“Already tried, huh?” Simone laughed, and in that moment, Mark wished he were anywhere but here. “I might’ve guessed. You’re going to be a great marketing guy, and you’re going to knock this one out of the park. You’ll be one of the best.”
He smiled weakly, then fled. If being one of the best meant using a sweet person like Sophie…
He shook his head. It wasn’t as if he had anything with Sophie, and even if he did…well, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, he promised himself. He just wouldn’t.
3
SOPHIE GLANCED AT THE CLOCK by her bed. Ten o’clock. Early, by a lot of people’s standards. Unfortunately, she knew that sleep would evade her for another three hours, at least. She felt wired, even though she’d deliberately only drunk decaf all day. She’d gotten a good chunk of work done: she had most of the slides ready for the Marion & Co. presentation. She was a little nervous, but more excited—the sign that it was going to go very, very well.
But right now, she wasn’t thinking of the presentation. She was thinking, as usual, about Mark McMann.
She pushed her face down into her foam pillow. They’d agreed not to have any contact other than professional—after all, they were in competition, their paths would cross. But they had to be very, very careful, so no one would suspect how close they’d come to…well, getting very, very close. No friendly chats in elevators, no random “bump-into” exchanges in the lobby. Certainly no drinks in the hotel bar.
It also meant she sure as hell shouldn’t call him.
She sighed heavily. Even without the competition, she knew they shouldn’t get involved in any way, shape or form. Men who looked like him did not under normal circumstances go for women who looked like her, for one thing. And while Sophie knew she wasn’t ugly, she wasn’t about to pass for a model any time soon. She also knew that he had plenty of women going after him. He probably had no shortage of willing applicants for the position of bed warmer, and no doubt had spent plenty of time with a variety of them. And that type of man wasn’t her type at all.
She thought about Troy, her last and longest-lasting relationship. He had been tall, geeky, with blond hair and glasses. He was a finance analyst, and a good one. They’d met in the MBA program at the University of California, San Diego. In her case, it had been love at first sight. They’d been friends first, but she’d always known they’d shift over to lovers.
What she had not known was they should’ve stayed friends. She’d nearly smothered in all that comfort and compatibility. And she had to admit, she’d been shocked when he’d said the same thing, just before he’d broken up with her. She’d been the best study-buddy he’d ever had, but he just couldn’t see himself marrying her.
Not that you want to marry Mark.
She flipped over. She ought to get up and do something. Clean something. Maybe do some more work, even though she doubted it would be usable, what with her mind highballing as it was at a million miles an hour. She really ought to start that meditation that Lydia had raved about. She ought to do something.
Flashback to Mark, pressing her into the bed at the hotel…his weight, his strength, the gentleness of him covering her. How there had only been thin layers of cotton between the two of them and one night of what she felt sure would be unforgettable bliss.
She shivered uncontrollably.
You are insane!
She only barely realized she’d picked up her cell phone and dialed his number.
“Mark McMann,” he said, sounding tired.
She stared at her phone, aghast. What are you doing?
“I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean…”
“Sophie?”
“Is it too late for me to call?” She winced. “Certainly, it’s too late for me to call. You’re on the East Coast. It’s, what, one o’clock in the morning? Listen, I’ll—”
“Don’t hang up.” He chuckled, and she reveled in the sound, wrapping around her like mink. “I’m glad you called. And don’t worry, you didn’t wake me. Strangely enough, I couldn’t sleep.”
She closed her eyes, picturing him next to her. “Funny. Neither could I.”
“You know, I can hear the smile in your voice,” he pointed out. “It’s nice.”
She felt like a teenager, talking to a boy for the first time. Her hormones were probably off the Richter scale. “You know, of course, that this is utterly crazy.”
“It’s one o’clock in the morning. Nobody knows how crazy this is more than I do.”
She laughed. “Did you want to talk about anything in particular?”
“No.” Now she heard the smile in his voice, and she trembled lightly in response.
“Well…how was your day?”
“It sucked,” he said, surprising another laugh out of her. “But it’s gotten exponentially better in the past five minutes. Yours?”
“Marginally better. I got a lot of work done today.” She winced. “Which, of course, I shouldn’t talk to you about at all.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“Yes, but it’s stuff like this that makes it even more necessary for us not to talk to each other.”
“We managed to avoid talking about work for six hours. In a car, no less,” he pointed out.
“So, what, we manage to do that for the rest of our lives?” she asked, then winced again. “Not that I’m implying…Oh, hell.”
“I’m not reading into that,” he said, even though she could tell from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t scared off by her innocuous comment. He knew what she meant, she thought, relieved. Sort of. “My point is, we can talk tonight without touching on any taboo subjects.”
She felt a mischievous grin cover her face. “Is sex a taboo subject?”
There was a pause, and she felt the grin replaced by a blush. What was wrong with her? She’d never acted like this with any of her boyfriends, for pity’s sakes! Much less a complete stranger!
Not that much of a stranger, she reminded herself…and her pulse raced.
“Nope. Sorry,” he said, and she felt herself take in a breath, even though she hadn’t realized that she’d been frozen. “All the blood left my brain for a second. I had to lie down.”
She let out an explosive burst of nervous laughter, a stress relief. “I’m already in bed,” she said.
“Really.” His voice was rich with speculation. “Well, that’s another coincidence. So am I.”
“So, here we both are. In bed,” she said, wondering even as she said it where she was going with it. This was ridiculous, she knew it.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to hang up. To tell him to hang up.
“Thinking of each other,” he said.
“Three thousand miles apart,” she added.
“Hmm. Well, that’s a good thing, right?” His voice was soothing, comfortable. “That shows it’s not just physical.”
“Although, we are both in bed. And probably both thinking about sex with each other.”
Did she just say that?
He snorted. “That only shows we’re not dead, honey girl.”
“I know this is dumb, but I do miss you,” she admitted, closing her eyes. “But I don’t know how that’s possible. I don’t even know you. How could I miss you?”
“You know me better than you think,” he said. “But I’ve got an idea. If we’re going to miss each other, we might as well get to know each other better.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Twenty questions,” he said, and she laughed in delight. “First off—what are you most scared of in the world?”
She thought about it, winced. “Snakes. You?”
“Have to say, I’m not too fond of heights. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
“Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra,” she said promptly. “Man, I could go for a pint of that right about now.”
“Me, I’m a huge chocolate fan,” he said, and unbidden, she got the mental picture of herself, painted with chocolate…and him licking it off. “Double dark chocolate, with hot fudge.”
She shook her head. “My turn. Desert island question—name three famous people you want to be stranded with, and why?”
She could hear a rustling over the cell-phone line and imagined him rolling over in his bed as he answered her questions. She kicked off her own covers, even though it was fall, and her house still held a slight chill, despite being in Southern California.
They ran the gamut for the next hour—books and concerts, college, childhoods. She finally yawned, glancing at the clock. “Oh, man, it’s eleven-thirty. You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow,” she said, feeling the creeping edges of guilt hit her.
“Don’t worry. It was worth it,” he said with a slight yawn. “I like talking to you, Ms. Sophie Jones.”
She smiled, cradling the phone to her ear. “I like talking to you, too. We don’t want to do this again, of course, but it was nice.”
“One last question?”
“I suppose…but then you’ve got to get some sleep, mister.” She made her voice mock-stern, then giggled.