The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense (20 page)

Sophie blinked. “Your sister?” She scrambled down off the counter and straightened her skirt that had risen above her thighs. “She’ll know what we were doing.”

“So?” He buttoned his shirt. “Having regrets already?”

About a million of them. She regretted they couldn’t complete what they’d started; that if either one of them had a brain cell left between them, they’d never complete what had started the day they first met.

“No regrets." She forced a tight smile. “It’s all part of my experiment.”

He crowded her back against the counter and lowered his head until his mouth hovered by her ear. “You’re a lousy liar, buttercup. I’m giving you fair notice." He nuzzled her neck and inhaled deeply. “I’ve reached my limit. Next time, we don’t stop. Now go." He straightened up and jerked his head toward the front of the house. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. You might want to do whatever women do when they fix themselves up. I’ll go outside and stall them for a bit until you get yourself together.”

On legs not quite steady, she hurried down the hall and into the bathroom. She shut the door, closed her eyes and leaned against it with a sigh. Things were not going the way she’d envisioned. Great, now she was lying to herself. She opened her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her frazzled reflection. She hadn’t come here to seduce Gage.

Desire swirled through her. Seduce Gage. What a concept. Comparable to baiting a wolf. Once started, it would be an irreversible act. A stupendous, life altering, irreversible act. But hadn’t her life already changed?

When she’d first thought of cooking him supper, when she was in the grocery store buying the food and in the cab to come here, hadn’t there been a hum of anticipation, the sharp edge of a thrill? What if? What if they ended up making love? She hadn’t acknowledged it; hadn’t let the thought form fully in her mind, but still, it simmered just beneath her preparations.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen. She turned the cold water on and slapped water on her face. They both had too much to lose by giving into their desire. She’d hoped doing the right thing–thinking the right thing–would bolster her, but the thought depressed her.

There’s no way around it, chickie.
She grimaced at her reflection and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make it behave. Gage needed his job to prove to himself and everyone else that he was a good man. She knew him well enough to understand that much. What she didn’t get was why he didn’t understand he was good from the inside out. Scary sometimes, but honest and caring. For the first time, she moved beyond that thought and wondered why he didn’t see himself as others did.

And people in glass houses.... She lowered her gaze to avoid the accusing look her eyes reflected in the mirror. She had her own hurdles to overcome. She must have been poised to make some changes in her life, because Gage’s challenge to step beyond her mother’s boundaries had been like a bugle call to battle.

After he’d left, she’d pulled all her paintings out and lined them up against the wall and studied them. Even in the harsh morning light, they looked good. Better than good, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find the souring of conviction that she wasn’t good enough.

So this first. She drew herself up to her full height. This foray into the suburbs to conquer a minor fear of normalcy. She was who she was no matter whose table she sat down at to eat. She would serve up a delicious dinner and return to her apartment secure in the knowledge that when she chose, the narrow walls that lined her world could be toppled. Now, if she would just stop hiding out in the bathroom.

“I gotta pee." Andy pounded on the door.

Sophie pulled open the door. Andy had tears in his eyes, and he hunched over as if his stomach hurt.

“Are you okay?” She stepped out of the bathroom to let him in.

“They’re fighting again." He slipped past her and slammed the door shut in her face.

As she stood blinking at the closed door, the sound of angry, loud voices rolled down the hallway from the kitchen. She looked toward the kitchen, then back at the closed bathroom door. What she supposed to do now?  If she didn’t get back to her spaghetti sauce it would burn or die or whatever sauces did when you left them on the heat too long. She took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen. She hadn’t gone to all that trouble to have dinner ruined because of a sibling fight.

“Why don’t you try managing your own life instead of interfering in mine all the time?” A tall, slender blond woman stood by the patio doors, digging frantically in her purse.

Hands on hips, legs planted firmly apart, Gage’s eyes blazed with the heat of battle. “It was just a suggestion. I’m not trying to manage your damned life. What do you think you’re doing?”

Sophie halted halfway to the stove, her breath wedged in her throat as she glanced over at Gage, but he was glaring at the pack of cigarettes in the woman’s hand.

“Having a smoke. Don’t worry." She slid the patio door open and stepped outside. “I wouldn’t think of sullying your perfect house with my foul habits.”

The woman had to be Maisie. She had the same beautiful blue eyes as Gage, and the same stubborn chin. She lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply, then narrowed her eyes as she stared at Sophie through the smoke that curled up from the end of her cigarette. “Who the hell are you?”

As Sophie opened her mouth to speak, Gage spun on his heel and glared across the kitchen at her. She snapped her mouth shut and tried to swallow, the air in the kitchen palpitating with frustrated anger. Well, hell, she may not have much experience with this kind of verbal brawling, but she was damned if these two were going to ruin her supper after all the effort she’d gone to.

“I’m Sophie." She turned her back on two sets of fiery blue eyes, opened the cupboard in front of her and pulled four plates out. “Supper will be ready by the time you’ve finished your smoke. Here." She thrust the plates at Gage. “I could use some help.”

Both Gage and Maisie continued to stare at her as a thunderous silence strung out between them. But it was laughter, Gage’s laughter, not thunder that broke the silence. Sophie felt the tension ease as Maisie started laughing as well.

“Where did you find this one?” Maisie butted her cigarette in a can of sand just outside the door and stepped into the kitchen.

Gage’s eyes softened as he looked at Sophie. “She came all the way from the wilds of the North End." He took the plates with one hand and raised his other as if to touch her hair. But something in his gaze shifted and his eyes turned a colder shade of blue. He dropped his hand to his side. “She’s going back as soon as supper’s over.”

“I hope you’re a good cook. I’m starved." Maisie looked around. “Where’s Andy?”

“In the bathroom." Sophie tore her gaze away from Gage’s. “I think he was upset.”

She barely noticed Maisie leaving the room as she looked back to Gage. He stood in the same spot, his head cocked to one side, studying her. The way he frowned at her made her feel like an unwanted problem. He didn’t want her here. He had too much responsibility with his sister and Andy and his job and--

And when had she started letting herself think he had room in his life for her? When had she started thinking she wanted to be in his life? 

She whirled away, picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the sauce. It was just supposed to be a stupid supper. She had a point to prove. That’s all.

“Sophie–”

“Set the table, will you? I don’t know where anything is."

Silence dangled between them. Finally, she heard Gage move to the table at the other end of the room. She bit her lip, a leaden heaviness settling in her stomach. She’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She’d come to the suburbs, cooked a meal, and soon she’d return home. But first she was going to sit down and eat the damned spaghetti if it killed her.

Andy returned to the kitchen alone, his eyes shiny and wet from spilled tears. Wishing she could shed a few tears herself, Sophie tried to summon a smile for him. He scowled at her and stuck his hands in his jeans’ pockets, looking like a miniature version of Gage about to blow. Wasn’t this going to be a cozy supper?

“There’s salad in the refrigerator." She managed to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she spoke to the small boy. “Can you put it on the table? We’re ready to eat. Where’s your mom?”

“On the phone. She’s coming."

“Good, I’ll take the garlic bread out of the oven then.”

“Whatever." He yanked open the refrigerator door and pulled the bowl of salad out.

When Andy trotted over to his uncle, Gage took the salad from him and put it on the table. He ruffled his nephew’s hair. “It’s okay that people fight sometimes, but I’m sorry we upset you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I told you about Mom’s pretend house,” Andy’s voice wobbled.

“Did I ever tell you Maisie’s my little sister?”

“Mom’s not little.”

Gage smiled. “She used to be. And I was bigger than her, so I used to look out for her sometimes. I’m still her big brother, and I guess I’m still trying to take care of her, whether she wants me to or not. Guess I have to learn that she’s all grown up now.”

Andy nodded sagely. “That’s what Mom said. She said you should have your own family to take care of.”

Sophie felt her heart squeeze hard as she watched the warmth in Gage’s expression turn bleak. She turned back to the stove, opened the oven and pulled the garlic bread out, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. How was it possible a man like Gage didn’t have a whole houseful of children? Why hadn’t he allowed himself the one thing he seemed to want so badly?

“Smells good, Sophie." Maisie breezed into the kitchen and checked the clock on the wall. “Hope supper’s ready, because I have to go soon."

“Yeah." Sophie stopped, cleared the croak out of her voice. “Everyone sit down and I’ll bring the food over."

She placed the garlic bread on the table as everyone sat, then whisked back to the stove for the spaghetti sauce. She put the big orange pot in front of Gage and sat across the round table from him. “Well." She smiled and unfolded her napkin. “Bon appetit, everyone. Dig in.”

Maisie raised her eyebrows as she smirked at her brother. Andy fiddled with his fork and dragged his chair closer. With a carefully controlled expression, Gage checked the table, then looked over at the stove. He cleared his throat. “It looks great, Sophie.”

She surveyed the table and smiled at him, a sense of accomplishment buoying her mood. “It does, doesn’t it?  So, let’s eat.”

“There’s just one problem." Gage looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but where he was right now.

Her stomach sank. “What?”

“You forgot to cook the noddles, buttercup.”

Her bottom lip trembled as she desperately held back her tears. Spaghetti without noddles. That’ll teach her to take on anything more complicated than peanut butter sandwiches.

A light spring rain misted the air as Sophie scrambled out of the cab in front of her apartment building. When the cabbie let out a shrill whistle, she stopped halfway to her door and spun around.

“You forgot a bag in the back seat,” he shouted out the side window.

“Right. Thanks." She went back and grabbed the grocery bag with the container of spaghetti sauce Gage had insisted she take with her.

He’d insisted on a lot of other things too, or tried to, but she’d convinced him not to drag out the miserable evening. Maisie and Andy left shortly after eating the salad and garlic bread. Gage wanted to cook the noodles, but the whole episode seemed so pathetic to her by then, she couldn’t stomach the thought of eating. Then he insisted on driving her home, but as she pointed out in her most reasonable voice, the bus was still running.

She stopped in front of the door to her apartment building and dug in her satchel for the key. The man could be a real pain sometimes. How the heck had he known the bus stopped two blocks from her apartment?

“It’s dark,” he’d said, and with all the weird stuff going on, he didn’t want her walking by herself, even for two blocks. They’d both compromised by agreeing she take a cab home, but even then, Gage got his way. He’d gone out to the cab with her, paid the driver and instructed him to let her off right in front of her apartment. What did he think? That someone was going to attack her right on the sidewalk?

“Put your hands up,” a voice growled in her ear as something sharp pressed into her back.

Sophie gripped the key in her hand. No way was she going to get mugged after finally convincing Gage she could take care of herself. She spun around, ready to do battle.