The Right Time (12 page)

The lead investigator stood before him now. With a head full of brown hair, his average height and average clothes gave him an unremarkable appearance, allowing him to blend into the background of any environment and capture interesting acts of immoral and unethical behavior. He and his team had proved helpful over the years, and that was why the firm continued to hire him.

“Perfect. I had a gut feeling about this guy.” Ransom stuffed the photos back into the envelope. Now they had some leverage.

“Anything else?” The man stood but waited for further instructions.

“That’ll be all for now. I’ll share this with the rest of the team and we’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

A knock came at the door. “Come in.”

Sophie entered. “Oh. I’m sorry. You’re busy.”

The sight of Sophie, cheerful-looking in a yellow gingham dress and with her hair brushed away from her face, brightened the end of a long day but also made his chest tighten. She looked radiant, like sunshine. Perfect for the summer day.

“He’s on his way out.”

Taking his cue, the investigator inclined his head in greeting and left.

“I thought you’d be gone all week,” Ransom said.

“I fly out again on Tuesday and I’ll be gone for a week then,” she explained.

“What are you doing here?” He assumed she must have come to see Keith and couldn’t understand why she was standing in his office. His eyes dropped to the brown paper sack she carried with The Juice Fox name and logo printed on the side.

Sophie held up the bag. “I brought you a present, from my mom.”

“Your mother sent me something?”

“We talked about you a little bit. She doesn’t have many customers early on Saturday morning. The bike group keeps her busy, and she knows most of them now. She asked about you, and I told her who you worked for and that you’re new to town, etc., etc.”

He was tempted to ask if
etc., etc.
included telling her mother about the Bahamas, but he knew better.

“She didn’t get to speak to you this past Saturday, but wanted to welcome you properly to Atlanta.”

Sophie set down the bag, and Ransom moved to sit beside it on the edge of the desk, one leg anchored to the floor.

“The red one is a new smoothie recipe she’s still perfecting, which no one else but my father and I have tasted.”

“I feel special.”

“You should. The green one is a detox juice.”

Ransom peeped into the bag and tapped the top of the glass bottle with the red juice in it. “I must be pretty special to get juice that no one else has.”

“Keep in mind that my mother is a consummate salesperson, and she probably sees you as a potential goldmine. She’s trying to impress you.”

He grinned. “I’m impressed. Does she realize I won’t be here for very long?”

“Trust me, she doesn’t care. She included a card with instructions on how to order her products online.”

Ransom folded his arms across his chest. “I see what you mean about her being a consummate salesperson.”

She took a deep breath. “Well, that’s all I came here for. I wanted to deliver this juice to you, say hi, and then…I’m off to see…”

Her voice trailed off, as if she couldn’t say Keith’s name in Ransom’s presence. He didn’t help her, either.

“Thank you. And thank your mother for me, too.”

“You can thank her when you see her on Saturday. You are going to the next ride, aren’t you?”

“I plan to. I enjoyed myself on Saturday, despite the fact that I had to soak in a warm bath afterward. I haven’t really recovered. My legs are still sore.”

He rubbed a hand up and down one thigh, and her gaze traveled the distance with him. She laughed shakily, licking her lips.

“The next one won’t be as bad, I promise.” Her voice sounded softer, huskier. “You hung in there like a trouper. I was impressed.”

“That’s all that matters.”

Their eyes remained on each other, and quiet descended on the office, which seemed prone to occur whenever they were in the same place together, alone. As if they both wanted to say more, and since they couldn’t, chose to remain silent.

This time the silence didn’t feel awkward as in the past. It felt comfortable, as if they were getting accustomed to each other.

He touched the sleeve of her dress and let his fingers brush against the soft skin of her upper arm. She’d told him touching was off limits, but he couldn’t resist this tiny gesture. “The colors you wear always look good on you. You smell good, too.”

Friends could say that to each other, couldn’t they?

“Thank you.” Her cheeks filled with color. “I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”

Ransom hopped off the desk and grabbed her wrist as she attempted to walk away. He couldn’t let her escape yet. Just a few more minutes.

She didn’t move or pull away, staring up at him expectantly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“Knock, knock—” Keith paused in the doorway, the friendly smile dying on his face.

Ransom remained in place, but Sophie jumped back and snatched away her hand. Keith’s eyes moved between the two of them, silently inquiring without speaking the words out loud.

Sophie broke the stiff silence in an overly cheerful voice. “Hi! I was just on my way to see you.”

“Were you?” Keith ambled into the office and sent a sharp look in Ransom’s direction. He tossed a set of files on the desk. “You probably want to take a look at these, as you’re going over the documents for the Creplar case.”

“Thanks,” Ransom said stiffly.

Keith’s gaze landed on the bag of juice. “What’s this?”

“Mom sent those for Ransom, sort of a ‘welcome to the city’ gift.”

“Why would your mother do that? Does she know him?” His brows arrowed down into a frown.

“He went on a ride with us on Saturday, and she saw him.”

He looked at Ransom. “That’s right. I forgot that you ride, too,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “But how did you happen to go to the same cycle club as Sophie?”

Ransom chose to answer simply but truthfully and put an end to the inquisition. “The cycle club meets at a bike shop not even half a mile from where I stay, so it was a no-brainer when I considered which one to join. I just pulled them up on my GPS.”

“What a coincidence that club is the same one Sophie is a member of.” Keith’s smile was tight. He placed an arm around Sophie’s waist, a move Ransom recognized as a man staking his claim.

Ransom curled his hands into fists while his insides railed against the territorial display.

“We better head to dinner. You ready to eat?” Keith asked Sophie.

“When you are,” she replied.

“I’ll see you later,” he said to Ransom. “Enjoy the juice,” he added, which sounded like a dig. Making it clear that was all Ransom was allowed to enjoy.

He took Sophie by the hand and led the way out. At the last second, she glanced over her shoulder. He couldn’t read her expression, but his fisted hand tightened even more before she disappeared from view.

Ransom grabbed his phone, itching to destroy something. Anything.

He tightened his fingers around the device, desperate to smash it into the desk, but remembered how he’d ruined the last one. He took two deep breaths and carefully set it back on the piece of furniture.

Pressing his palms on the flat surface, he bowed his head, taking slow, calming breaths, and counted backward from ten.

Dinner had been a bust.

Sophie sat with her arms crossed, fuming on the passenger seat of Keith’s car on the way to her apartment, and kept her eyes trained on the view passing by the window.

It seemed Atlanta never slept. As the most populous city in the state of Georgia, no matter the time of night or day of the week, cars filled the roadways with people traveling back and forth to one engagement or another at one of the many live music venues, trendy lounges, or restaurants.

Tonight they’d chosen to dine out, but the night was cut short after a fight about nothing. Maybe she had picked the fight. Maybe he did. They’d both been on edge, and when he’d asked testily if she wanted to tell him anything, she’d snapped back that if she wanted to tell him something, she wouldn’t have any problem doing it.

When their soups arrived and there was nonexistent conversation at the table, Keith asked again if there was a problem. “Do you have to be so nice to the waitress?” she asked, taking perverse satisfaction in seeing his face color in anger.

“Why do you have to bring up old shit? Does it make you feel good to act like such a bitch?”

The meal ended right then, when she tossed her napkin on the table and demanded one of the passing servers tell their waitress to bring the check.

Keith pulled his car into the empty parking space outside of Sophie’s apartment. The neighborhood contained a mix of small families and single people, with the majority of them having some link to the airline industry. The neighborhood was located south of the airport, which made for an easy commute to work.

Sophie stepped out of the car before Keith even turned off the ignition, and walked briskly through the breezeway to the door. She didn’t want Keith to come in. She wanted to be alone.

She waited outside the door with her arms crossed.

“You’re still mad at me for the bitch comment?”

“When a woman’s boyfriend calls her a bitch, I think she has a right to be upset.”

“I didn’t call you a bitch. I said you were acting like one.”

“Thank you for the distinction, counselor. All is forgiven.”

His nostrils flared. “You know what, I don’t need this. I could…”

Sophie’s shoulders stiffened painfully. “You could what?”

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“No, go ahead. Say what you’re thinking,” she goaded him.

“I’m not going to be pulled into an argument with you,” Keith said through gritted teeth, “because that’s obviously what you want.”

“And what do you want?”

His eyes flashed with irritation. “You want to know what I want? I want
you
to understand that I’m a good catch. There are a lot of women who would be happy to be in your place.”

“Well, there are a lot of men who’d love to be in yours,” Sophie snapped back.

His eyes widened. Tense silence settled between them.

Tilting his head, Keith narrowed his eyes on her. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Heart racing, Sophie realized she’d said too much, but in that moment she was angry and hurt, and oh, how she wanted to rub his nose in her tryst with Ransom. Tell him how he’d given her multiple orgasms. Tell him how he’d done such a comprehensive exploration of her body with his hands and mouth that phantom sensations flitted across her skin on occasion.

But she didn’t say any of that.

“Are
you
trying to tell me something?” she shot back.

Keith didn’t speak for a while. He just watched her, and she held his gaze.

“I guess I’m not coming in tonight.”

“That would be correct.” She imagined her rigid smile probably looked more like a sneer.

He sighed heavily and cursed under his breath.

Sophie waited for him to walk away, but he didn’t. Instead, he bent his head for a goodnight kiss, and she gave him her cheek. In response, he grasped her chin in his hand and pressed his mouth against hers. She refused to kiss him back, keeping her lips pressed together until he finally gave up and stepped back.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said.

“Fine.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer before he spun on his heels and walked away.

Sophie stomped into the apartment and slammed the door. She chucked her shoes in the corner and flipped on the lights in the living room before tossing her purse on the coffee table and collapsing on the sofa.

The apartment was an eclectic mix of mismatched furniture—consisting of old and new, prints and stripes—that managed to work. Some pieces were modern, like the amethyst-and-olive striped sofa she was lying on, while others were flea market finds or unique pieces she’d fallen in love with on her travels—like the slatted table bench she used as a coffee table, purchased on a trip to West Africa with her father.

Sophie turned toward her purse, itching to make a phone call but knowing that she shouldn’t. Maybe that was why she’d been “acting like a bitch” tonight. She’d felt off ever since the visit to the law firm and seeing Ransom.

She stared long and hard at the purse.

“Screw it,” she muttered.

She took out her phone and dialed Ransom’s number. Even as it rang, her belly trembled. She shouldn’t be doing this.

But why not? They were just going to talk.

“Hey.”

His warm voice caressed her ear. That was the only way to describe the effect. It soothed her ruffled emotions, and she settled on her side against the arm of the sofa with her shoulder cushioned by pillows, half curling into the sound.

“Hey, yourself. I was calling to see how you liked the juices.” She cringed at the lame reason she’d pulled out of her ass for calling him. He probably hadn’t even tried either one yet.

“Are you part of your mother’s quality control team?”

She appreciated his teasing tone.

“Something like that,” she answered with a smile, staring at the window. The sheer curtains were pulled to the sides and the blinds were open a crack so she could see the streetlights outside.

She heard him moving around, and the clanging of pots.

“I’m happy to report that I liked them both. The red one is really, really good. The detox drink is good, too. I tasted celery and mint in it.”

“You have a very discerning palate.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She heard the clang of pots again and frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much.”

“I hear a lot of noise.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “I’m cooking.”

“At this hour?”

“I do that sometimes. I get the urge and I have to do it. Helps me think.”

“I had no idea you even cooked.”

“A little bit. Nothing fancy.”

“You’ll have to cook for me one day.” She bit her lip. She couldn’t believe she’d just invited herself over to his house for a meal.