Tamed by You (14 page)

He glared at her over the top of the box he lifted.

She pointed at his face. "That's what I'm talking about. Dude, you've got to lighten up. No one wants an ogre. Valentine's got her work cut out for her."

He stopped mid-step and turned. "What?"

"It's common knowledge Valentine is finding someone for you to fall in love with." Kristin smirked. "It's kind of cute."

"She's not finding me anyone." He only wanted Valentine.

"That's not the word on the street," the sassy barista said. "Word on the street is that you're on your way to true love and the little redhead is facilitating a match."

"Who's word is this?" he growled.

"Everyone's." Kristin shrugged. "Valentine told me she was fixing you up."

He was going to strangle that little redhead. He strode into the cafe and dumped the box in the back. He made short work with all the other boxes, fueled by his anger.

How could she be so determined to set him up with another woman? The mere thought of her speaking to another man put him on the edge of rage. Didn't she feel the same way about him?

She did. Ethan set another box into the storeroom. He knew she felt as strongly about him as he did for her. Why else would she take a chance on upsetting her mother? But he wasn't sure she'd ever admit her feelings—or that she'd stand up to her mom.

He trudged back to the sidewalk, relieved when he saw he was done.

"Hey."

He looked over his shoulder at Kristin, leaning in the doorway of the cafe.

She tipped her head. "You're a nice guy. I'm glad I always defend you against everyone."

"Everyone?" He raised his brow.

She shrugged. "You've got a scary rep in the neighborhood, though I bet you didn't know you eat all the bad children for breakfast."

"I didn't." Shaking his head, he headed for his apartment next door.

"Don't worry," she called out. "I'll tell Valentine what a hero you are. Maybe she'll open her eyes and realize the perfect match for you is right in the mirror."

He stopped and frowned at Kristin.

"My husband finds it easiest just to call me adorable and leave it at that," she said.

"I feel for the man."

"Tell me about it." She gave him a saucy wink and went inside.

Chapter Fifteen

Julie invited Sophie to go to the flower mart with her on a shopping expedition. Being invited was an auspicious event—Julie hated outside interference as she communed with nature—so as touched as she was by the offer, Sophie passed. She didn't want to chance missing a call from Pal Greenland.

It was worrying her that he hadn't offered her the part yet. Doubt was starting to creep in again.

But she wasn't going to dwell on that today. While Julie gathered her rosebuds, Sophie would use the time to write.

Since she wasn't going to Back to the Fuchsia, she stayed home, setting up in the kitchen.

It was a sex scene between Desiree and her reluctant love interest—the same one that had played out in Sophie’s imagination over and over for the past few weeks, starring a certain Italian Adonis.

If it really happened—and she wasn't holding her breath that it would—she doubted it'd happen the way she was writing it. In her screenplay, the scene was a comedy of errors that ended in bliss. In real life . . .

Pausing, she tapped her pen against her lips. If experience had taught her anything, she'd have to say sex would be only vaguely tantalizing, ending in disappointment and a session with her vibrator. But if the kisses Tony had given her were the slightest indication, sex with Tony would be heaven.

She sighed. She'd been avoiding him since their last encounter. She wasn't sure how to handle him, or
them
. She didn't know if she wanted to. So she'd waited until it was past the time when he left the house to come down. It was a little disappointing seeing his breakfast dishes in the sink, but it was just as well.

"This is a surprise," the object of her daydreams said as he walked into the kitchen.

Sophie closed her journal. She flushed, thinking of him reading what she'd written. "I thought you were already gone."

"I was. I came back." He went to the cupboard and got out a cup. "Coffee?"

She'd kill for some. She could smell it from earlier when he'd made it and it taunted her. "No, thank you."

"Suit yourself." He started to make a fresh batch. "It's a surprise seeing you here. You haven't been around in the mornings."

"I met someone," she said with a vague wave of her hand.

He eyed her. "Someone you only see in the mornings?"

"Morning is the best time for a lot of things." She tilted her head and batted her eyes at him. "Want to see?"

He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. She was sure he was going to give her a flat-out
No
but he said, "I have a phone conference this morning, but if you'd like to show me at dinner time, then yes."

She blinked. "Really?"

His lips curved in humor. "Really. Be ready at seven."

She nodded because she didn't trust herself to say anything.

Refilling his cup with fresh coffee, he saluted her as he left. At the archway into the kitchen, he turned. "Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"Don't keep me waiting tonight," he said, his voice low with intent.

She shivered. Because her mouth was dry, she just nodded. After waiting until he was well out of hearing range, she pulled out her cell phone and called Julie. "I need an emergency session," she said when her friend answered the phone.

"I'm elbows deep in roses. I don't have time for you, Sophie."

"You always make time for me, even when you're acting tough and trying to set boundaries." Sophie pursed her lips. "I appreciate that, by the way."

Julie sighed. "Okay. Just tell me what's going on. Is it that part in
War and Peace
?"

"
Doctor Zhivago
, and, no, it's Tony." She took a deep breath to get past the flare of nerves. "He's taking me to dinner."

"Hallelujah. Maybe then you'll stop obsessing about him."

She didn't obsess about Antonio Rossi. Much. "Stop acting like you're in a snit and help me. I have no idea what to wear."

"So you called me?
That
makes total sense." The phone muffled and Julie said something about birds and paradise before returning to the conversation at hand. "This isn't rocket science, Sophie. Pick clothes and wear them."

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. Or don't wear anything and maybe you'll get lucky. I have to go."

"Fine, but just remember this when you have a date and want my opinion on what to wear," Sophie teased, knowing when push came to shove she'd help Julie with anything.

"Armageddon will happen before I have a date. I'm hanging up." Julie paused. "You'll come by in the morning, right? I want to know what happens tonight."

"I'll see you tomorrow." She tossed her phone onto the kitchen table, picked up her pen, and opened her journal, though she couldn't concentrate enough to write. She kept imagining what Tony might do if she showed up naked like Julie had suggested.

He'd probably run.

She allowed herself a pout for three seconds, and then she reread her scene.

She knew better than trying to call Pal Greenland right before her dinner date with Tony, but did that stop her?

No.

Some bug had crawled up her butt (as Julie would say) and she'd decided she needed to reach him. It'd have been fine if she'd gotten his voicemail, but his assistant had answered, giving her a vague runaround that Sophie saw through.

Pal was screening her calls.

It didn't bode well. He should have just offered her the part already.

Sophie sighed, examining her face in the mirror. She saw an actress who'd starred in countless romantic comedies. The humor she provided was beginning to settle around her eyes and mouth. Was that why Pal hadn't called her for
Doctor Zhivago
? Because he could see laughter on her face and laughter had no place in his movie?

Tony would agree.

She tried not to frown as she smoothed the silk of her dress. She'd decided on her signature color of turquoise instead of the black she'd been camouflaging herself in. She'd straightened and curled her hair and taken care to apply her makeup so it looked like she didn't have much on. Her lips, glistening a shade darker than her natural pink, looked kissable.

She'd been feeling much more optimistic before. Now she was tempted to hide herself in black again.

Taking a breath deep from her diaphragm, she picked up her clutch and went down to meet Tony.

He was waiting for her in the foyer, at the bottom of the stairs. When their eyes met, she felt such a zap of attraction that she had to grasp the banister to keep from tripping the rest of the way down.

"I didn't expect you to be punctual," he said, reaching his hand out to her.

She took it like it was her due, but inside she felt like Sarah Martin had on prom night: awkward, nervous, and afraid she was going to do something that showed her roots.

So she lifted her chin like she was Cleopatra—or Sophie Martineau. "I'm glad I'm not entirely predictable yet," she said, joining him.

"Sophie, predictable is one thing you could never be." He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, lingering there as he gazed into her eyes. "Let's go."

Her sense of direction was so awful, she had no idea where they were headed. The uncertainty coupled with her nerves kept her chattering about inane things for the entire ride. Right as they pulled in front of a sleek restaurant, she was babbling about how to extend the lifespan of cut flowers.

The valet opened his door, and Tony came around to her side and gave her his hand. He drew her out of the car and into his chest. "Sophie."

She went lightheaded at the feel and scent of him, and she could only manage a nod back.

His thumb rubbed her palm in soothing circles. "There's no need to be nervous."

That was what he thought. She tipped her head up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Sophie." He touched his lips to hers, so soft and lingering that she didn't care that he was smudging her gloss. "What's wrong?"

Something in his tone caught at her. She stared at him, surprised by how caring he sounded. Maybe—

No, she wouldn't think about maybes, or anything beyond sharing a dinner with a handsome man. She flashed him a flirtatious smile. "Absolutely nothing. Lead the way."

He looked like he was going to say something contradictory, but he must have decided against it because he took her arm and escorted her inside.

The door read
Gary Danko
, and she didn't need to be told it was one of the best restaurants in the city. It oozed class and refinement.

The maître d' greeted Tony warmly, like an old friend, and they were escorted to two seats at the bar. Tony held out a barstool for her. "I prefer sitting here over the dining room."

That surprised her. "This is definitely more convivial," she said, checking out the other couples sitting around the bar.

"You meet interesting people here. Last time, I met a kid from Taipei who happened to be the CEO of a major Asian internet company. He was backpacking through California."

"He must have had great stories." She draped her napkin on her lap. "I never meet interesting people, but I never go out unless it's a work function."

"That's sad."

She shrugged as she looked over the menu. "Between paparazzi and rabid fans, it's easier staying in."

"You aren't afraid of paparazzi here?"

"They still think I'm nursing my wounds on a tropical island."

"Good thing." He smiled at the bartender, who saluted back. "Because what would they think if they saw you here with me?"

"That I'm slumming." She shot him a grin. An actor and an agent out at dinner? They'd draw obvious conclusions.

Of course, Tony was a different caliber of agent. If she were photographed with him, it'd throw Hollywood into a tizzy. Everyone would wonder what she was doing with such a credible agent.

Pal Greenland would be impressed if Tony repped her. Tony was so highly regarded that it might even push Pal into offering her the part.

She stopped seeing the menu. Was that her answer?

"Sophie?"

She looked at Tony, seeing his sexy face. She murmured her thanks and took the glass of champagne he held out to her, even though she never drank. She sipped it absently as her thoughts ran away with her.

One photo in the rags wouldn't make any difference. Tony certainly wouldn't care. Why should he? Being photographed with one of Hollywood's top actors would only increase his status, too.

If this dinner were about something serious between them, she might have tamped down the idea, but he'd been blatant about making her understand he wasn't interested in her for anything long-term.

He touched her back. "Tell me what you're thinking about. It's something big given the way you're frowning."

"I never frown." She quickly smoothed out her expression. She studied him, wanting to get his advice on Pal. If anyone would know how to handle the situation, it was Tony. But he didn’t think she was right for the part. He'd probably tell her it was a lost cause.

She flashed a quick smile at him to mask her hurt. "Really, darling. Asking me what I'm thinking? Are you getting in touch with your feminine side?"

"I'm just wondering if you're going to zone out on me all night."

"All night?" She slipped into the part of diva like it was a pair of broken-in flip-flops. "I promised you dinner. We haven't discussed anything more than that."

"Let's discuss it then." He leaned in, his hand snaking under her hair to the back of her neck. "After dinner, I'm going to take you home, walk you to your bedroom, and give you a kiss."

Her belly quivered in anticipation. "That's assuming I want one."

"I think you do, Sophie." His fingers exploited a sensitive spot they'd found.