Page 58 of Return
One by one, Sophie tried on the outfits. A sleek black jumpsuit that hugged her in ways she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Not to mention she did not know how on earth she would ever use the bathroom while wearing it. A deep emerald green dress that complimented her complexion. A soft blue number that was elegant but safe.
And then, the last one.
When she stepped in front of the mirror, something inside her stilled. The dress—if it could even be called that—was a vision of deep red silk, draping her body like a whisper, highlighting curves she always tried to hide. The neckline dipped just enough to tease, and the slit along her thigh hinted at a boldness she wasn’t sure she possessed. The color accentuated the deep blue of her eyes, making them seem even more striking, and contrasted beautifully with her overgrown but still effortlessly elegant dark hair.
Sondra stood behind her smiling. “And there she is.”
Sophie swallowed hard, studying her reflection. She’d spent so long feeling undesirable, uncertain, unloved that she had forgotten she could look this way.
Since their reconciliation, she had been wondering if Liam only saw her through the lens of nostalgia. But looking at herself now, she thought maybe she could see what he saw.
Sondra rested a hand on her shoulder. “That man of yours already knows exactly how stunning you are. Now it’s time for you to see it, too. Let me ask you something: What is it you want? Really want?”
“I want…” Sophie ran her hands down her sides as if smoothing the dress. The fabric was utterly divine. “You know, when you walk inside Connor and Darcie’s house? Their love, their connection—you can feel it in the air. Their devotion, their bond is so strong, you can almost touch it. You have that with Simon. Jesus, even Aunt Nan and Shamus have it! I’ve never had it. Never felt that way. Not even when I thought I was so sick in love with my husband. I never felt that with him. I thought that sort of love only existed in stories. And then I come home and find out it’s real. That’s what I want. Only, I just… I don’t think I’m meant for that sort of devotion.”
Wow. Talk about unloading. She hadn’t realized she felt that way until she said it out loud. Sophie let out a breath, giving a small smile. “Darcie told me you have a knack for this sort of thing. She wasn’t kidding.”
Sondra winked and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s a gift.”
Sophie turned to her then, recalling something from the night before. “Sondra, how did you know that woman last night wasn’t Liam’s type?”
Sondra’s expression softened, and she gave Sophie a knowing look. “Because, I saw the way he looked at you.”
Sophie chewed on her lip for a moment. “And how does he look at me?”
Sondra squeezed her hand. “Like you’re the only woman who’s ever mattered. He’s devoted to you.”
Sophie nodded. Yes, he truly was.
“Now, how do you feel about high heels?”
* * *
Sophie had never felt this light, this confident, this utterly radiant. It wasn’t just the sleek dress hugging her curves in all the right places or the expertly applied makeup that made her eyes seem to sparkle more than usual. It was deeper than that.
Her heels clicked against the floor of his art studio as she stepped inside, the scent of paint and turpentine thick in the air. Liam stood at a large canvas, brush in hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. Even distracted, he was devastatingly handsome—shirt sleeves rolled up, forearm muscles flexing as he worked, a streak of cobalt blue smeared across his cheek. Sophie felt a bolt of heat lance through her.
When he noticed her, his brush stilled. His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, darkening as it lingered. “Sophie, you look…” His voice was rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “Incredible.”
A thrill raced down her spine. “You like?”
His lips curled at the corner. “I more than like.”
Sophie crossed the room, trailing a fingertip along the edge of a nearby table cluttered with paint tubes and brushes. “You know, I used to love watching Bob Ross on TV,” she mused, glancing at his work. “He reminded me of you a little—so patient. His painting technique was effortless, like yours. I always thought about getting a canvas out and painting along with him, but I never did. I just watched.”
Liam cocked his head, interest sparking in his expression. “Oh, yeah? I can fix that.”
Before she could protest, he was shifting an easel in front of her, setting up a blank canvas. He grabbed a paint-stained smock and moved behind her, wrapping it around her shoulders, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck as he fastened it. The heat of his body was so close, his breath warm against her skin.
“We don’t want to ruin this beautiful dress of yours,” he murmured. Then, in a tone so low and suggestive it sent a shiver straight to her core, he added, “And you may want to take off those shoes.”
Somehow, he made that sound erotic.
Sophie stepped out of her heels and, feeling playful, tossed them over her shoulder.
He handed her a palette and brush. “All right, paint.”
Sophie blinked at him. “Paint what?”
