Page 73 of Trying Sophie

He shook his head in mock chagrin and in response, I shot him a faux dirty look, followed by a shy smile. Truth be told, I secretly loved this sort of silly, flirty banter and had missed having someone to do it with.

Still, I was incredibly curious about this conversation he and Cian had had.

“No more stalling or trying to distract me with innuendo. Why were you and Cian talking about me?”

Studiously, Declan watched his feet for a few steps before answering. On a sigh he said, “You know he likes you, right?”

Ugh, not this again.

“I know he thinks he does.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Right, well, that was one part of our conversation. He tried to tell me I needed to stay away from you and when I explained why that wasn’t going to happen, he accused me of knowing nothing about you.”

His voice dropped and he mumbled, almost as an afterthought, “He thinks he knows you better than I ever could.”

Wow.

When Cian had tried to warn me off Declan it never occurred to me he’d tell his best friend to stay away from me as well. I felt like a bright red fire hydrant that had been pissed all over by a rather large dog looking to mark his territory and I didn’t like it one bit.

As we passed through Merrion Square, despite the cold, he led me to a nearby bench where we sat, side by side, a handful of inches separating our bodies. Despite that small distance, I was as aware of him as if we were touching.

He swiveled to face me, his right arm resting on the back of the bench. “To answer your earlier question, I’ve been reading your blog for years, and your articles before you even had the blog, and like you said earlier, people start to feel like they know who you are, what you’re like.”

I tried to interrupt, to explain people only wanted to know about the fun, happy side of what I did, but he stopped me with a finger to my lips. His light touch, completely innocent, had me sucking in a breath. His eyes flashed and dropped to where his finger rested against my mouth. For a brief moment I saw just how badly Declan wanted me and my stomach clenched in yearning, because … I wanted him too.

Finally, tearing his eyes from my mouth and pulling his finger away with a small caress, he spoke while I tried to recover my equilibrium.

“But unlike them, I have the advantage of being close with certain members of your family who talk about you incessantly. They talk about the real Sophie. And I know you think you keep her hidden, but I see that too, and I read between the lines. Who you are is as much about what you don’t say as what you do.”

Shocked at his insight, I tried to deny it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes flicked between mine for a few moments, and I stared as he seemed to reach some sort of decision.

He swallowed and said, “Your only real friend is Katie and you love her like a sister. You can’t stand that prat Kevin who sometimes goes with you on your trips. You hated Cambodia but loved Columbia.”

He stopped for a couple of seconds while he pulled more insights from his memory, and then jumped back in to telling me things I knew about myself but had never said out loud before.

“Your idea of hell is being trapped at an all-inclusive resort filled with kids—by the way, I don’t think you like kids all that much—and your idea of heaven is any trip where you’re surrounded by history and good food. If I had to say, I’d pick Venice as your favorite place you’ve been in the last two years. Or that Eagle Harbour place; you looked happy there. You weren’t happy in Edinburgh.”

My eyes filled with tears and I blinked them back, but not before he saw.

His voice gentling, he continued. “You used to drink wine, but you don’t anymore.”

A quick, dark scowl marred his features, but then he pushed it away with a shake of his head.

“What else?” he asked, brightening. “Blue is your favorite color, but not royal blue or dark blue … a really deep blue.”

I nodded, staring into eyes that were a deep slate blue, like stormy seas on a winter’s day.

“And you hate pink, although I’m pretty fond of it.” He stared at my lips, covered in a light pink gloss, and I felt a blush begin to creep up my neck.

“Yeah, like that,” he added, his voice husky. “Pink just might be my favorite color.”

Unable to speak, I stared at him, mouth agape, and he shifted in his seat. Leaning close, he whispered, “That’s the Sophie I know.”

With his knuckle he grazed the curve of my neck where it met my shoulder and I shivered. My reaction emboldening him, he brushed his hand under my hair and the feel of his rough, callused thumb softly stroking such an intimate, sensitive part of me sent fireworks shooting straight to my core. An overwhelming craving took over my body. My breath hitched, my heart accelerated, and his touch grew possessive.

“I know you Sophie,” he whispered again and I felt the heat of his breath against my lips. “I know you and I want you. Every single inch.”

---