Sleepless in Savannah (14 page)

He had struggled not to lecture the woman on honoring her wedding vows, but realized he'd sound like an old fuddy-duddy.

Maybe he was an old fuddy-duddy. But he didn't believe in infidelity. If he ever did succumb to the dreaded M-thing, it would be because he loved a woman with all his soul, and he'd never think of deceiving her.

Another reason not to tie the knot. How many women actually kept their wedding vows? When the tough got going, how many of them got going and
kept
going until they were completely out the door? And if he loved a woman so completely, what would happen to him when she left him? He knew from experience that people didn't stick around forever.

The leggy redhead who'd dragged him away from the woman with the spidery hair and toxic perfume stepped on his toe with her stiletto heel for the third time. He glanced at the pool table and salivated, wishing for a guys' night out without women. Or even the boring night in with the tube that he'd planned earlier. A hundred and ten channels and nothing worth watching sounded damn good right now.

She stumbled, stabbing his toe again.

"Sorry, sugar." Long red acrylic nails tapped a suggestive dance across his back, and she cuddled closer. "You must work out."

Oh, please.
Some of their pickup lines had been worse than any man's he'd ever heard. And he'd never seen a woman down tequila shots like this redhead.

She purred into his ear, "Are you a bodybuilder?"

"A construction worker." He could have said 'developer,' which sounded more impressive, but he didn't particularly want to impress her. Pancake makeup coated her face, and her body felt like a bag of bones.

She gyrated forward, sinking her nails into his arms to regain her balance. "I like a man who works with his hands."

He nodded, twirling her toward the bar area.

"And I love a man with a big hammer."

He stiffened as she licked at his ear.

"I especially like to watch him with a screwdriver."

Lance pulled back and looked her in the eye, searching for an excuse to vanish. The only thing that came to mind was that he had to go to the bathroom.

A few seconds later he caught up with Chase and Reid at the pool table.

"So how's it going?" Reid asked with a grin.

Lance scowled at him. "I've never had so many women proposition me. One girl even grabbed my balls on the dance floor."

Reid grinned. "Great, huh?"

"Are you kidding?" Lance rubbed a hand over the raw flesh on his arm. "I feel so cheap. All they want is to use me for sex."

Chase gaped at him, while Reid's eyes bugged out of his head. "My God, bro, you've turned into a woman."

* * *

The telephone jangled just as Lucy began escorting the guests to the door. Sophie snagged it on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sophie, it's your mother."

Sophie tried not to react to the word. "Hey, Deseree, what's up?"

"I saw the show, honey; it was great! Are you going to see that young man again?"

Sophie rolled her eyes and cleared the dishes. "I don't think so."

"Why not? He's gorgeous and athletic and he must be smart or he wouldn't have made it so far in his career."

All probably true. "He's not my type."

"What is your type?"

Big, strong, Southern macho men who were over-protective of their baby sisters and worked with their hands. Lance. "A professional."

"A professor?"

"No, a professional, Deseree. You know, a lawyer, doctor, maybe even a TV producer."

"Well, I hope it works out. Did Lucy arrive all right?"

"Yes, she's here." Sophie frowned at her sister as she danced back to the den with a red boa draped around her neck.

"She called and told me she's going to be on your show. That's great, honey. I'd love to fly up and watch."

Sophie dropped the plate with a clatter. "I'm sorry, Deseree, but it's too late to make arrangements."

"Oh, darn, I thought it would be fun to be in the audience, watch my two girls together."

Since when had Deseree gotten sentimental? "Maybe another time." Or century.

"All right, I guess I should have thought of it sooner. Anyway, I wanted you to know I'd be watching. Can I speak to Lucy now?"

Sophie glanced at her sister. She had her hands full of sample products, a banana-shaped toy to be exact. "Let me get her." She covered the mouthpiece with one hand. "Lucy, phone."

Lucy grabbed the portable one and connected, then sat down at the table to tally up her orders while she talked.

Sophie attacked the rest of the mess, unable to stand the disorder another minute. She finished cleaning the kitchen, then scrubbed the floors and emptied the trash. Adrenaline surged through her as she put the den back in order. She'd endured the chaos as long as possible.

She had to have some control over her life. Deseree's suggested impromptu visit had reminded her just how desperately she needed it.

Sophie had normally exercised that control in the way she dressed, in her precision with her makeup, in her living area, maintaining neatness to the point of being accused of being obsessive. It had started when she was little; it was her way of sorting through her troubles and making their low-rent apartment look less embarrassing when a friend stopped by.

Then she had heard the names they'd called her mother and had withdrawn, not making friends so she wouldn't be forced to expose her secrets if they wanted to visit.

You are past all that, Sophie. You've matured. Deseree is trying to get her act together. Lucy has grown up. And you're on your own.

She organized the magazines on the coffee table, spreading them out in a fan pattern, then glanced up to see Lucy hang up the phone. She was toying with the feather boa again. Well, technically Lucy was grown-up. Except judging from the nightlights she'd brought, she still harbored her childhood fear of the dark.

By the time she'd started the laundry, Lucy approached her. "I made nine hundred dollars tonight in orders. Isn't that fabulous?"

Sophie frowned. "Yes, but I still want you to find something more reputable."

Lucy leaned against the doorjamb between Sophie's bedroom and the hall. "You didn't have fun tonight?"

"It's not that, but you can't have these Sleepover parties the rest of your life."

"You're always so serious, Soph. Why can't you lighten up and have fun?"

"I do have fun." Sophie kicked off her shoes to make a point, then couldn't stand it and set them side by side neatly. "But I also have to be responsible."

"I'm responsible; I pay my own bills; I live on my own." Lucy looked troubled. "In fact, I'm trying to work things out with Deseree. You're the one who keeps avoiding her."

Sophie removed her earrings and bracelet and placed them in her jewelry case. "I'm not avoiding her."
I simply don't want her to show up and interfere with my life.

"Then you'll come to Vegas for Mother's Day and have lunch with us?"

Sophie swallowed. "Mother's Day?"

"Yeah, it would mean a lot to Deseree."

She doubted that. "Do we have to bring a gift?"

Lucy reached out to squeeze Sophie's hand. "Seeing her again would be gift enough."

Old pains surfaced, but Sophie fought against them. If Lucy was mature enough to forgive their mother, then maybe it was time she did.

"Let me think about it, okay?"

"Okay." Lucy hugged her. "Oh, and thanks for letting me have the party here tonight. I like your friend Maddie."

Sophie nodded and went into her bathroom to brush her teeth. The white tiles Lance had installed beamed, the antique pedestal claw-footed bathtub the perfect addition, especially with the polished nickel faucet. She'd kept the headboard wainscoting but had Lance refinish it along with the built-in cabinetry. The only thing left to choose was paint, and Maddie would help her with those selections.

A denim workshirt lay on the floor. Lance's—it was so hot he must have removed it when he'd been working.

She picked it up and sniffed the fabric, inhaling Lance's scent. It lingered in the soft folds of the shirt, reminding her of the man who'd worn it. The man who'd stolen her heart and broken it.

Knowing she shouldn't but unable to resist, she slid her dress to the floor, removed her underwear, and pulled on the shirt. It swallowed her, the ends brushing against her knees, the soft fabric caressing her nakedness as if Lance had run his fingers over her bare skin. She slowly buttoned the buttons, hugging Lance's fragrance to her as she crawled into bed and turned out the light.

She had to forget Lance and move on. He was not some white knight who'd ridden in to save her from loneliness.

Tomorrow she would move on. But for tonight, she closed her eyes and pretended that his arms were wrapped around her....

* * *

As soon as Lance got home, he showered the stench of the women off of him. Maybe something was wrong with him. Ten, even five years ago, he'd have been thrilled to have gone home with any one of the women who'd made themselves available earlier in the evening. So why tonight, when he'd had his pick, had he gone cold turkey?

Because he wanted Sophie...

No. That wasn't possible. Sophie might have bewitching green eyes and short black hair that drove him wild with the desire to thumb his fingers through it, but she could be replaced. And he would damn well find a replacement.

Tomorrow.

First thing after work, he'd haul his ass to that singles place, maybe call that woman who'd left a message on his machine. He'd even take Reid with him for encouragement. Sophie had given him the membership; he might as well use it to find someone who could destroy this insane obsession with her.

Exhausted, he set up the rock garden, then stretched out on top of his unmade bed, turned on one of the tapes, and closed his eyes. Tonight he would find blissful sleep without the tortured thought of Sophie's bed calling to him from the other room. Or her body beckoning him...

An hour later, just as REM sleep finally claimed him, a nightmare drew him into its clutches. He was being buried alive beneath a mound of sex toys, big plastic vibrators that were beating at his head and humungous plastic boobs that cut off his oxygen supply....

No, the boobs weren't fake—they were his; he had grown breasts... he had turned into a woman. And the sound of that damn waterfall was making him have to pee like a racehorse.

He jerked upright, shoving at the sheets, panting and sweating. In his effort to survive the avalanche of paraphernalia and the nightmare of having a gender change, he'd knocked his alarm clock off his end table.

Determined to put the ridiculous dream out of his mind, he collapsed against the pillows. But sleep eluded him again, and this time he realized that he was afraid to doze off for fear of being turned into a female or being suffocated by a pair of mammoth breasts and a dildo the size of a baseball bat....

Chapter 9

Unable to sleep again, Lance had finally crawled from his bed, booted up his computer, and researched insomnia. Various articles on its causes and treatments had been written, although none of them seemed to offer any concrete solutions.

Keep the same routine. Go to bed at the same time every night. Drink hot herbal tea. Avoid alcohol and caffeine in the evenings. Exercise regularly.

Hell, the night before he'd gotten up and exercised—a hundred sit-ups, a hundred pull-ups on his bar; then he'd jogged in place for thirty minutes. He'd literally run himself until he'd dropped but he still hadn't been able to fall asleep. Not after that crazy dream.

If stressed, consider ways to alleviate that stress.

Okay, all he had to do was alleviate Sophie from his life and he would sleep like a baby. But that was impossible. At least until he finished the job.

Or let someone take over.

But he wouldn't relinquish his responsibilities—he wanted to refinish that house, make certain every detail was handled properly. Besides, Sophie was Maddie's best friend; he was bound to run into her.

The name of a sleep clinic flashed onto his screen, and he considered a visit, but envisioned himself being strapped down like a lab rat, and delegated that idea to the back burner. Surely he could conquer this condition on his own. It had to be temporary, didn't it?

Just like his infatuation with Sophie Lane...

Irritable and worried because he hadn't heard from McDaniels on the deal yet, he phoned the man, but his secretary informed him that McDaniels would call him back.
Great.
Lance would give him twenty-four hours.

He showered, then hurried over to Sophie's. Maybe she'd be gone and he could avoid seeing her.

He was out of luck.

Sophie had given him a key, so when no one answered the doorbell he let himself in and nearly plowed over her trying to reach the door. The first thing he noticed was that she'd recently crawled from bed. She looked sleepy and tousled and so scrumptious he had to fold his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her.

The next thing he noticed was that she was wearing his shirt. And she had been sleeping in it.