Sleepless in Savannah (5 page)

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 protection."

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.

The very reason it was so important to her to buy a house and settle down with one man.

"Yes, he's handsome," Sophie said in a guarded tone as she changed lanes. What was her mother up to? Did she want Sophie to fix her up with a man?

"I bet you're going to have a fabulous time in Cancun."

She doubted that. Not unless she got over Lance really quickly.

"Anyway, I called to see if Lucy arrived."

Her erratic sister? "Lucy's coming to see me?"

"Oh, dear, she hasn't called."

Sophie rolled her eyes, then braked for a red light. Was Deseree actually worried about one of her offspring? Now there was a switch. "No, but I'll try her cell," Sophie said, sensing trouble. And she'd find out what mischief Lucy was up to now.

"You should see the latest moves she added to the Dazzling Diva act. Your sister has become quite the Vegas star. Everyone is talking about her, even the talent scouts."

Guilt niggled at Sophie. She had started Lucy into the showy lifestyle, but now that Sophie had gotten out, she owed it to her sister to help her do the same.

"Do you know why Lucy's coming?"

The expelling of breath signified another dramatic drag on her cigarette. "Something about that singles series you're doing. Lucy wants you to work her into one of the shows, but she'll have to explain the details."

Sophie's premonition of bad luck intensified. "Deseree, I'm almost to the airport and I need to phone Lucy before I board. I'm hanging up now."

"Wait." Fingernails tapped across a hard surface, and Sophie's stomach tightened. That could mean only one thing: her mother had another agenda.

"Listen, hon, I hate to ask you this, but the rent is due and I'm a little pinched. Could you just spot me a few dollars? I promise I'll pay you back the end of the month."

Sophie sighed. But the fact that her mother wanted money at least meant she wasn't up to her old tricks again. That is, unless she'd taken up buying expensive presents for the new man in her life.

Did Sophie really want to know? No.

"All right, I'll put a check in the mail from the airport."

"Thanks, honey. You and Lucy have fun next week. And enjoy your romantic weekend. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Her mother's parting words echoed in Sophie's mind, resurrecting memories of her childhood.
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

As if there were anything her mother
wouldn't
do.

Sophie grimaced and hung up, then punched in Lucy's number. Deseree was definitely trouble, suddenly trying to ensconce herself in Sophie's and Lucy's lives after being virtually absent all those years.

And Lucy, lovable as she was, exploded through life like a train wreck. Sophie's only hope was to talk to her little sister and try to circumvent disaster before things snowballed out of hand.

But first, she had to find out exactly what scheme Lucy had up her sleeve this time....

* * *

Lance had already torn out the back door and checked for termite damage, then covered it with polyurethane in case it rained. Tomorrow he'd pick up the supplies he needed to replace the door casings. He wiped his neck with a towel. It must be a hundred degrees outside.

Sophie was on her way to the airport. But what would she be doing once she arrived in Cancun? Images came to him like being slapped in the face. Sophie lying on the sugar-white sandy beach with the hulk. Sophie letting the hulk rub sunscreen all over her silky bare skin and getting sand in all the wrong places. The two of them joining the nude sun-bathers at the adult beach where the man could gawk at her voluptuous figure.

Worse, once Sophie had sucked the hulk into her web of desire, would she decide he was worthy of a walk down the aisle?

He cursed a blue streak, banning the images from his mind as he attacked the master suite bathroom. He did not care if Sophie wound up marrying the hulk.

No, not one bit.

Marriage gave him the willies. Why, at Maddie and Chase's impromptu ceremony, he'd had to take antacids to keep his last meal down. And owning a house was another trap—his own parents had been so in debt with their own when they'd died that Lance had had to forgo college in an effort to work, take care of Maddie and Reid, and get the house in good enough condition to sell.

Jazzy loped up beside him and glared down her pink nose, green eyes scrutinizing. He ignored the cat and ripped at the pipes with a vengeance. He'd focus on completing these renovations as quickly as possible and avoid her as well. He might not want marriage, but he couldn't help but
want
Sophie in other ways.

What man with any degree of testosterone wouldn't want Sophie Lane?

The way her big eyes danced with mischief screamed sex appeal. And though he normally preferred long hair, the way that short spiked black hair swirled around her ivory skin made him itch to claw his hands in it and muss it up. And those voluptuous breasts... God, they would swell in his hands....

He turned the wrench with gusto, but a screw fell out and the pipe cracked, then literally broke in two in his hands. "Blast it all to hell."

The cat screeched and darted out of the way, skidding on the floor as she barreled around the corner. Water gushed out, pelting Lance in the face and drenching his clothes.

He fought the onslaught and reached down to turn off the water, frowning when he noticed the pipe had already been welded in three different places. Someone had done a shoddy job of temporarily glossing over the earlier damage to the house, most likely to make the sale. What other cosmetic repairs had been done to the place to hide major problems?

It reminded him of most marriages he knew. All appeared well on the surface but who knew what problems lay below. Take his parents' relationship. His father had been a well-known doctor, his mother a doctor's wife. They had both seemed happy.

Then they'd died.

His life had been snapped in two. He had been afraid the courts would put Maddie and Reid into some foster home, so he'd taken over the responsibility of raising them, but he'd been young himself.

Of course Maddie and Chase seemed happy. But their relationship was still in the honeymoon phase. Once that passed...

He didn't want to think about it. And he couldn't imagine himself married. He'd probably only disappoint Sophie if he got involved with her.

She'd want sophisticated, the jet-setter type. And he was nothing but a homeboy, a construction worker/developer who liked working with his hands, not hobnobbing in front of a camera.

The fact that she'd use her own date as a TV show proved they weren't compatible. She would make a spectacle out of her personal relationship with Rory in front of thousands for everyone to see.