The Bachelor Pact (55 page)

* * *

"The show was great," Lucy said as she and Sophie drove back to Sophie's.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Sophie maneuvered through traffic, a twinge pulling at her stomach when she spotted Lance's truck still in the drive. "Uh-oh, I was hoping he was gone."

"All the more reason for you to check out the singles services you interviewed today," Lucy said. "You were right to agree to a few dates."

"I only did that because of the show." Sophie sighed. More cameras. More pretending. It seemed she'd been pretending all her life. Putting on a show...

"Right. But you'll meet a lot of men that way, get yourself out there, take a chance. The karma's completely off between you and Lance."

Lucy logic again. She'd gotten into all that New Age stuff in the past year. Once Sophie thought she'd seen her sister singing to the moon. "I'm taking a chance tonight, Lucy." Sophie jammed her cell phone into her purse, parked in her drive, and opened the door. "I still can't believe you asked that guy in Starbucks to date me. For God's sake, you almost propositioned him. For a minute you sounded like..."

"Like Deseree?" Lucy's lower lip wilted.

A pang of guilt assaulted Sophie. "No, I... I didn't mean it like that." She squeezed her sister's hand. "I know you would never resort to some of the things Deseree did."

"Maybe Deseree was desperate," Lucy said in her typical naive mode. "She probably didn't know any other way to survive, and she certainly never had any help or support."

"Maybe," Sophie conceded. "But there are other ways, and we're not Deseree."

"You've been serious way too long, Soph. Don't worry; we'll both have fun." Lucy launched into a spiel about sneaking along a few products from her silver case to entertain the Hispanic man she'd met at the coffee shop, but Sophie shushed her when Lance appeared, dragging a box of trash toward his truck.

Sophie hopped out, stuffed her briefcase under her arm, and strutted up the sidewalk, pretending nonchalance as Lance watched her out of the corner of his eye.

"You'd better hurry to get dressed for your evening out," Lucy said a little too loudly. "Your date will be here soon."

Sophie wanted to throttle and hug her sister at the same time. Still, she took the opportunity to dash into the house to refresh herself before her date appeared.

What was his name, anyway?

A half hour later Sophie had half her closet spread on her bed, undecided what to wear. The mess in the house was driving her crazy. Her kitchen was torn apart, a small portion of the cabinets installed while Lance lay shirtless on the floor installing the rest. She'd wanted to ask him why he was half-naked, then realized that her air conditioner was on the fritz, which meant another repair—and endless nights of being haunted by the image of Lance without a shirt.

Lucy knocked, then vaulted into the room wearing a black leather miniskirt, a silver spandex tube top, a see-through black jacket/blouse over it, and sparkly eye shadow shimmering above her eyes. "Are you almost ready?"

Sophie eyed her wardrobe choices dubiously. "Not quite."

Lucy glanced at the bed and grimaced. "Oh, come on, Soph, you're not really considering that yucky green dress?"

"It's a designer knockoff. I want to downplay my role on
Sophie Knows."

"It's hideous. You're not going to a Baptist revival."

"It's conservative."

"It's dowdy. Now get serious."

Sophie made a frustrated sound, then revisited her closet. A few minutes later, with Lucy's guidance, she emerged dressed in a slinky scoop-necked black cocktail dress that she'd bought for a party the station had hosted for local celebrities.

Lucy stepped back and whistled. "Fabulous."

Sophie scrutinized her reflection. "My boobs are hanging out."

Lucy pushed her own goods upward into her bra. "Perfect for Maddie's rules. Strut your stuff but don't let him touch."

"Don't worry about that; I don't intend to hop in the sack with this guy tonight." The doorbell rang and they both dashed from her room. "What was his name, anyway?"

"Jeremy—now be nice." Lucy teetered away for the door while Sophie paused to catch her breath.

Trouble was, Lance filled the hallway with a cabinet he was carting outside. They both paused and waited; then she rushed forward, wondering about could-have-beens. They met in the middle of the corridor, their bodies brushing against each other as they passed. Sophie felt the hard planes of his body and a thousand sensations slivered through her. Lance's intake of breath and the way he drew his shoulders away from her indicated he'd been affected as well. Feeling suddenly wicked, she drew in a deep breath, letting her chest expand and her taut nipples brush his naked, sweaty chest.

His gaze dropped to hers and he stilled, his lower body pulsing against the small of her stomach. Heat speared through Sophie. Hunger darkened the irises of his eyes. Her own breath quickened. His gaze dropped to her lips. She wet them with her tongue. He followed the movement.

"Yoo-hoo, Sophie, Jeremy's here."

Sophie released the breath she'd been holding. Disappointment mingled with desire. "My, er, date."

He shoved the cabinet out of the way and stepped aside. "By all means, have fun. I've got to get going, too—finally decided to try out that singles service you connected me with."

She pasted on a fake smile and headed toward the man waiting at the door, wondering who exactly Lance would be seeing tonight. Remembering Maddie's advice, though, she added an extra little sway to her hips.

She might be through with Lance, but she definitely wanted him to suffer. A tear threatened but she squashed it.

And she definitely wanted him to think of her while he was out with that other bimbo.

* * *

Lance didn't know if he could suffer through the remainder of the evening with this woman. Jamie James smoked like a fiend, ate like a horse, and so far had inhaled three shots of bourbon straight up without batting a false eyelash. And they were false, along with her nails, the nose job, and her boobs, which she had informed him cost thirty-five hundred dollars each, a gift from her third ex-husband in the divorce settlement. In return, she'd given him the Porsche, the second home in Denver, and the live-in-maid whom he was sleeping with.

Her only redeeming quality as far as he was concerned was the fact that she didn't have a police record. She'd told him that right up front, along with her personal and medical history, and a gynecological report that offered way too much information.

He tried to focus on his beer and ignore her inquisition.

"Now, Lance, do you have any serious medical problems?"

Was this first-date conversation these days? If so, he'd been out of touch a long damn time. "No."

"Any venereal diseases?"

Weren't women supposed to be into all that getting-to-know-you chit-chat shit like,
Do you like football or romantic music?

"Uh-oh, what—syphilis? Gonorrhea? AIDS?"

He coughed. "No."

"To all three?"

He yanked at his collar, sweat beading on his forehead. "Yes, to all three."

Horror streaked her face. "Yes, you have all three diseases?"

"No, geesh, I don't have any diseases."

"Thank goodness." She blew a breath between even white teeth, then waved for the bartender. "Prior children?"

His gaze shot to hers. "Definitely not."

"All right, then, I think this might work."

"Excuse me?" He cradled his beer and downed the rest of it. "What might work? You've just given me twenty questions."

"I know, and I'm sorry." She patted his hand, then reached into her purse and placed a plastic vial on the table in front of him. "But I had to know all those things before we could continue."

He eyed the vial with trepidation. "Continue what?"

"Making a baby."

"A baby?"

"Yes, I joined the singles service to find a sperm donor."

His hands began to shake. "You did what?"

"I want you to father my child." She finally gave him a smile. "Actually, consider yourself lucky. So far I've interviewed fifty-three candidates and no one filled all my requirements except you."

He gulped. He certainly didn't feel lucky. And he had no intention of fathering this lunatic's baby.

"Uh, excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom."

She grinned when he stood, then grabbed his hand. "Don't forget this." She slid the vial into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers around it. Heat scalded Lance's neck as he shoved his fist into his pocket and strode to the bathroom.

Surely he could find a back door....

Chapter 10

Sophie glanced at the door to the coffee shop where she and her date had stopped after dinner, surprised to see Lance peering through the doorway. What was he doing here? And where was this woman he'd planned to meet?

He strode in, his masculine presence suddenly filling the crowded shop and making Jeremy's lean build look almost feminine.

"Basically it requires a multitude of shots," Jeremy said. "Then I go in with the scalpel—actually some patients call it a gum knife..."

Sophie shivered. He had been giving her the basics on performing a root canal—in other words, boring her to tears for the last half hour. The only way she had survived was to people-watch and nod, neither of which he noticed due to his overinflated ego and obsession with himself.

But Lance glanced her way, and she jerked her head toward Jeremy, pretending interest.

As soon as they'd left dinner, Lucy and her date had run off to go clubbing, claiming the coffee shop didn't quite meet Lucy's standards for excitement. At one time it hadn't met Sophie's either. Just last year she'd been content to attend new show openings and parties with Maddie. They'd even gone to that nudist colony. But the upcoming big three-oh—and seeing Maddie settled with a husband—had triggered her own desires for family, stability, love....

"Last week I performed three root canals in a row; then I did an implant for this lady who bit into a caramel and lost her crown. That was a piece of work. I could show you the X rays, if you'd like; it's really fascinating...."

Smile and nod.
Maybe she should have gone with Lucy. At least alcohol might dull the drone of his monotone.

Jeremy's beeper sounded. "Sorry, forgot to tell you I'm on call."

Sophie sipped her mocha, praying he had an emergency. "No problem; go ahead."

He popped his cell phone off his belt and clicked in some numbers, his face animated as he spoke. "Okay, ma'am, calm down. Bring the teeth in. I can save them...." Pause. His chest puffed out with pride. "Yes, all right. Meet me at the office."

He snapped the phone shut with a halfhearted sigh. "I'm going to have to call the evening short. A twelve-year-old knocked his front two permanent teeth out in a backyard baseball game."

"By all means, you should go," Sophie said, sorry for the poor child but grateful for the reprieve. "I'll get a taxi home."

"You're sure you don't mind? I can take you first." He squeezed her hands and she noticed his nails were manicured. His skin felt surprisingly soft, too, unlike Lance's work-roughened hands.

So she was odd—she much preferred Lance's calluses and wood-stained fingernails. "I'm sure. Go on; the child needs you."

"Let's do it again, Sophie. I had a wonderful time." He dipped his head and kissed her cheek.

She nodded and smiled again, accepting the obligatory gesture. Sure, he'd had a wonderful time. He'd talked nonstop about himself. Cradling her cup in her hands, she tried to ignore the fact that Lance was walking her way and that he'd seen her date desert her. Seconds later he slid onto the love seat beside her. In a typical manly move, he sat with his big legs spread wide so that they brushed her bare thigh. In spite of the air conditioner, hot air swirled around her, the scent of his body intoxicating. All she could think of was crawling in his arms and burying herself against his chest.

Unfortunately she'd have to settle for crawling into his shirt later on and burying her head against her own pillow.

He was wearing a hint of cologne, too, something slightly woodsy. Because he'd been on a date with another woman.

"Your date ran out on you?" he asked, a little too smugly.

"He's a doctor," Sophie blurted, tugging at the hem of her skirt as Lance's gaze fixated on her legs. "He had an emergency."

His smile faltered slightly. "A doctor, huh? Sounds like a good match."

For a doormat.
"How about you? I thought you had plans tonight? Early evening?"

He cut his gaze away from her and sipped his coffee. "A disaster."

"Really?"
Too bad.
"So, what are you doing here? Following me?"

Lance shrugged. "I saw you come in, thought I'd drop by and tell you that that service you set me up with has some weirdos."

Poor baby.
So he was blaming her for his date bombing. And had he really dropped in to tell her that, or did he want to see her? Her heart fluttered at the thought, but she refused to get her hopes up. "What kind of weirdos?"