A Simple Twist of Fate Page 7

  “Maybe she’ll come clean and none of this will matter a few days from now. That’s what I did with Declan.”

  “No, you were honest with Declan from the beginning. You didn’t hide your anger at our family or dislike of the situation. Sophie is playing a different game. She’s pretending to be something she’s not.”

  “As I said, I think she wants to tell us, or at least tell Beck, about whatever secret is driving her.”

  “You really believe that?” The idea of scraping Beck off the ground after Sophie emotionally pummeled him was one of the things that kept Callen up at night.

  “I really want to.”

  “Meaning?”

  Leah nibbled on her lip. Her telltale sign of indecision. “Nothing.”

  An idea flashed in Callen’s brain. It flickered then clicked to full wattage. “Why, Ms. Baron, are you still investigating Sophie?”

  Leah dropped his hand and sat back in her chair. “How could you even—”

  Nice try. “Skip the fake shock. That might work with the others but not with me.”

  “Right.” She exhaled. “But I’m really not.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m befriending her. Truly, honestly, completely, and hoping that will give her whatever comfort she needs to come clean about this thing with your grandmother.”

  That was some woman-speak thing and Callen refused to get sucked into it. “That sounds like we’re saying the same thing.”

  “No, but that, my dear Cal, sums up why you’re not a people person.” That smug smile of satisfaction returned.

  “I think I’m lost.”

  “You’re being a guy.”

  He didn’t see a reason to duck that one. “Obviously.”

  “By that I mean you want to rush in and bumble your way through this by ordering everyone around and trying to solve it even though no one asked you to.”

  He picked at the label on the bottle. “Yeah, and?”

  “We have to step more carefully.”

  That was not the strategy he planned to use. “I like my way better.”

  “Of course you do, but it’s not going to work here. We’re dealing with something delicate that needs a softer touch.”

  The argument forming in his brain faded when Leah continued to stare him down. Whatever her plan was for solving this mess, she intended to implement it. Despite the message screaming through his brain to confront the Sophie issue head on, he knew he had to sit back, let her have a few days, then step in and demand answers as he’d wanted to do from day one.

  “Just figure it out fast. Beck’s getting wrapped up tighter about her every hour,” he said.

  “I’m on it.”

  Nothing about the promise eased Callen’s anxiety. He trusted Leah, but Sophie was a wild card.

  He was about to point that out when gravel crunched in the driveway outside. “Sounds like Declan’s home.”

  Leah didn’t do anything to hide her feelings for Declan and her joy at seeing him. The freedom and love in her smile burned away some of the frustration tumbling in Callen’s gut over Sophie. Declan had chosen well. Callen had to hope Beck possessed the same mate-finding skills.

  Leah stood up and brushed her hands down the front of her slim-fitting sweater as she moved to stare out the back window. “Then Operation Sophie will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  Oh, yeah. No question what was about to happen next. The one person in the house Callen didn’t have to worry about was Declan. He was doing just fine.

  The lucky bastard.

  Callen grabbed the bag of pretzels, intending to hit the TV room. “I’m too young to witness whatever been-apart-for-four-hours reunion is about to happen here.”

  She flashed him a killer smile. “Smart man.”

  “Have fun.” He picked up another water bottle and headed for the doorway.

  Leah’s voice stopped him. “Cal?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  Damn, he hoped she was right. “I trust you.”

  ***

  Beck hit the top of the steps, ignoring the rumble of conversation and short spurts of laughter coming from the floor below. He wanted to join in, just lose himself in a relaxing evening at home. That had been the plan before his dick convinced his brain that going to Sophie’s house was a good idea. His lower half had been getting him into trouble since he was fourteen, and very little had changed.

  He went over to her place thinking he’d apologize for flashing her in the bathroom. Really, he wanted to get her to open up. Maybe if she were on her turf she’d feel more comfortable. It all made sense in his head, then Tom showed up.

  Stupid fucking Tom.

  The sound of Beck’s footsteps bounced off the walls and echoed down the hallway to the bedrooms. He was about to take a left at the top of the steps and head for his bedroom when the bathroom door grabbed his attention.

  His mind spun back to this morning for the hundredth time. The shower, her shortness of breath when Sophie raced in the room. The evasion and obvious panic caused by something other than the up-close-and-a-bit-too-personal view of his erection.

  She was looking for something. Callen had been beating that verbal drum since they moved into Shadow Hill. The mysterious behavior and her steadfast refusal to talk about anything personal made suspicion easy. Not to mention the times Beck had seen her shifting things around on shelves and stomping her foot on loose floorboards.

  But the bathroom? Beck couldn’t imagine what she needed in there, except the obvious, and the obvious was always the wrong answer with her.

  He turned and stepped into the bathroom doorway. His gaze swept over the small space. Someone, probably Sophie, had hung up his towels. In the fight with Callen, he’d forgotten, but the overturned bottles were back in place and the shampoo spill gone. No one would ever guess this had been the sight of a strange meeting just a few hours ago.

  And he still needed to apologize for his shower behavior. Sophie might be playing them, but that didn’t mean she deserved being harassed. That sort of thing wasn’t his style—he actually filed lawsuits about stuff only a bit harder than that—but his usual common sense abandoned him when she was around.

  His visual tour took him to the vanity. Then the question kicking around in the back of his head, just out of reach, stumbled to the front. The shampoo and stuff sat on the back of the toilet, but there was a vanity. Something had to be in there taking up space.

  He dropped down and balanced on the balls of his feet. Fighting off the sudden revving inside him, he opened the doors. An old brush and a forgotten box of tissues. He felt around, thinking whatever was so important to Sophie could be small.

  Nothing.

  Well, nothing unusual and nothing to get breathless over. She raced in there for a reason, but he wasn’t seeing it. Not on the ceiling or walls. Not in the most logical place, behind closed doors.

  He stood up and stared into the mirror above the sink. After a few seconds he ran his fingertips along the edge and opened the door to the medicine cabinet hidden behind. Some random bottles with prescriptions in their grandmother’s name and the stuff Declan insisted on using for sore muscles, regardless of the smell. Beck had no idea how Leah tolerated that.

  But she was not the woman on Beck’s mind right now.

  He braced his hands against the sides of the sink and tried to concentrate. Sophie had a reason for everything she did. She intended to come into the bathroom and take something out.

  Now Beck had to figure out what.

  Chapter Eight

  Sophie got all the way to three o’clock the next afternoon without having a run-in with Beck. He stayed in his homemade office in the library all day with the door closed. Didn’t even come out to eat, which bordered on an apocalyptic e
vent. Despite the sleek muscles and lack of body fat, the guy ate every two seconds. All the Hanover men did.

  Kind of made her hate them. She ate a hamburger twice in the same week and the waistband of her pants dug into her stomach when she sat down. Stupid slow metabolism.

  The lack of a Beck sighting had her wondering if he’d passed out in there or something. Also made cleaning tougher than usual. She thought about him, looked for him. The man had her spinning around in circles and acting like a pre-teen girl with her first crush.

  That had to end.

  She stood at the top of the stairs and glanced at her watch. Three-o-one. A sprint down the stairs and out the door and she could maintain the sort-of adult high ground and avoid Beck all day. That was a smart plan. One she had no intention of following.

  The whole hiding/ducking/running thing she’d been doing since she came to Sweetwater was exhausting and not how she usually operated. Though her experience in the male department might be limited, she enjoyed men. Loved to look at them, smell them, watch them walk and hear them laugh. Her desire to dive into a relationship and have the freedom to explore everything she wanted in bed grew stronger every day.

  And Beck, with the way his T-shirt hung loose on his trim waist and grazed the top of his faded jeans. He bent or twisted and that tiny slip of skin would show.

  Sexiest thing ever.

  Well, it was time for a showdown with the brooding hottie. The place was all wrong. The circumstances were a big heaping mess. But after a restless night and wild dreams she’d had enough waiting. Even with writing a lopsided pro and con list a mile long and mostly loaded on the negative half, she intended to ignore caution and go for it.

  For once, she wanted what she wanted. This wasn’t about what she should do or what her aunt needed from her. This moment would only be about Sophie.

  Before her brain cells fired up and banded together to tell her to stop, she walked to the closed door. A brief knock and she opened it, hoping surprise might play in her favor.

  Beck glanced up from his position behind the long table. Hands on the sides of his head with fingers speared through his hair and papers thrown everywhere as if a mini-cyclone had blown through.

  The intense gaze pinned her, even though his bent-over study position didn’t change. “What’s wrong?”

  The lack of communication, her state of mind since seeing him naked . . . and those were only the start of the confused list that scrolled every time she closed her eyes. “We need to talk.”

  Almost as if in slow motion, he sat back, resting one elbow on the arm of his chair. “Rarely is that a positive phrase coming from a woman.”

  “You have that conversation a lot with women?” Boy did she hate that idea. He never talked about girlfriends. Leah’s questions to him one night, an interrogation Sophie hovered in the hallway and strained to hear, confirmed he hadn’t seen anyone since arriving in town. But still.

  “Often enough to know something bad is coming.”

  “That’s up to you.”

  His head dipped to one side as he studied her. “This visit seems to be going downhill.”

  “Your facial expression isn’t exactly a flashing welcome sign either.” It straddled the line between frown and glare. She wasn’t fond of either look.

  Glancing around the table, his gaze hesitated over piles stacked on the floor. “Well, I am working and the door was closed.”

  Blow landed. She felt the slice right through her middle.

  Fine, if he wanted to play the tough-guy role, she’d give him something to be pissy about. “You’re hiding.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She wondered if he had any idea how much like Callen he sounded when he used that phrase. The deadly flat tone and bruising frown. No question the act intended to telegraph anger and tell her to back off.

  Not going to happen.

  Time to say what she came to say. The other stuff, about wanting him and everything of the kissing/sex/naked variety was off-limits. He didn’t seem open and she didn’t have some whacked-out internal need to make an ass of herself. “You came to my house last night.”

  “Yeah.”

  Clearly he was not going to make one syllable of this conversation easy. “Why?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me.”

  He shrugged at her. That’s it, an annoying lift of his impressive shoulders, giving new meaning to the term “pulling teeth.”

  When he continued to sit there, all quiet and looking prepared to stay that way for weeks, she made a mental pivot. “Tom really is my landlord.”

  Beck talked right over her. “That’s not my business.”

  So a verbal battle it would be. “You asked.”

  “Yesterday.”

  “But today you don’t care. If I sleep with him, date him. All of that is fine with you?”

  Beck’s long fingers wrapped around the edge of the chair arm. “The guy’s a bit old for you, isn’t he?”

  The comment, delivered in the cold and emotionless tone, landed like a shot. The air rushed out of her and words collided in her brain. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I figure that observation was stepping over the line already since your private life is none of my business.”

  “If you say so.”

  The serious way he handled house matters didn’t surprise her, but gone were the sly glimpses, the way he followed her with his gaze. The banter and slick heat of sexual tension disappeared under the withering tone of disapproval.

  “Sophie, look.” He wiped a hand over his forehead. “Maybe the signals are getting crossed here, but our relationship is employer-employee only.”

  Maybe for him. She didn’t want to believe it, but it was possible she’d mixed up the anxiety over her search with attraction.

  She almost doubled over at the thought, but the strength in her voice didn’t waver. “I work for Declan.”

  “You work for all of us.”

  “And you’re saying my private life doesn’t matter to you.” It actually ached a little to give voice to the words. She’s spent a lot of time insisting Beck was nothing more than fodder for a series of sensual fantasies, but having him sit there and stare her down like some misbehaving employee, to deny she meant anything, blasted through with a force that shook her.

  “Exactly.”

  She grabbed on to a chair to keep from falling down. The one-word response, so punishing and immediate, made her see this was about more than meaningless sex for her. He actually had the power to hurt her.

  She cleared her throat. “Happy we settled that.”

  Better to know now and cut out than invite pain. She had her aunt’s stark life as a lesson. Despite being a confident, married businesswoman, she’d wandered right into Charlie’s line of fire and her world imploded. Sophie wanted more for herself.

  “I agree.” Beck’s fist tightened and he swallowed hard enough for her to see it.

  Ah, there it was. So much for the sharp words. He felt something.

  The lying weasel.

  “Good to know.” She turned and headed for the door.

  Her vision blurred at the edges but she kept her head down and her feet moving. The idea of a conversation punctuated by curt responses made the blood pound in her temples. Losing it in front of him was an extreme she dreaded.

  Her hand hit the doorknob. Her fingers slid and her grip failed. It took two tries and more than a little rattling for her to turn it.

  Just when the door opened a crack, his body pressed against hers and the door slammed shut again. His front skimmed her back. The outline of his thighs and stirring of his erection were right there. So much for thinking he didn’t feel anything. Her being in his private place, in that room, affected him. Maybe even tempted him.

  Deep-drawing breaths a
nd the harsh puffs of air against her hair sent a tremor racing through her. She leaned into the door with her hands trapped against her chest. He was around her, touching her, his scent swirling over her.

  “This can’t happen.” There was nothing flat about his tone now. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled. Those hands flexed against the door as he held her trapped between his arms.

  “Why not?”

  The sun streamed in the window, warming the floor and lighting the room but her vision darkened. She saw shadows. Him and him only. All other sounds and the tick of time stopped.

  “I’m trying to stay away from you,” he said.

  “Don’t.” She had meant to mouth the word but it came out as a breathless whisper.

  “Only if you to tell me the truth.”

  “Only this matters.”

  He brought his arms in tighter against her sides and ran his lips across her shoulder. “So many secrets. They poison everything.” His words ground out and vibrated against her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “We could have this. Just this.”

  One of his hands stayed on the door but the other roamed down her back. Every spot his fingertips seared, his mouth followed to soothe. “You are so tempting.”

  She turned, edging her body around until her back hit the solid surface and her gaze fell on his face. Heat pulsed off him and burned in his eyes. “Kiss me,” she said. “I’m telling you to.”

  He picked up her hand and placed a soft kiss in her palm. “I won’t stop if I start.”

  Her heart flipped over but she didn’t say anything. She’d only be begging. After last night’s reaction and the initial chill when she walked in, he had to make the final move. She pushed open the door and walked in. She gave permission with her words and her body. The rest was for him to choose.

  He leaned in, nuzzling; his nose slipped over hers as a hand pressed against her stomach. Cheek rubbed cheek. Skin touched skin. His breath brushed over her as his need fell around them.

  There was nothing carefree or disinterested in his reaction. The attraction thumped and thrashed. A living, breathing thing.

  His mouth hovered over hers. His lips tickling as they swept across hers with the barest of touches. “Tell me what you’re hiding.”