Nine
“You smell sweet,” Dune Cates heard Sophie Saunders say. His back was to her, and he turned to see who she was sniffing.
“Let me rub my sugar on you.”
Mac James stood a foot away. Sophie blushed when he hugged her. Dune counted to ten. “You can let go of her now.”
Mac kissed Sophie on the forehead, then released her. It was a brotherly kiss, Dune noted, and not one to provoke or piss him off. Mac was a flirt and laid his charm on thick. Not so tonight. His partner appeared friendly, but reserved. Dune wondered what had triggered the change.
“What brings you to the Civic Center?” asked Sophie.
“Jenna brought me,” Mac said easily.
Ah, crap, Dune thought. He didn’t like the fact that Jen and Mac were together. He’d lost a second bet to Sophie.
Sophie glanced up. Her eyes were bright and her smile triumphant. I told you so was written all over her face. She was gracious. She didn’t whoop, victory dance, or call attention to herself. Instead, she stood very still. She didn’t want Mac aware of their wager.
Dune inhaled and caught a whiff of sugar and vanilla. He eyed Mac. “Your shirt smells like a bakery,” he said.
“It’s my nightshirt,” Jen said, joining them. She carried a small terra-cotta planter painted with purple pansies. “The scent of Frosted Cupcake body lotion never fully washes out.”
Dune raised a brow. “How’d Mac get hold of your nightshirt?” he asked.
The moment turned awkward. “He followed me home,” Jen finally said.
“Followed her after her date canceled at the last minute,” Mac was quick to say.
“His hoodie and shirt were dirty, so I lent him a replacement,” Jen continued. “Mac likes art and wanted to attend Twilight Bazaar.”
“Mac and art?” That surprised Dune.
“So he says.”
“He says a lot.”
Mac rolled his shoulders. “Have you met her cats?” he asked Dune.
Dune nodded. He’d cat-sat for Jen on a weekend when he was home and Jen needed to go out of town. “Chike was distant, but he kept an eye on me the whole time.”
“No male bonding with me, either,” Mac admitted.
“Chike is cautious,” Jenna said. “He chooses his friends wisely.”
“Next visit and we’ll be tight,” Mac predicted.
“No more visits,” Jen said firmly.
Dune saw the look Mac gave Jen when she wasn’t watching. It was an anxious, yet purposeful stare. Dune had never known Mac to be nervous around a woman. This was a first for him.
Mac had somehow finagled a date to the bazaar. The night was young and Mac and Jen had yet to face off. Dune sensed their evening would end badly. They were two very different people. Common ground wasn’t in their future.
He happened to glance down. “Nice boots, dude.” He grinned at Mac.
“Gardening boots,” said Mac. He stepped from one foot to the other and winced. “Tight and itchy. Fire and brimstone.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Jen reminded him.
“I’m begging off shortly.”
“Feel free to leave anytime,” she said sweetly.
Underlying sarcasm? Dune heard it and so had Mac. Her tone set Mac off. A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Hard to believe she’s attracted to me,” he said.
“She is?” Sophie came alive at Dune’s side.
“So she claims.”
Jenna glared at Mac. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“I can’t believe you’re so upset.”
“Believe it.” She clutched the flowerpot so tightly, Dune expected her to crack it over Mac’s skull. Instead, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd. Her anger lingered. They all felt it.
Mac stared after her. “What the hell just happened?”
“Jen left you for dead,” said Dune.
“I can’t win for losing.”
“What, exactly, are you trying to win?” Dune wanted to know.
“Or who?” inserted Sophie.
Mac didn’t answer. It wasn’t like him to close down. He always had a smartass remark. Not so tonight, thought Dune. Mac was quiet and introspective. He was oblivious to the women who passed by, smiled at him, brushed against him, and gave him the sexual eye.
Sophie patted Mac on the arm. “You can walk around with us,” she offered.
“Or you can walk home,” suggested Dune.
“Thanks, Soph, you always look out for me.” Mac put his arm around her shoulders. She was the perfect leaning post for his height. “I’ll hang for a few more minutes,” he said.
“No more than ten,” said Dune.
The three of them moved with the crowd. They eventually stopped at a booth with framed pastels. “The paintings are soft and soothing,” Sophie observed. “The hammocks and bedrooms make me sleepy.”
“Bet the artist was tired,” said Mac.
Mac released Sophie long enough to pick up a small painting of a vintage wooden rocker. The wicker was intricately painted. The back curved like a spine. “Looks similar to the one in Jenna’s cottage,” he said.
“A nice gift,” Dune noted, “especially if a guy screwed up and wanted to make amends.”
Mac continued to look at the painting. He stared so long that Dune made the decision for him. Something had gone down between Mac and Jenna that only Mac could fix. He gave his partner the benefit of the doubt. He slipped his wallet from his back pocket and passed him a fifty.
“Resolve” was all he said. He left the rest to Mac.
Mac bought the painting and pocketed the change. The Civic Center was packed and people pushed around them; a few cut between them. Mac wasn’t fazed until someone stepped on his toe.
“Time to kick these boots,” he grunted. “Take care of our Sophie,” he said to Dune. “I’m out of here.” He and his painting moved toward the main door.
“Poor Mac,” Sophie sighed. “He and Jen didn’t last long. They don’t do well on dates.”
“Poor me,” said Dune. “They arrived together. That’s all you needed to collect on our second bet.”
“There are lots of choices at the bazaar.”
She took his hand as she was apt to do. Jostled by the crowd, they bumped arms, hips, legs. She stepped on his foot twice. He didn’t mind. There was something oddly comforting in knowing she walked beside him.
They weren’t an official couple, although each time he was with her, he liked her more. He found it harder and harder to remember that he was an injured volleyball player without a future. Hanging out with Sophie gave him a sense of purpose. He liked waking up to her latest adventure.
It took them two hours to view every booth and table inside the Civic Center. The vendors smiled when Sophie approached. She wanted to support every artist and merchant. She was a guaranteed sale.
She swatted his hand when he offered to cover her purchases. Still, he was fast with the cash. He watched as she bought items for everyone but herself. She was a giver.
His arms were soon filled with a handmade quilt for his sister Shaye, a pale driftwood wreath for Nicole Archer, a terrarium for Jenna, and a small stained glass window for Molly Malone. She had yet to decide who would get the button and coin necklaces.
“Need help?” Young Chuck from the diner found them in the crowd. The kid had been working with Sophie’s gardener and, from what Dune had heard from Violet, was doing a great job. The boy had a green thumb, according to Luis. The gardener was happy to have a helper for the summer.
“I need to make a trip to the SUV,” Dune told Chuck. He was still driving his parents’ Tahoe and glad for the cargo space. “Stick with Sophie. Carry whatever she buys.”
Chuck flexed his arm. “I’m strong.”
Dune returned moments later to find Sophie in the children’s aisle. Chuck was buried beneath arts and crafts. His vision was limited. He squinted between an amber mason jar filled with dark hot chocolate—the recipe attached—and a decoupage paperweight featuring the map of Florida.
Sophie held up a container of pink, yellow, and blue bath salts. “Aren’t these pretty?” she asked.
“Your bathwater will look like a rainbow,” said Chuck. Sophie took two.
Dune experienced a purely male moment as he looked at her. She was soft and sweetly curved. Somewhere between the Sneaker Ball and the Civic Center, he’d begun to picture her naked. He could see her wet, soapy, and slick. The image forced him to shift his stance. Damn erection.
He handed Chuck the keys to the SUV. “Go out the front door, third lane on the left, fifth car down, a blue Tahoe.”
“Load ’em up,” the boy said as he squeezed through the crowd.
There were so many children’s creations, and Sophie wanted one of each. Dune watched as she fell in love with an origami swan. Next, she couldn’t pass up an Empire State Building built with root beer bottle caps. Someone had drunk a lot of soda.
She bought an angel made from a paper towel roll. The roll was wrapped in wide lace ribbon and the wings were bent copper. It had a tinfoil halo.
Sophie praised the third grade girl who’d crafted the angel. Her words caused the girl to cover her face and blush. Sophie went on to order a dozen additional angels for Christmas.
“I’m going to hang them on my tree,” she told Dune.
He nodded. “They’ll make nice ornaments.”
“I have tanks,” a young boy called from the next table. “They’re made of tire tread.”
Cool toys, Dune thought. Made from thick, durable belted rubber, the tanks would tough it out for a lot of years. One tank had a Michelin stripe and another said DUNLOP. He bought the Dunlop for his four-year-old cousin.
A ceramic giraffe caught his eye, one similar to the one he’d made as a kid. It was far better crafted, he noted. He laid out two dollars.
It took him a moment to realize Sophie had left his side. Where had she gone? He turned and found her standing near the pet station. Dwarf hamsters in clear plastic runabout balls had caught her attention. She remained perfectly still as the balls lightly bumped her feet and rolled off. The hamsters were exercising and getting quite a workout.
Sophie went down on her hands and knees for a better look. Dune leaned against the doorframe and watched her watch them. Her soft brow creased and her green eyes were narrowed. Her curiosity was piqued.
She gently put her hand on one ball, stopping its progress. “Why are there two hamsters inside?” she asked the vendor seated on a chair in the corner.
“Small females, six weeks old,” the man replied. “Each weighs less than an ounce. It takes both of them to move the ball.”
Dune knew what was coming; he could feel it in his bones. It would be great for Sophie to have a pet. Hamsters, however, didn’t live very long.
“Life span?” he asked the seller.
The man shrugged. “One to four years.”
Sophie pushed to her feet. She cradled the plastic ball with the two females to her chest. She carefully stepped around those still running a marathon. She came to him and gave him a small smile. “I’m collecting my bet.”
The vendor stood so fast his chair fell over. “Twenty dollars,” he told Dune. “Do you need a cage? Food? I’m full-service.”
The supplies were stored in a custodial closet. The man had a selection to pamper and spoil any hamster. Dune held the plastic ball, while Sophie chose her items. The Dwarfs were pocket pets. The tiny females huddled together, their noses twitching.
The vendor pulled a cage from the top shelf. “This is a nice starter home,” he told Sophie.
She shook her head. “Too small.”
She preferred the Habitat Plaza. The picture on the box showed a multi-level, high-rise manufactured with twisting tube tunnels, platforms, and two running wheels. Dune would help her put it together.
Further necessities included a water bottle, earthenware feeding dish, a chewing stick, and small bag of seeds and pellets. The vendor tossed in the clear plastic ball as a bonus item.
“Wow, Dwarfies,” Chuck said when he located them again. He tossed Dune his keys. “My teacher kept a gerbil and two white mice in class last year. We took turns taking them home on the weekends.”
“You can watch my girls if I ever go out of town,” Sophie told him.
Chuck puffed up, proud she trusted him. “Do you need help with the rest of this stuff?” he asked.
Dune handed Chuck the plastic ball. “Handle them with care,” he said.
“I’ll guard them with my life.”
Sophie smiled her approval.
Dune paid the vendor. The man nodded toward Sophie, who waited with Chuck by the door. “She’ll treat my hamsters like family.”
That she would. They were her kids now, Dune realized as he drove her home. She held the plastic ball on her lap with the protective fierceness of motherhood. She told him twice to slow down when going over speed bumps. He did his best not to laugh, but his smile soon broke out.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You’re funny,” he said. “You’re such a mom.”
She frowned slightly. “That’s a bad thing?”
“It’s all good,” he assured her. He’d never discourage her from getting attached to her pets. Sophie was a natural nurturer. These were two very lucky hamsters.
They pulled into her driveway moments later. He helped her out of the Tahoe and into her house. She settled in the library and sat cross-legged on the floor. She watched the plastic ball circle the room while he unloaded the SUV.
He placed her purchases in the living room. Sophie had supported the community. She would gift wrap and hand out her presents. It would be Christmas in May for her friends.
He lugged the Habitat Plaza down the hall. “Where shall I set this up?” he asked her.
“In here.” She was quick to make up her mind. “This is my favorite room. I spend so much time here reading.”
She could read and watch the hamsters run. Sophie was a homebody. The Dwarfs would keep her company.
He hunkered down beside her and tore open the box. The pieces spilled out. The ventilated wire top was a bright yellow and the lower plastic levels were pink and orange. It was a simple task to put the parts together. He could’ve done it in five minutes flat. Instead, he took his time.
He liked being here with Sophie. She helped him fit the tube tunnels and attach the cylinders to the side panels. The running wheels came next, followed by the water bottle. She filled their food dish.
“Do you have an empty can? A toilet paper roll?” he asked her. “They need a place to sleep.”
Sophie was up and searching before he could finish his sentence. She returned with a Kalamata olive can and a roll of paper towels. She ripped off one sheet and shredded a narrow strip for their bedding. She then stuffed it inside the can.
She took a deep breath. “I’m ready to hold them now.”
Dune retrieved the ball from near his foot. The hamsters looked tired. They’d run several miles tonight. He twisted the top and reached inside. They were small and light as air. They sniffed his hand. The darker of the two nibbled on his finger. He gently scooped up the hungry one and set her on Sophie’s palm.
Dune got to know the lighter-colored hamster, while Sophie became acquainted with the darker one. His Dwarf was so small, it could get lost between his fingers. “Do you have names picked out?” he asked her.
“I will in a day or two,” she said. “I want to learn their personalities first.”
“Are you ready to introduce them to their home?”
She nodded and he unlatched the cage door. He lowered his hand and the hamster ran off his fingers and into the habitat. Sophie released her pet, too. Immediately curious, the hamsters explored.
“I want to put the cage on a card table next to the sofa,” she said. “My grandparents left one behind. It’s in the hall closet.”
Dune went for the table and the hamsters were soon set for the night. They’d disappeared into the olive can and never reappeared. He glanced down and found Sophie staring up at him.
“Thank you for my girls,” she said.
“You won our bet.”
“It must seem childish to get so excited, but I’ve never had a pet. Trace wanted a Golden Retriever when he was a boy. My parents felt a dog would be too much work and cause too much of a mess.”
“The hamsters will be easy to care for,” he said. “Enjoy them.”
“You don’t think I’m acting like a kid then?”
Sweet, sensitive Sophie needed his reassurance. He was honest with her. “I like the way you look at life, excited and expectant. It’s a great way to live.”
She nodded, smiled, pleased by his answer. “Mac’s never grown up,” she said. “Unless he’s got everyone fooled.”
“What you see is what you get with Mac,” Dune told her. “There’s no hidden agenda.”
“I’m easy to read, too,” she said. “I can’t hide my feelings. I frown when my heart hurts and smile when it warms.”
She smiled as often as she blushed. Dune was glad to be a part of her life. Their age difference no longer mattered. Sophie had him seeing life through fresh eyes. He hoped she’d never lose her exuberance.
It was easy to become disillusioned. Life had pushed him down at the height of his career. He’d become a bit of a cynic after falling and hurting his wrist at the South Beach Open. Somehow Sophie soothed him.
He glanced at his watch. Eleven-thirty. It was getting late, yet he wasn’t ready to leave. “Decaf by the pool?” he asked, hoping she’d let him stay a while longer.
She welcomed him, but on her terms. “Coffee at the kitchen table,” she countered.
“It’s time for you to get your feet wet.”
“You only mentioned my swimming lesson today,” she said. “I thought we were taking it slow.”
“Slow starts with a full moon and splashing your feet.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I’ll be with you all the way.”
He took her hand and felt her shiver. She was scared. He wouldn’t push her hard, only a nudge to get her out by the pool. They rose and he followed her down the hall to the kitchen. He dropped onto a chair while she made the coffee. The scent was dark, rich, and earthy.
“Marisole’s Rainforest,” she told him. “Our chef grinds an assortment of beans into a special blend. I add Italian sweet cream.”
She poured two cups and crossed to him. He nodded toward the sliding doors and she sighed heavily, knowing his intent. They proceeded poolside. The full moon turned the water silver. The deck was natural blue stone. The patio furniture was stacked against the house.
Dune kicked off his sandals and rolled his jeans to his knees. He settled on the side of the pool. He sipped his coffee and waited for Sophie to join him.
She was slow to cuff her pants and slower still to sit. She was anxious as she perched on the edge. She extended her legs, stiff and straight, long before lowering her feet into the pool. The water was warm and soothing. He watched her wiggle her toes.
“Not so bad?” Dune asked.
“Not so good.” She peered down on the water. “It looks deep.”
“Three, maybe four feet,” he said. “You could easily stand.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “I prefer to sit.”
They sat and talked. “What would you be doing if I wasn’t here?” He didn’t want to keep her from anything important.
“I often read until ten, then watch a movie,” she told him. “My life’s more boring than yours.”
“I’ve watched my fair share of movies,” he admitted. He often camped on the couch with Ghost, preferring a quiet night over the bar crowd. His dog didn’t expect small talk or run up a bar tab.
“A little movie trivia,” she challenged him. “ ‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.’ ”
He recognized the quote. “Bogart in Casablanca. Do you like the classics?”
“I have very eclectic tastes.” She surprised him with “ ‘Toga! Toga!’ ”
He grinned. “Bluto from National Lampoon’s Animal House.” He swirled his coffee in his cup and tried to stump her. “ ‘Cinderella story,’ ” he recited the dialogue. “ ‘A former greenkeeper, about to become the Master’s champion. It looks like a mirac . . . it’s in the hole! It’s in the hole! It’s in the hole!’ ”
She rolled her eyes. “Is that the best you’ve got?” she asked. “Bill Murray, Caddyshack.”
He came back with “ ‘Do, or do not. There is no try.’ ”
“Yoda, The Empire Strikes Back.”
“Your turn,” he said.
“ ‘No wire hangers, ever!’ ”
She stumped him. He didn’t have a clue. He shrugged. “Sounds like a slogan for a dry cleaning commercial.”
“It’s Mommie Dearest with Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford.”
“You’re good, Sophie.”
“Books and movies are my escape.” She snapped her fingers. “I have a quote you’ll know: ‘Where is it? Where’s the thump-thump?’ ”
“That’s Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean, Dead Man’s Chest.”
She leaned into him. “Such a smart man.”
Her body fit against his side, soft, warm and distracting. He had one further piece of dialogue for her. “ ‘Y’know, this was supposed to be my weekend off. But nooo. You got me out here, draggin’ your heavy ass through the burnin’ desert with your dreadlocks sticking—’ ”
“ ‘—out the back of my parachute,’ ” she finished for him. “The alien smelled bad, too. That was Will Smith as Captain Steven Hiller. He could’ve been at a barbecue instead of tracking aliens on Independence Day.”
“You have an amazing memory.”
“For trivia,” she said with a hint of defeat. “I’m book smart, but life-challenged.”
Sophie knew her limitations. She was shy, uncoordinated, and inordinately fearful. Most people had been around the block at least once by her age. She’d just started down the driveway.
He nudged her shoulder. “Your favorite heroes and villains?”
She didn’t have to think long. “Silence of the Lambs would be the scariest pairing with Clarice and Hannibal Lecter. Animation: the 101 Dalmatians were all heroes. Cruella de Vil scared me as a kid. Christopher Reeve as Superman and Sally Field in Norma Rae were heroic. Jack Nicholson in The Shining and Kathy Bates in Misery gave me nightmares.”
“That’s quite a list,” Dune said, impressed.
She caught her breath and blushed. “Sorry to run on,” she apologized.
He turned slightly and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m going with Han Solo and Darth Vadar, although Jabba the Hutt qualified as a villain, too.”
She looked at him for a long moment, as if summing him up. “I bet you have a shelf of Western DVDs.”
“I bet you’re right.” He’d only mentioned cowboys to her once, when he admired her antique pearl-handled six-shooter. Yet she’d remembered. He liked that about her. She focused on what he had to say. “I admire the morality of the Old West and gunslinger justice.”
“Spaghetti Westerns or legends?”
He grinned. “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly ranks up there with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“I enjoyed The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance,” she said. “It was the first instance John Wayne called someone Pilgrim.”
“What’s your all-time favorite movie?” he asked.
She pursed her lips. “There are so many to choose from. Movies I’ve watched over and over. I could go with Wuthering Heights, Titanic, or Funny Girl, but I’m going to say Jerry Maguire.”
“ ‘Show me the money!’ ” said Dune.
“ ‘You had me at ‘hello.’ ”
“You’re a romantic, Sophie Saunders.”
“Romantic but realist.” She leaned back on her palms and swung her feet in the water. The side of her foot brushed his and their ankles bumped.
He looked down in the water. She had small feet and slender calves. Every part of her body was compact.
“Up for a midnight swim?” he asked.
“Up for more coffee?” she countered.
“Half a cup.”
She scooted back several feet before standing. Distance was her safety net from falling in the pool. She picked up his cup, then crossed to the kitchen.
“You’re going in the water,” he called after her.
“Later rather than sooner,” she said from the sliding door.
He’d keep after her. She had a pool in her backyard and a canal beyond. She had easy access to the beach. Knowing how to swim was a safety precaution at any age.
He heard the pad of her bare feet as she came to stand behind him. She bent over and set his cup down near his hip. She went on to rest her hands on his shoulders. He felt the bump of her knees at his back.
What was going on?
The evening was about to shock him. His jaw dropped when Sophie gave him a solid shove. There was no resistance on his part. He was so relaxed he slid into the pool.
Her laughter followed him in. He’d been ambushed. She’d barely gotten her feet wet, yet she had no regrets soaking him to the bone.
Two could play her game. He sank to the bottom in the shallow end and held his breath for a good long time.
What he thought was a joke wasn’t funny to Sophie.
“Dune?” Her voice wavered slightly. “Don’t make me come after you.”
He wished she would jump in. He counted to ten and was about to surface when she entered the pool. He saw her clutch the handrail as she came down the stairs. Her wild, panicky splashing caused waves. She lost sight of him, yet she was so close she stepped on his stomach.
“Dune!” Her voice was now shrill from worry.
He shot up. The water swirled about his waist, but reached high on her chest. She was pale in the moonlight; bobbing and tearful.
Her tears cut him deep. He mentally kicked himself for playing such a prank. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He pulled her close and rubbed her back.
She punched his arm hard. “Never frighten me like that again.”
He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “You started it. You pushed me in the pool.”
“You pretended to drown.” She collapsed against him. “My heart nearly stopped when you didn’t surface.”
“You tried to save me.” That affected him most. She’d been scared to death, yet braved the pool for him. She was amazing.
He rested his forehead against hers. “For future reference, when you play a prank on someone, chances are good they’ll prank you back.”
“Like you just did to me?”
He nodded. “You didn’t have a lot of playmates as a kid, whereas I grew up with three brothers and a sister. They specialized in practical jokes, stupid stunts, and getting back at each other. Had I faked drowning with Zane, he would’ve dropped an anchor on my chest.”
She sighed against him, her relief evident.
Awareness next came into play. The surface of the pool was smooth as glass and the night still around them. Clouds crossed the moon and darkness allowed them privacy.
Time alone was good.
He lowered his hands to her bottom and cupped her butt cheeks. They fit small in his palms. Her breasts pressed against his chest and her legs wrapped around his hips. Their wet clothes stuck together. Their position was one of intimacy and arousal. It was time for him to make a move, or get out of the pool and call it a night.
He hadn’t finished his coffee.
He wanted to start something with Sophie.
That something began with a kiss.