She laughed with her red-lipsticked mouth wide open, and shook her head. “It’s July. It’s close to a hundred degrees outside. Why on earth would I wear a jacket?”
“Why on earth do you insist on wearing a dress everywhere you go? It doesn’t even have sleeves,” he countered as he tugged her into his office and shut the door behind him.
“Thank heavens for the lack of sleeves.” Sophie raised her chin up high. “And you never know who you might meet. I certainly don’t want to be wearing a sweat suit when I meet the future love of my life.”
“Perish the thought,” he muttered.
Her eyes widened. “I might bump into Mr. Right anywhere.”
He scoffed and waved broadly at the offices and desks behind her. “You better hope you’re not meeting the love of your life here.”
But really, you never knew. Her mother had run into her father at a fruit stand in a farmer’s market on the outskirts of town when she was buying a pineapple from him. They’d known each other in high school when both were involved with other people, and then they’d bumped into each other again twenty years later. They’d locked eyes across the citrus, and the rest was history—thirty-five years of an insanely happy marriage and two kids. Sophie could recall many nights when she’d sneak out of bed as a kid and find them slow dancing in the living room to Ella Fitzgerald as a breeze blew through the gauzy curtains, looking so in love.
A love launched by a pineapple.
“In any case, Captain John Buzzkill Winston,” she said, fishing around in her cherry-red purse to find what she’d come for, “here is the transponder to get into my building.” She pressed the flat white object into his palm. “Just wave it at the gate, and you can get into the garage. I have two spots. Use 121 or 122.”
“Thank you,” he said, tapping the device. “Fucking termites. I really appreciate you letting me stay with you. I’d stay with one of the guys…”
She cut him off. “You’ll do no such thing. Men who live alone live like pigs. Think of it as a vacation at the Ritz. Or really, the Veer,” she said, since Sophie lived in a penthouse condo at that luxurious building on the Strip, and it was as close to the Ritz as one could get. “I’ll be leaving at six-thirty sharp for the benefit. You sure you can’t come?”
“No time for a benefit.”
She pouted. “But you look so cute when you clean up,” she said then squeezed his cheek.
He hissed.
“Oh, you don’t scare me with your hisses. You might scare all those poor little suspects you question, but I know you’re just a hushpuppy underneath.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re killing me.”
“I know. It’s so much fun to embarrass you. I think when I leave, I’m gonna shake my rear a little bit. Would that make you crazy? If all your fellas stared at your little sister?”
He held up a finger warning her not to. “You know they all lust after you. Don’t, Soph. Please.”
Oh, but it was too fun to needle him like this. “Don’t try on my shoes tonight while I’m out. Just promise me that,” she said as she opened the door, then pressed her fingers to her mouth in an “oops” gesture. He huffed, and she walked out, winking at the mustached man at the desk a few feet away. “Hi Gavin. Don’t you work too hard.”
“I promise I won’t, Sophie,” he said, then followed her with his puppy dog eyes. “That is, if you’ll finally go out with me.”
She clasped her hand on her heart. “Oh, Gavin. You know I want to. But John just won’t let his little sister date one of the guys he works with.”
Gavin frowned, as he always did when she playfully said no, since he always asked.
Sophie said hello to another guy she knew. “Hey there, Jason. You look handsome today. Say hello to Evie and the boys from me.”
Jason gave a quick salute. “I will. She said to tell you she loved your peach pie recipe.”
“I am so pleased to hear that. My sweet mother left that one for me. It’s divine,” Sophie said, then blew a big communal kiss off her palm for the whole lot of them. As she pictured the red lips floating through the air, she caught one last look at her brother. He scowled from behind the glass in his office.
She winked then walked out.
Sophie Winston was a certified flirt. She hadn’t always been one. Growing up, she was one hundred percent geek. But those days were gone, and now she could be this woman. The one who finally flirted. Flirting was like champagne to her—it gave her a rush, and she loved it. Besides, it let her bide her time. Until it could be more than flirting. Until it could become the real thing.
Maybe someday she’d meet someone who she’d want to do more than flirt with, who’d want her in the same way. She wasn’t entirely sure what that would feel like, but she knew she craved that kind of connection. She wanted it all the way…but she’d also happily take the physical side of the equation for now, if the opportunity arose.
She’d had a mere two lovers in her life, but she knew what she wanted.
She knew what turned her on.
As she returned to her car and started the engine, an image of that man in the green tie slipped into her mind. Of the way she’d felt when he’d stared at her—as if she were being hunted. How she loved that kind of hungry gaze. How she longed to be the prey.
A man who stared at her that way was enough to make her get down on her knees, and that was exactly where she wanted to be.
* * *
As Johnny Cash leapt high to catch a Frisbee in midair in his backyard, Ryan scrolled through the search results. The sun inched closer to the horizon, pelting bolts of pure summer swelter from the sky. He’d already taken a dip in his pool to cool off when he’d arrived home a few minutes ago, and the blue water had done the trick…momentarily.
After quickly tracking down the gala details on his phone in the parking lot, and snagging a pricy ticket for a benefit to raise money for a new children’s wing at a local hospital, Ryan had headed to the gym for a quick workout. With five miles on the treadmill as he answered emails from clients, and several rounds of weights under the belt, he had some time now to dig deeper about his possible date tonight.
To learn more than simply the name of the event.
His black and white Border Collie mix raced to his side, nudging Ryan’s bare leg with the purple Frisbee, which was etched with teeth marks around the rim. Johnny Cash was addicted to this Frisbee. Ryan understood deeply the dog’s single-minded focus. His intensity. His drive.
“Ready for another?”
The dog thumped his tail on the emerald-green grass. From under the relative cool of the big yellow umbrella on the deck of the pool, Ryan cocked his arm and Johnny Cash took off racing, barreling to the far corner of the yard, around the water, and past a cluster of palm trees that shaded the edge of his property. Ryan tossed the Frisbee then glanced down at the iPad again, hunting for any clue that might yield a name for the bombshell.
She’d said something on the phone about raising money, so perhaps she worked for the hospital, heading up its fundraising, maybe. He scanned the event page more closely. Tonight’s fete was a silent auction with drinks and hors d’oeuvres, as well as a performance by a well-known Vegas torch singer. All the town’s glitterati would be there. Probably even some of Ryan’s clients, since the security firm he and his brother ran had contracts with many of the city’s top spenders.
Those were the only details he found.
He shrugged as he reached the bottom of the page and came up empty-handed in the information department. But he didn’t need her name to know he wanted to see her again. He’d already plunked down his cash for the entrance fee in the hope he’d spend time with her tonight. He was rolling the dice big time, but he had a feeling, just from those fifteen seconds on the street that the—