let you know how things go,” she told him, then with a wiggle of her fingers she hurried away.
Mason lifted fingertips to the spot she’d kissed not once, but twice. The skin was still tingling as though she’d stuck a naked electric wire to his cheek. If a simple kiss to the side of his face had caused this much reaction, the feel of her lips against his would probably have him dancing like a drunk idiot atop his desk.
Darting a glance toward Nadine’s desk, he realized the woman must have seen the whole interchange between him and Sophie. She was smiling broadly and giving him a thumbs up. The encouraging signal had Mason stifling a loud groan. Nadine didn’t know Sophie had merely stopped by to announce her date with Thom. And at the moment, Mason felt too sick to set his coworker straight.
* * *
Later that evening at the Robinson estate, Sophie was hurrying to her bedroom when her mother called out to her.
“Sophie? Why are you running through the house like a child?”
Laughing, Sophie stopped in her tracks and waited until her mother caught up to her.
“Probably because I feel like a happy kid tonight. Don’t you ever feel that way, Mother? Like kicking up your heels and doing pirouettes?”
“I like to think I’m in good physical condition for my age,” Charlotte told her daughter, “but I’m not exactly ready for ballet leaps and spins.”
For a woman in her midseventies, Sophie’s mother still looked youthful. Of course, it helped that she could afford to get routine facials and have her own personal trainer, along with a chef who designed meals to keep her weight down and her skin and hair glowing.
Smiling brightly, Sophie said, “I refuse to believe that, Mother. I happen to think you could dance all night.”
Charlotte pursed her lips with disapproval. “Those occasions are long over for me, Sophie.”
Sophie frowned. “That’s nonsense. Dad doesn’t think in those terms. He still does plenty of fun things.”
“Fun,” Charlotte repeated in a mocking tone. “Your father views the whole world as his playground. That will never change.”
It was a rare occasion that Charlotte made any sort of comment about her husband. More often than not, she went about her business as though Gerald didn’t exist.
Looping her arm through her mother’s, Sophie urged her down the hallway to her bedroom. “Come sit and help me pick out something nice to wear,” she told Charlotte. “I have a date tonight and I want to look extra special.”
“Who is this special date?” her mother asked, taking a seat in one of the wingback chairs. “Do I know the young man?”
“I doubt it,” Sophie called from inside the closet. “He works for the company—in marketing. His name is Thom Nichols.”
“Nichols,” Charlotte repeated thoughtfully. “Is he related to Drew Nichols, who owns Austin Capital Bank and Trust?”
“I have no idea,” Sophie answered as she stepped out with clothes tossed over her arm.
Charlotte gasped with dismay. “You have no idea? You’re going out with the man and you don’t know any more than that about him?”
The branches of a family tree were very important to Charlotte. So was public perception. Which made Sophie wonder how her mother had stood so stanchly by her husband when the news of his London love child had hit the rumor mill in Austin.
“Oh, Mother, I hardly need to know the size of Thom’s wallet before I go on a date with him.”
Her spine ramrod straight, Charlotte scooted to the edge of the chair. “I am not talking about money. As a Robinson you have a social standing to uphold and—”
“A Fortune Robinson,” Sophie interrupted dourly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten I have an extra name now. But then, I suppose as a Fortune, I have an equally important reputation to uphold.”
Her hands clasped tightly together in her lap, Charlotte said stiffly, “The added name is a fact I don’t care to ponder on.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” Sophie said gently. She walked over and sank onto the dressing bench facing her mother. “Ever since Keaton has come into the family I’ve been wondering about you, Mother.”
A shutter fell across Charlotte’s face, making her features unreadable. “There’s no reason for you to be wondering about me. I’m fine. And I’ll remain fine.”
Not wanting to add to her mother’s suffering, Sophie chose her next words carefully.
“Actually, I’ve watched the way you’ve conducted yourself through this whole scandal, Mother, and I’ve been amazed. I couldn’t have been nearly as strong and steadfast as you’ve been.”
The rigidness of Charlotte’s face eased a fraction as her glance returned to Sophie. “It’s not been a picnic for me by any means. But I understand your father completely. Actually, I understand him better than anyone,” she said. “And sometimes a wife just has to put on a brave face and look the other way.”
The other way? Sophie was incredulous, but she carefully hid the reaction from her mother. Charlotte had grown up in a past era, where women had different roles in life. Especially when it came to men and marriage.
“Maybe so, Mother. And I know a person is supposed to be forgiving. But I happen to think you deserve better from Dad. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why you stay married to him.”
Her mother shot her a stern look of warning. “Your father and I have a complicated relationship. It’s also unbreakable. I can assure you of that.”
Unbreakable because her mother refused to let go of a cold marriage? Or maybe it was her father who kept his wife bound to his side for purposes other than love?
“Anything can break, Mother, with enough pressure.”
“Gerald has provided me, you and everyone in his family with a wonderful life. Not one of you children has a thing to complain about. So don’t.”
The firm tone of Charlotte’s voice told Sophie not to push the issue, so she would honor her mother’s wishes and let the subject drop. But that didn’t mean Sophie would stop speculating and wondering if there could be more to her mother’s loyal devotion to her cheating husband.
Smiling, she focused on her upcoming date instead, standing and holding up a pale pink mini dress with black accents. “What do you think about this for dinner and a movie?”
“Dinner and a movie? You’re calling that a special date?”
Sophie’s laugh tinkled through the bedroom. “It’s the man that’s making it special. Not where we’re going.”
Clasping the dress to her, Sophie waltzed over the plush carpet, while her mother eyed her with speculation.
“Sophie, you always were an impulsive, dreamy child. I’d hoped that by the time you graduated college you’d be more realistic and settled. But it’s clear you’re still flittering around like a butterfly, believing life is nothing more than a rose garden. One of these days you’re going to have to face the real world.”
Pausing in front of Charlotte’s chair, Sophie fought hard not to roll her eyes. If it wasn’t so sad, her mother’s comment would be laughable. Did she think pretending to have a loving, caring husband wasn’t delusional?
“I crammed four years of college into three and I’ve held down a demanding job ever since,” she said stiffly. “I’d call that very real, Mother.”
Charlotte’s features softened somewhat. “Oh, Sophie darling, there’s no sense in you getting all defensive. I only meant—well, you’re a romantic soul. You believe life is full of hearts and flowers and kisses. And I suppose there’s