Moonlight Masquerade (31 page)

Reede wasn't sure what she meant, as the two things didn't go together. He hadn't chosen either of the first two events. That first night he'd planned a quiet picnic and—Well, maybe he had dressed in black, worn a mask, and arrived on an unruly horse, but the robbers weren't his fault. Nor was the man with an arrow in his shoulder. On the other hand, Heather had told him a bit of what had happened and Reede had been rather forceful in getting Sophie to go with him.

“Did you and the Treeborne kid sit around a lot?” He hadn't meant to ask that and it came out with more jealousy than he'd meant to show.

Sophie looked like she wasn't sure what to answer, but then she went for the truth.

“Yes, we did.” She paused, but before Reede could say anything, she said, “But we were hiding from his father and from the town. I didn't know it, but I wasn't considered good enough to be seen in public.” She raised her hands upward. “What I wouldn't give for
normal
.”

When they got back to the shop, Reede wanted to carry everything inside for her but she wouldn't let him. “You have patients and they need you,” she said. They set the bags on the sidewalk, he kissed her goodbye, then left.

As Reede drove back to the office he thought about what Sophie had said about being normal. When he was growing up he'd wanted normal. But circumstances—the town wanting “the other Aldredge” for a doctor, the
woman he loved dumping him—had changed his life.

When he got back to the office the first thing he saw was the little calendar by Betsy's desk, the one with all the
x
's on it. His impulse was to take it down and tear it up. Or order her to destroy it. He was sick of being reminded of what Tristan would do.

But Reede didn't do any of those things. Instead, he wondered if he could make her remove it of her own accord.

“So who do we have coming this afternoon? Would you please get me their phone numbers?”

For a moment Betsy just sat there and stared at him. It was the “please” that was turning her catatonic.

Heather came in the back and didn't see Reede standing by Betsy's desk. He usually hid out in his office. “It's turning cold out there! Did you guys hear that Sophie's opening her restaurant tomorrow? I don't know how she's going to do it with Roan and his worshippers taking up all the seats. Between him and the doc—” She broke off when she saw Reede and her red face told what she'd been about to say.

For a moment they were silent, then he said, “Heather, I want to thank you and your husband for cleaning up the mess in the preserve.”

When neither of the women replied, Reede went down the hall to his office.

“I love Sophie,” Heather whispered.

“I think we need to thank her. I'm going to start the grapevine that she needs customers.”

“Good idea,” Heather said, and when she went back to the exam rooms she was smiling.

All afternoon Reede worked on his bedside manner,
trying his best to be . . . well, a Tristan clone. Unfortunately, he found that the more he listened the more people talked. By the end of the day he was well behind schedule. He texted Sophie.

LATE PATIENTS. SEE YOU AT 6:30? DINNER?

When Sophie's phone buzzed she was so swamped with work she hardly had time to read.
YES AND YES
she wrote back.

By four she had the last of the animals done and she set them on top of the big refrigerated glass case to begin to dry. They'd be fragile, not really playthings, but each one had the child's name on it and she'd also put on her initials and the year.

“They're great,” Roan said as he came up behind her, then leaned toward her ear. “Not one of these kids would be good for the job. Too much talk and not enough action. I think I'll ask the relatives to find someone.”

Sophie was chopping carrots and the look she gave him said it was too little too late.

“Here, I'll help you,” he said.

But Sophie could see that he wanted to keep talking with the kids. It looked like he was missing being a professor. “I can do this,” she said. “Go on with your new friends.” There were only four of them left. “They look hungry, so why don't you take them out to dinner?”

Roan kissed her cheek. “My cousin isn't good enough for you.”

“I agree,” she said.

Sophie got everything cut up and ready to make into soup but she couldn't cook it yet as she didn't have refrigerator space for the big pots. She'd have to get up early tomorrow and start everything.

As she cut and arranged and planned, some of the parents from the Williamsburg church came by with their children to get the animals. Sophie told them how the dried clay would break easily.

“Don't worry, this will go in the glass case in the living room,” a mother said. “And, Sophie, thank you for this. There were no nightmares, just talk of the potato dragon.”

At about seven when she was just finishing for the day the Baptist pastor, Russell Pendergast, stopped by.

“Should I throw my hat in first?” he asked sheepishly. She hadn't seen him since that first day when she'd poured beer over Reede. Russell had known that she'd been about to start work for the man who'd nearly run over her.

“It's all right,” she said and Russell stepped inside.

“It looks good. Very creatively done by talented people.”

Sophie groaned. “Roan and his ad! I think he wanted to lure students to him and he did. I did manage to get them to do a little cleaning while they contemplated how the universe is going to be affected by their own brilliant selves.”

“I was never that young,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“So you still have no help?”

“Is that an opening into telling me that you know someone?”

“I do, actually. Her name is Kelli and she's had a hard time of it. She's young and knows how to work.”

“She sounds marvelous,” Sophie said. “When can she start?”

“She's on a bus to here now.”

“I see. But what if I'd hired one of Roan's kids?”

Russell smiled. “Somehow I knew you wouldn't find anyone through that ad. My wife told me I had to help you. She said I owed you for being a lying, cowardly wimp when I met you.”

“Oh my! I think I really like her.”

“She keeps me in line.” He was on the far side of the glass case and there were two animals left on top. “I've heard about these. You . . . ?”

“I what?” Sophie asked as she dried off her hands.

“Would you like to teach a sculpture class to our church members?”

“I've never done any teaching and besides, these are just self-hardening clay and they're very fragile.”

“I know,” Russell said. “But what if I could get a kiln set up for you?”

“Did Reede put you up to this?”

“I have a more important Boss than him. I'm always trying to entice people to come to church, and if my sermons don't do it, I use other things.”

Sophie walked around the counter and sat down. She'd been on her feet for many hours and she needed a rest. “I don't know . . . I'd have to think about this. Are you talking children or adults?”

“Both,” he said as he took the seat across from her. “We have a lot of retirees in the area and they're used to sixty-hour workweeks. They need something
to channel their interest into besides golf. And there's one man in particular who is nearly desperate to find a good teacher.” He smiled at her. “I can see that you're tired and tomorrow is going to be a long day, but think about this. You'd have time around your classes to do your own work, and I can assure you that any equipment you need I can gouge out of my father.”

Sophie was a little shocked that a minister would say such a thing.

“Not
that
Father,” Russell said. “The one I share with Travis. Randall Maxwell.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “Isn't he . . . ?”

“Can afford anything.” Russell stood up. “Just keep it in mind and Kelli will be here tomorrow. And, Sophie?”

“Yes?”

“You know the old adage about not judging a book by its cover? That especially pertains to Kelli.”

“Okay,” she said tentatively, as she had no idea what he meant.

When Reede got
to the sandwich shop that evening, no one was about. So much for Roan's ad bringing in help, he thought. The front door was unlocked and he thought he should remind Sophie to lock it when she went upstairs for the night. It was one thing to leave the shop open when she wasn't inside, but another to leave it unlocked when she was there.

The lights were out and he could see that everything
was clean and tidy, and in the back he saw something pink. Maybe Sophie had left a sweater downstairs.

But what she'd left out was herself. Sitting in a booth, her head on her arms on the table, and sound asleep was Sophie. He didn't need to be a doctor to recognize exhaustion.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered as he kissed her on the temple. She woke enough to slide her arms around his neck.

“No mask,” she said dreamily.

He smiled as she nuzzled against him, her face in his neck. “No more masks. Just me, as naked as you see me.”

“I like you naked.”

“Do you?” He was smiling as he pulled her out of the booth. He knew he needed to carry her up the stairs, and of course he meant to do it the Scarlett and Rhett way, but the stairs were narrow and they'd never fit.

Sophie solved the problem by clinging to him like a child, her arms tightening around his neck. It didn't take much for him to lift her and when he did, she clasped her legs about his waist and clung to him.

The deliciousness of Sophie's body against his was almost more than he could bear.

“I love being short,” she murmured as he walked toward the stairs. “I've never figured out what tall girls do with their excess body parts.”

Reede could have told her but at the moment he couldn't seem to remember.

“You smell good,” she said. As he went up the stairs, her lips were on his neck. “Smell good. Taste good. What about your inner self?”

Reede chuckled. “Better since I met you.” He carried her down the hall to the bedroom, bent, and put her on the bed. She instantly turned to her side and went back to sleep.

He stood there for a moment, looking at her curled up, her jeans curving around her bottom, her pink shirt clinging to her upper half. She was shaped like an hourglass, a throwback to a time when women wore corsets to give themselves a twenty-inch waist. But Sophie didn't need a corset to get that figure. Even in modern clothes of jeans and a T-shirt she showed off her roundness top and bottom, with her tiny waist in the middle.

Right now he should leave her. He should close the door and let her sleep, but it wasn't going to be easy. He wanted to snuggle up next to her, wanted to make love to her. Wanted to—She turned over, her face toward his. Without opening her eyes she lifted her arms to him. It was all the invitation he needed.

Instantly he was in bed with her, his arms, even his legs around her.

“I missed you so much today,” he said as he kissed her neck, her face. Her clothes began to come off. “I want you with me all the time. Forever.”

She didn't answer, just arched her body against his, enjoying his hands, his lips, his words.

It took him only seconds and she was nude. It was erotic for her to be naked and feel her skin against his clothes, as though they were doing something illicit, almost illegal.

She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her breasts, his
big, hard hands on her waist, his thumbs caressing her stomach.

“Sophie, you are so beautiful. I've never seen a woman as perfect as you.”

She couldn't help smiling. His lips went lower and lower and when his tongue touched the center of her, her eyes opened in shock. This was new to her, something she'd never experienced before, and it didn't take long before wave after wave of passion went through her.

He brought his face back up to hers. “Okay?” he whispered.

“I never . . . No one ever before has . . . ”

“Yeah?” he said. “I like being the first.”

“You're the first at a lot of things,” she whispered, her hand on his cheek. She could feel the whiskers, that oh so masculine symbol. She kissed him, felt the whiskers under her tongue.

“I think we should share,” she said as she lowered her hand to between his legs. He was ready for her, but she meant to take her time. Button and zipper came open quickly and when she put her hand on his hot skin, he groaned, his head back in the ecstasy of her touch.

She liked having this power over him, liked feeling this large man become hers. His trousers easily slipped off and she felt his skin against hers. Hot, rampant with desire.

For all that receiving pleasure was new to her, the giving of it wasn't. Her lips moved downward slowly, taking her time, her hand lightly caressing him, her thumbs playing along his thighs.