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Leaving Martin a voice mail telling him she couldn’t go out of town with him seemed rather cold, but she’d tried several times and never could get him to pick up. She couldn’t put off telling him any longer, because he deserved to know and time was running out.
Not only could she not go out of town with him, she couldn’t see him anymore, but that conversation was definitely something she needed to do face-to-face, and she’d just have to demand a few minutes of his time.
Sophie didn’t need any more time to think about her relationship with Martin. Not after that kiss she and Zach had shared. No way could she continue seeing one man when her mind remained fixed on another.
She’d always wondered what kissing Zach would be like, but now she knew, and it wasn’t something she could ignore. The memory of the instant fire that had spread through her at Zach’s rough, demanding kiss had her body heating up all over again.
For some asinine reason she was completely drawn to the gruff, grouchy exterior of a man who kept pushing her away. She could easily blame her attraction on the teenage girl who found herself falling for the town bad boy against her parents’ wishes. If that had just been an infatuation, those feelings would’ve dissipated long ago.
Instead, everything she felt for Zach kept getting stronger, more powerful each time she saw him. She was to the point she was going insane with conflictions. Did she risk telling him, only to have him shut her out even more?
Regardless of the outcome with her and Zach, Sophie wouldn’t be with a man she didn’t have strong feelings for, so she needed to tell Martin they should see other people.
Sophie curled her feet beneath her on the sofa and slid her pencil in a smooth, easy glide over the clean sheet of paper. Flynn curled next to her and purred softly, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Soothing jazzy music filled her living room. Most times her favorite selection was her go-to in order to relax. Unfortunately, tonight she was anything but relaxed. Even her favorite band wasn’t taking the edge off.
Her cell vibrated on the wooden coffee table. When she glanced at the screen, she groaned and went back to her drawing. No way could she deal with her mother. No doubt the woman was calling to discuss some little shop she’d just been in or to complain about Sophie’s father. No matter what, Sophie simply wasn’t in the mood.
Breaking things off with Martin would be easier than telling her mother that the relationship was over. Her parents loved Martin, or ra
ther they loved his social standing in the community and how he would look in the family. Not that her family was loaded, but they liked to play the part. They had, or rather her parents had, enough money to take trips and be comfortable, but they flashed their lives just for show and to appear “important.” Sophie never cared what others thought . . . well, except for Zach.
Sophie sketched a bit more, with no idea where she was going with the new artwork, but she just wasn’t in the mood. That had never happened before. Drawing and listening to Sinatra or Dean Martin had started out as therapy when she’d been dealing with tough times after the accident. The hobby had quickly turned into a passion and a talent she hadn’t known she possessed.
Placing the pad and pencil on her table, she retrieved her phone and ignored her mother’s voice mail. She’d listen to it tomorrow. Right now, she didn’t have the emotional strength.
She was tired, confused. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight. She had water aerobics to teach in the morning before work, and no doubt she’d show up looking worn and haggard, which pretty much matched how she felt at the moment. There was no way she could focus on much, when all she could concentrate on was the feel of Zach’s lips against hers, the firm, powerful way his body had pressed hers against the cool wall. His rough hands had gripped her in a way that she knew she’d be reliving for days, if not months to come.
Flynn darted down the hall and beat her to the bedroom. She wasn’t sure why that silly cat always thought there was a race, but apparently there was, and Sophie always came in last.
She reached into her antique drawer and pulled out her favorite chemise. She loved silky things against her skin while she slept. Anything soft and thin that made her feel sexy was always a good thing. Every woman should treat herself to something that made her feel beautiful, whether it was flannel or satin. Sophie wasn’t counting on a man to make her feel sexy; she was independent enough to do that for herself.
The cell on her dresser vibrated again and Sophie rolled her eyes as she glanced over. Only this time it wasn’t her mother.
Her heartbeat lurched and she stared at the name on her screen for several seconds. She even blinked, sure she’d glanced at the name wrong.
With a knot forming quickly in her stomach, Sophie hit the button and answered. “Zach.”
“I need to talk to you.”
No greeting. Just to the point—whatever that point might be.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, gripping the phone and forcing her tone to remain calm.
His muffled laugh leaned toward the sarcastic side. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Sophie padded to her bed, where Flynn had already stretched out on the yellow blanket folded across the bottom. She took a seat, crossing her arm over her abdomen.
“What do you need to talk to me about? Is it the house?” Keep it professional. No need to jump to conclusions. Though if she thought he was sexy before, he was doubly so with that low, throaty voice sliding through the phone.
“No.”
She swallowed, glancing down at her pink polished toenails against the glossy, dark hardwood floors. “Oh. Well, I’ll be in the office tomorrow after ten if you want to swing by. We can talk then.”
“Are you alone?” he asked.
Shock and arousal spread through her at his demanding question. “Um, yes.”
Who else did he expect to be here right now? Did he really think after the way they’d kissed that she would have Martin here for a sleepover? Granted, Zach had no clue about her private life or that she’d not been intimate with anyone in years. She just couldn’t, for way too many reasons—mainly the man on the other end of the line.
