The Bachelor Pact (59 page)

Sophie had met date number one at Wet Willie's, an inexpensive but charming bar/restaurant. The outside temperature soared to record highs, yet her attitude about her upcoming date was chilly at best. She reminded herself to give the guy a chance. Sure, she'd shared one incredible kiss with Lance—well, maybe more than one—but he hadn't made a move since.

Maddie's rules flitted through her head:
Make him chase the bait.

Trouble was, Lance wasn't chasing.

"The first thing you do when identifying spiders and insects is to determine their order," Tad Jeffries, an entomologist, said in a high-pitched voice that sounded as if he were passing through puberty. "Actually, most insects and spiders are nearsighted, so if you move slowly you can get a good look."

"I guess they've never heard of Lasik surgery," Sophie said.

Tad didn't get the joke. He merely squinted over his bifocals with a dour expression—the same one he'd been wearing ever since she arrived at the bar. She had almost ordered the house drink, Sex on the Beach, but opted not to give Tad any ideas.

"The buffalo treehopper is one of the most interesting visually; it feeds on plant juices by drilling their bark with its beak, and looks like a miniature green buffalo."

Sophie twirled the swizzle stick in her martini, trying to pretend interest. Did this guy really think talking insects was romantic?

"Now, take the praying mantis; some people think it should be named
preying
mantis with an
e
because it really is a predator."

"Makes sense."

"Spiders actually are sexist, too," he said, drawing her head up for once. "The wolf spider doesn't live in a web, but she's a devoted mother, so she carries her eggs in a ball of silk on her back."

How odd that a spider would have more maternal instincts than Sophie's own mother.

"After they're born, they ride on her back until they're ready to fend for themselves." He sipped his Scotch. "They have to hurry, though, because the mother sometimes forgets they're her own babies and pounces on them as prey. Probably what happened to the male."

So maybe mama spiders weren't so devoted. "The poor babies."

"In fact, once the black widow female mates, she normally kills the male because he's served his purpose."

Yikes.

"I wrote my dissertation on the subject."

"Really?" Why wasn't she surprised?

He flexed his fingers. "It's important to know the different types of spiders; recognizing which ones are poisonous and how to treat their various bites is an essential survival skill."

"Yes, it would be." Not that she planned to go trekking off into the unknown with this man.

"We could go camping sometime. I know a very remote spot on Tybee Island." His tone sounded somber. "Wouldn't you feel safe knowing that I could take care of you?"

God. She'd been safe and bored to tears. And what a line.

Trying for a slick move, he slid his hand over hers, but he overcompensated for her short fingers and knocked over her glass, spilling her drink in her lap. Sophie jumped up, pouncing on the accident as the perfect excuse to escape yet another horrendous date.

One down, one more to go; then she could call it a night.

Outside, she wiped her skirt and made a mental note not to run any more singles series—unless she focused on the joys of being alone. Maybe the black widow was the smarter species after all....

* * *

Lance finally dozed off for about an hour. Unfortunately he dreamed of Sophie. They were stranded on a deserted island wearing nothing but loincloths, her porcelain skin sun-kissed and dusted with a faint line of freckles, the ocean lapping at the sugar-white sand in the background. He had finally overcome his anxiety about being trapped by her—or
with
her, as the present case was—and given in to primal instincts.

He had to have her.

They had been on the island three weeks. Three agonizing weeks of watching her bathe in the crystal-clear waters, of watching those slender bare legs swim against the current, of watching her sleep beneath the makeshift cover they'd fashioned from palm leaves.

His body was so hard he thought it might explode from want. But he remembered the "Dating Game" show where he'd failed so miserably, and Sophie's comment that he wasn't romantic, so he gathered fresh flowers along the shore and picked ripe fruit, then peeled and squeezed the melon to prepare her a refreshing cocktail. Dusk had settled over the island, the sun slipping into radiant pink and orange lines, the early-evening shadows from the tropical trees offering a private sanctuary.

She had just emerged from the ocean, water droplets glistening off her skin and dripping from that raven-colored hair. He watched from the shadows, his body hardening and throbbing with desire.

Tonight she would be his.

She slowly walked toward the fire, and he smiled, then handed her the drink and retrieved the flowers from behind his back.

"What's this all about?" she asked in a soft voice.

"I want this night to be special." He stood and brushed her hair back with his fingers, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair mingled with the salty ocean breeze. "I want us to be together, Sophie."

A wicked gleam flashed into her eyes. Then she pushed the drink back into his hand. "I told you, Lance, I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last man on earth." She swept her hand across the darkening deserted island. "And I meant it."

With a final dismissive look, she turned and sauntered away from him.

Lance jerked awake and sat up, the electrodes pinching his temple, the monitor on the machine beeping into the silence.

* * *

Sophie met George Kirsch at Windows on the River, impressed by his choice. The Hyatt's adjoining restaurant served some of the freshest seafood in Savannah, and the atmosphere was unique. If a freighter passed by during dinner, you found yourself in a three-dimensional wonderland—the mirrored walls reflected the magnificence above, behind, and around you.

"Hi, you must be Sophie."

An impeccably dressed, handsome man stared down at her. He offered her a rose, and her stomach somersaulted. His accent was slightly Northern, his voice rich and deep. He was almost six feet tall, with deep-set gray eyes, dark brown hair peppered with streaks of blond, a kind face, and a sexy smile.

She was grateful she'd had time to dart home and slip into a cocktail dress.

"You look lovely."

"Thanks."

He slid a hand to her waist and escorted her to a table by the river. A bottle of fine wine sat chilling in a crystal decanter. She swallowed hard, realizing this man knew how to entertain a lady. Was it all for show? Would he be as full of himself as some of the others she'd met?

An hour later Sophie realized he was quite the gentlemen: intelligent, good-looking, and considerate.

"I'm a partner with Farley, Strauss, and Kirsch," he said.

Sophie tasted her salmon and smiled. "What kind of law do you practice?"

"The firm is a cross between business and corporate law. I'm a litigator." He shrugged and sipped his wine, his gaze intent on her. "I do take on a few pro bono cases."

"Really?" A generous, giving man to boot. Maybe he could help her forget Lance.

He shrugged again. "I came up through the trenches myself. Raised in Philadelphia, strictly working class." He leaned forward, an earnest expression in his eyes. "One should never forget where he comes from. Our past builds and shapes our character."

Sophie stared into her water glass, feeling a connection. "You had a tough childhood?"

"Somewhat." He cut into his steak. "But I don't dwell on it. A self-made man is far better off than one who is given everything and throws it away."

"I agree." Sophie wondered how much of what he said was an act, but sensed he was sincere.

He was too good to be true.

"Now, enough about me; let's talk about you, Sophie. I want to know your deepest desires."

Sophie tensed, her fingers brushing the stem of her wineglass. Her secrets rose to haunt her. What would he think if he knew the truth?

She wasn't ready to find out.

"I suppose you've seen the show."

"Yes, you're a natural on camera." He reached out and traced a finger over her knuckles.

A blush stole up Sophie's face. Oh, he was good with flattery.

"So you're enjoying the singles service?"

"I don't know," Sophie said honestly. "It's awkward meeting strangers." They ate, both sharing stories of past encounters. Some of his dates were almost as outrageous as her own. But none topped Lance's date where the woman handed him the plastic vial. What was he doing now?

Darn it, she couldn't think about Lance.

"I'm surprised you're using the dating service," Sophie finally said. "I can't imagine a man like you having trouble meeting women."

A teasing smile lit his eyes. "A man like me?"

Sophie laughed. "You're handsome, charming, intelligent,
employed."

He laughed this time. "I do meet women," he admitted. "But believe it or not, I'm not looking for a one-night stand. Most of the women I meet in bars are not what I'd consider for a long-term relationship."

He was looking for a
real
relationship? He must have been beamed in from another planet.

The waitress stopped by and he ordered the house specialty dessert, warm bourbon over ice cream with coffee. "You look surprised that I'm looking for a relationship?"

Sophie leaned her hand on her palm. "I guess I am. Most men these days just want..."

"Sex?"

She chuckled. "Yes."

"I didn't say I didn't want that," he amended with a mischievous grin. "But I'm a patient man."

Sophie's throat completely tightened.

He squeezed her hand, then scooped a bit of ice cream onto his spoon and fed it to her. "If you're up for it, we could take a walk down River Street, maybe stop in the Bayou Cafe and listen to some blues."

It was almost as if he could read her mind. "I love blues."

They finished off the dessert, Sophie savoring each delicious mouthful. He paid the bill and they left the restaurant, walking hand in hand along the river. The sounds of summer tourists, music, and laughter floated around them, creating a romantic atmosphere that was almost intoxicating.

Inside the cafe, they squeezed together at a small table in the corner and spent the next hour listening to the saxophone and piano.

Around midnight, he walked Sophie to her car.

"I don't want us to be strangers, Sophie." He turned her palm over and drew a circle in the middle. "Can I see you again?"

Sophie nodded and climbed in her car, feeling elated as she drove home. George was nice and handsome and a charming man. Yes, she would see him again.

Barring that one slip of insanity, he had helped her forget about Lance. She owed him another night simply for that.

* * *

The next morning Lucy let Lance into the kitchen to finish installing the new counters. She had already dressed and made coffee, and was waiting with her kit for Sophie to come downstairs. Lance looked rough and unkempt this morning, as if he hadn't slept. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his hair was tousled as if he'd run his hands through it a thousand times.

She fought sympathy for the man.

She did not care if he had troubles. He didn't think she and Sophie were good enough for him and his brother—that was reason enough to cast a hex on him. But she had restrained. She normally used the charms and spells to evoke positive energy, not for negative purposes.

And Sophie's love life had definitely needed a boost.

And since she'd heard Sophie come in after midnight, humming, she assumed the charm she'd slipped into her sister's purse had worked.

Sophie's heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she approached. Lucy handed her a diet Coke before she made it to the kitchen, then cleared her throat, making certain she spoke loud enough for Lance to overhear their conversation. She wanted to rub it in....

"Soph, congratulations on the show being syndicated."

"Thanks, it's pretty exciting."

"I guess you celebrated last night with your dates. Tell me all about them."

Sophie sank onto the living room sofa and sipped her soda. "The first man was a complete dud, but George... George was nice."

"Details, sis, spill it all."

Sophie related the events of the evening. "It's hard to believe he's for real, he was so perfect."

Lucy clapped her hands together. "He sounds positively divine."

"He was charming, intelligent, well dressed, sophisticated but down-to-earth—"

"And he's going to call again?"

"He said he would." Sophie sighed and fluffed a sofa pillow. "And you know what the best part is, Lucy?"

"What? He's a great kisser?"

Sophie laughed. "He's real. He cares about other people enough to do pro bono work. He grew up in a humble home, and he's giving back."

"That is admirable."

"And he wants a real relationship."

Lucy lost her enthusiasm slightly. "It's a little early to get serious, isn't it?"

Sophie smiled. "I'm not serious with him. We'll have to wait and see if he calls back."

"Oh, he'll call." Notions of Lance being dust in the wind danced through her head.

"Now, tell me about your evening, Lucy. You didn't see Reid, did you?"

Lucy shook her head. "Not for lack of trying, but he told me yesterday that Lance didn't want him getting involved with me."

"He said what?"

Lucy fought a grin, knowing Sophie's motherly instincts would kick in. "The bottom line is, Lance doesn't think I'm good enough for Reid."

Lucy silently counted to ten, waiting on Sophie to jump up and pounce on Lance.

It took her sister only to the count of five....

* * *

Lance wanted to disappear behind the walls. He'd been listening to Sophie and Lucy and had smashed his thumb when he'd heard Sophie describing her date. She obviously really liked this lawyer guy. And Sophie's show had been syndicated, meaning she would only become more of a celebrity.