The Billionaire’s Forbidden Desire(13)
She pulled out her phone from her tote bag and dialed. As her phone rang, she waited, her heart pounding in her ears. Da-dum, da-dum.
After the third ring, it clicked. “Rosenbaum, McCracken, Wagner, and Associates. How may I direct your call?” came a modulated, professional female voice.
“Uh…” Sophia swallowed. “Sorry, wrong number.” She hung up.
“What?” Libby asked.
“I think I misdialed,” Sophia said, her mouth dry. “Let me try again.”
The second time also got her the same, professional voice. “Rosenbaum, McCracken, Wagner, and—”
Sophia hung up again. Embarrassment heated her face.
“What is it?” Libby asked.
“It’s not his cell phone.”
“What then? His office?”
Sophia shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a place called Rosenbaum, McCracken, Wagner, and Associates.”
“Sounds like a law firm. Lemme check.” Libby pulled out her phone and tapped away. “Yup. A law firm in L.A. Found their website.” She scowled. “You think he works there?”
Sophia shrugged helplessly. “Maybe.”
“What a dickhead. He could’ve at least given you his direct line. Let’s see… Oh, they have a section on their lawyers.” She tapped a few times. “You said his name was Dane, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a pause as Libby tapped. “He’s not listed anywhere.”
“He’s not?”
“No. But maybe he gave you a fake name. Does anyone here look familiar to you?” Libby handed over the phone.
Sophia scrolled down, looking at a series of professional headshots of lawyers. None of them was Dane. Her stomach twisted. “No.”
“What the hell?”
Dane never wanted to see her again. That much was clear. She didn’t even know why she cared—it was just a one-night stand, and they hadn’t made any promises to each other. Given how gorgeous he was, he probably had plenty of women throwing themselves at him, all of them undoubtedly far more sexually experienced and skilled than she was.
She gave the phone back to Libby. “Well, there’s my closure.”
They sat for a few moments, watching the waves crash and ebb along the beach.
“This sucks,” Libby said.
“Hey, at least I’m not pregnant,” Sophia said, forcing some cheeriness into her voice.
She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash. Mexico was supposed to be about letting go of her past and planning her future. She shouldn’t be wasting even a moment moping on a stranger who’d never wanted anything but sex from her.
* * *
Spinning his pen absent-mindedly, Dane stared out the window. A new tech guy was blabbering on about some business idea or other.
Normally Dane would give the man his undivided attention, but somehow he couldn’t. His thoughts kept wandering back to Mexico. Or more precisely, what had happened there. Maybe it was the view from the conference room that got in the way of his focus. It was bright and sunny in L.A., the sun reflecting off the metal and glass skyscrapers. And somehow it reminded him of sun reflecting off the sea…
And the pen… He clenched his hand around it. Every time he saw something spin, his mind drifted to the first time he’d noticed Sophia—leaping and spinning in the air and landing on one foot. She’d looked so graceful and powerful, her lithe body taut and in control. She’d seemed like some kind of goddess…until she’d lost her balance and stumbled.
It’d been two months, and his lawyers hadn’t contacted him, which meant Sophia hadn’t called. He was certain she’d seen his note. And apparently there was no reason for her to reach out.
He should be relieved. He was relieved. And yet…
Her face kept flashing through his mind at the most inopportune moments. And it wasn’t even the sublime expression of bliss as she’d come. No, it was her gorgeous, bright smile. Or that sweetly earnest look she’d had when she’d asked him not to be upset for not telling him she’d been a virgin. Or the soft empathy in her eyes when she’d told him about how vulnerable he’d been…
He licked his lower lip. Sometimes he thought he could taste her there…but that was ridiculous. It had been months. There was nothing left.
Perhaps he should’ve given her his personal number. If he could go back in time to that moment, he would have. Not that it would’ve made a particle of difference since she wasn’t pregnant and didn’t have any reason to call. But he wished he could’ve left her his mobile—
He shook himself mentally. What did it matter? Who gave a damn what number he’d jotted down on the piece of paper when the outcome was the same? And surely he didn’t hope she’d gotten pregnant. What a disaster that would have been. He had zero interest in becoming a father. There was already enough on his plate.