Rex Read online

  Did they have a future together? What if birth control failed, and she got pregnant? Would he run out on her the way her father had abandoned her mother? Or worse, would he feel obligated to marry her? Would she and the baby be forced to live in the same sort of poverty she’d grown up in and had vowed never to bring a child into?

  Use your head, Sophia. Forget you have a heart. One of her mother’s words of warning spun through her mind. Hearts are made for breaking, heads for thinking.

  Mike’s footsteps quieted on the carpet. He carried two drink cans and paper plates.

  Sophia looked up. Her breath left her body. He was so handsome!

  She had to get out of here, run away from him before she did something stupid.

  His body filled the doorway, blocking her escape. Sophia gulped, startled at her physical reaction. Desire stole over her like a sickness. Her palms were slick with perspiration, her brow feverish. She felt dizzy, and her stomach fluttered.

  Who was this man who affected her like no other?

  Even when she tried to focus on Rex, on her boss’ his good qualities, she could not concentrate. Not while looking at Mike.

  She knew almost nothing about him save he had a reputation for partying, and he rode a motorcycle. He had a killer grin and a nonchalant way of walking that made her want to jump his bones.

  Beyond that, she did not know anything of his past. Not who his folks were, nor where he came from. She had no idea what his dreams were, his hopes, his plans for the future. If he even possessed any. She didn’t know his favorite color or his favorite food or what kind of music he enjoyed.

  Strangely enough, she knew all these things about Rex even though she didn’t know

  what he looked like in person. Over the past four months, these little details had come up in phone conversations, emails, or texts.

  Rex was the second son of Thurgood Barrington who had built Barrington Oil and Gas from nothing into a billion-dollar industry. His mother had been Mario Santiago Barrington, originally from Brazil. That was the reason Rex spoke fluent Portuguese. His mother had died fifteen years earlier of breast cancer, and her death had struck Rex and his older brother Mark a hard blow.

  In reaction, Rex had poured himself into his father’s company, opening and overseeing the South American division. His dream was to take his father’s company global and turn it into the largest oil and gas company in the world. He wanted a wife and children someday. His favorite color was red, and his favorite dish was lamb chops with mint jelly, glazed carrots, creamed new potatoes, and green beans. He enjoyed jogging, in-line skating and baseball. He was steady, reliable, and excellent in business. What more could any woman ask for?

  Chemistry.

  Just like the chemistry surging between her and Mike, right here, right now.

  “Sophia,” Mike whispered, his eyes ablaze.

  She knew he felt it, too.

  Too bad both men couldn’t be one, Sophia thought regretfully. Everything she’d ever wanted rolled into one package. Hot good looks and a steady, trustworthy man. A rebel with a solid future.

  She could not have both. Life wasn’t like that. Mike was Mike, and Rex was Rex. Although they looked alike if the photograph of Rex on the website was accurate. Both steely jawed and lean muscled. But Rex’s eyes were brown where Mike’s were green. Rex kept his light-honey-brown hair clipped short. Mike’s dark chocolate hair was longish and sexily shaggy. Even if they were of similar build, the two men were very different.

  But it was Mike gazing at her with a desire so strong, she felt as if her clothing was melting to her body under his bold stare.

  A long moment stretched into a painful silence.

  “Are you afraid of me?” Mike asked at last, still standing in the doorway clutching the drink cans and paper plates, the smell of onions and garlic wafting in the surrounding air.

  “Don’t be silly,” Sophia said, but she couldn’t look at him. Was she afraid of him? Or was she afraid of herself and the feelings that threatened to riot and overthrow her good sense? “Why would I be afraid of you?”

  He set down the drinks and plates, then shut the office door behind him. “I think you’re afraid you like me more than you like Barrington.”

  “Wfft.” She exhaled sharply. He’d nailed her.

  “Are you worried that your feelings for me could derail your life plans?”

  Yes, yes, yes.

  “Let’s eat,” Sophia chirped, wanting to derail this conversation. She reached for the pizza box.

  He placed a hand on her arm. His fingers splayed across her skin, branding her with heat.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “No,” she denied. How could she admit her weakness to him, when she scarcely dared admit it to herself? “No, I’m not afraid of you…” She paused. “Or my feelings for you.”

  “Then kiss me, Sophia.”

  “Mike...” she began but got no further.

  He eased her into his arms gently with a firmness that took her breath. He stared into her face, gobbling her up with his moss-green eyes. “I want to kiss you again. May I kiss you again?”

  She didn’t answer, just sank against his strong, broad chest.

  His mouth swooped down on hers like a nighthawk—powerful, strong, hungry. This kiss made the one in the car seem like a grandparent’s affectionate peck on the cheek.

  Push him away! Now. Before it’s too late.

  But right now, she did not care about her reputation or restraint. She craved him like a sugar addict craved a chocolate chip cookie. Sophia melted into Mike, molding herself around his hard form, pressing as close to him as she could get.

  He groaned and clutched her tighter.

  Sophia arched her neck upward, exposing her throat to his hot mouth.

  His firm, masculine hands snatched her blouse from the waistband of her pants. He slowly, seductively unbuttoned it, his nimble fingertips grazing her bare skin.

  Singeing her in a trail of fire.

  He kept exploring, gently unhooking her bra.

  Her nipples beaded instantly against his touch. He strummed her softly with his thumbs, the sensation exquisite.

  Sophia hissed in her breath. Her pelvis ached.

  Mike buried his face in her hair. “Sophia,” he whispered. “Sophia, Sophia, Sophia.”

  Her name sounded so beautiful on his tongue. She savored the moment, committing it to memory. They kissed and kissed and kissed.

  Mike eased her backward as if they were dancing the tango until he pressed her shoulders against the wall behind her desk. His tongue plunged deep, exploring her mouth, while his hand still tenderly caressed her breasts.

  Sophia allowed him full entry, courted his deep-throated kiss.

  Day was night. Night was day. She lost all sense of time, all reason or rhyme. Nothing mattered but this moment. Nothing mattered but them. Him. His touch. His smell. His taste.

  His head descended low, then lower still. A hundred kisses fell from his lips to her chin, her neck, the hollow of her throat and beyond.

  The next thing she knew, he had dropped to his knees and was eye level with her belly.

  Sophia gasped when his tongue touched her skin. Groaning, she arched her back and splayed her palms against the cool wall.

  His tongue, hot and wet, flicked tantalizingly over her taut stomach.

  Sophia glimpsed their reflection in the window. She was writhing against the wall, her blouse hanging open, bra loose. Mike on his knees, kissing her belly.

  What would her mother say if she could see her now?

  The thought grabbed Sophia and shook her. Oh, dear, what was she doing? She had to stop this now! Before there was no turning back.

  The pleasure was too great to deny. It was as if Sophia glued herself to that wall, helpless to move or change the course of her destiny.

  Instead, she peered down at the top of Mike’s head. His hair was so thick and almost black, like a river of dark chocolate. Reaching out,
she threaded her fingers through it.

  And she laughed with the joy.

  All these years, this is what she had been missing by holding herself back, remaining wary, accepting her mother’s experiences and making them her own. She had been wrong and foolish.

  Sophia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Oh, Rex.” She sighed. “That feels so good.”

  8

  As if doused with ice water, Mike stopped instantly.

  “I’m Mike.” He pulled back and staggered to his feet.

  Sophia’s eyes flew open. “Oh, Mike, I’m sorry. I...” She reached out to him, but he backed away.

  “No need to explain. I know Barrington is the one you were fantasizing about.” Mike looked wounded. “The one you really want.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Spare me.” Mike’s face flushed. “No matter how much you want me, you can’t get past Rex Barrington.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Blindly, Sophia fumbled to close the buttons on her blouse. The only person she’d been thinking of was Mike, and yet, she’d called out Rex’s name.

  He spun on his heels and walked for the door.

  “Wait. How are you going to get home?”

  “Don’t worry about me, Sophia. I can take care of myself.”

  “Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Mike didn’t look back, just flung open the door.

  To reveal Thurgood Barrington standing in the corridor, an expression of surprise etched across his face.

  “Mike.” Thurgood nodded at them. “Sophia.”

  “H…hello….m…Mr. Barrington, sir.” she stammered.

  Mike didn’t move.

  Or speak.

  “I heard noises,” Mr. Barrington said. “I didn’t realize you were here late, Sophia.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “That son of mine isn’t working you too hard, is he?”

  “No, sir.” She blushed, ashamed at him catching her alone with Mike. After hours. With her office door closed.

  Mike squirmed and studied the floor. Sophia couldn’t blame him. As disheveled as they both looked, their appearance left little doubt about what they’d been up to.

  “You’re working late as well, Mike?”

  Was it her imagination or was Mr. Barrington struggling hard not to grin? Was he amused? That surprised her.

  “No, sir. I’m off the clock. Sophia is giving me a lift home,” Mike said.

  “Why don’t you call it a day, Sophia?” Thurgood suggested. “The work will still be here tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have a good night.” He smiled.

  “Good night,” she and Mike mumbled in unison.

  “That,” Mike said, once Thurgood was out of hearing distance, “was a close call. If he’d come into the room when we were kissing…”

  “Too close for comfort.” Sophia exhaled audibly. Her hands trembled as she ran them through her hair, fighting to smooth her errant curls. “Listen, Mike, about what happened earlier, I’m sorry I slipped and called you Rex.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “No, seriously, I apologize. What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Do you really want to make it up to me?” He cast her a sidelong glance.

  Sophia cleared her throat. “Er...what do you have in mind?”

  “Go with me to the company picnic.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Because Rex will be there?” His tone was sarcastic.

  “Where did you hear Rex would be there?”

  “No one notices the handyman. People talk.”

  Sophia stared at him. Could Mike have eavesdropped on her conversation with Rex?

  “I’m going home,” she said, getting her purse from the bottom of her desk. “Call yourself an Uber.”

  With that, she turned and stalked out the door.

  Mike couldn’t sleep. His condo felt claustrophobic, as if the walls were closing in on him.

  His body was hot, fevered with the memory of Sophia’s kisses. She’d felt so good in his arms.

  So right.

  If it was so right, why was he lying here alone?

  She’d been angry with him, and he wasn’t sure why.

  He flopped over on his side and stared at the digital clock on the dresser. Ten p.m. A long time until dawn.

  He regretted this whole undercover boss deception. It had gotten out of hand. He was feeling things for Sophia. Deep, meaningful things that went well beyond sexual attraction. But she was too busy pining for Rex the rich guy to bother with handyman Mike.

  A memory floated to him out of the darkness and wrapped painfully around his heart.

  Erica.

  She’d been a blonde like Sophia and beautiful, too. But with a conniving heart of solid granite. He’d met her in his rebellious youth, when he’d temporarily dropped out of college to “find himself.”

  He’d been traveling the country on his motorcycle, doing the whole born-to-be-wild thing. An unforgettable adventure, where he’d just been a regular person, not a billionaire’s son.

  People had accepted him for himself, and he’d let his guard slip. Then he’d met Erica,

  accidentally bumping into her on the ski slopes in Park City, Utah, and sending her toppling into a snowbank.

  At least he’d believed their meeting was accidental. He’d even joked about how fate had smiled on him that day, delivering an angel into his arms.

  It was only later, after he had fallen in love with her Erica, that Mike had discovered she carefully orchestrated the meeting and that fall.

  She’d known who he was all along. And Erica wasn’t the angel she pretended to be, either. Rather the opposite.

  He’d been young and dumb. He’d thought himself head over heels for Erica. They’d even planned their wedding. He’d told her who he was by then, and she’d acted surprised but pleased, and then one day he’d overheard her on the phone talking to her mother. She’d been gloating over getting the heir to a billion-dollar company to propose to her. She laughed and called him a silly fool.

  On the spot, he broke off their engagement. When his mother died, Erica came to the funeral on the arm of a famous billionaire three times her age. She’d shown up not to comfort

  Rex on the loss of his mother, but to flaunt her new husband. He’d felt sorry for the billionaire who looked a bit embarrassed by the whole thing.

  Following his mother’s death, he had put the Harley in storage, mended fences with his father, went back to school, and pitched himself into the business with a fevered vengeance. If money was what everyone valued, by God, he’d show them money.

  Rex gritted his teeth and shoved the memory to the back of his mind. Erica had taught him an important lesson about letting his heart lead his head. And mostly, he’d learned his lesson well, keeping himself out of romantic complications.

  Until now.

  Until Sophia.

  She isn’t like Erica. She’s different. Sophia is warm and friendly. Kind and understanding. She’s honest and open with no hidden agenda.

  He was the one perpetrating a deception.

  But like Erica, Sophia wanted to marry a rich man. Except Sophia hadn’t kept her motives a secret. She’d made it clear from the start that security was the most important thing in life. After seeing how she lived, Mike could understand her position.

  He’d give her a chance.

  But hadn’t he already? More than once. Sophia had turned down his invitation to the picnic because she knew Rex would be there.

  Wasn’t that proof enough she wasn’t right for him?

  No. Because for a few minutes tonight, when they were alone in her office, Sophia had completely forgotten about her boss. For a few minutes of pure bliss, she had belonged to Mike, mind, body, and soul.

  Her gorgeous body had come alive at his touch, opening like a flower bud to a gentle spring shower. She wanted him. Needed him. Lusted after him. He’d tasted passi
on on her tongue, smelled desire on her skin.

  Mike groaned. He got hard just thinking about her.

  So was he going to lay here all night, fighting sleep, or was he going to get up and do something about it?

  Frustration had him flinging back the covers and sinking his feet into the carpet. He had to shake Sophia from his head. Had to regain his perspective on this relationship and where it might be leading. He knew only one cure for emotional craziness.

  The Harley.

  He had to ride.

  “Polly,” Sophia said into her cell phone. She lay on her stomach in the middle of her bed, clothed in pajamas. She rotated her legs in the air. It was ten thirty, and her mother had already gone to bed.

  “I desperately need another opinion. Amber thinks I should give Mike a chance. My mother believes I should keep my sights fixed firmly on Rex. Sienna told me to forget them both and start living it up. I’m so confused!”

  “What does your heart tell you?” Polly said.

  “I don’t know,” Sophia whispered. Polly was such a centered person, with a calm inner strength that Sophia admired. If Polly couldn’t help her get a handle on this situation, no one could.

  “Then get quiet and listen.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Sophia protested.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How do I ‘get quiet and listen’?”

  “Take a few deep breaths, relax, lay still.”

  “What next?”

  “Think about what it is you really want,” Polly coached.

  “Okay.”

  “Do it right now.”

  “All right.”

  Polly waited a few minutes while Sophia took long, slow deep breaths and tried to listen, but she didn’t hear a thing beyond Shu-Shu scratching in her litter box.

  “Better?” Polly asked.

  Not wanting to disappoint her friend, Sophia said. “Uh…I think so.”

  “Great, keep that up until you fall asleep. I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” her friend said.

  “Good night, Polly. Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.”