Nobody But You Read online

  Right. But what if she didn’t know what she loved?

  Or if she even could love?

  They said their good-byes, and Sophie loaded a gallon of chocolate fudge ice cream and then on second thought made it two. Then she called her sister.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Brooklyn answered, sounding irritated. “And what I really mean is ‘Hey, unless you have a time machine to whisk me away from the insanity of my life, I can’t talk right now.’”

  Sophie could hear the sounds of kids laughing and playing in the background and also what was probably the clicking of her sister’s fingers over a keyboard. “You busy?”

  “I can’t even. What’s up?”

  “Just talked to Dad.”

  Brooklyn sighed. “And how did that go?”

  “The good news is that in the best-daughter competition, you’re still winning. The bad news is that he’s still upset about the divorce.”

  “You’ve done some good things too,” Brooklyn said. “Marrying a dickbag wasn’t one of them. Don’t feel bad about leaving him. In fact, leaving him should be added to the list of good things you’ve done, stat. Hang on—Kyle,” she yelled, “if you shove that crayon tip up your nose, so help me, I’ll—shit. Soph, I gotta go.”

  Sophie slipped her phone back into her pocket and felt a tingle of awareness along the nape of her neck that had her lifting her head.

  Her gaze collided with Jacob’s.

  He stood at the end of the aisle in front of the frozen pizzas, wearing sexy jeans and an army-green T-shirt that fit like it’d been made for him.

  Bad for you, she reminded herself. All you’ve done is daydream about the things he did to you in his great big bed with his great big—

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  He smiled like maybe he knew what she was thinking about. And his smile made her remember all the things she’d been coaxed into doing the last time he’d flashed it at her.

  Just keep your cool. And your clothes on. She eyeballed his section of the freezer. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah. The question is three meat and five cheese or fully loaded.”

  “In other words, a heart attack waiting to happen?”

  He slid a laughing gaze her way. “Says the woman who ate a heart attack for breakfast the other day.”

  She’d had something else for breakfast that day too. Him. Her body involuntarily softened at the memory. Dammit. “That was a hangover cure,” she said. “Entirely different.”

  His grin made the woman behind Sophie drop her frozen chicken Alfredo casserole.

  “There’s healthier stuff in the fresh aisle,” she said.

  He gave her cart—and the ice cream in it—a long look.

  “Do as I say, not as I do,” she muttered.

  He laughed, but grabbed a loaded pizza. “I don’t really have all that long of a life expectancy,” he said. “So I’m not too worried about a heart attack.”

  That sobered her up pretty quick. And right then and there she made yet another choice. No regrets. “Put the pizza back,” she said. “I’m grilling spice-rubbed beef tenderloin with chimichurri for a client. I’ll have extra.”

  “You had me at beef tenderloin,” he said, making her thighs quiver. “Although I’ve got no idea what the hell chimichurri is.”

  “It’s a tangy, zesty condiment that’s like a cross between vinaigrette and pesto,” she told him. “I’ll have plenty.”

  “How do you know how hungry I am?”

  The words—not to mention his voice—gave her a shiver in the very best kind of way. “How hungry are you?” she heard herself whisper.

  He let five solid beats go by, during which time he just looked at her. “Frighteningly hungry,” he finally said.

  Another woman promptly ran her cart into Sophie’s. “Oh, sorry!” the woman gasped, face red as she hurried off.

  “You’re making quite an impression,” Sophie managed dryly.

  He shook his head like he disagreed and stepped closer to her, right inside her own personal little space bubble. Now she was in his orbit and in danger of being sucked in and going up in flames.

  But she didn’t make a move to a safer zone. In fact, all she could think of was how he’d felt moving over her, in her, his voice a low, sexy murmur in her ear. She knew the texture of his skin, the dips and valleys of his beautiful body, the sounds he made when he came…

  Something flashed in his eyes. Heat for sure. And maybe humor. “I like what you’re thinking about,” he said.

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking about.”

  “Wanna bet?” he asked, running one hand up her back until the pads of his fingers slid beneath her hair and brushed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.

  Her very long few days vanished in the flame of hunger flickering to life at his touch. She’d thought she could stay away, ignore him. Ignore this. She’d been delusional.

  Jacob lowered his head so that his mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers and they were sharing air. He wasn’t touching her anywhere but with those rough fingertips, and yet she could feel him, big, warm, strong. So strong.

  Yearning washed over her in waves, and she was the one to make the move, fisting her hands into his shirt and yanking him in. She who kissed him. She who planted her mouth on his and, at the taste of him, moaned.

  The last time they’d kissed, he’d made her feel wanted, made her feel sexy, vibrant. Alive.

  She wanted that feeling again, that sensation of flying without a net, knowing that he’d catch her…

  Kissing him gave her all that, and when he slid his hands into her hair and cradled her head, it also gave her more.

  She heard something crash and tried to pull free. Jacob, not so easily startled, was much slower to lift his head, keeping his hands on her when he turned his head to look.

  Another woman had come down the aisle and had run her cart into the display of pie crusts. She wasn’t alone. She had a much older woman at her side, holding on to the cart like it was a walker.

  “Wow,” the older woman said. “Haven’t seen a kiss like that in a long time.”

  “Mother,” the younger woman hissed. “Shh!”

  “Just calling it like it is,” the older woman said, not shhing. “And look, it gave her a healthy glow. Wouldn’t mind a glow like that,” she said wistfully.

  While the woman rushed her mother out of the aisle, Sophie drew a shaky breath and ordered herself to get a grip. “So,” she said, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.

  “So,” he said. “You done working for the day?”

  “No. I’m temping for a property management company, opening up one of the vacation homes for some English duke and duchess on a secret American getaway. I have to unload all their supplies and check that everything got cleaned and set up.” Her lips were tingling.

  They wanted another kiss.

  She gestured to the huge cart in front of her, filled with high-end wines, fancy cheeses and crackers, and other things like caviar and stuff that cost more than she’d spend for herself in a month. “I’m filling their fridge from their list of requests,” she said. “But I’m having trouble finding”—she consulted her phone again for the list—“goat-cheese ice cream.”

  He winced. “Who eats goat-cheese ice cream?”

  Still eyeballing her list, she shrugged. “Apparently the duchess. Also, it needs to be whiskey and pecan flavored.” She tried not to gag at the thought.

  “What else do you need to find?”

  Detecting a note of humor in his voice, she lifted her head. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh…” She eyed the list again. “The duke wants condoms. Ribbed for her pleasure.” She managed to control her grimace on that one. The duke was eighty-five if he was a day, and although he was tall and…duke-like, gravity hadn’t been kind. He’d been a rugby player in his day and all that muscl