Mixed Match Read online

  Sophia gaped. Then closed her mouth again. "Umm. I don't get it. I'm moving to Portland tomorrow, so..."

  "So let's make a pact. Let's give it six months."

  "Give what six months?"

  "If you don't love it and you find there's nothing and no one there for you, come back to Vegas." The velvety voice again. As if this was a completely logical conclusion. "Meanwhile, I'll give this Otis a shot, or keep dating for the same amount of time. But..."

  Uh-oh.

  "If there's no one meaningful, fine. I don't have to continue searching for someone I know isn't out there for me." And there it was. This was classic Mom. Her special brand of putting a time limit on happiness. Her warped idea of compromise. But Sophia’s plans did not include letting her mom get off easy.

  Sophia was just about to let her know what she thought of her little plan when Aunt Marian weighed in with her two cents. "Six months? Why not three or nine? Helen, now you know that's just so damn random. Hell, why not a year?"

  Not to be outdone by her mother, Julie couldn’t resist having her say too—since this was apparently going to turn into a full-on extended family discussion. "No, three is definitely better. If it doesn't work out, she'll be back for the wedding." Because naturally everyone's lives revolved around her cousin's nuptials.

  Precisely why I'm moving. To be left alone.

  "Oh, I get it. This isn't my life or anything. Why don't you all take a number and everyone can line up to tell me what to do since I'm so pathetic? Since obviously I’m incapable of making good decisions." Sophia laughed. By now, her irritation had morphed into hysteria. This was insane. "I'm not smart enough. Not good enough for people to stick around. Right, Mom?"

  She threw her hands up and whirled on the guys, who both flinched back. "Nico, Stan? Don't you guys have anything to add while we're at it?"

  Neither of them looked at her, and both were dead silent as they shook their heads. If she wasn't mistaken, Sophia would have sworn she could see the indentation of Nico's teeth biting the inside of his cheek. Or maybe his tongue.

  Mom held out her hand and let it hang in the air between them. "Deal, or not?"

  Sophia searched every one of the few wrinkles on her mother's ageless face, but there wasn't a laugh line among them. She was dead serious.

  And Sophia was dead serious about her mother getting a second chance.

  Shit. Here goes nothing.

  She narrowed her eyes at her mom again, gauging her intentions. Then she looked at Aunt Marian, took two fingers and pointed them at her own eyes first before turning them on her aunt. "Watch her when I leave to make sure she's holding up her end of the bargain."

  With her aunt in place as her insurance policy, Sophia sighed and shook her mother's hand. "Fine. Six months. Deal."

  * * *

  Old Patton Place still looked and felt like home.

  Everett Monroe sighed, taking a few steps back from the portico onto the weathered, brick-paved walkway. Shading his eyes from the afternoon sun, he took a good long look at his grandmother's home—his family’s home for generations.

  As much as he hated the Harmans, he had to admit they did maintain most of its original colonial elements. The four forward-facing dormers were tucked between twin chimneys, accented by the matching black front door and shutters flanked at each window. The contrast with the crisp white paint and lush green landscape made it a dream house, but it was the flaws he remembered that made it a home. The cracks he used to watch settle in the walls and the hardwood floors scuffed from years of childhood games.

  He rang the old, familiar doorbell.

  After a few minutes he leaned in and placed his ear on the door to see if he could hear someone walking around. When he heard muffled music or television, he knew someone was home.

  He rang again.

  Still no one answered.

  "Hello!" He searched the windows for signs of life. "Sophia Harman?"

  All his instincts urged him to grab the door handle and walk on in, but he couldn't just march in anymore.

  Instead he held down the doorbell this time, dragging the pad of his finger over the button and letting it linger for a moment. It was both strange and almost haunting to stand on the steps of his childhood home and not be able to let himself in the way he'd done a million times.

  He rested his forehead on the door and squeezed his eyes shut. Balling and un-balling his fist, he flattened his hand against the sun-warmed black wood. A soft breeze passed under his nose, teasing him as it swapped the robust scent of pine and wet grass with the rich, savory perfume of home cooking.

  "Sophia Harman." His voice was just above a whisper.

  He checked his watch once more. Dammit. Already one thirty. Mike would want a detailed account before he headed back to the courthouse for the filing. Everett took one more glance at the house. For good measure, he rang the bell one more time...then shrugged, prepared to walk away, until he heard a woman's voice.

  "Who is it?"

  He couldn't deny the way his shoulders lifted and relief flooded him as he replied to the closed door. "I'm looking for Sophia Harman."

  "What do you want?" The woman asked.

  "I have a package for her."

  Come on. Let's just get this over with. I want to see the look on your face.

  From behind the door, Everett heard the footsteps growing muffled and then looked over toward the rustle of blinds in the window to his left.

  "Can you hold the package up, please?" the voice requested from the cracks between the blinds.

  He jerked the hand holding the summons up to face the window. He opened his mouth to protest. Then closed it again.

  The next thing he heard was the deadbolt being unlocked. A slim woman with a body for days appeared in the doorway with a phone glued to her ear. He gasped as a carnal urge shot to his groin, tightening every muscle.

  This is Sophia Harman?

  Chapter Two

  Off the cuff, she looked like every other mixed Black woman with a wavy mass of hair piled in a bun on top of her head. She wasn't quite petite, but she had a tight little body with endless curves. Then she stepped into the doorjamb and the sun highlighted her every feature.

  Warm brown skin hugged her high, dusky pink cheekbones. Then there were those deep-set almond-shaped eyes and lips that seemed to plump up with every word she said into the phone.

  Everett wanted to drag his teeth over her bottom lip. He felt his own lips part, and he prayed he wasn't staring, although he felt himself doing it.

  "Um, Mom, let me call you back." Her voice oozed a soft familiarity. She sounded like a long-lost friend. He felt instantly comforted by it. And was there a hint of a Southern accent?

  "Yes,” she said into the phone. “We'll finish talking about Otis then. Now go on. Someone's at my door and I'm being rude."

  The woman on the other end of the line was still talking when Sophia ended the call and slipped the phone into the back pocket of a pair of skin-tight jeans that hugged every inch of her toned thighs. He watched her shift in place, wringing her hands. At the moment, all his senses had fallen by the wayside except for his sight, which was riveted on the ruching effect of the slight breeze on the braless woman before him.

  With every move of her feet, her breasts bounced, aiming her pointed nipples right at him. He could only thank his lucky stars he'd worn boxer briefs today since all the blood had been sucked out of his brain and limbs and hardened at his groin.

  Look her in the eyes. Her eyes, dolt!

  Averting his eyes was pointless. She couldn't have been more than five and a half feet tall. His almost a foot height advantage made it impossible for him not to see the generous cleavage from an aerial viewpoint. Plus, just knowing that she was wearing a practically see-through white tank top with those thin straps set off a surge of shivers down his back.

  He gripped the letter tight and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. Heat crawled up his neck and he could feel his cheeks burn
. He was almost drunk with delight. For his own safety, he took a step back, but Sophia seemed oblivious to Everett's growing problem. She laughed a little too long to be normal.

  "Mothers." She feigned exasperation, and bit down on her full bottom lip, which Everett couldn’t deny was dangerously sexy.

  "Yeah." He croaked, because he couldn't seem to put a coherent sentence together.

  What are you doing? Quit stalling.

  Once more he opened his mouth—and closed it just as fast.

  As he cleared his throat, Everett tried to remember what he’d imagined this meeting would be like. He’d been building up to this moment in his mind for so long, reveling in the surefire adrenaline rush he’d get, the satisfaction he'd feel when he was crowned victor over the money-grubbing family who thought nothing of cheating to get what they wanted.

  Even better, he’d savor the moment when he and Austin Harman's wife—the next best thing to Austin himself—looked at each other and knew a Monroe beat the Harmans at their own game.

  This woman? She didn't look like she belonged in the same lineup.

  What he didn't expect was the tightening of his abdomen. The erratic way his heartbeat drummed in his ears. How hot it was suddenly. Or, how every nerve ending in his body stirred at the fruity sweet scent radiating from her nearly naked skin.

  Focus on her eyes, asshole. Those endlessly deep eyes. Ocean eyes. "Uh..."

  Sophia gazed up at him. "Um…hi."

  Her voice rasped with a husky undertone, and it did not help his current attempt to deflect the growing hard-on in his jeans.

  She yawned, and within seconds, though he tried to stifle it, he yawned too.

  Am I boring you? Everett cursed himself for staring at her lips and set his jaw.

  With chin high and his neck exposed, unsure where else to focus his attention—given her minefield of a body—he straightened.

  He was determined to do what he came here to do.

  "Sophia Harman?"

  "Actually, I'm Sophia Kent now. I took my maiden name back after the divorce." Her brows bounced as she shrugged, and those delicious lips parted with a slow smile. She slipped her hands into her back pockets and teetered on her heels, emphasizing those mouthwateringly pointy breasts even more.

  She didn't keep Harman’s name.

  Everett knew about the divorce. He'd seen the filed decree, but in his mind he assumed Sophia would keep the last name—keep herself connected to the money. His hesitation was enough to make him pay attention, but it didn't change anything. She was still one of them. He was just about to do it, but then, as she lifted herself up onto her toes and leaned the slightest bit forward, he made the mistake of looking down.

  He was drooling, salivating over the fucking enemy, imagining in 3-D and living color what the two of them could get up to if they took a few steps back into the house, not even closing the door. Which was bad enough, until she noticed where he was looking.

  "Oh." She breathed, her eyes wide. A pink flush flooded her cheeks and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, my goodness. Shit. I'm so sorry. I—"

  "No, I'm sorry. It's just—"

  "Don't. Really, it's not your fault. I just got up and threw anything on so I could get some unpacking done." Sophia threw her face into her hands and squealed, "I'm so embarrassed. I can't believe I've been standing here just about flashing you the whole time. You must think I'm some kind of—"

  "I don't think anything." Everett lied.

  He was thinking how horrible his luck really was. How kissable her lips looked. How easily he could remove the rest of her flimsy top and let her breasts fall free.

  Clearly, both of them were humiliated. She'd given him a peepshow and he just stood there gawking like a fool. Like he hadn’t arrived on business, with a plan. The plan was basically shot to hell now, since he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  He teetered for a moment. Half of him was horny as fuck, and the other half of him was still slightly irritated with himself. She was a siren who knocked him off his game. Where were the fangs and the greedy claws? Where were the markings of the Harmans? Not this self-deprecating, sexy, lip-biting vixen.

  To hell with it.

  Lifting the letter, he safely focused on the lines between the bricks on the porch. "I'm just here for a delivery. Remember?"

  Just do it. She's one of them.

  Everett held out the envelope, just within reach, so she wouldn't have to be uncovered—for both their sakes.

  As she accepted it from him, the heat of her skin brushed against his, forcing him to meet her gaze. Sophia looked back at him with a mischievous, almost lecherous look in her eyes.

  He sucked in a stark breath, electricity coursing through his veins as he let go of the envelope.

  "You've been served."

  * * *

  "Hey.” Cousin Julie’s chipper voice sang out of the phone. "What's up?"

  "I'm freaking out right now." Sophia marched away from the formal living room window. She stood on the porch for at least twenty minutes after the bad news baron left, just in case someone was trying to prank her.

  When he didn't return and no one jumped out of her bushes to scream "gotcha," she went back in, hitched up her Big Girl panties again, and pressed play on the movie she'd been watching while she unpacked. But before the twist could really get under way, she paused it again and paced back and forth along the length of the first floor. There was no way she could focus enough for an M. Night Shyamalan brainteaser right now.

  "I don't know what to do. I still don't even understand what just happened." She sounded winded.

  This cannot be happening.

  "What happened? Talk to me." The panic in Julie's voice mirrored how Sophia felt.

  She mumbled something, cursing under her breath as she shook her head. How could she make sense at a time like this? Nothing made any sense. She ran her fingers through her hair, still trying to catch her breath as heat crawled up her neck. The sound of her heart pounding in her ears would not quiet down long enough for her to get a grip.

  "Come on, Soph. You're scaring me."

  "I just— I don't—. I'm so…" She paced away from the kitchen bar, then turned on her heel back toward the massive granite island to pick up the summons again. Just looking at the document boiled her blood. What right did he have to stomp all over her dream? She just got here.

  "What? You better tell me right now, or I'm calling Aunt Helen."

  Despite the tattle-tale whining, she could tell Julie was serious. Sophia chewed the inside of her cheek, took in a deep breath and let her frustrations all whoosh out. "I don't know what the hell is going on in this whacky, crazy town. You want to know what just happened to me? I'll tell you," she said before her cousin could respond. "I just got served, that's what."

  Always the one to crack jokes at the absolute worst of times, Julie was quick to jump in with a witty response. "As in you just got served...on the dance floor? Or what? I don’t get it." Confusion bled into her giggle.

  "Try to follow along here, will you? I was Just. Served. Papers. You know, legal papers. Lawyer stuff? Albeit, by a really cute messenger, who sort of undressed me with his eyes, but still. I just got served. The asshole is trying to destroy me."

  "The hot messenger?" Julie's voice rose to a piercing shriek.

  Sophia pinched the bridge of her nose and blew out a chest full of steam. "No, fool. Austin. You know, the asshole ex? Pay attention, cuz."

  "Wait, what? I thought the divorce was final."

  With an extra-dramatic inhale, which Sophia intended to be cleansing, she leveled her shaky tone enough to explain. "Austin is behind this. I know it and you know it. This is just another one of his antics, like with the car." Now she knew why he insisted on keeping the car title in his name only. It's always great to have your car reported stolen and repossessed the day before you move to a new state.

  She grabbed a tumbler out of a kitchen cupboard and filled it with water straight from the
tap while her heart raced and she could feel anger prickling her all over again.

  "Behind what? I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Slow down and try to make some sense."

  "Jules, I just got served. In thirty days there’s going to be a hearing. Some guy named John E. Monroe thinks he’s the rightful owner of this property." As soon as she said it, Sophia thought she might explode with frustration. She threw her head back and drank till the glass was empty, making a mental note to find the bottle of cabernet hiding in one of the boxes in the garage.

  Through the receiver she could hear her cousin whispering, likely to Nico. Which was all fine and good and everything, considering that a little over a year ago Sophia watched the two of them fall head over heels for one another, so he already knew what an asshat Austin was. Especially now, she was fine with Nico knowing her private business, but she was smack dab in the middle of a dang crisis. And there was no way she was going to resort to calling Mom.

  And risk giving her yet another reason to vie for her return to Vegas?

  Not an option.

  "You know I can hear you two, right? Can't you tell Nico about this after I get off the phone? I need you right now. I don't know what to doooooo." she whined as she padded back to the front window and peeked out again.

  "Calm down. Breathe for a second. I need to think."

  Sophia stared unseeing at the front porch, where she’d stood only inches away from the courier. Like a traitor, her heart did a little flip. How was it possible she was seething with anger right now and still she couldn't get the image of the courier out of her mind? It wasn't his fault. Duh. Don't shoot the messenger.

  Memories of the tall, dark-skinned, chiseled man sent a new wave of heat washing over her. Just imagining him did things to her a courier had no business doing. He was all gleaming white teeth and brooding smolder.