the dinner at their parents’ place, and she had some meals to drop to Cara’s house too—could Sophy do it?
Of course she could.
And in the end her nervous energy was wasted—he didn’t show up at all. Sophy decided to leave early too. She’d cleared the backlog—there was no reason for her to be working full time hours any more. She’d stick with what she was good at. She did the errands for Victoria, then went to her parents’ place for the catch-up. While there she did more, making herself feel useful—wanted by someone for something.
When she got to work the next day he was out again. Sophy bristled inside—really, wasn’t he taking it a bit far? What was he afraid of? That she’d throw herself at him—again?
She winced. She had thrown herself at him. Not making that mistake again. Not ever. Hours later she hung up from her millionth call and looked up at a small sound.
He stood in the doorway, his face half in shadow. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes.’ Sophy smiled. ‘Of course.’ She looked at the piles of paper in front of her. ‘It’s been a busy morning but I think I’ve got just about everything sorted now. Including all the details for the fundraising gig at the bar tomorrow night.’
‘Great.’ He hesitated.
She waited.
But he said nothing. So it was true that men never did want to talk about it. Well, she didn’t want to either. What was the point? It was done. It was finished. She wasn’t going to go all cold and wounded on him. But not flirty and desperate either. She’d aim for friendly professional. She flashed him a smile—just the right touch of warmth but not overly so. ‘I’m off in a minute. I’ll drop to part-time hours as we discussed now the backlog is cleared.’
He annoyed her completely by walking further into her office instead of hoofing off to his own as she’d hoped. She looked out of the window so she didn’t have to look at him.
‘The vandals have been back.’ She’d noticed it this morning. The graffiti was huge—stunning, if Sophy dared offer her opinion, which she didn’t because now he had that really brooding look on his face. ‘You didn’t hear them?’ It had to have been more than one kid to spray a piece that big in a short time.
‘I’m a deep sleeper,’ he said dryly.
She shifted a letter unnecessarily. That was dangerous territory. ‘What a pain for you to have to paint over it again.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll leave it for a bit.’
‘Fair enough.’ She was quite pleased. She liked the colours, the whole fence looked on fire with the crimson reds and burnt gold coils.
She logged off the computer, gathered a couple of items to put back in the cabinet. It only took a moment. Then she reached for her favourite shiny handbag. Definitely time to make her exit.
Lorenzo leaned against the window frame and watched. Wow, she really was efficient, wasn’t she? Had filed him away as if he were one of those pieces of paper. Checked him off her list and moved on. Forgotten about him.
And he shouldn’t give a damn.
And he didn’t—it was just his cock making things complicated. Leaping to attention when he merely walked the corridor—before he’d even seen her, let alone caught her fresh scent on the gentle breeze. The desire gnawed at him—had ruined his sleep last night. He’d lain awake, the noise of the city at night loud in his ears. So often it had soothed him. He’d spent so many nights listening to the traffic, imagining he was in one of those cars and just driving, driving, driving away.
And the restlessness had driven him outside—to the cover of darkness where he could create. Despite it being his property, it still thrilled him—helped release the anger that had burned in him since he could remember. Making his mark—he was there and they couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how much they wanted to.
Alex had had a bit of bitterness with the mess his parents had made. Lorenzo was filled with it.
He’d chuckled as he worked on the fence. What would the do-good miss say if she knew it was him? He’d spent hours on it—switched all the lights in the warehouse on to cast a glow out to the yard. But in the end it hadn’t done its job. Nor had the five-mile run he’d taken after. He was still angry. He was still frustrated.
He still burned inside.
But he’d discovered something that offered the softest respite from the old torment.
Sophy.
Unfortunately she was also the cause of half his trouble. Somehow just being around her—and her perfect looks, her proper manner—brought those old feelings back.
‘You are coming to the fundraiser tomorrow night, aren’t you?’ he struggled to ask casually.
‘You really need me to?’
‘Yes.’ Hell, yes. ‘It would be good to have you on hand to make sure the information side of things goes smoothly.’ He totally made it up. There was no information side of things.
‘Then I’ll be there.’ She paused by the door on her way out, turned back to look at him, an irritatingly benign smile on her face. ‘I assume it’s all right to bring a date?’
Every muscle locked onto red alert. A date? He had to force his jaw apart to answer. ‘Of course.’
Rosanna flew back late Saturday afternoon. Sophy gave her an hour to relax in the bath then asked her as she lay on the sofa flicking through a magazine. ‘You have to come out with me tonight.’
‘And you’re so desperate for my presence because?’
‘I need your support.’
Rosanna tossed the magazine to the floor. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. But I don’t feel like walking into a crowded bar all by myself.’
‘What bar?’
‘Wildfire. Only opened this week. There’s a fundraiser tonight for the Whistle Fund there. I have to go. But I don’t want to go alone.’
‘How is our favourite shark?’
Sophy shrugged. ‘I hardly see him. He’s very busy. He’s the money behind this bar.’
‘I’ll text the boys. Spread the word. It should be fun. And it’s for a good cause.’ Rosanna leapt up into action. ‘Well, we’d better find ourselves something suitable to wear, then, huh?’
Sophy grinned. Yeah, there was no holding Rosanna back from a party—or an excuse to get dressed to the nines. But two hours later she stared at her reflection in horror. ‘I’m not wearing this.’
‘Why not? You look hot.’
She looked like a wannabe catwoman, in Rosanna’s favourite black—skin-tight satin pants and a sleek, sheer top. It smacked of trying too hard, too out of character—as if she were going out of her way to draw his attention. Which she wasn’t. Not again. ‘It’s more you than me.’
‘Keep the trousers, change the top.’ Rosanna was working on her eyes.
Okay, that she could handle. Sophy went back to her own wardrobe and found one of her pretty silk tops—that flowed, less in your face figure-hugging. She picked up one of her necklaces.
Rosanna appeared in her doorway. ‘Can I borrow one?’
‘Absolutely.’
The bar was already packed when they got there. There was no formal aspect to the fundraiser. It was just that the charity was getting a percentage of the ticket sales—so, really, she didn’t think she had to be there. But she couldn’t not.
Yeah, the place was an instant success. Lorenzo had the Midas touch, didn’t he? Knew the investments to pick, always