Sophie’s bedroom looked like a tsunami had hit. In her haste and nervousness, she had strewn clothes everywhere. What did one pack for a weekend that was going to be filled with either sex
—in which case she’d be naked most of the time—or, if he gave up on his eleven-point plan, a number of long walks through the woods with the dog in tow? She wanted to believe that she would finally experience the kind of sexual release that books and songs were written about and wars were fought over, but deep down it felt hopeless.
She ran to the den and checked the Big Bear temperatures on her laptop. It was definitely sweater weather out there
—a full twenty degrees cooler than the Valley. She haphazardly threw together a couple of pairs of jeans and a few of her less outrageous sweaters, and pulled her shearling lined leather jacket from the back of the closet. She yanked on a black turtleneck and jeans, and pushed her hair, still dyed Goth black from yesterday, into a checkered newsboy cap and set it at a jaunty angle.
Sasha followed her to the kitchen as she bagged kibble, a couple of chews, and plastic bowls for the dog.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Sasha started barking before the doorbell chimed. It took a few deep breaths before she could work up the nerve to open her front door. Her mouth almost went dry at the sight Ryan. How had she forgotten how hot he was?
The white turtleneck he wore highlighted his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and lightly tanned skin. She balled her hands at her sides, though she was itching to run her
fingers through his hair, and trace his slightly stubbly jaw line. His hair was getting a little long in the back, and curled deliciously along his collar.
The dog was not nearly as inhibited as Sophie was. She had no problem showing her excitement. She launched herself off Ryan’s legs, encased in fawn corduroys, and spun in happy little circles. He dropped to his haunches to pet the dog, letting Sasha lick his face enthusiastically.
He stood again, his six-foot three frame towering over her. “Sasha’s obviously ready to go. You packed?”
Sophie nodded, not trusting her voice. She turned around to haul her bag to the car, but Ryan took the bags from her. “I’ve got that.” He nestled her hot pink duffel and floral tote bags in the trunk alongside his sturdy and very masculine
-looking black leather weekender. “Do you need anything for the dog?”
She found her voice. “Everything is in the tote. I’ll just get her leash.” She turned back to the house and then looked back at him leaning against the car, arms and legs crossed oh-so-casually. “Are you sure that it’s okay to put Sasha in your car?”
“It’s just fine,” he insisted.
She got Sasha’s lead off the peg by the door. The jangle of the leash excited the dog so much that it took a couple of minutes for Sophie to actually hook the leash on the dog’s collar. She was going to have to look into dog training when she came back. She locked the door behind her, set the alarm, and took a deep breath. As soon as she got into his car, she knew she was committed to whatever the weekend
might bring.
The early afternoon traffic flowed surprisingly smoothly and Sasha quickly settled down on the quilt covering the back seat. When they hit the Foothill freeway, Sophie relaxed a little, settling into uneasy silence for the long hour and a half ride ahead.
After a time, using the steering wheel controls, Ryan quieted the jazz that always seemed to play in his car like background music. “You okay? You’re a bit quiet over there,” he said, glancing at her for only a moment.
“Holly’s pregnant,” Sophie blurted out, then covered her mouth
, instantly regretting the outburst.
Ryan mouthed,
Wow
, his eyes trained on the road.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Sophie backtracked. “Promise you won’t mention it,” she pleaded.
“I’m the soul of discretion,” he promised. “What is she going to do?”
“Have the baby. She’s wanted a family for a really long time. It’s the man part she’s having a hard time fitting into the equation.”
“How does Nick feel? He is the father, right? They seemed pretty cozy at Korby.”
“He doesn’t know,” she said. Realizing how bad it sounded, she tried to amend the statement. “It’s a long story. She has her reasons. Damn, I’ve said too much already.”
“I guess she has a lot to think about,” Ryan said evenly. Not taking his eyes off the road, he showed her how the car’s stereo system controls worked. “Why don’t you pick something you’d like to listen to?”
She settled on Power 106. Hip hop blared through the speakers before she turned the volume down a micrometer. “Sorry,” she shouted.
He quirked an eyebrow.
“You get used to it,” she explained. “I spend every day with teenagers.”
Ryan stole a glance at the woman next to him. Christ almighty. What in the hell was he thinking that he could go even a couple of hours without touching her? It was a good thing he drove a stick shift. He
had
to keep both hands free to operate the car. That voice, those lips. With every breath she took, every bump of the car made her small breasts bounce. Did she ever wear a bra? If it were legal, and they didn’t have an innocent dog with them, he would have pulled across all six lanes of traffic and initiated her in the ways of backseat sex.
He glanced at the dashboard navigation system. Forty miles to go. Mentally reviewing the information he’d gathered from his nighttime reading, he was relieved that he had decided to try something several of the books mentioned. The minute they arrived he would get a handle on things, so to speak, to delay his pleasure, and enhance hers. It had never occurred to him to seek his own release before he met a woman for a date. The heightened anticipation and tension had always been a part of the fun. But that anticipation had spelled disaster for him and Sophie last time. This time he wanted to be fully in control.
Imperceptibly, he shifted in his seat, glancing down briefly. It wasn’t a full salute, but there was a slight chafing against the fly of his pants. He kept his eyes forward and tried to think of neutral topics he could ask her about. Ryan turned the music down to a manageable level and she looked over at him expectantly.
“Do you have any other brothers or sisters?” he asked, sounding lame to his own ears. It was such a stupid first date kind of question.
“It’s just me and Selie,” she responded.
“What’s she like?”
“She’s the Marcia Brady of my life,” she said, laughing awkwardly. “She’s gorgeous, and everything in her life goes pretty much perfectly. She went to the right schools, married the right guy. My niece is positively angelic. Somehow my dear sister manages to ‘have it all.’ You’d love her. Everyone does.”
He let her wind down before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you finally give me a straight answer?”
She sighed and pouted like a thirteen-year-old. Her taste in music wasn’t the only thing she had picked up from her teenage charges. She slouched in her seat, propping her perfectly painted purple toenails on the dashboard, and blew air at the few wisps of hair that had escaped the front of her hat. “Just ask me, Ryan.”
“It’s the lawyer thing. Is it all lawyers, or just me?”
Two miles were added to the odometer before she answered. Her husky voice was muted.
“My father, you know, the guy who disappeared Daisy
—he was—
is
a lawyer,” Sophie said, apparently trying for a nonchalance she did not quite achieve. “It’s just that I grew up with someone dictating how my life was going to be. I promised myself when I moved out on my own that I would never be in a relationship where a guy tried to run my life.”
“But why write off a whole profession? Doctors or, I don’t know, accountants, or
anyone
could treat you like that.”
“You’re
one hundred percent right. It’s just that it’s an easy solution. Most people, thank goodness, are not lawyers, so it’s a bright line rule that works for me,” she said, turning around to check on the still sleeping dog.
“I would never treat someone I’m dating like that.”
She sat up straight as they left the Foothill freeway and turned onto the beautifully scenic City Creek Road. The two-lane highway wound up into the mountains and the noise and chaos of the freeway and the city sprawl fell away behind them. Pine studded hills rose and fell as they made their way toward Big Bear Lake.
Sensing the change, Sasha woke up. Ryan opened a rear window and the dog impatiently pushed her wet nose through the crack.
“Well, we’re not really dating, are we?” He barely heard Sophie’s delayed reply over the hum of the radio and air blowing through the window, but he got her message loud and clear, and something pulled uncomfortably tight in his gut. It irked him that he never knew where he stood with her.
He
certainly thought their relationship constituted dating. Maybe they hadn’t gone about it in the traditional way, but he had a plan to fix that—starting in less than an hour. Would there be anything between them after this weekend? He really hoped so, but he’d let her make that decision for herself, after—well, after he had time to convince her, of course. He was a lawyer and persuasion came naturally.
It was big. Huge, really. That was Sophie’s first thought when Ryan steered the car into a wide stone driveway. The house was large and rambling and beautiful. Like a number of houses she’d seen scattered along roads called Woodside and Stoney Creek and Echo Hill, this one was built from huge logs. Large river rocks adorned the welcoming front stairs.
“This is
something else,” she said, slightly awed. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Ryan had done good.
He turned off the car and got out, stretching his long legs. “It’s on about a third of an acre with a fenced in area for the dog,” he said, sounding like a
realtor.
“I
s it yours?” she asked rather unartfully. Her mother would be horrified at such a rude question.
“No.” He laughed, opening the trunk. He pulled out their bags, unharnessed Sasha, and handed the leash to Sophie. “Lawyering doesn’t pay that well.”
He dropped the house keys into her hand. She walked ahead and opened the front door. The inside did not disappoint. Sophie loved her small and funky artist retreat in Studio City, but she could get used to something as cozy as this. The interior was a marriage of tongue and groove ceilings and exposed beams. Melon-sized, smooth, blue-gray-green river stones covered the fireplace in the main room from floor to ceiling. She quickly located a back door and let Sasha out, then explored the rest of the house.
The open
-plan family, dining, and kitchen areas made up the bulk of the house. Up a short flight of stairs, there were two bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Everything was natural—wood, leather, or stone. She couldn’t help laughing out loud when she spied the dining and living room fixtures. They looked like deer antlers and were over the top.
Ryan came in carrying various bags. “What’s so funny?”
She pointed toward the dining area ceiling.
“I didn’t decorate it.” He shrugged, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.
Sasha started barking and they went outside to see what she was up to. She’d flushed all sorts of animals from their hiding places in the yard, and the pines swayed with the weight of their small bodies clinging for dear life. Sophie unceremoniously plopped butt on the porch and took in the scene around her. The views were breathtaking. She could see nothing but trees and hills for miles. Looking down, she could even see the low afternoon sun glinting off the smooth glass sheen of the lake peeking between the trees.
Spontaneously, she grabbed the warm hand Ryan had dropped on her shoulder. “I just want to say thanks for bringing me here. If I forget to tell you later, this is a really nice thing you did.” He caught her hand in a firm grip and pulled her up to stand next to him.
The kiss that came was unexpected. It wasn’t a fire-stoking kiss like the previous ones that had started conflagrations. It was far more tender and sweet, laced with something more than lust, and it scared the hell out of her.
Ryan wanted everything to be perfect. So far, so good. He called the dog and she ran in happily. Sophie broke away from their embrace to fill a bowl with water. The grateful dog lapped noisily, her nametag jingling and clinking against the bowl’s rim. Sophie leaned against the counter that separated the kitchen area from the dining room table, looking at him expectantly.
“If you’re the man with the plan, you had better get cracking.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. When she shook her head negatively, he continued. “Well, later when you do get hungry, we can eat in. I could make something for dinner. Or we could go out. Either way, we should probably stock up on a few groceries.” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.
They decided to take the dog and picked up some food and wine at a couple of the markets on Big Bear Boulevard. Back in the cabin, Sophie sat behind the counter while Ryan put everything away in the cabinets and fridge.