Sophie's Playboy (17 page)

"You've still got Darcy Langlais, don't you?" The Realtor—

and the word
must
have its capital R—was the woman who had shaken up the town a while back, trying her damnedest first to marry Jake, the town's mayor-to-be, then to beat him in the mayoral race. She hadn't succeeded at either. Her latest goal was to bring McDonald's to the small New England town, an issue that evenly divided the populace.

Sophie ducked into her bedroom and quickly changed into lounging pajamas. When she rejoined her sister in the living room, the younger woman looked even more morose.

"Darcy moved back to Texas last week."

"What, did she fail at the McDonald's thing?"

Brie shrugged and stroked Hippo, who was cuddled next to her on the couch. "Not really. The Statlers have purchased a franchise and are building it on the road into town. I'm still bored."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Sophie narrowed her eyes when Brianna flashed an impish grin. Uh-oh.

"I want you to find me a Navy SEAL."

"Ha!"

"I'm serious! Kira got Jake, you got your playboy, now I want my Navy SEAL!" She tossed her hair back, looking and sounding as young as she was. "I need adventure, Sophie, 156

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and I'm just not getting it in the first grade of Brook Hollow Elementary."

Sophie shook her head. "First of all, Brie, I don't have my playboy. I mean," she rushed to correct herself, "I don't have
any
playboy, and I don't want one!" She avoided Brie's knowing stare.

"You can't tell me you don't want the traditional crap. You play at being a rebel—which is supposed to be my job, by the way—but I know you crave wifedom and motherhood."

"Well, maybe I
want
it, but I don't crave it, and I don't need it. My show is more fulfilling than I ever could have expected and I don't want to divide my energies now, anyway."

"Then why'd you skip a family event to go to Parker's party?"

That one didn't have an easy answer. "I work with him.

We're friends. He needed to bring someone as a buffer between him and his family."

"And he couldn't find a date. Right," Brie scoffed.

Sophie refused to get defensive and tried not to think about the kiss. Brianna would pick it up quicker than a magnet grabs iron filings. In fact, she thought, standing, she'd just go along to bed where her mind could wander without fear of discovery.

She stopped, though, realizing she still didn't know why Brianna was here. "Don't you have to work tomorrow?" Brie worked for a local businessman during the summer break from school.

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Brie didn't look up from the dog. "No. I took the week off.

Ken's books are in perfect shape. He can do without a bookkeeper for a week."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a great bookkeeper," Brianna tried.

"No, why did you take the week off? Why are you here?

And don't ask me for a Navy SEAL, I don't have one."

"I just needed a break, okay? I'm flying to L.A. tomorrow and wanted to be closer to the airport."

Sophie stared at her sister. Despite being the youngest, Brie had never been irresponsible. If someone had asked Sophie if Brianna was capable of taking off on the spur of the moment, she'd have laughed for an hour.

"Why L.A.?"

Brie stood and tried to grin impishly again. "I want to see Brendan Fraser?"

Sophie just looked at her.

"All right. It's just a city with lots to do, okay? I've never been, and they had cheap tickets." She brushed past on her way to the bathroom, Hippo struggling to keep up with her.

"Go to bed and work up some more denial. My flight leaves early, so I'll see you when I get back."

Sophie watched the door slam and wondered about the hurt in her sister's face. "Do you need a ride to the airport?"

"No."

Sophie heard running water and the scrubbing of teeth being brushed. "When are you coming back?"

Spit
. "I don't know. It's an open-ended return ticket."

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Whoa
. Sophie didn't know what else to say, so she went to her bedroom and started getting ready for bed. Once she'd exhausted possible worry for Brianna, the kiss predictably found its way back into her mind and she slept restlessly, waking hot and bothered and mad as hell.

She was mad at Parker for being scared and wary yet drawing her in anyway. But she was madder at herself.

She yanked clothes out of the dresser and stomped into her shoes before slamming out the door to drive to work.

Parker didn't have a monopoly on fear. Sure, she wanted to be a wife and mother, but it wasn't the be-all and end-all of her existence. She'd known that even before she started doing Rant and Rave. But she hadn't recognized her reluctance to get involved with Parker as her own fear. So what if he didn't turn out to be marriage material? Why did that mean she couldn't give him a ride? She knew he didn't consider himself to be marriageable. But she had no other

"prospects," as her mother would say, and a burning need for connection.

That was it. Connection. She took a corner too fast and lifted her foot off the gas pedal to slow down. She already had a connection with Parker, via the show and their ensuing friendship. She was attracted to him, and he to her. There was no reason not to act on that attraction.

No reason at all.

She pulled into a parking place at the station and grinned.

Parker had better watch out.

* * * *

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Parker beat Sophie to the station for once. He'd skipped his office, not feeling in the mood for routine business. He had two profitable companies to sell and one non-profitable one to take one last crack at turning around, but he'd told Joe to handle the day's details. He needed to burn off energy.

He was in his cubicle—which never ceased to amuse him—

when Sophie arrived. He heard her greet the receptionist and leaned sideways to see her coming down the aisle. Then suave, sophisticated Parker Cornwall fell out of his chair.

He looked up at Sophie, laughing at him, hand out to help him up. He took it, but couldn't take his eyes off her ... well, her body.
God
, he thought, wondering where she'd been hiding it. She wore hip-hugger jeans and a snug top that ended above her belly button, and man, if she didn't give Britney Spears a run for her money.

"Problem, Parker?" The laugh was still in her voice when she rounded the partition to her own cubicle. Parker couldn't help it. He followed her like a lovesick teenager.

He'd never seen Sophie dressed like that before. She'd worn jeans, sure, but they were baggy and she paired them with classy tops. And she always, always tamed her hair.

Today she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed. Parker wanted to eat her up.

"Stereotypes?"

Parker shook his head but his brain didn't clear. "Huh?"

Sophie's smile turned self-satisfied. Ah. Ego. Stereotypes.

Parker finally found the page and forced himself to concentrate.

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"Yes, stereotypes. Today's theme." He half sat on the edge of her desk, striving to be casual. Bad idea. Not only did it put his thigh within inches of Sophie's bare arm when she sat in her chair, he wasn't at all sure the desk would hold him.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, not sure how stereotypes will work for Rave, though."

"Anti-stereotypes. We can have them tell us about people who act outside the box." She grinned. "Like middle children who aren't the peacekeeper in the family."

"I presume you mean you?" He barely restrained himself from tapping her on the nose.

"Yeah. I was always the riler." She started flipping through the memos that had appeared on her desk while they were off for the holiday.

"The riler?"

"The troublemaker. Dropping bombshells, spreading gossip, stuff like that." She glanced up. "I used to keep plugged in to the Brook Hollow grapevine so I could know more than my family, who lives there, did."

"Used to?" Parker was barely following the conversation.

He was too busy smelling her hair.

He had to snap out of this.

Sophie stood and jingled some change in her hand. "Want a soda?"

"Uh, no, thanks." But he followed her to the break room.

"I've been too busy since R&R started to keep up with things back home," she explained as she fed her money into the slot. The machine took all her coins, but didn't respond 161

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when she pressed the Coke button. She smacked a hand against it.

"Allow me." Parker fed a nickel into the machine and felt absurdly proud at the ensuing whirr and clunk of the soda can.

"Thanks. Anyway, anti-stereotypes."

And she was off. Parker managed to stuff his tongue back in his mouth and kick his brain into operation. When Melina arrived just before lunch, they'd put together the week's plan.

Melina strode over from the production office and waved a sheaf of papers at them. "New ads and appearance schedule!"

Parker and Sophie groaned in unison. "Not more hotel ads, I hope." Parker didn't think he could handle pretending to be Sophie's lover. Not until he
was
Sophie's lover.

He reined himself in. He wasn't going to be her lover. He'd decided that, repeatedly. He liked Sophie, more than any woman he'd ever dated. He didn't want to hurt her. And getting involved with her sexually would lead to at least six different kinds of pain.

But every time he glanced at her today it was all he could think about. He was glad he, at least, had worn loose pants.

They confiscated the tiny conference room and Melina started going over the list. "Morgan's wants you to eat at their restaurant, then rave about it during the show."

Sophie was already shaking her head. "A paid rave? I can't do that, Melina."

"Why not?"

She sat back and folded her arms. "It interferes with the spontaneity and integrity of my show."

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"Our show," Parker broke in, "but it won't, not the way we'll do it."

Melina turned on her "soothe the talent" voice. "We'll go to break like we normally do, then you and Parker will start talking about the dinner you had there the night before. You mention the food you had, the service, some of the variety on the menu. Parker agrees and adds his two cents, then we go to the next commercial."

"How is it different from the recorded ads?" Parker asked Sophie. He was glad for a chance to argue with her. Get some distance. Except when she folded her arms, her shirt rode up.

And her breasts plumped out above them, making his palms burn.

Sophie dropped her arms and leaned forward.
Thank God
.

"For one, it's clearly a live discussion and people can tell the difference between a live discussion and a recording." She pinned Parker with a glare, as if she knew the answer to her next question. "And have you eaten there?"

"Of course."

Sophie looked at Melina, who lifted a shoulder and hand.

"Who has that kind of money?"

They both looked at Parker.

"The point is," Sophie continued, "that the food sucks. I had some veal entrée and it made me gag. The portions are tiny and the vegetables were mushy."

"Maybe things have changed," Parker argued. "Give it a chance. Try something else on the menu. You can find
something
to rave about! You do it every day."

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Finally Sophie threw her hands in the air. "All right! I won't commit, but I'll do dinner and see if there's
something
I can rave about."

"Tonight?" Parker asked.

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "I think not. Even if we could get in, I'm not dressed for it."

"You can get in any time," Melina said. "They'll make sure to give you their special table that they keep open for the regulars that drop by."

"I'm not dressed for it!" Sophie shifted. "We'll do it tomorrow. Unless Friday is too crowded?"

"No, that's better," Melina said. "Gives you an accurate portrayal. They won't be able to concentrate so much on you."

"Fine. That's settled. What's next?"

Parker hardly heard them talk about the ads for a car dealership and a toy store that they had to record. He had a date with Sophie. A chance to be his most suave, most sophisticated, most charming self. A chance to stay in his chair.

The little voice in his head that kept cautioning him against getting involved with Sophie fell silent when he looked at her again and realized, for the first time, that she wasn't wearing a bra.

He wasn't merely in trouble now. He was dead meat.

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CHAPTER 10

Sophie smiled at the technician who ran the board during the syndicated computer show that preceded Rant and Rave.

About twenty-one, he had recently cleared-up skin and a reluctance to give up his trendy clothes. He stumbled over the sixty-inch hems of his jeans—and his jaw—as he gave up his seat for Sophie.

"Wow, Ms. Macgregor. Um, I mean, wow." He scratched the side of his head, staring at her with the other hand propped on his hip. Sophie waited politely, but he didn't say anything else, just stared at her chin. Finally she smiled and began to put her headphones on.

"Thanks, John. See you tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, okay." He did a little head-duck and shoulder-dip and sauntered out of the booth.

"What the heck was that all about?" Sophie asked into the mike. She looked through the glass at Melina's grin.

"The boy has a sudden case of lust, uh, Ms. Macgregor."