrow,” he said by way of explanation. There was no note of apology in his voice.

“You can’t pick up your clothes or make your bed?” She meant it as teasing, but she was locked in a sense of overwhelmed incredulity at the opulence of his house.

“My kitchen is immaculate,” he said. “If I clean my room, she’d be out of a job.”

There was more to cleaning a house than picking up clothes or making a bed. “She doesn’t complain?”

He laughed and reached for Sophia. “She has a boss who is almost never here. I cook for her when I am home and leave leftovers for her when I’m
142

not. She’s not allowed to touch my kitchen, which is a major cleaning area, when I’m not here to help her. She knows a sweet deal when she sees one.” Before she could think of anything else to say, he kissed her. His mouth devoured hers, demanding a response. It was a far cry from the way he kissed her on the porch. Her anxiety melted, and she forgot her surroundings as he led her to a place where only they existed. It was a dangerous place, but she was powerless to resist his call.