Moonlight Masquerade (12 page)

There weren't many cooking utensils in the little kitchen, but she took out a couple of knives, an old fork that she could bend, and toothpicks. When she found an ice pick, she smiled. She used to brag that she could carve the Lincoln Memorial with an ice pick. Pot roast bubbled on the stove and pumpkin pie was baking as Sophie picked up the knife and made the first cut.

By the time
Reede got home that night, he was exhausted. He'd spent the day answering questions, being fitted for a costume he was sure he would never have nerve enough to wear, and making plans. At the end of it he'd gone to Sara's husband's gym and worn himself out with weights and in Mike's boxing ring.

As they took off their gloves, Mike teased him about Sophie. “You get a girl and you'll drop twenty pounds of muscle.”

“You got one and you didn't,” Reede answered.

“Sara wears me out more than any gym.”

The two men laughed together.

By the time Reede showered and drove back to his apartment, it was after nine. Sophie's rental car was gone, so she'd left, which meant that it was safe for him to go inside.

As soon as he opened the door to the apartment, he began to smile. She'd added a couple of lamps and they were on, making the light in the room softer, kinder even. The table was set, and he could smell the food.

It took him only minutes to fill a plate with Sophie's pot roast and carry it to the table. There were two big napkins covering things and he pulled one of them off. Pumpkin pie, freshly baked, and still warm from the oven. He inhaled the fragrance.

Smiling, he removed the second napkin, expecting to see another dish, but what he saw made him freeze in place. There was a clay sculpture of him and the kids in Africa. He remembered the time well. He'd been photographing them, but they wanted him in the picture.

He posed with them but a second before the shutter clicked, they'd pushed him, laughing hilariously, saying he was too ugly to be in a picture.

Reede had kept the photo, as it was one of his favorites. He'd meant to have it framed, but he hadn't found the time. In the last months he'd forgotten about it.

But there it was, in 3D, on his dining table. He was in the middle, the baby who'd nearly died on his lap, his arms firmly around her. The boys were laughing
hard as they tumbled about him and kept him from looking at the lens.

The exquisite little sculpture brought back fond memories of his time abroad—and it made him want to go back.

He picked up the sculpture and turned it around to see all sides of it. It was as beautiful as anything he'd ever seen in his life. What an extraordinarily talented woman Sophie was!

He set it down carefully, then called her, but she didn't answer Kim's landline. He couldn't leave a message because she wouldn't know Kim's voice mail code. And Sophie didn't have a mobile phone because of Reede. He'd crunched it under the wheels of his car.

He sat down and ate while studying the beautiful sculpture. At ten he called Sara and told her he'd be there tomorrow morning to pick up the costume she'd tried to coax him into.

“What about the horse?”

“That too,” Reede said.

“What changed your mind?”

“Talent,” he said. “The sight of some very deep talent. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He put the clay vignette on his bedside table, where it would be close to him while he slept. Tomorrow, he thought, he was going to do anything that was necessary to get Sophie to forgive him.

They were in
Kim's house and Sophie was smiling as she took the box from Heather. It contained the costume that Reede's cousin, Sara, had made for Sophie to wear for her date with him.

“Sara guessed at your size,” Heather said. “I think she called Kim, then put it together out of some other outfits she had. That's how she did it so fast.”

“If it matches Dr. Reede's that's all that matters,” Sophie said.

“You like him?” Heather asked, sounding as though she couldn't believe that. She cleared her throat and said, “You like him, don't you?”

“Very much. See the roses?” She nodded toward a vase of a dozen long-stemmed reds. “He sent them as thanks.”

“For what?” Heather asked, looking at Sophie with curiosity.

“I used the clay he sent me to make a sculpture of him.”

“Oh,” Heather said, but not understanding at all.
Sophie was opening the box she'd brought. Sara had asked that it be delivered in case Sophie needed help getting it on. By that, Heather thought maybe it had a long zipper in the back.

When Sophie pulled a red silk corset out of the tissue paper, both women gasped. It would take two people to pull the cords that fastened it.

“I . . . ” Sophie began as she held it up and looked at it. “I don't think . . . ”

Heather's eyes lit up. Great. If this pretty young woman wore this very sexy costume maybe Dr. Reede would be so happy he'd stop snapping at everyone. “I think it's perfect!” Heather said energetically. “And I can tell that it'll fit you. Maybe it's a little small on top, but some spillover will be nice.”

“Spillover?” Sophie said. “This thing wouldn't cover a preteen. I can't possibly—”

In Heather's mind she was fighting for her future children. If something didn't take away Dr. Reede's bad temper she was going to have to quit, which meant that she'd have to get a job that paid less, which meant that she'd have to postpone having children. If it took coaxing a reluctant woman into a shiny red corset that left most of the top half of her exposed, so be it. It was certainly for a good cause. Maybe she'd name her first daughter after Sophie.

“Is your real name Sophia?”

“What?” Sophie asked as she stared at the corset. “My name? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, really. Now,” Heather said briskly, “let's get you out of those clothes and into these.”

“But I don't think it's appropriate for me to wear something like this,” Sophie said. “I'm not sure—”

“That's okay. I'm a nurse so I'm used to nudity.”

“That's not what I meant,” Sophie said. “I—”

“I hear Dr. Reade is going to arrive on a black horse.”

Sophie's eyes widened.

“Wearing a cape.”

Sophie's eyebrows raised.

“And a black mask.”

Sophie blinked a few times.

“Oh look, there's a blouse to cover the corset.” Heather held up a filmy garment that was made entirely of black lace. It was so transparent it wouldn't cover anything.

Sophie's mouth fell open.

Heather knew she was going to have to take a firmer hand. “He's wearing boots!” she said loudly. “Tall black leather boots. He's on a horse! He's wearing a cape and a black mask! Now get out of those clothes!”

Sophie got her face under control and said, “Yes.”

By the time
Sophie was ready, she found she was quite nervous. Heather had left, saying that Dr. Reede wouldn't like for her to be there. From what Sophie had seen and heard, she thought maybe the real problem was that Heather didn't want to see her beloved Dr. Reede with another woman.

Sophie went out to the front of Kim's house, but the cool air gave her goose bumps. The sky had darkened, as though there was going to be a storm, and in the distance she saw a strike of lightning. The mask she was wearing rubbed on her eyelashes, and she adjusted it. Heather had pulled the strings on the corset so tight Sophie could hardly breathe and her breasts were so high above the top she felt that she looked like a poster for the sale of melons. If it hadn't been for Heather's encouragement, Sophie never would have dared wear such a thing.

She was dressed as though for a Zorro film. Besides the red corset and filmy black jacket, she had on an ankle-length silk skirt of red and black stripes with a slit that went halfway up her thighs. Soft black boots over black stockings completed the ensemble.

With her hands holding her upper arms, she turned to go back into the house. But she halted. Coming out of the trees was a man on a horse. Both of them were dark, and against the background of the faraway light, they stood out dramatically.

In an instant, Sophie forgot all her discomfort and stood there staring. In the last few days she'd felt she'd come to know this man, but there'd always been the missing visual of him. Her eyes seemed to devour him. He was the perfect Zorro to match her outfit.

Even though he was high up on the big black horse, she could see that he was tall. A gust of wind plastered the shirt with its big sleeves around him, and she saw well-defined pecs, a flat stomach, arms sculpted by muscle. A wide black leather belt encircled his slim
waist, and black trousers stretched across heavily muscled thighs.

As Heather had said, his calves were covered by tall leather boots.

Sophie looked back up at his face, but the upper half of it was hidden behind a mask and under a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes were concealed but his lips were full and beautifully formed. As he rode forward, he smiled at her, showing even, white teeth.

A flash of lightning struck closer and, just like in a movie, the horse reared. As Reede fought to control it, she heard his deep voice, soft and soothing.

“Down, girl,” he said as he leaned forward and stroked the mare's neck.

When he stopped near her, Sophie looked up at him, and for a moment they just stood there in silence, staring at each other, she at his big dark form and he at her barely concealed figure. It took another flash of lightning before he bent toward her. When he put his hand down to her, she didn't hesitate. She stepped up on a low stone wall that bordered a flower bed, took his hand, and let his strong arm pull her up into the saddle behind him.

As he led the horse around, he paused, as though waiting for something, but Sophie didn't know what it was. For a moment she was puzzled, but then she slid her arms around his waist. Reede laughed, a soft, sultry sound. She'd got it right.

He picked up one of her hands and kissed the back of it. “You are beautiful,” he said, his head turned so his cheek was near her face. He had a bit of dark whisker
stubble, and she was tempted to kiss his neck, but she didn't.

In the next moment he urged the horse forward, its feet clomping on the asphalt road. When the horse yet again lifted its front legs off the ground, Sophie gasped in alarm, tightened her arms around Reede, and put her face against the back of him.

“That's my girl,” Reede muttered, and she didn't know whether he meant her or the horse. Nor did she care. She snuggled her face against his back and closed her eyes for a moment. The man, the growing storm, the horse, were all a wonderful fantasy.

They rode down the road for a few minutes, and if anyone came out of their houses to stare, she didn't see them. Sophie and Reede may as well have been alone on the planet.

They soon left the pavement and went into what Sophie knew was the nature preserve that surrounded the little town. Reede expertly led the horse down a rutted road, clicking at it encouragingly when he encountered a deep rut. At one jolt, he turned back to her. “All right?” he asked, and she nodded against him.