With One More Look At You Read online

  "How did things go?" Maeve asked, taking a chocolate Bundt cake from the oven.

  "I'm taking a test tomorrow."

  Sophie thought the kitchen smelled like heaven. Any other time she would have stopped to admire the dessert, imagining herself eating a hefty slice. Today, she didn't break stride.

  "What kind of a test?" Maeve's gaze followed Sophie to the back staircase.

  "Placement."

  Before Maeve could waylay her, Sophie increased her tempo, her feet making short work of the climb. Turning left, she used her long legs to cruise down the hallway. Joy had taken the traditional route. With her usual leisurely pace, she beat Sophie by mere seconds.

  "Stop."

  "Go away." Joy didn't give Sophie a glance. She would have closed the door in her daughter's face if Sophie hadn't stuck the toe of her worn sneaker in the way. "Move it or lose it."

  Joy had the haughty look and tone down pat. Sophie wasn't impressed. She had seen it a thousand times.

  "We can have this out in your room. Or I can yell through the door. Where everyone can hear." Sophie had some attitude of her own. "Your choice."

  Moving back, Joy opened the door enough for Sophie to slide through.

  "Make it quick. I need a long bath." Joy sniffed at her arm, recoiling. "Ugh. I smell like public education."

  Sophie had no idea what that meant. She doubted that Joy did either. It didn't matter. For once, she would push for some answers. Squaring her shoulders, she rose to her full height.

  "I want to see my birth certificate."

  "Is that what this is about? Help yourself."

  As though it meant nothing, Joy tossed the purse on the bed. Was it some kind of trick? Had her mother somehow jerry-rigged an explosive device triggered the instant Sophie tried to open the bag? After years of guarding that piece of paper like it was the Holy Grail, suddenly it didn't matter?

  It mattered to Sophie. She dumped everything on the lace comforter. It wasn't a large purse, but Joy had three different tubes of lipstick, two atomizers of perfume, a comb, a mirror, eyeshadow, rouge, nail polish—her signature bright red. A nail file which Sophie knew from experience could double as an effective weapon in a pinch. Tissue. Condoms. Always be prepared. Not exactly what the Boy Scouts had in mind, but it was the same principle.

  Everything under the sun. But no birth certificate. Sophie turned the black leather hobo bag inside out, looking in every nook, cranny, and zippered pocket. Frustrated—and knowing she'd been had—she hurled the purse across the room.

  "Oops. I forgot. I put it in my pocket."

  Batting her eyes, a sly smile on her lips, Joy leaned against the dresser. In her hand was Sophie's birth certificate.

  "Do you want me to beg?"

  It was a silly question.

  "Yes." Joy's laugh took on a different tone when there wasn't a man around. Not light. Or playful. Evil was the word Sophie would have chosen. "But I won't make you crawl. A simple please will do the trick."

  Through gritted teeth, Sophie complied. "Please."

  Easy as that, Joy held out the birth certificate. Snatching it, Sophie understood the implications. If the paper contained the answers she was looking for, her mother would have extracted a much higher price. Still, she had to know.

  Scanning the document, Sophie found the line she was looking for. Reading the words, her shoulders slumped.

  Father: Unknown.

  Sophie felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Anger mingled with disbelief. It was classic Joy. Her expression was so smug. Filled with malevolence. Spiteful. Unrepentant. And loving every second.

  It wouldn't do any good to rail or cry or plead. The last time she tried—around the age of five—Joy had walked out of the motel room without a backward glance, leaving a terrified Sophie on her own for hours.

  No, tears had no effect on her mother. Sophie's only retaliation was to use the weapon Joy understood, appreciated, and had spent her entire life perfecting. Sheer nastiness.

  Coolly, Sophie raised her eyes.

  "Could you at least narrow the potential field to a baker's dozen?"

  Sophie didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't laughter—and applause.

  "Nice dig." Joy clapped slowly. "You have a little backbone after all."

  "I don't want your approval. I want to know who my father is."

  "What would be the point? You were a mistake, Sophie. A one-night stand. Or was it two?" Joy sighed, obviously bored with the conversation. "Even at the time, it was forgettable. He was forgettable."

  "Then why didn't you have an abortion?"

  "I thought about it. Unfortunately, I was low on funds. By the time I raised enough cash, it was too late. I was stuck with you."

  When Joy finally told the truth, she didn't hold back. Hearing the words stung a little. However, Sophie wasn't surprised by the revelation. Joy hadn't wanted her. Finding out what she had always suspected was hardly a newsflash.

  "You could have put me up for adoption."

  "Mm." Joy held out her hand, casually studying her nails. "Could have, but didn't. End of discussion. Leave, Sophie. I've had more than enough of you for one day."

  "That's it?"

  Joy began to undress. "There's nothing else to say."

  Hardly. Sophie was certain that Joy knew who her father was. Keeping the name to herself was cruel.

  "I always knew you hated me."

  Turning, Joy shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was without emotion. "I don't hate you."

  "You don't?"

  "No. To hate somebody—or love them—you have to care. It takes a lot of time and energy." Pausing at the bathroom door, Joy flicked Sophie a look. "You just aren't worth the effort."

  "I NEED ALL of your attention, Sophie. One hundred percent."

  "Show me again. I'll get it this time."

  Forbes hesitated. Something was clearly on Sophie's mind besides lifting weights. It wasn't any of his business. And he certainly didn't want to become the kid's confessor. However, he needed to get her to focus on the task at hand. If she were upset or distracted? Not paying attention was the fastest way to suffer a serious injury.

  "Tell me what's wrong."

  "Nothing."

  When Sophie reached for the free-weight, Forbes waylaid her, taking her arm. She tried to pull away, but he was stronger. By a considerable margin.

  Sophie stopped struggling, but the look she sent him was filled with frustration.

  "If I were bigger, I would knock you on your ass."

  "One day, if you concentrate and work hard, you might learn to do exactly that." Forbes sat her on the padded bench next to the triceps machine. He took a seat opposite. "FYI? Muscles and size are fine, but your technique is more important. I've noticed how quick you are. I can teach you to use it to your advantage. Drink some water." Forbes handed her a bottle from the built-in cooler. "Lesson number one. Stay hydrated."

  "I thought lesson number one was concentrate. Work hard would be number two." Sophie unscrewed the cap. "That makes water number three."

  Why was it the only time Sophie strung together more than a couple of sentences it was to give him lip? Around everybody else, she was polite. Quiet to a fault. The quiet part carried over when they were alone. Until something pissed her off. That something seemed to be him.

  There was no figuring her out. He could either laugh or knock his head against the wall. Since he wasn't a masochist, Forbes chuckled.

  "Are you worried about taking that test tomorrow?"

  "No." When Forbes raised an eyebrow, Sophie caved—a little. "Maybe."

  "I get it. You're fifteen. You want to go to school with kids your own age."

  "I'll take the test. They'll put me where they put me." Sophie shrugged.

  Surprised, Forbes could tell that Sophie meant it. She wasn't worried. He couldn't imagine surviving the embarrassment of getting stuck in the eighth grade when his peers wer
e starting their sophomore year.

  "Then what's wrong?"

  "I—"

  "Whatever you say stays between us, Sophie. I'm not a snitch."

  For a moment, Forbes didn't think Sophie would answer. She frowned. Stared at him long and hard. Then sighed.

  "Joy and I had words."

  Once more, Forbes was struck by what an odd kid Sophie was. So much about her screamed immaturity. Smart, but socially unsure and awkward. Then with a snap of the fingers, she sounded mature beyond her years. She and Joy had words? Who spoke like that—outside of a book or a movie?

  "Isn't it natural for sisters to fight?"

  "Sisters? I suppose it is." Though Sophie smiled, with a tinge of somberness to it. Lurking in her eyes was something Forbes couldn't identify. "Joy and I are seldom on the same wavelength."

  "She wasn't around much when you were growing up. With time, you're bound to grow closer."

  Forbes couldn't speak from experience. But some of his friends had sisters. Some of his friends were sisters. They had a strong bond—one that wasn't easily damaged and almost impossible to break. Or so he understood.

  "Time isn't the problem," Sophie muttered, more to herself than to Forbes. "Can we drop the subject?"

  Forbes nodded. That was fine with him. For some reason, he found himself adding, "If you ever want to talk…"

  "I've always kept my thoughts to myself."

  "Why?"

  "I got tired of talking to the walls."

  The words tugged at his heart. Sophie met his gaze, her eyes a dark chocolate brown. This time it was easy to tell what she was feeling. Sadness. Stripped away was the attitude. For the first time, Forbes realized how lonely Sophie must have been.

  Forbes found the idea hard to imagine. He had always had somebody. First his mother and father. Maeve. Mike. Jerry. The ranch hands who wandered on and off and back onto the Branson ranch.

  As he grew older, making friends came easily. Aaron. His classmates. The guys on the football team. The list was too long to count.

  Once Sophie started school, she would learn how to interact with other kids. Until then, Forbes would have to do. Friends with Sophie. Hard as it was to believe, he decided he liked the way it sounded.

  Jumping to his feet, Forbes slapped his hands together. Time to change the energy in the room from maudlin to upbeat.

  "Okay, spaghetti arms. Let's start building you some muscle."

  "I have muscle." Sophie held up her arm. "Some."

  Forbes lightly squeezed the area where Sophie's bicep should have been. "Spaghetti, kid. Limp and soggy."

  Sophie laughed. Unreserved. Full-bodied. Well, I'll be damned, Forbes thought, grinning back. The way her face lit up. The sparkle in her dark eyes. Sophie Lipton was pretty.

  If she did more of that, the boys at Cloverdale High School would take notice.

  "Well, shit," Forbes said under his breath.

  He knew what teenage boys were like. Because he was one. The only thing they liked better than a pretty girl was a pretty girl who was new in town.

  Fresh meat. Forbes had used the term on more than one occasion without a second thought. For the first time, he agreed with Maeve. Men could be pigs.

  Keeping an eye on Sophie would be a bigger pain in his ass than he originally anticipated. Briefly, he wondered if he could encourage her not to smile.

  "What?" Sophie frowned, pausing in the middle of slowly lifting a five-pound dumbbell. "Am I doing it wrong?"

  "Perfect form." Forbes had warned Sophie about not concentrating. He needed to get his head in the game. "Do ten reps. alternating arms. You'll be beating me at arm wrestling in no time."

  "I don't know about that." Sophie watched as Forbes started with a much heavier weight. "Nobody will ever call you spaghetti arms."

  "I've been doing this for a long time."

  Considering his words, Sophie nodded.

  "If I can get to the point where lifting a saddle doesn't knock me on my butt, I'll be happy. That and knocking you onto yours."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "FORBES. MAY I speak with you for a minute?"

  Sweaty and wanting a shower, Forbes held in a sigh when he found Joy waiting for him outside the exercise room. The politeness his mother had instilled in him since birth, coupled with the desire to make his father happy, prevented him from asking her if it could wait. They had lived in the same house for several weeks and from the looks of things, would continue to do so for the foreseeable future.

  Couldn't the woman wait until he had his shower? From the determined look on her face, Forbes guessed the answer was no.

  "Would you like to sit down?"

  "That would be lovely. Thank you."

  The entire basement had been converted into a place for men to hang out. Women weren't excluded, that's just how it tended to work out.

  Besides the weight room, Forbes, his father, and their friends would gather to watch football or for a night of poker in a recreation room with a vintage pinball machine against the far wall. When sports weren't dominating the big-screen television, a flip of a switch converted it to the perfect place for marathon video game sessions.

  Forbes led Joy to one of the leather chairs scattered around the room.

  "Can I get you something to drink?"

  Like in the weight room, Maeve made certain the mini-fridge was always stocked.

  "Such nice manners. I'd love some water. If it isn't too much trouble."

  Joy's smile was warm and admiring. When she crossed her legs, Forbes found his eyes drawn to them. The skirt she wore rode up—not too much. Just enough to show off an enticing amount of smooth, creamy skin. Realizing what he was doing, Forbes looked away, taking a quick peek to see if Joy had noticed. Noting that she seemed completely unaware, he mentally wiped his brow with relief. It would be embarrassing to get caught ogling his father's girlfriend. Even if it was completely unintentional.

  "Would you mind pouring mine into a glass?" Joy asked when Forbes would have handed her the bottle of water.

  "No problem."

  Forbes didn't see the change in Joy's smile. The way it curved turned from friendly to sly. Her eyes glittered with female power—power she had honed on much tougher targets than Forbes Branson. He had no idea what was happening. And that was the way she wanted it. One day in the not-so-distant future, he would be doing a lot more for her than fetching a glass of water.

  Joy licked her lips, enjoying the play of muscles in his arms as Forbes did her bidding. First the handsome father, then the young, studly son. Not yet. For the first time in her life, she could afford a little patience. When she had what she wanted from Newt—and wasn't he turning out to be the easiest target in history—she would find a way to discreetly enjoy what Forbes had to offer.

  Boredom. Joy couldn't abide it. Surprisingly, ranch life turned out to be more interesting than she could have imagined. Newt had gone so long without a woman in his life—he was so starved for affection—that it had taken her no time to have him tightly wound around her little finger. He wholeheartedly embraced Joy's slightest whim.

  Shopping. Dancing. Drinking. Late nights followed by late mornings in bed where Joy was happy to show her appreciation.

  Cloverton wasn't exactly a hub of entertainment. But Spokane was within a few hours' driving distance. Newt had already promised Joy a long weekend in Seattle.

  As Forbes turned, Joy's smile made another transformation. It proved that she could do sweet. When necessary.

  "Thank you."

  Joy took a sip of the water. My, oh, my, he was gorgeous. It had been a while since she had enjoyed anybody as young as Forbes. The things she could teach him. Just the thought made her insides quake with anticipation. She had no doubt that if she played her cards right, he would soon be her lover and Newt would never have to know.

  "Are you cold?" Forbes asked when Joy shivered, rubbing her bare arms. "It can get a little cool down
here."

  "I'm fine. Sit. I won't keep you long."

  Unaware that behind Joy's benign smile lurked a scheming predator, Forbes did as she asked, taking the chair next to hers.

  "What can I do for you?"

  "It's about Sophie."

  Joy had prepared this speech carefully. She wanted to come across as a caring, concerned sister. In truth, she wanted to nip her daughter's blossoming friendship with Forbes in the bud. Not because she saw Sophie as a rival—the idea was ridiculous. The girl was a pain in the ass. A necessary evil that through no fault of her own, Joy was stuck with. Most of the time—as she told Sophie—she didn't give the girl a lot of thought.

  However, in the last few days, Joy had started to take notice. It had always been an effort to get the girl to move with any purpose. Now, she noticed a definite bounce in Sophie's step and Joy didn't like it. Joy knew that enjoying her daughter's discontent was petty and spiteful.

  Truthfully? Joy had no problem with that.

  "You're worried that Sophie will have trouble fitting in at school?"

  Hardly, Joy thought. But what the hell. She could use school as a jumping off place.

  "I know you'll do your best to help her." Joy smiled. "But I need to warn you."

  Forbes frowned. "About what?"

  "Sophie—because of how isolated she has been for most of her life—tends to grow attached to people. Quickly." Joy shook her head, her eyes filled with concern. "I'm afraid that is what's happening with you."

  "I haven't noticed. If anything, Sophie pushes me away every chance she gets."

  "That's at first. The more you're around, the more she'll start to cling." Joy looked away for effect. "Then the jealousy begins. Just this morning, she complained that I'm spending too much time with your father."

  "Sophie doesn't seem to need anybody." The frown deepened on his brow. "She takes long walks by herself. Never asks for help unless absolutely necessary."