Private Practice Read online

  “I know.” He stood. “We need to talk. But right now I have to go make sure the steers are safely contained.”

  “It’s a nice space to paint, and I may do the exhibit for Juliet.” She wrapped both hands around the warm cup.

  “No pressure.” One knuckle under her chin tipped her face up for his lips to brush hers.

  “Right,” she murmured with a raised eyebrow as he chuckled and moved across the kitchen.

  “I’m not sure how long we’ll be, but you stick close to the ranch, all right? I’ll have my cell,” he said.

  Sophie nodded as he left the kitchen and turned back toward her coffee. The fire had been meant for her. To harm or just scare, she wasn’t sure. Now she was staying at Jake’s, right where he wanted her. Maybe she should fly back to California for some perspective. But the canvases and oil paints beckoned her from the bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to at least see how well the studio worked. She could just start one painting, since her day was free. It didn’t mean she was moving to Montana for any length of time.

  Reassured, she finished her coffee before dodging into the bedroom where she pulled on a pale sweatshirt, gathered her art supplies, and darted out the front door. Her hair blew around her face as she ran toward the garage, climbed the wooden steps to the landing, and pushed open the door. Dim light cut through sparkling dust mites as she slammed the door with one booted foot. The room was as perfect as she remembered.

  With a small smile, she glanced out the wide southern window to the storm lurking just over the lake. The urge to paint the scene bubbled through her veins, and she set up her easel and settled a pristine white canvas in place. She spread oils onto a board, chose the correct brush, and started to slide paint into a mood.

  Several hours later, Sophie ran through the front door as darkness fell early from the oncoming storm. It had held itself at bay the entire day, almost as if it posed over the lake just to assist in her brush strokes. The phone rang as she finished stirring an aromatic beef stew in a Crock-Pot for Jake, who’d called earlier and hoped to be back soon.

  “Hi, Sophie, it’s Melanie from the general store. The delivery guy just dropped off your new charcoals.”

  Sophie fought to keep from asking why the petite teenager had known to call her at Jake’s. There weren’t many secrets in the small town. “How late are you open today?”

  “About another hour; we want to miss the storm.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right there.” She cast a wary glance upward then grabbed her keys and ran to the Jeep. It’d be at least an hour, maybe more, before the storm hit and she needed the charcoals to sketch out her paintings for the next day.

  The storm held off as she drove the fifteen miles to the general store across from Doc Mooncaller’s. She parked, dodged inside, and paid Melanie for the box of charcoals just as the girl was shutting down the lights for the day.

  Fat raindrops began to fall as she pulled into the street to head back to Jake’s, her new supplies perched safely on the backseat. The passenger door flew open and a lanky teenager leaped inside; Sophie jumped and slammed the brakes.

  “Sorry if I scared you.” He turned sorrow-filled brown eyes her way.

  Fear caught the breath in her throat. “I know you. You were in the crowd at the Concerned Citizens meeting.” Sophie eased the Jeep to the side of the road. The slam of drops on metal drowned out the sound of the running engine.

  The kid nodded his blond buzz-cut head, his slender hands running along his dark jeans before he wiped his nose on the back of one sleeve. “I’m Jeremy.” He had to be fourteen, maybe fifteen.

  “Hi.” For some reason, she felt calm.

  “Jeremy Rockefeller.”

  “Ah.”

  “I, um…” A deep red blush stole across his features. “I wanted to apologize. For the fire.”

  Her heart clutched. “You set the fire?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know you were pregnant.” His eyes filled with tears.

  Sophie whirled on the boy. “What difference does that make? It was okay to kill me otherwise?” Fury lit her tone and she stifled the urge to shake the kid.

  “Kill you?” Jeremy vehemently shook his head. “Jeez, lady, I wasn’t trying to kill you. Mrs. Shiller was out of town and you had that big tree right outside your window. I knew you’d be all right. Everyone can climb a tree.”

  “So what were you trying to do?”

  “Be a man. Stand up for what was right.” He wiped the back of a hand across his eyes.

  “By leaving scary notes and firebombing an old woman’s house?” Sophie’s voice shook.

  “Dumb. I know. But your development would’ve raped the land. I just wanted to do something. For once.”

  Sophie sighed. The kid’s misery was obvious. It certainly couldn’t be easy being raised by the odd Rockefeller couple. “So why confess?”

  “I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I just feel so bad.” His words rang true.

  Sophie’s thoughts reeled. The kid was obviously scared. And remorseful. Finally, with a sigh, she said, “We have to tell the sheriff.”

  “I know.” Sniff.

  “But if you promise to channel your aggression better and work for Mrs. Shiller one day a week for the next year, I won’t press charges.” She’d been a scared kid with crappy parents at one time, too.

  “Really?” Hope filled his brown depths.

  “Really. But I can’t guarantee Mrs. Shiller will agree and not press charges. And I don’t know what the sheriff will do.” Shit. She really didn’t want to know what Quinn would do.

  “It’s a deal, anyway.” He held out a skinny hand and they shook.

  “Okay.” Sophie pulled back onto the road and circled around the fountain to the sheriff’s office. Quinn met them at the curb, probably having seen them from his window. Rain curled through his thick black hair and plastered his denim shirt and faded jeans against his body.

  “You okay, Soph?” His eyes revealed nothing as Jeremy slowly exited the vehicle.

  “I’m fine. Jeremy has a confession to make, and I don’t want to press charges.”

  Quinn’s eyes hardened on the boy as he slammed the car door. He rapped three knuckles against the window and waited until she rolled it down a bit. “I’ll need a statement from you.”

  “Nope. I have nothing to say. It’s over as far as I’m concerned.”

  Quinn shook his head. “Jake might have something to say about that.”

  Sophie shrugged. “It’s not up to Jake. It’s my decision and I’ve made it.”

  Quinn’s lips twisted in a wry grin.

  “What?”

  “Just glad Jake is the brother who captured you. That’s all.”

  “Funny. Say hi to Juliet for me.” With her parting shot, she rolled up the window, gave Jeremy a reassuring nod, and pulled back onto the street. Jeremy, a pitiful expression on his face, watched her drive away. She accelerated and made quick work of the road back to Jake’s. Her cell phone rang just as his home came into view.

  “Where are you?” Jake’s voice barely wove through the crackle.

  “I suppose you talked to your brother?” She fought the urge to sigh. Damn meddling Lodge men.

  “You should press charges.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. It’s my choice.”

  “Fine. Where are you, softy?”

  “Pulling into the drive.”

  She clicked off as the front door opened to reveal him, long and lean in the doorway. The sight of him, tall and sexy and waiting for her, tightened her chest as she jumped out of the Jeep, her charcoals safe in her hands. Jake took it from her as he pulled her inside, out of the misting rain.

  “There’s a storm coming.” Warm arms enveloped her as the scent of horse, dust, and man surrounded her.

  “You need a shower.” She wrinkled her nose while stepping back.

  Jake kept his gaze on her as he gently placed her box by the door. “Sounds like an offer.”

  “What—” wa
s all she got out before two strong arms whisked her up and carried her toward the master bedroom. “Why are you always carrying me?”

  “I like you in my arms.” Jake dropped his mouth to nibble along her jawline. Straight to the shell of her ear.

  “You like being in control.” Breathiness coated her words, and she tilted her head so he had better access.

  “I like you safe in my sights. And here”—he tightened his arms, his sizzling mouth now exploring her neck—“is the perfect way to do both.” He lowered her to the bathroom tile. Two rough hands lifted her shirt over her head. His eyes hot on her, he yanked his shirt off before his hands unclasped her bra. It fell into the growing heap of clothing on the floor as he unsnapped his dusty jeans. He pushed them down muscled thighs along with his shorts, his eyes warming as she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her pants.

  “Rough day, cowboy?” She nodded to a deep purple bruise across one thick bicep.

  He twisted the shower knob. “My mind wasn’t on the job at hand.” Steam began filling the air.

  “What was your mind on?”

  “This.” One long tapered finger traced her collarbone and explored south to the peak of one pebbled nipple.

  “Oh.” Heat filled her.

  He stepped forward and backed her into the stone tiled alcove. “And this.” Two strong hands went to her buttocks and lifted her against the smooth tile. His mouth dropped to hers, gentle and sweet. The spray beat against his back and cascaded around to mist her.

  Sophie wrapped both hands around his neck and both legs around his hips. “And this.” His hand slid around to press ever so softly above her left breast. “I want your heart.” His mouth dipped to replace his hand. “You already have mine. When I think about that kid jumping in the car with you…”

  “He was just a scared kid. Not dangerous.” Did Jake just say he wanted her heart? That silly organ fluttered hard.

  “You wouldn’t know dangerous if it bit you.” To prove his point, he bit down into sensitive flesh.

  Sophie gasped as sharp pangs of desire shot directly south. “Jake…” Her head fell back as his mouth moved down and engulfed her nipple in heat.

  “I told you I’d never lie to you.” His rumble against her flesh shot spasms deep within her. “I meant it when I said I was keeping you.”

  Her hands slid to the powerful strength of his dark chest and down the arms holding her securely, before moving back up to clench in his hair and yank his head to meet hers. Her legs tightened around him as she deepened the kiss. His tongue swept her mouth, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other squeezing her buttocks.

  She pressed harder into him.

  “Now, Jake,” she moaned against his mouth.

  With a quick movement, he impaled her against the wall and joined them together.

  “Oh, God.” It was too much. Sophie clenched his shoulders and tilted her head against the wall. Jake nuzzled his lips along her neck, keeping them both in place, on the edge of something.

  Something amazing.

  She swallowed as a tremor shook her. “Have you noticed you always have me against a wall?” she breathed.

  He grinned. “This is the perfect position for you.” His hands tightened.

  She sucked in air, her sex throbbing. Electricity rushed through her veins. Her nerves sparked. “We do seem to fit.”

  He lifted his head, dark eyes devouring her. “I didn’t like you out in that storm.”

  “I beat the storm home.” Her eyes focused on his talented lips. His eyes heated even more. She opened her mouth to qualify the term home, only to have Jake swoop in and stop the words in her throat. Unapologetically. He kissed her until her mind reeled, until her heart turned over in her chest, and until she began to move against him, her feet pressing his buttocks with fervor.

  Finally, Jake lifted his head and slid torturously out of her before slamming back inside with a twist of his hips, his eyes focused on hers. Sophie clutched his shoulders. A stirring started deep inside. Jake did it again. His grin was pure sin when he stopped moving.

  “Promise me you won’t go out in a storm like that again.” His husky voice wrapped around her with the steam.

  “Are you kidding me?” She groaned and struggled to move.

  “Deadly serious.” And he was. The muscled arms holding her vibrated with the need to move. A fierce muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes hardened to sparking zinc. His expression showed he’d wait all day for an answer.

  “I’ll avoid driving in storms.” She would’ve promised just about anything to get him moving again. Quick as a flip of a switch, Jake gripped her buttocks and moved, all strength, speed, and muscle.

  She trembled. A tightening in her abdomen compressed her lungs. Tingles of erotic shards rippled up her legs and over her thighs.

  She ran her hands over his shoulders to the shifting deltoid muscles. So much strength in such an intelligent man. Throw in the inherent dominance that made her see stars, and every ounce of determination she owned spiraled into wanting to keep him. Forever.

  He thrust harder, angling his pelvis to her clit.

  She gasped, her hold tightening. Painfully hard nipples brushed his chest, sending sparks of fire to her sex. To her already engorged, ready to explode, aching clit.

  Her hands slid farther over solid muscle and deep hollows to reach his vibrating biceps. He was so strong; he could do anything he wanted to her. The thought heated her and the knowledge that he wanted to take her completely almost sent her over the edge.

  His cock stretched her, sliding along firing nerve endings as he pounded.

  She ground against him, climbing higher, seeking that detonation only Jake could provide. He hammered into her, gripping her hip, his fingers cupping her head.

  A twister whirled through her. She broke. Nerves flared, and waves rippled through her so brutally she cried out. Holding tight, her body rigid, she clung to Jake to keep her safe.

  The prolonged climax tore her world apart, and she cried out his name.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Several hours after playing in the shower with Jake, eating the delicious stew while arguing over poor Jeremy’s fate, and making love again in the big bed, Sophie dropped into an exhausted sleep.

  “So, anything new there?” Bob stood admiring her painting in the center of the studio.

  “Why are we here?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Bob scratched his head. “Pretty painting.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So you don’t really want to return to the big and lonely city, huh? Not so sure you want to raise a baby there? By yourself?”

  “Subtle, Bob.”

  “I thought so.” He turned toward her—an old-time cowboy in dark chinos, gray shirt, and white hat over white hair, his chocolate eyes smiling.

  “Are you done running?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?” Irritation swept through her.

  “From Jake.” Bob’s eyes twinkled.

  “I’m not running.” Jeez. What did an imaginary dream pal know?

  Bob blew a raspberry. “Baloney. You’ve been running since day one.”

  “On day one, he wanted a quick affair.” She hunched her shoulders, an old hurt winding along her skin.

  “Who wouldn’t? I mean, you’re hot.” Bob wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Bob!” Sophie couldn’t stifle a quick laugh.

  “Jake has stuck since, now hasn’t he?”

  Sophie shook her head, wandering closer to scrutinize the painting of the storm. The slashes of color, of emotion, mirrored those she felt inside. She wondered if the calm was ever coming.

  “Really? Who showed up the second you got yourself in too deep with that nutty Citizen’s Group?”

  “Jake.” Sophie rolled her eyes.

  “And took you to the doctor? And helped you climb out of a tree?” Bob persisted.

  “Jake.” She sighed.

  “He didn’t just help you—he act
ually climbed up there with you. He’s not going to leave you.”

  “I know, but…” Tears filled her eyes.

  “Jake will stick. Don’t you want that baby to have a father? Every day of his life?”

  “It’s a boy?”

  Bob shrugged. “What about that sweet Leila? Who’s going to keep Jake from killing the first boy who breaks her heart?”

  “Jake wouldn’t…” She grinned at Bob. “Yeah, he would.”

  Bob leaned forward and caught her forearms in a strong grip. “Nobody is leaving you, and nobody is putting you on the sidelines. You’re doing that all by yourself this time.”

  “Wow—you’re actually touching me.”

  “I may slap you alongside the head.” Bob stepped back with a shake of his head. “You need to think, girl.”

  “I am, Bob.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “What?” She stepped back, alarm raising goose bumps on her arms.

  “Those were one-syllable words, Sophia. An educated woman like you understands the meaning of each one. Now stop being such a coward and answer the question.”

  Sophie ran a frustrated hand over her face. “Yes. There, are you happy?” She turned a glare on an empty room. “Bob?” she yelled. “Get back here!” Only her painting stared back at her.

  Sophie awoke with a start, her eyes adjusting to early morning light filtering through the shades. She rolled over and buried her face into Jake’s vacated pillow, filling her senses with the scent of man and musk. Hmm. His pillow was still warm. She snuggled closer and opened one eye on the empty doorway, her mind awakening much faster than her body.

  What a night. If she weren’t dancing with insanity, with the Bob dreams and all, maybe things could work out. She squared her shoulders. Forget things working out. As a smart woman, as a strong one, she’d make damn well sure things worked out. Whether Jake Lodge liked it or not.

  She rolled out of bed with a smile on her face, yanked on jeans and a cream sweater, then padded barefoot into the kitchen. The echo of a clock filled the room as her gaze fell onto a note on the black marble counter.

  Morning, Sunshine. There’s decaf in the cupboard above the coffeepot. I’ve gone to meet Colton in the south pasture—steers loose and fence down from the last storm. There’s another one coming, so stay inside. Love, Jake