Nothing but Trouble (2 page)

Add that to the several high-ranking politicians already in his hip pocket and the man was set for life. It was rumored he was good at digging up dirt, the kind people in high places paid a lot of money to keep from becoming public. Of course no one was brave enough to come right out and accuse him of blackmail, which made Lord a dangerous man as far as Brent was concerned. The kind a person would have to be a fool to cross, unless they were an influential senator.

Senator Adams had a bulldog reputation of standing his own ground when he wanted something too. He got results. If he suspected Sophie was being blackmailed into marrying Lord, he would do anything to find out what Lord’s leverage was in order to prevent it, not excluding kidnapping. The million-dollar question was what did Lord have on Sophie that would force her to marry him against her will?

His gaze traveled over her again, more leisurely this time, wondering what secrets the lady was hiding. One thing was certain though, that gown she was wearing wasn’t hiding any of them. As he watched the exchange between her and Lord closely, he reached for another glass of champagne, preferring something stronger like a shot of whiskey. Taking a sip, he narrowed his gaze on the way she rolled her shoulder out from under Lord’s caressing hand, the action causing Brent’s mouth to curve into a knowing smile.

Sophie knew it was just a matter of time before Jonathan insisted they join the others outside for dinner. Especially once he spied some of the same acquaintances who had attended their pre-wedding banquet several nights before. He had the gall to assume their union automatically made her friends his, thus moving him further inside her well-bred circle. However, what he didn’t know was she didn’t intend to make things easy for him.

“I’m still waiting for an answer, darling.”

“I have a slight headache tonight,” she lied, praying he would accept her explanation for refusing to stay. She was forced to meet his gaze when he purposely stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the room and the intriguing stranger.

“Poor baby.” He reached up, running the back of his hand along her cheek, his demeanor overflowing with the self-confidence she was growing accustomed to, and hated. “Maybe you’re worried about tomorrow?”

Our wedding day.

Her stomach churned wildly at the thought. In the morning she’d become his wife; his to do with whatever he wanted because Sophie knew in his eyes she’d belong to him, as if she were a piece of property. Visions surfacing of his one attempt at making love to her reminded her there’d be no tenderness in his possession. Once aroused, his southern charm disappeared completely. It was only because she’d struck a desperate bargain with him that he hadn’t touched her again. She’d made a pact with the devil and there was no one who could save her.

Turning abruptly away from him, she inhaled deeply, directing her forlorn gaze out the window to the lighted patio beyond. People were milling about, helping themselves to the elaborate buffet set up for the special occasion, while others danced to the soft music provided by the live band beneath the decorated gazebo. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape Jonathan’s watchful expression, reflected in the glass as he looked over her shoulder. His mouth parted with a smile that contradicted the cold look in his eyes.

She tried not to cringe when his hands dropped to her shoulders, his fingers slipping beneath the material of her gown. He was just arrogant enough to press his body against her, revealing to all who watched he had that privilege. Her gaze moved past his image to the stranger standing across the room, her heart jumping wildly when she realized he was observing them with intense interest.

When most people got caught staring, they quickly glanced away, but not this man. He was too uncaring for that; too curious in what was going on between her and Jonathan. As his gaze traveled a lazy path down the length of Sophie, she grew warm, quivering slightly beneath his visual caress. Then all at once he finished the contents in his glass before setting it down. Even from her vantage point she could make out the unmistakable tightening of his expression, as though he was angry about something, or was it just her imagination?

“Darling, you really must get over your fear of tomorrow,” Jonathan said, just loud enough for his voice to carry to an elderly couple walking by. “We’re getting married,” he announced, returning their congratulatory smiles. However, for Sophie’s ears he murmured, “I can hardly wait for tomorrow night. These last few weeks…”

She didn’t know how much more she could take, so she tuned him out. Two months of pretending to be enamored with him took its toll. A real headache was starting to throb in her temple. She closed her eyes for a moment, suspecting the glare of the lights weren’t helping. Jonathan reached around her, taking the glass from her hands.

“I suspect you’ve had enough of this.” After he set it down on the window ledge his hand returned to her arm, caressing her in what appeared a loving gesture to anyone observing. Always conscious of any peering eyes, he tilted her head to expose the side of her neck where he planted a lingering kiss.

Sophie was growing angry and tired over his continuous show of pretended affection, suspecting he was purposely baiting her. “Please,” she pleaded, softly so only he could hear her. “We have a deal,” she reminded him in a strained voice, her skin crawling where his lips had been.

Revealing her words had infuriated him, he tightened his hands on her with just enough pressure to cause her mild pain but not enough to make her cry out. “Yes, we have a deal,” he gritted in a low tone. “I only hope you remember that tomorrow night, darling. Because nothing will keep me from claiming my rights.”

His rights?
The icy coldness of his tone sent a chill down Sophie’s spine. She suspected being his wife wasn’t going to be the thing fairy tales were made of. Then his hands were gone and she watched him stride away, releasing a sigh of relief and not giving a damn who heard it.

All of a sudden she knew she couldn’t take anymore, not tonight; she had to get out of there before she screamed or shouted out the truth to everyone! The walls were closing in on her and tomorrow they’d be exchanged for prison bars. She whipped around to flee, slamming bodily into the tall stranger who’d been watching her. How could she have forgotten him? Without warning his hands were on her, steadying her, yet not setting her away from him.

Her heart jumped in her breast when she glanced up to meet the deep greenish-gold of his magnetic eyes. So much assailed Sophie’s senses all at once. The strength in his warm, slightly callused hands; the hardness of a body probably honed by healthy eating and exercise, and a face tanned deeply by the sun, handsome in spite of the tiny scar above his left eyebrow.

Her nostrils flared, gently taking in his masculine scent, something spicy and hot and not overpowering. Teasingly light.

Unexpectedly arousing.

Time seemed to stand still. His charisma was so powerful she feared her reaction was obvious to those in their vicinity. At the very least, obvious to the people who knew her like her father and Jonathan. However, her father wasn’t there; she searched the crowd nervously for Jonathan.

Years of schooling and practice had trained Sophie on how to camouflage her feelings in public, only allowing people to see what she wanted them to see. However, she knew her instant response to this man had caught her off-guard, slipping beyond the formal and appropriate decorum she struggled to maintain. She knew the heat filling her cheeks was as visible to him as to anyone else looking on. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, wondering how many seconds had passed, how many minutes. Surely too many to go unnoticed.

“Excuse me,” he murmured in a deep baritone, catching Sophie unaware. His gaze skimmed over her face before falling to her breasts. She reluctantly glanced down, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. Her breasts were barely concealed, spilling over the top of her gown. Her gaze flew back to his. The interest in his eyes danced with as much sexual awareness as displeasure, causing a fire storm to sweep through her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes!” Her husky tone revealed the man had reached her on a purely sensual level. She made a slight effort to pull away, but his hands only tightened around her upper arms. She narrowed her eyes on his. After a few tense moments of silence she ordered, “Please take your hands off me.”

His eyebrows shot upward in obvious surprise before his face turned dark, like a volcano getting ready to erupt. The look he cast upon her caused a sliver of alarm down her spine. Sophie hadn’t meant her tone to come out sounding so snooty. His reaction over it made her thankful she was in a crowded room.

Slowly, his hands uncurled, a muscle twitching in his strong jaw. Sophie got the distinct impression he wanted to say something, and was just barely holding onto his control. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation that might draw attention to them, or even worse, end up in the paper the next day. Right next to her and Jonathan’s wedding picture.

He surprised her by standing back, gallantly making room for her to leave in an exaggerated gesture that caused her cheeks to fill with heat. She glared at him for a moment, fighting the unaccustomed impulse to slap his handsome face. Something warned her that was the response he was hoping for. Well, she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She twirled around and without as much as a backward glance, exited through the doors into the breezy tropical night.

By the time Sophie neared the end of the steps leading down to the street, a stretch limousine pulled up in front of her. The driver jumped from behind the wheel, and opened the door for her. She gratefully slipped in, laying her head back and relaxing against the buttery soft cushions, resisting the urge to order him to drive her all the way to Canada.

How I hate Jonathan!
And how she blamed her mother, whom she hadn’t seen since she was a young child, for putting her into this intolerable situation. If she didn’t love her father so much she would have told Jonathan to go straight to hell when he informed her she was going to marry him, and why he had the power to make her do so. At first she’d balked, until realizing there was no way she could knowingly cause her father’s demise by remaining indifferent to Jonathan’s threats. Threats, Sophie knew, he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out.

Within minutes, the driver pulled the luxury car into the parking garage beneath her expensive Ft. Lauderdale apartment building. As expected, she waited until he opened the door before slipping from the leather interior with a brief acknowledgment. She turned toward the elevator with one thought on her mind: wondering how she could commit murder and get away with it. Because there was no way she would get married the next morning, much less let Jonathan put his hands on her. Only, who was she fooling? Sophie knew she really had no choice in the matter. Unless her fairy godmother appeared waving her magic wand, she was going to walk down that aisle in the morning and see the whole charade through. She’d worry about tomorrow night when it arrived.

She shivered repulsively, watching the numbers light up as the elevator took her to the seventh floor. Thoughts of her and Jonathan were quickly replaced with the intriguing man at the museum, their brief encounter flashing through her mind. She couldn’t help recalling the little thrill that had surged through her blood when she’d bumped into him. Little thrill? More like a colossal mind-blowing, dizzying rush! She could still feel the warmth of his strong hands on her arms, causing a delicious tingle she hadn’t taken the time to fully appreciate. The fact his height complimented hers was an added bonus. She couldn’t help wondering what dancing with him would be like.

Impatient with herself for fantasizing about a stranger she’d probably never see again, she shook her head to clear it. She had to figure a way out of her current dilemma. She stepped off the elevator, noticing two things at once. Several light bulbs had burned out leaving the corridor dim, and there was a stack of boxes against the wall by the apartment door nearest hers, a clear indication someone had finally moved in. She vaguely wondered if it was the couple from England she’d met viewing it the month before. It would be nice having neighbors again. An electrical fire had swept through the seventh and eighth floors a few months before, forcing most of the tenants out during renovations, and Sophie had been the first one to move back in. Once the penthouse apartment was completed, Jonathan had plans to move them up there.

It took several tries of fumbling with the key in her lock before she was able to insert it and open the door. She immediately dropped her evening handbag on the table in the foyer, following it with the diamond engagement ring. Reaching up, she all but yanked the emerald choker from around her throat, tossing that there as well.

She closed and locked the door behind her before reaching for the light switch to turn on the floor lamp in the corner, but nothing happened, which didn’t make any sense because the dimming lights above the mirror in the foyer were on. She supposed it was possible the light bulb had burned out, but that didn’t explain why the lights in the corridor were out. Frowning, she began to wonder if the building was experiencing another electrical problem.

She wasn’t about to wait for the fire alarm and reached for the phone to call maintenance when the doorbell rang, halting her. “Yes?” she called out, peering into the peephole. She could just make out a uniform of some kind but the hat the man was wearing kept his features in the shadows as he read over something on the clipboard in his hand. Someone had apparently already phoned in the problem.