Ian arrived on time and I dashed through the light drizzle of rain, before he could get out of his truck. He handed me a cup of girlie coffee as I climbed into his midnight black Ford F150.
“Thanks for the coffee.” I buckled up. “This is a very manly car.”
“I thought we might need it if we found the sofa today. We can load it right into the back.”
“Mmm hmm.” I grinned into my coffee.
“What?” He glanced at me then back to the road.
“Well, the places we’re going aren’t likely to have your sofa in stock at the store. Generally, it’ll be delivered from the warehouse.”
“So, what you’re trying to tell me is, I should have driven the Mustang.”
“What kind of Mustang?”
“A classic, 1965 convertible.”
“Aw, we could’ve been driving in a convertible Mustang. Is it red? Please don’t tell me it’s red.”
He frowned. “Black. You want to scoot back and get it?”
I looked up at the lightening drizzle. “Not today. We’ve got shopping to do. The next time you pick me up, I will expect the ’Stang.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Squawk, pick up the phone,” blasted through the cab. I scrambled into my bag, turned it off, and sent Ian an apologetic smile. “Sorry, it’s my mom.”
“Do you need to talk to her?”
“No, I’ll call her back later.”
The clouds cleared by the time we arrived at Maxim’s Furniture, and I regretted my refusal to get the convertible.
We found the perfect sofa within fifteen minutes. Ian splayed across the velvety fabric, running his hand along the nap. A sneaker-clad foot rested on the wood coffee table, much to the hovering manager’s chagrin.
“It’s soft.”
“That’s because it’s velvet. You like the feel?” I flipped through the fabric swatches, comparing them to the paint chips.
“Abso-bloody-lutely. I can think of a number of things I could do on a sofa like this.” He shot me one of his wolfish grins.
I shifted, as heat flooded my downtown area, and pretended to ignore his entendre. A soft, heather grey swatch caught my eye, and I held it up for his perusal. “This would be an excellent color for the room, and I’ve got some fabric for the throw pillows.”
“A set of aubergine pillows come with that material color.” The manager supplied solicitously.
My nose scrunched up. “Won’t fit our color scheme. Ian, what do you think?”
Ian glanced at the cloth, shrugged and continued to pet the couch. “You’re the expert, luv. I’ll go with whatever color you choose. You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”
“Can you get the pricing information and a brochure for us?” I smiled.
The manager scurried off to do my bidding.
• • •
The soft sofa would be perfect for lounging around watching the game, but they’d been in the store less than twenty minutes, and now that Ian had her all to himself, he had no plans to end their outing so quickly. After last night’s unexpected wet T-shirt show, even the cold shower he’d had to take after she left didn’t cool his desire for her. He’d dreamed about her and woken with a raging hard on. Maybe he could negotiate a shorter sentence with the deal they’d struck.
“I think I need to cop a squat on a few more before making a decision,” he announced.
Her face displayed a flash of surprise, which she quickly masked. “No problem, if that’s what you want. There are two or three more places on we can check out.”
To the manager’s disappointment, they headed to the next furniture store on Sophie’s list. While traveling to the three shops, he pulled more family history out of her, and as he drove to the last store, Ian couldn’t help sharing a hilarious incident at work just to see how she’d react.
“So, Jonathan—”
“Wait, which one’s Jonathan?” Sophie asked.
“The one who plays Birk. Anyway, he’s a real jokester. He worked with the special effects guy to rig these fake eyeballs to pop out when Gunnarson pulled back the sheet on the stiff. Scared the bloody piss out of the three of us. Carmen screeched and ran off set, while the rest of the crew rolled on the floor laughing their arses off. Carmen didn’t speak to Jon the rest of the week.”
Her tinkling laughter filled the cab. God, he loved the sound of it. It was a turn on as well as a boon to his ego that she appreciated his humor. As he spent more time with her, Ian was coming to find that he wanted to learn more about her to strengthen their connection.
“That’s awful. Poor Carmen is probably scarred for life. I don’t know how she puts up with all you boys,” she scolded.
“Don’t kid yourself. Carmen’s a good egg. She knows how to put us tossers in our place. After Jonathan’s little stunt, she guilted him in to buying her this green-grass juice slop she drinks every morning for the next two weeks. It smells like shite and makes him gag, but he does it.”
“Excellent. I can see Carmen has you guys’ number.”
“That’s the truth.”
At the stores, Sophie made a clear effort to keep Ian at a distance. He decided to play it her way, and for once, he remained on task with only a few flirtatious quips aimed at her. Even so, every time he offered a helping hand, flashes of heat sparked between them, and he remained persistently aware of her position in relation to him. The way she moved and kept glancing at him under his lashes, he could tell was getting under her skin, but he pretended to remain unaware and nonchalant, although having her so close kept him at a constant low level of arousal. They struck out at the final store, and Ian could see that she was ready to return to the first place, but he had other plans to spin out the afternoon.
“I’m just not sure, luv. Let’s think about it over some lunch, shall we?”
“Lunch? Are you sure you need to think about it? The size was perfect, you said it was comfortable and I can get it covered in a material which will work with the room decor. If we order it today, I can put a rush on it, and get it in a week, maybe two.”
“Lunch first. What’s a good place to eat around here?” He opened the passenger side door for her. The scent of strawberries wafted past as she flicked her hair and climbed into the cab. It took all his effort not to groan and bury his nose in her silky tresses. He thought he heard the click of a camera and his eyes darted around to find the culprit, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged; it may have just been a passerby. It wouldn’t be the first time strangers snapped a quick pic. He’d been pleased they’d been left in peace on their outing, so far. It was something that was becoming less and less common as the show gained notoriety.
“We’re not too far from my favorite spot, Trattoria Giovanni’s.” She said as Ian angled into the driver’s seat. “I guess you could say I’m a regular there. It’s a quaint little family run restaurant off the beaten path, about fifteen minutes away, and closer to Maxims. I’m assuming you want to go back and look at that sofa again.”
“Brilliant.” The car rumbled to life. “You can direct me.”
“Just go to the end of the block and take a left. “
“Tell me about the food at this place.”
“My favorite dish is the Portobello stuffed ravioli. I generally eat there a few times a month. They have this beautiful cherry wood and marble bar that the owner had shipped over direct from Italy.”
When they arrived, the restaurant was half full, and a young waiter sat them at a table in an empty section. A few minutes after they were seated, a white-haired man came out from the kitchen to greet her. “Sophia! Bella! It’s been a long time since you visit us.”
“Too long.” She stood and was enveloped by his embrace. His worn papery hands grasped her face, as she I leaned down so he could kiss her cheeks European style.
“Beppe, meet Ian O’Connor. Beppe Giovanni is the owner,” she said with a delighted smile.
“It’s good to meet you, sir.” Ian rose and they shook hands.
Beppe made a grand gesture. “You finally come here with a man. Always the beautiful Sophia eats alone. Sometimes with the redheaded friend. It is good to see her with a handsome man.” He shook his finger at Ian. “You take good care of our Sophia, or you will have to answer to Beppe.”
Ian chewed his lip to keep from laughing at Beppe’s paternal speech. Clearly, this man knew Sophie well.
Sophie’s eyes danced. “Beppe, Ian is a client. We’ve been on the hunt for the perfect sofa today.”
“Are you married?” Beppe asked Ian.
“No, sir.”
More finger shaking. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to date the beautiful Sophia?”
With a straight face, he nodded. “Very much.”
“Why don’t you ask her out?”
“I did. She’s making me wait.”
Ian sat back and anticipated the reaction. He didn’t have long to wait. Beppe’s next statement made Sophie’s cheeks turn a delightful pink, and if her facial expressions were anything to go by, she looked as if she wished the floor would swallow her whole. Ah, he loved watching her squirm. Her flawless face and sapphire eyes revealed so much.
Beppe turned to her, his silvery eyebrows feathered up, creasing his forehead. “What are you waiting for, Bella? This is a handsome man. No?”
“It’s complicated.” She grimaced.
Beppe threw up his hands in dramatic Italian style. “Young people today. Everything’s complicated. Back in my day, you liked a girl, you asked her out. If she was a good Catholic, you married her and had lots of bambinos.”
Ian couldn’t help chuckling at the simplicity of the old man’s statement.
“What do you want to eat?” Beppe asked.
“What do you recommend?” he asked.
“Today?” Beppe’s head tilted as he pondered the question. “Penne with marinara, peppers and sausage. Buonissimo!”
“I’ll have that.”
The little Italian turned to Sophie.
“I’ll have the same. Thanks.”
“You have a glass of Chianti with that. Perfecto.” He kissed his fingers and left.
“Look, I’m sorry about Beppe.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “He and his wife Maria seem to think they’re my personal matchmakers. Every time I come, they talk about setting me up with some man they know. Last time it was their accountant.”
“He brings up a good question. Why no men in your life?” His crystal eyes pierced her; all remnants of funny flirtatious Ian vanished.
Sophie shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, but Ian continued to spear her with his eyes, not letting her off the hook.
“Gun-shy, I guess. My ex cheated on me and left my confidence in tatters after the divorce. I’ve had to work hard to build my company so it would flourish. I put men on the back burner. ”
Irritation at her stupid ex flashed through him... “You’re a lovely woman, and your ex was a blind prick.” He reached across the table to play with her fingers. “Any husband who would cheat on a woman like you is a piss poor excuse for a man.”
Her eyes shuttered, she disengaged their hands, and took a sip off water. “Maybe … but maybe we married too young. He never got a chance to sow his wild oats, as they say. Michael wasn’t ready to be tied down with a wife and a mortgage.”
Wild oats, indeed. What kind of cock up left a beautiful, ambitious, smart woman like Sophie? Ian just couldn’t understand, and the fact that she sat across from him trying to justify his actions pissed him off. “That’s bollocks. When a man finds the right woman, age doesn’t matter. Admit it, Soph. He was a cheating arse.”
The frown lines between her eyes disappeared and a burble of laughter escaped, going straight to his solar plexus. “You’re right. He was an arse.”
“That’s better. Now, tell me how much longer this blasted renovation is going to take.”
“If things keep running on time, then we could be finished in two and a half to three weeks at the most. Mid-November. Before Thanksgiving, in case you were thinking about having guests over.”
That was the best news he’d heard all day. Although, it would have been even better had she said the renovations would end next week. “Brilliant. I want to have a party. Introduce you to all my friends and show off your work—”
“Excuse me.”
They glanced up.
A college-aged brunette stood next to their table. “Are you Ryder McKay?” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Yes,” Ian whispered back.
“Eeee!” She clapped her hands. “I’m your biggest fan. Can I get a picture with you?” The girl held up her phone.
Ian gave a slight grimace and looked at his tablemate in askance.
She shrugged. This was the first time today they’d been directly approached, although Ian was sure at least a few photos had been surreptitiously snapped while they’d been out and about. Really, it wasn’t so bad, until the brunette practically fell into Ian’s lap for the photo op, rubbing inappropriately against him. Sophie snapped the picture quickly and handed back the phone while Ian gently removed his “biggest fan.”
“Thank you so much! You’re the best actor, ever,” she gushed.
Ian’s pasted on a fake smile. “Thanks.” He hoped the girl would leave soon.
“My girlfriends and I are going out to The Cellar tonight. You should join us.” She giggled.
The Cellar was a sports bar that drew a lot of UCLA college kids and served greasy burgers and fries. The crowd was far too young for his taste, and with Sophie sitting across from him, no other women appealed to him at this time. “Unfortunately, I already have plans.” He looked significantly at his tablemate.
Sophie’s eyebrows rose to her hairline, and Ian winked at her.
The giggly twit glanced at her as if noticing her existence for the first time.
Sophie gave a smug smile and lifted her shoulders as if to say, “sorry, too late.”
She giggled some more then trotted back to her table whispering, at top speed, to her friends. “I told you it was him. Can you believe it?”
“Does that happen often?” Sophie asked.
“Often enough. Don’t get me wrong, the fans are great and the show would be nothing without them. I just hope her boldness doesn’t encourage others to come over. It’s such a rarity I get time with you.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re a busy man.”
“You’re a busy woman. And I must have been barkin’ mad to have allowed you to talk me into this deal.”
“I’m sure you can get any girl you want. Women line up around the block to date you.”
“I don’t want another woman. The only woman I want is you.” His mien turned from playful to smoldering in a blink. His broad, callused hand dropped over hers. “I think Beppe’s right.”
Her face flamed and her jaw dropped. The afternoon’s lightness fled with the sudden sexually charged tension. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and he focused hungrily on her mouth.
“Here we are, penne with sausages and marinara.” The server’s appearance killed the mood. Beppe’s tomato and cheese covered penne masterpiece arrived accompanied by a bowl of salad, garlic bread, and red wine.
While Sophie thanked the waiter, Ian slouched back in his chair. His expression turned enigmatic.
“I know you’re going to love it. Beppe’s Italian is the best.” She gushed.
Leisurely, Ian sat forward and scooped a forkful of some of the most delicious marinara sauce he’d ever put into his mouth. Sophie waited on the edge of her seat for his reaction. You’d have thought she made the pasta herself. Nothing was more fun than pulling at Sophie; she always took the bait. He chewed and swallowed in an unhurried fashion and followed it with a swig of wine. His face showed no expression one way or another.
Finally, she cracked. “Well?”
He sipped the wine again and rolled his tongue around his mouth. “Not bad.”
Poor Sophie, her shoulders sank dejectedly.
“You look like I stole your favorite puppy.” Then he flashed a sexy smile. “I’m just having a go at you. It’s excellent.”
She perked up. “Do I have sucker written across my forehead?”
“Nah, I like messing with you. I never know what kind of reaction I’ll get.”
While they ate, she shifted the topic back to the reno. Unfortunately, there was little time to actually talk about it. Ian had been right. Three more people stopped by their table before they finished the meal. Sophie, being a good sport, snapped two more pictures, while he signed a bar napkin, a ratty piece of paper and declined an offer to sign a woman who thrust her chest at him. She settled for her arm. During the chest signing debacle, much to Ian’s displeasure, Sophie paid the check.
He didn’t say anything until they were back in his truck. “Damn it, Sophie. I was going to pay the check.”
She waved his argument away with her hand. “You’re my client. It was my treat. Besides, I can write it off as a business expense.”
“Is that what I am to you? A business expense?” he said in a hurt voice.
“Absolutely not! You know you’re more than that to me.”
“I don’t know anything!” he exploded. “You hold me at arm’s length. You’re always reserved, except for the few times your sassy side peeks out. I don’t know where the devil I stand with you.” Where did that come from? The angry outburst hung in the air between them, and she fidgeted with her hands.
“Come on, Ian. I’m a big girl. I’m used to taking care of things myself. Besides, we have a deal. I know it’s hell waiting, but … I can’t go down that road with you until our business is finished,” she answered in a quiet tone.
He sighed and wiped a hand down his face. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just bloody irritated our lunch was buggered up by all those people. Fans are great, and it’s the life actors sign up for. But … sometimes it’s all rubbish.”
She patted his shoulder. “I found it kinda funny.”
He looked at her like she was insane.
“Oh, come on. You made that overweight housewife’s day. By the way, some of her lipstick is still on your cheek.” She pointed at her left cheek and handed him a tissue.
He wiped away the bright pink smudge in disgust.
“Now are you ready to buy a sofa?”
“I was ready hours ago. You kept dragging me from shop to shop.”
“Urk. Why you! I was … you were the one … ”
“Just having a go at you, Soph.” He flashed a megawatt smile at her.
Her breath seemed to hitch. Hmm, perhaps he turned her on more than he’d originally thought.
“Let’s go buy a sofa.” He watched her swallow and nod.
• • •
“Damn it, Holly. I swear if you don’t call me back, I’m hopping on the next plane to Vegas!” The cell phone clattered across the counter. It wasn’t an idle threat. I was earnestly beginning to consider flying out next weekend to find out what the hell was going on with my sister.
It was Sunday, and my mother had called me three times during my shopping trip with Ian and once this morning to find out if I’d spoken with Holly. Neither one of us had heard from her, and Mom’s paranoia wasn’t only driving me nuts, it was starting to tentacle its way into my subconscious.
Sirius, sensing my sour mood, waffled at my heels. My fingers swept along his backbone and I crouched to eye level, taking his big head in my hands. “Who’s my good boy? Who’s a good dog?”
“Woof.” He dropped a hank of rope at my feet, and a pink tongue zipped out, leaving a line of slobber along the side of my face. I tossed the rope down the hall. Nails scrabbled to find purchase on the tile as Sirius dashed away to retrieve his favorite toy.
My cell phone jingled out “Sweet Home Alabama,” my sister’s favorite song, and jerked me from my musings.
“Holly?”
“No need to come running out to Vegas, big sister. Everything’s fine.”
“What’s going on, Holly? Why aren’t you returning phone calls to Mom and me?”
“No reason. I’m just busy with Eva and taking care of the house and Omar.” She sounded defensive. “Just because I don’t have my own company doesn’t mean I can’t be busy too.”
“Holly,” I said dryly. “No one’s saying your life isn’t important and busy. But Mom’s driving me nuts. What’s going on? Did she make you mad? Is that why you’re not calling her back?”
She sighed. “No, I’m not mad. It’s just I don’t really want her to come stay here again. I know she’s angling to come out, but she irritates Omar. Then I pay the price.”
“What the hell does that mean, you pay the price?”
“Oh, nothing. Omar just gets … you know … irritable. Didn’t Mom do the same thing when you were married to Michael?”
“No. He loved Mom. He loved all women. That was his problem. Omar needs to get over himself. She’s your mother. I mean, come on. His mom is no big prize either.”
“Yes, but they live on the East Coast, so we barely ever see them.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my forefinger and thumb. “Just call her. She’s dating someone. I’m sure she wants to share her news. Tell her if it’s inconvenient to visit right now, but the holidays are coming up. Omar’s going to have to suck up some family time. You know Mom’s going to want to see Eva for Christmas.”
“Can you take her for Thanksgiving?”
Take her for Thanksgiving? She’s not a pet! I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I suppose so. Do you want to come here for Thanksgiving?”
“Probably not. Omar’s making plans to go skiing in Utah for the week.”
For some unknown reason, that news irritated the hell out of me. “Fine. I’ll deal with Mom for Thanksgiving, if you call her and work out Christmas.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You do that. And, Holly, you need to start returning our phone calls. Even if it’s to say you got them and don’t have time to talk. Otherwise, you’ll end up with one of us unexpectedly standing on your doorstep. Got it?”
“Yes, yes. I’ve got it. Like I said, there’s no need for you to come here. It’s all fine,” my sister replied sullenly. “Just don’t call on Tuesday or Wednesday. Those are Omar’s days off. Also, don’t call before eleven. He gets in late and needs it quiet to sleep. I usually turn the ringer off.”
“Tuesday and Wednesday, fine. Why don’t you tell Mom? I’m sure she’d understand.”
“Um-hm.”
“Holly,” some prickle of unease made me say, “if you ever need anything. Anything at all. You know you can count on me.”
There was silence on the line.
Holly whispered, “Thanks, Soph.” Then she hung up.
All of my sister’s answers made sense, but in this equation, two and two didn’t add up to four.
Frustrated, I whistled and Sirius scampered into the kitchen. He went into a delirious doggie dance when I hooked a leash to his collar. “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a walk. Your aunt Holly is giving me a headache, and I need to get some fresh air.”
Halloween was a few days away and my neighborhood was filled with ghosts and bats hanging from trees and jack-o-lanterns on porches. A few industrious souls turned their front lawns into moss and spiderweb-draped graveyards. Sirius set off at a scurrying pace, darting back and forth. He sniffed every tree, light post and fire hydrant in sight. I allowed him to set the direction and followed behind with my churning thoughts.
My woman’s intuition sent up alarm bells, but my concerns were nebulous, and I couldn’t put my finger on the exact problem. Holly’s insistence no one come for a visit bothered me the most. Was my mother right about Holly taking drugs? Or was Omar just an overbearing jerk, turning my sister into a homemaker for his own needs and to hell with hers? Was he making her a Stepford wife? Or did Holly just need space? A child always added new stresses on a marriage. Maybe Holly and Omar were trying to work through the changes without the added pressure of extended family around. Perhaps they were fighting and she didn’t want the family to see.
Sirius headed into the street, and I tugged the leash to reel him back onto the sidewalk. Maybe it was smart of Holly to put her marriage and family first. As she should. Was that one of the reasons my marriage fell apart? Did I allow my extended family too much access during our early years?
What was I thinking?
Mental head slap. Ian was right. My ex was a cheating arse.
So far, Ian was nothing like him. I enjoyed my time with him. Beyond his physical magnificence, he was a kind and funny man. A man who hadn’t moved on to his next dalliance as I’d expected. Still, there were a few more weeks before the reno was finished, and Ian could prove me wrong. After all, he had women throwing themselves at him all the time, although I was impressed at his reaction to the stupid co-ed who fell into his lap. He didn’t seem to appreciate it and removed her as quickly as he could.
Sirius jerked the leash, and I realized he was headed for a munchkin excitedly clapping her hands and hopping from foot to foot in the yard we were passing.
“A doggie, a doggie. Look, Daddy. Can I pet him?”
The father, who had grabbed his daughter’s arm to keep her from running over to a large, strange dog, looked at me. “I don’t know. We have to ask.”
I nodded. “Sure you can. Sirius, sit.”
Sirius plopped onto the cement, and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. I gripped his collar as the curly brown-haired dervish flew toward us.
“Annie, slow down!” The father hurried after her.
Sirius tried to pop up, but I held him still. “Sit!”
I wasn’t worried about Sirius biting the little girl. It was more likely he’d get overexcited and knock her down, all in the name of play.
When she got to the sidewalk, I knelt to her level. “Okay, okay.” I halted her headlong rush. “First, you have to show Sirius you’re a friend. Hold out your hand so he can smell it.”
The child obeyed my instruction. Sirius gave a sniff then licked her hand. “What’s his name?”
“Sirius.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“It’s the Dog Star. The brightest star in the sky,” Annie’s father replied.
Then he stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Gary Sumner, and this is my daughter, Annie.” “Sophie Hartland.” I rose and we shook hands. “I live down the street, around the corner.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Sirius is a real beauty.”
“Thanks.”
“Annie’s crazy about dogs, but my wife has allergies … ” He shrugged with a resigned smile.
I scrambled for small talk and fell back on an old reliable. “What kind of work do you do, Gary?”
“I’m a police detective with the LAPD.”
“Then our meeting must be providence. I’ve been thinking about installing a new security system. What do you recommend?” We fell into conversation about the pros and cons of different systems while Annie petted Sirius.
“E-mail me and I’ll send you a couple of contacts I trust.” Gary dug a beat-up brown wallet out of the back pocket of his Levi’s and handed me his business card. ”
“That sounds good. Thanks, Gary. We’d better be on our way. Good-bye, Annie.”
“Good-bye, Sirius. Come back and visit me again.”
“Sure thing.” I waved and as we continued our walk, my mind went back to Holly and her issues. Eventually, I decided Mom and I were being paranoid and to let it ride.