Games of Fire (34 page)

“That’s right.” Straight, white teeth flashed in a warm smile. “Sophie. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” she muttered, moving away from him, away from the doors to another part of the small courtyard.

Jamie followed, much to her annoyance. “I’m waiting for Spencer. Have you seen him?”

She jostled her backpack higher on her back, refusing to meet his gaze. “Earlier. He should be out soon.”

He stopped with a respectable amount of space between them, his hands innocently tucked into the pockets of his long, beige coat. He wore a navy suit underneath, red tie and all. His thick head of hair was tussled by the wind and fell quiet attractively around his rugged face. He looked like a corporate lawyer, which made her trust him all the less.

“So how are you?” he asked.

“Fine,” she muttered, wishing Spencer would hurry up.

He chuckled, the sound a little sad. “You don’t like me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t know you well enough not to like you,” she said, although they both knew that wasn’t true.

He shared Spencer’s dimples when he beamed at her, but his smile didn’t make her knees weak. “Maybe we can rectify that and start over?” He extended a hand. “I’m Jamie Rowth.”

She started to refuse, but there was something almost charming and playful in his eyes. It was hard to resist. She accepted the handshake. “Sophie.”

He gave her hand a single shake and a squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. You have beautiful eyes, not sure anyone’s ever told you.”

She yanked her hand out of his. “Thanks.”

“Are you waiting for Spencer as well?”

“Yes.”

“Look.” He splayed his hands, palms up. “I’m not really used to strangers hating me, so
this is a little weird for me. How about giving me a chance to prove I’m not a complete ass?”

Sophie eyed him. “But you admit to being a partial ass?”

Jamie grinned. “I don’t deny I can be.” He beamed when her traitorous mouth twitched. “So are you and Spence close?”

Sophie shrugged. “I guess.”

“That’s nice!” he said, sounding like he really meant it. “I’m glad to hear he’s making friends here. I know we were worried about him.”

“Why?”

He had the decency to look uncomfortable. “I’m guessing he’s told you about what happened?”

Sophie said nothing, letting him come to his own conclusion.

“It’s not as black and white as that,” Jamie said with a hint of regret. “I know what happened between Aimee and I was a mistake. I should have had more control. I hate that Spencer got hurt. I would change that if I could.”

“Which part?”

Brown eyes blinked in surprise. “Well—”

“You can’t say all of it,” she said before he could. “That’s a cop out. Do you regret hurting Spencer or do you regr
et sleeping with his girlfriend?”

He opened and closed his mouth, mimicking a fish perfectly before catching himself. “
For hurting Spencer. I never wanted that.” His lips bowed into the smallest of smiles. “I just have a weakness for pretty girls.” He turned his body so they were facing each other. “I would love to tell you the whole story if you’ll let me. I would really hate for you to think badly of me.”

Sophie blocked all emotion from showing on her face. “
Does your story somehow change from the original?”

Surprise flickered across his eyes. “
What?”

“
Well, how does your story differ from the one I’ve already heard? Did you not steal Aimee?”

“No!” he said almost automatically. “I mean,
there is so much behind what happened. It’s not black and white,” he paused, studying her. “If you let me buy you a drink, I can explain everything and make you see that I’m not the bad guy here.”

“Just the victim.”

He put up his hands. “Now I don’t condone what I did. I know it was very wrong, but … ” He shifted a step closed so there was only a foot between them. “I really don’t want you to walk away thinking the worst of me.”

Sophie frowned. “Why would my opinion matter at all? You don’t know me.”

His smile was slow, illuminating his handsome face. “That doesn’t mean we can’t get to know each other.” He ghosted his fingers down the length of her arm. “You’re beautiful and you seem very intelligent. And … ” He leaned in closer, invading all her space now. “You smell amazing.”

Annoyance flared with discomfort and she was jerking back, twisting her body simultaneously until she’d ducked out of his reach, away from the restricting wall
of his presence and stood free of him.

She glowered. “You did not just do that.”

His eyes widened. “What—”

Sophie put her hand up. “No, no! You don’t get to speak. You’re going to listen. This.” She gestured
up and down to all of him. “Does nothing for me. You do nothing for me. In fact, you ever think about hitting on me again, I’ll dropkick you back to Aimee. Yeah, remember her? Your girlfriend? So, if you’re smart, you’re going to get your creepy self out of my face.” She turned on her heels, took two steps, skidded to a halt, whipped back around and pointed. “Oh, and in case my words aren’t registering.” She stalked right back up to him, stabbed him in the chest with her finger, satisfied when he winced. “I’m Spencer’s. I pick Spencer. I will always pick Spencer. You, you’re just a sick, twisted jerk trying to mac on young girls. Keep away!”

Satisfied when his face blanched, she whipped on her heels and marched home.

She made it all the way home in a storm of fury before realizing she was supposed to wait for Spencer. She paused on the porch, deliberating between going back and simply meeting up with Spencer later. She settled for the latter. Seeing that jerk again was not on her fun list. Plus her mind was already made up to never hurt Spencer by telling him about Jamie. That was something she would let die with her. He need never know what a douche his brother really was.

Inside, her mother was in the sitting room, a paperback open in her hands. Sophie avoided the bare chested pirate on the front, holding up a woman with a serious wardrobe malfunction and focused on her mother.

“Hey!” she said in greeting.

“Hi
honey,” her mother answered almost absentmindedly. “School good?” She never looked away from the page nearly pressed to her nose.

“It was decent.”

“Okay. That’s great!” her mother said dreamily, waving a hand.

Sophie
snickered and started upstairs. In her room, she quickly dumped her backpack and jacket on the bed and reclined next to them. Maybe a quick nap before she tracked down Spencer and asked what he wanted to tell her. But no sooner had her eyes closed and the warm fingers of sleep crept over her when her mother’s voice penetrated the dreamy bubble. It popped and her eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling. She lay still as she listened to see if she’d imagined the holler of her name. Sure enough, a second later, her mother’s voice floated from below, followed by, “Spencer’s here to see you!”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her she’d call him later, but decided against it. Sleeping now was a bad idea anyway. She’d be up for the rest of the night if she did, screwing with her sleep pattern. She promised herself a cold shower once she’d talked with Spencer.

True to her mother’s summoning, Spencer stood in the doorway looking very out of place with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up to his ears. He was avoiding all glances in her mother’s direction, but that was probably because she was still reading her romance novel. Sophie had never seen someone look so relieved at the sight of her.

“Hey!” he said.

She suppressed a smile. “Kitchen?”

His gaze darted to her mother, then back to her. “Yeah.”

“No, no.” Her mother folded her bookmark into place and closed her book. She rose to her feet. “I’ll just go finish this up in my room.”

Neither spoke while they watched her hurry up the stairs.

Chuckling quietly, Sophie turned to Spencer. “Sorry you had to see that.” She went to take her mother’s spot on the sofa. “Want to sit?

He hesitated
, no longer looking uncertain, but pensive like there was a thought rolling around in his head he didn’t want to disturb. His eyes were on her, fixed, narrowed with deliberation and Sophie wondered if he was upset about her abandoning when she promised to wait for him. She started to apologize, to make up an excuse, but he was moving, making his way slowly towards her. He joined her, lowering himself almost gingerly into the cushion.

“
I’m sorry I left. I was—”

The grab of her elbow, the sharp twist of her body and then the hard shove back into the armrest was a very small shock compared to the weight of his hard body pressing into hers as he captured her mouth. His fingers stole into her hair, curling and fisting while he ravaged her mouth as though his very existence depended on it.

“Spencer!” Panting and wheezing, Sophie broke the attack. “What—?”

He brushed another kiss to her moving mouth, this one soft and feather light. He pressed another to her chin, her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids, before returning to her lips, each one softer than the last. His fingers curled into her sides, anchoring her to the spot, to him. His heat wafted around them, warm tendrils that seeped into her skin, burning her up.

“What was that?” she asked when he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. 

His mouth opened, closed and then opened again, but no sound emerged. He peered anxiously into her eyes, searching for something she couldn’t understand.

“Hey.” She pressed her palm lightly to his face. “You okay?”

His eyes closed, but not before she saw the look of pure anguish in them.

“Spence?”

His eyes opened. “Come over tonight?” It was such an unusual tone,
pleading, hesitant, not the usual confidence he normally portrays.

Sophie nodded. “Yeah, okay. Are you sure you’re
all right? You’re kind of … ” The rest of her words lodged in her throat when he turned his head and kissed the palm resting on his cheek. Her heart stuttered then sped up as he nuzzled it with the tip of his nose, sending electric shivers racing up her arm. His kisses trailed to the inside of her wrist, nipping lightly on the hammering little pulse, before lifting off to settle on her lips.

The kiss was beautiful. It wasn’t hot and passionate like all the other times, but slow and sweet as if every inch of his heart was being poured into every delicate motion of his mouth. Beneath her hands, his heart crashed in his chest, matching the sharp tempo of hers as she pulled him down with her into a reclined position. The world around them swam with a dizzying surge of colors. The sofa seemingly melted away, leaving them floating in the swirling vortex. Sophie lifted one hand off his chest to curl around the back of his neck, keeping him to her as she returned every second of that kiss.

Lost in an endless terrain of time, neither heard the click of the door opening. They jerked to their feet in surprise, turning to face her father’s irate scowl. Sophie felt heat swell up in her face as she quickly tried to right her clothes and tame her hair.

“Dad! What are you—?”

“Doing here?” her father finished dryly. “I kind of own this house and that sofa you’re contaminating.”

Sophie winced, moving a fraction of an inch away from the sofa. “Dad, I’m
sorry—”

“Ben?” Her
mother hurried down the stairs, her slippered feet making hardly any sound on the carpet. “You’re home!”

“Spencer, I think you need to go home.”

“Dad!”

“Ben?” Her mother stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes darting back and forth between the trio. “What’s happening?”

But her father had his eyes fixed firmly on Spencer. “Now, Spencer!”

“That isn’t—”

Spencer touched her hand softly. “It’s okay. I’ll see you later?” The uncertainty in his eyes made her take his hand and squeeze.

“Yeah.”

Without glancing at her father, he ducked his head and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong!” she said at once. “I’m seventeen years old! I’m old enough to be allowed—”

“Nothing!” her father snapped. “You’re still a child under my roof!”

Tears of frustration prickled her eyes. “But it wasn’t as if we were doing anything inappropriate! We were only kissing!”

“Ben.” Her mother moved touched her father’s arm lightly. “Go change while I sort this out.”

Her father turned his blistering eyes down on her. “Did you know?”

“Go!” She nudged him towards the stairs.

Her father looked prepared to argue vehemently. He shot Sophie a hot glare before storming upstairs.

Sophie turned to her mother. “We weren’t doing anything! We were only kissing on the sofa.”

Her mother crossed the room and pulled Sophie into her arms. “I know, sweetie. Your father just doesn’t like the idea of his little girl growing up.”