No Strings Attached (35 page)

Maya glared at Mac. “You need to be more careful, young man.”

“I’ll have Luis take a look at your yard on Monday,” Sophie said to appease her mother. “He’ll fix the damage.”

“Your mother has a right to be concerned, Sophie, but that’s not what we came for. Here is your gift,” her father said, moving things along. He withdrew an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit coat and handed it to her. “Happy Birthday, Daughter.”

No smiles, no hugs, no sign of affection, Dune noted. They were a repressed couple. The dead silence became more strained as Sophie stared at the envelope.

No black dress this year. Dune hoped her parents hadn’t gone with a gift certificate to a high-end boutique. Or worse yet, written her a check.

Slowly, her hands shaking, Sophie opened the envelope. Her face softened when she saw what was inside. “Two tickets to the Andrea Bocelli concert in Miami in the fall,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“The tickets aren’t on sale yet,” her mother said. “Your father called in a favor to get them.”

Men in high places pulled strings, Dune thought. Sophie loved the opera. He was pleased that her parents had put some thought into her gift this year. Or maybe Trace was behind their initiative. Either way, Sophie was pleased. That was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” she said, clutching the tickets to her chest. She glanced toward the dessert table where Marisole and the servers were now slicing pies, cutting up the brownies, and scooping the peach cobbler onto blue plastic plates. “Would you like a piece of my birthday cake before you leave?” she offered. “It’s my favorite. Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”

Dune knew she held her breath as she waited for their answer. He was not surprised when her mother said in a condescending voice, “Sugar doesn’t sit well on an empty stomach. Besides, we’re headed to a charity event at the country club; drinks, dinner, and the silent auction.”

Her mother cast a final look around and shook her head in disgust. “Such a mess you’ve all made,” she said. “I’ll call Platinum Sparkle first thing in the morning. They work Sundays.”

A cleaning team, Dune thought. They would sanitize all Sophie’s memories and leave her nothing but the scent of bleach. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He stepped forward and said to Maya, “That won’t be necessary. We’ll clean up before we leave.”

Her mother’s smile was tight. “How nice of you.”

“We can haul garbage to the curb with the best of them,” said Mac, unfiltered.

“Have a nice evening,” Sophie wished her parents on their way. There was no reason for them to stay.

Maya flicked her wrist. “Do get back to your fun.”

Fun
was all young Randy needed to hear. The kid had been quiet while the adults talked, but he couldn’t wait to get back into the pool. He stood on the diving board and bounced up and down, going higher each time.

It was a moment etched in time that no one would ever forget. Maya and Brandt turned toward the south gate at the exact moment Randy jumped off the board. He was tucked to cannonball. He landed the biggest splash of the afternoon.

Those standing on the pool deck near the deep end got soaked to the bone, including Sophie’s parents. Maya and Brandt stood as still as statues caught in a sudden rainstorm, dripping wet from head to toe.

They would have to change into dry clothes before they could attend their charity event. Maya was in need of a hairstylist. Water filled Brandt’s polished wingtips.

No one moved. Trace was the first to recover. He grabbed two towels from the cabana cabinet and approached his parents with a few mumbled words of apology. Dune could only stare. The damage was done. Trace escorted his parents out.

“Monumental,” Dune heard Mac say.

Randy got out of the pool to everyone’s stares. He freaked a little. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, worried.

“Everything’s fine,” Sophie assured him. “It’s a pool party. You’re allowed to splash.”

“Splashing is not for amateurs,” Mac said. “You’ve gone pro, kid.”

Randy looked relieved.

“Dessert, then volleyball,” Mac said, taking over the role of social director. “I hear a piece of birthday cake calling my name.”

The mayor crossed to Dune. James was in his element cooking at the grill. “Mac’s going to want more hamburgers,” he said. “I’m low on charcoal. Sophie mentioned there was another bag in the garage.”

“I’m on it,” Dune said, going for the briquettes. He was happy to keep the party going after the splashing incident. He’d never forget the shocked look on Maya’s face if he lived to be a hundred.

He walked through the kitchen and out the side door. The breezeway connected the house to the garage. Mature vines climbed the trellises and tiny pink flowers bloomed. He ducked a bumblebee. The air smelled sweet.

He found several storage areas inside the garage and opened the door to each one. Sophie kept her youthful memories packed away in closets. He found a girl’s Huffy bicycle, a dollhouse, and a few stuffed animals. One plush lion had a bright reddish mane, as if he’d been fed spaghetti.

Behind door number three, he located the bag of charcoal. He pulled out the bag and noticed a stack of sports magazines along with a canvas carrier on the floor. A sense of déjà vu made his skin prickle, as if he
had
to check it out. He crouched down.

It was a backpack, well-worn, and with a crooked zipper. He stared and stared, his chest giving an unfamiliar squeeze. Oddly nervous, he flexed his fingers.

He tugged on the metal tab and the zipper gave way. He lifted one of the flaps and, in that instant, he had the strangest sensation he had turned back time.

His breathing deepened as a jumble of images hit him all at once. He caught flashes of a young, brown-haired girl wearing glasses and looking panicky. She was alone and vulnerable. He saw a fallen bicycle near an elementary school. Cars passed and honked, yet no one stopped to help her. Not even the other schoolkids.

He’d gone to her rescue. He recalled parking his Harley and picking up the books scattered across the roadway. He’d fixed the zipper on her backpack so she could get home, then shielded her from the traffic as she applied one of his superhero Band-Aids to her chin.

Had that girl been Sophie?

He looked inside the backpack.
Sophie Saunders, Second Grade
was written in indelible ink on the inside. He ran his thumb over her name. His gut tightened as he delved deeper into her past. A dozen children’s books spilled out. An old Superman Band-Aid was folded in half. He fingered the pair of crooked eye glasses. There was a pack of number-two pencils, a 24-count box of crayons, and a wooden ruler. A green spiral notebook caught his eye. He opened it to the first page.

He saw a few math problems and an old homework assignment. Then he came to his name and his heart slowed.
Dun, Dome, Doone
was neatly printed near the bottom. He didn’t recall giving her his name, yet apparently he had. She hadn’t known how to spell it.

He remembered riding off with one eye in the rearview mirror. It had taken her two tries to get back on her bike. He’d hoped she would be safe. The fact that she’d kept her backpack spoke volumes to him about what had happened that day.

Her little girl’s heart had never forgotten him.

He’d wanted to protect her then as much as he did now.

He set the canvas bag aside and turned to the sports magazines. He was featured in each one. The dates catalogued every tournament from his rookie year to the day he became top seed. No one had ever followed his career so closely. Not even his parents. But Sophie had.

He pushed to his feet and let the moment fully sink in. Emotion settled heavily in his chest. His mind raced. He had several questions for her. Had she had a crush on him from the age of seven? Had she idolized him in her teens? Had she fantasized about him when she became a woman? Did she see him as the man in the magazines? Or could she see the real man behind the hype and publicity?

Only she had the answers.

Hero worship was lost on him. He didn’t want that from her. But did he have the right to ask for more, especially when his future remained uncertain? He didn’t want to fail or disappoint her. Could he live up to her expectations of him?

He rubbed the back of his neck. He felt his throat close. He needed to think things through. He wondered how long he could remain in the garage before someone came after him and the bag of briquettes. Who would miss him first?

Sophie Saunders felt Dune Cates’s absence even before she consciously realized he was gone. The day felt cooler, as if the sun had slipped behind a cloud. She looked around, not seeing him anywhere.

Her brow pleated, a shiver of worry slipping through her as she went looking for him. The mayor mentioned that Dune had gone to the garage for charcoal. She entered through the breezeway and spotted him immediately. He gave her butterflies. He was a handsome man. She took a moment to admire his bare chest and muscled legs. He looked good in his teal green board shorts. A pair of his Suncats was hooked in his waistband. The sporty sunglasses were oval with navy lenses and a flexible wire frame.

She held up a piece of birthday cake on a blue plastic plate. She smiled as she crossed to him. “I saved you a slice,” she said. “Mac’s eaten the top tier and is working his way down.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” His voice sounded odd to Sophie’s ears.

She angled her head, puzzling over his tone. “You’re always on my mind,” she said.

“You’re on mine, too.”

Her steps faltered when she saw the open storage room door and her childhood on display. She brushed her damp hair out of her eyes and looked at him. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“James sent me for charcoal,” Dune told her. “I found your backpack under the briquettes.”

She released a sigh. “That backpack holds a lot of memories from elementary school.”

“So I see.” He hung her canvas bag on a hook on the back of the door. “Tell me about the day you fell off your bike.”

“That was the day I met you.”

“I remember now. Your backpack jarred my memory.” He looked confused. “Why didn’t you tell me that we’d met?”

She shrugged and the cake on the plate tipped. She pushed it back with her thumb. “I was embarrassed,” she confessed. “I was an impressionable young girl. You were an older boy with shaggy blond hair and Lion King eyes who rode a motorcycle. As I grew older, there were times I couldn’t see your face clearly, but I always remembered your kindness. That mattered most to me.”

She looked over at the sports magazines scattered on the floor. “I first learned your last name in
Sports Illustrated
. Trace had a copy on the desk in his home office. I flipped through it one day while I was waiting for him to take me to the dentist. I saw your photo and decided then and there to follow your career. I admired your strength and drive. I imagined you were a good man.”

She paused, continuing with, “I watched your tournaments on TV. You were surrounded by women after every match, yet you took time to talk to the kids, too. You’re a great role model, Dune. You challenge life, something I’ve wanted to do but never had the courage to try. This summer you supported me and my adventures. I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

“No hero worship?” His brow creased and his jaw clenched. The question appeared important to him.

She shook her head. “I know your faults.”

That took him back. “Name one?”

“You don’t pick up after yourself in the bathroom, you can’t seem to find the dishwasher, you drink the last of the sun tea without making a new batch, and you have yet to clean the hamster cage.”

“I get the picture.” He exhaled slowly, as if relieved. “I don’t want you to see me as more than I am.”

“I promise to see you as a whole lot less.”

He rolled his eyes, smiled. “Mac’s humor is rubbing off on you. Stay away from him the rest of the day.”

“Can’t,” she said. “He already picked me for his pool volleyball team.”

“You’re playing in the shallow end, right?”

“We may have to rotate sides.”

“New rules,” said Dune, bending them to her favor. “One side, ten points wins.”

“You’re bossy.”

“I’m saving you from treading water.”

She’d sink like a stone.

He took the cake plate from her then. He ate several bites and said, “I’d like to lick cream cheese icing off your nipples tonight.”

Her knees went weak.

Dune gave frosting a whole new meaning.

Fifteen

M
onday morning and Sophie Saunders sat alone at her kitchen table. She ate a piece of birthday cake for breakfast. Red velvet was her favorite. She liked breaking the breakfast rules. No eggs, no cereal, no fresh fruit, only dessert. Sugar was her new wake-up call.

She’d never look at cream cheese icing in quite the same way. It was pure decadence, so thick, sweet, and smooth. She’d enjoyed licking the icing off Dune’s inner thigh. He’d reciprocated and tasted her twice. She now had a frosting fetish.

It had been the best weekend of her life, both fun and sexual. Dune had thrown her an amazing party. She would always be grateful. He also knew how to keep a woman up all night and make her very happy. She’d be smiling to herself all day.

He’d left her house at first light. Sophie had offered to go with him to the airport and see him off, but he’d insisted she stay in bed. Exhausted, she kissed him good-bye, then fell back asleep clutching the pillow still warm with his body heat. She’d slept another two hours.

She faced a busy day ahead. The museum was her first stop. There she’d meet with both her contractor Kai Cates and her fiscal advisor from the courthouse. She was so excited, she could barely sit still. Her vision of the museum would soon be a reality.

A flash of the hamster ball alerted her that her girls were getting their morning exercise. She’d let them out of their cage before she’d made her coffee and cut her piece of cake. Their feet now churned as they looked for new places to explore. They reminded her that life was an adventure. Already, she’d experienced many great moments.