She was about to introduce herself when a scruffy-looking man approached the door. He gave them a suspicious glance before knocking and entering the office, and the couple suddenly felt awkward conversing right outside their PO’s door.
“Want to take a walk?” Grant suggested, extending his arm toward the exit.
She nodded gratefully, and they strolled in amicable silence, emerging into the bright sunlight outside the courthouse.
Perching on one concrete stair, she extended her hand to him, and his long fingers enveloped her skin warmly. He glanced down at the silver rings on her delicate fingers, particularly attracted to the band on her forefinger. The unusual placement of the ring made her seem both tough and sophisticated.
She smiled pleasantly. “I’m Sophie.”
“Nice to finally know your name, Sophie.” He reluctantly released her hand. “I probably should have introduced myself before I attacked you with that hug earlier.”
Gazing into his eyes, shining in the sunlight, she confidently informed him, “It was exactly what I needed. You, um, you give great hugs.” More demurely, she whispered, “Thank you.”
“Well, I owed you one after you warned me about our PO being a Cubs fan. If I’d worn that Sox jacket in there that day, who knows what would have happened … maybe those cops would have been coming for me.”
Sophie grinned and reached into her bag to extract the jacket. “I think it’s about time I give this back to you.”
He took it from her gratefully. “M-maybe—” he stuttered, then ducked his head nervously before starting again. “Maybe we could go to a White Sox game together some time?”
He looked absolutely adorable when he was all anxious like that. Sophie shot him a bright grin. “I’d love that.”
Grant beamed. Enraptured by her beauty, he barely registered what she told him next. But when she sat on the steps, smoothing her skirt beneath her, he finally understood that she had asked him to sit with her. He eagerly folded his long, lean body next to hers.
They basked in the warm morning sun for a few moments before Grant inquired, “Why did those cops come for you today, if you don’t mind me asking?” Watching her react to his question with reddening cheeks and a dip of her head, he added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I just wanted to know if there was something in particular I needed to avoid so I don’t return to prison myself.” He stared off into the distance. “I can’t go back there.”
“It’s okay,” Sophie said with a sigh. “The truth is I haven’t found a job yet. Jerry told me I would return to prison if I didn’t get a job in two weeks, and stupidly I decided to test him on his word.” Grant watched her rub her wrists absentmindedly.
“He handcuffed you?” Grant asked quietly, wrapped up in his own memories of cops and cuffs.
“Yes. I thought I was going back inside, for a whole year … I’m not sure I would have made it this time. But then I let it slip that my dad would probably hire me, and Jerry pounced on that. He told me if I got a job today from my father, he wouldn’t arrest me.”
Observing her face, Grant ventured, “I’m guessing you and your dad don’t get along so well?”
Sophie snapped her head toward him, meeting his concerned gaze. “How did you know?”
“I know it would have to be quite bad for you to risk going back to prison.”
“Really bad,” she said. “My dad pretty much hates me, and he hasn’t exactly been father of the year.”
Grant sighed. It seemed that they had something in common besides rooting for the Sox. “My dad and I don’t get along so great either.”
Sophie nodded sadly and then mused, “I bet most convicts come from awful family backgrounds. Long family histories of dysfunction … It’s like we never learned how to ‘get along’ in society, you know?”
Grant took in her comment and looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time. Not only was she attractive, but also intelligent and insightful. “Never really thought about it,” he admitted. “But ‘awful’ describes my family perfectly.”
Thinking about family dysfunction, Sophie’s thoughts drifted to her mother. Laura Taylor had been a high-maintenance, emotionally needy woman who could drive Sophie crazy with her controlling personality, but she still missed her deeply. At least her mother acted lovingly once in a while, in contrast to her father’s stern, cold demeanor. Feeling tears threaten once again, Sophie said, “Let’s not talk about our families. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.”
Tentatively she asked a question that had been troubling her since she first encountered Grant. “Um, why did you go to prison?”
Grant was quiet for a few moments. “Well, if we’re not talking about families, then I can’t really answer that.”
His gemstone eyes scorched her with an earnest intensity.
“Tell you what. Let’s make a pact, okay? No talking about family, about prison, about why we were inside, about how long our sentences were. No questions that cons might ask each other. No talking about the past. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather never think of the past again.”
Sophie nodded vigorously.
Grant continued to outline his plan. “We’re both trying to move forward, to rebuild our lives. Let’s focus only on the future.”
She continued to nod, secretly hoping this handsome man might somehow be part of her future.
“We’ll concentrate on the future—starting today with getting you a job.”
“Getting me a job?”
“Yep. C’mon, let’s go.”
Grant bounded down the stairs of the courthouse. Sophie stared after him. Should she follow? She didn’t even know him. A nagging voice in the back of her head urged her not to trust this con, this criminal, this delinquent.
But she was a criminal too. Would she want others to refuse to give her a chance because of one mistake? Would she want others never to trust her again? Taking a deep breath, she jogged down the steps and into the taxi Grant had hailed.
*
Grant paid the cabbie, and they stepped out at the Chicago River docks. Rays of sun bounced off the blue-green water in a dazzling array.
“You ever been on a Chicago architectural cruise?” Grant inquired.
“I always wanted to,” Sophie said. “But like most Chicago natives, I never got around to it.”
He grinned. “Here’s your chance then.” Grant stepped onto the deck gracefully and turned around, extending his hand and beckoning to her. She cautiously grasped his hand, and he guided her over the gunwale.
“Rog?” Grant called out. “Rog?”
“Well, hello,” Roger boomed as he emerged from the bridge, eyeing the blonde who had just walked onto his ship. He stood up a little taller and tried to suck in his gut as Grant brought her over.
“Roger Eaton, I’d like to introduce you to Sophie, um …”
“Taylor,” she supplied. “Sophie Taylor.”
Obviously smitten as he shook her hand, Roger said, “You must be the prettiest passenger we’ve ever had on one of our cruises.”