Totally His Read online

  He frowned but nodded. “Right.”

  “So give me a minute. I’ll go out, and you can follow in a little bit,” she said. She had a much better shot at getting back to the crowd without being noticed if he wasn’t with her. Not just because of his uniform or size but because she got the definite impression he wasn’t very good at sneaking.

  Or lying or manipulating people or…She shook her head. No need to think about all of that. The little trick she had planned would irritate him if he found out, but so what? She was never going to see him again.

  “I’m going to head around the other way,” he said. “Need to check out the back.”

  Even better. He’d come out on the other side and it’d take him awhile to do it.

  Still she said, “Be careful.”

  He seemed surprised, but he gave her a smile. “Thanks.”

  The smile was almost as powerful as the big grin he’d flashed earlier, and Sophie had to make herself turn away. It was so typical that she’d meet a guy she had a potent attraction to and he’d be a cop and she’d be in a wig and lying to him.

  Because she was definitely lying about going out front and staying there.

  She managed to get to the fringe of the crowd without being noticed. She wove her way between people to one of the shorter girls in the theater company. “Hey, Chelsea.”

  Chelsea looked up. “Hi, Sophie. Well, this is exciting.”

  Exciting. Hmm, not the word she would have used. It was a pain in the ass, and she hadn’t even started thinking about things like repairs and cleaning and insurance claims…She took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

  Five minutes later, Chelsea was wearing the black wig and the robe while Sophie dashed back through the shadows to the back door of the theater. Again. The door led straight into the costume shop, where she and Angela spent most of their time together. Sophie grabbed the first thing on the rack—an evening gown that was two sizes too big and four inches too long—and stepped into it before rifling through the pile of lace and trim on the end of the big worktable. Sure enough, the stack of notebook pages was there. Sophie almost wilted in relief. She grabbed the pages, lifted the skirt of her dress to keep it out from under her feet as she ran, and headed back out. She’d been in and out in less than five minutes. Perfect.

  Forty minutes later, the firefighters finally called the all clear. They let the theater company back into the building with supervision, and the crowd of spectators began dispersing. Sophie realized that the script would have been completely safe. But she still clutched the pages to her chest and smiled. It had been worth it to be sure.

  As the crowd thinned, Sophie felt a tingle start at the back of her neck, and she stopped to look around, feeling as if someone was watching her.

  But he wasn’t watching her. The hot cop was approaching Chelsea. Or rather, he was approaching the dark hair and robe.

  He was at least fifty feet from her, and there were several people in between them, so Sophie hung back, watching as he put a hand on Chelsea’s shoulder, a big smile on his face. A smile that died as Chelsea turned and he realized she wasn’t who he’d expected.

  Sophie felt a little twinge in her heart at how disappointed he looked. She did not like that she’d tricked him. And she did like that he’d come looking for her. Sophie took a step forward and then caught herself. What the hell was she doing? She couldn’t go up to him now. She’d lied to him about going back into the building. She’d also put him in danger in the first place by going in so he had to follow. And now she’d purposefully dodged him. He said something to Chelsea, and whatever she responded with made his lips pull into a grim line. Nope, Sophie decided, any interest that might have been there was now gone.

  When he lifted his head and looked around, Sophie had the urge to duck and turn away, but his gaze landed on her before she could. Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt her lips part. His eyes barely lingered for a moment, but his expression didn’t change and he didn’t come toward her. A few seconds later, he turned away. Sophie blew out a breath. He hadn’t recognized her.

  What a relief.

  Sure, relief. That had to be what she was feeling.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sophie stood looking at the black wall and ceiling—both of which had holes in them now—the soaked carpet and chairs, and the front curtain hanging listlessly, having been pulled from some of its tabs by the force of the water. That curtain looked the way she felt…limp and bogged down and barely hanging on. This wasn’t bad. This was…horrible.

  She’d heard that a lot of the destruction from a fire actually came from fighting the fire. The water and chemicals the firefighters used, not to mention the axes they used to punch into the burning walls, all caused their fair share of damage. But seeing it was surreal.

  She looked down at the note from the insurance adjuster in her hand. She didn’t have a check yet, and wouldn’t until the cause of the fire could be determined, but the estimated amount was nothing to sneeze at. Of course, the time it would take to get the theater back in shape would cost her too. If she couldn’t put the next show on, their budget would definitely suffer.

  Sophie sighed. Fortunately, she knew Rob, Ben, Zach, Alex, Maya, Kiera, and several other friends would help out. She could save a lot of money having her friends and the theater company do the bulk of the work. Rob knew about drywall and stuff, and Sophie knew her way around tools. She’d been building theater sets since she was a kid helping her grandma. They’d get it done, and she’d only have to pay for supplies. Her friends would work for cookies and muffins. She’d have to pay an electrician to come in and redo the wiring, though. And she’d have to replace the lights, several of the chairs, the carpet…It was completely overwhelming to think about everything that would need doing. And relying on her friends meant it would be a part-time job and would take longer. She wasn’t sure she could afford more time without a show on the stage.

  “Well, this is a damned mess.”

  Sophie shrieked and spun toward the voice. She’d thought she was alone. Her hand on her chest, Sophie stared at the man standing in the center aisle.

  No.

  “I heard about the fire and had to come right over and make sure you were okay.”

  Sophie’s heart went from racing in fear to pounding with anger in a split second. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you.” Frank Birch came the rest of the way down the aisle. “I was worried about you.”

  Sophie felt that she was shaking, and she knew she was about three seconds from picking up something heavy and hurling it at her father’s head. “Get out.”

  “Now, Sophia, calm down. That’s just adrenaline talking.”

  No. It fucking wasn’t. Sophie closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath in through her nose and then let it out through her mouth. Then she wondered why she was trying to calm down. He didn’t deserve her calm side. She didn’t have to be soft and sweet with him. If ever there was a time for feisty, confronting Frank was it. She opened her eyes and stalked toward him. “Get. Out.”

  Frank’s eyes widened, and he actually took a step back. “Soph—”

  “Don’t Soph me. Don’t come in here acting all concerned. In fact, don’t come here at all. I’ve been sending you your money. You have no reason to be here.” Except that he did. The realization hit her the next second, and she stopped in her tracks. “The insurance money,” she said quietly. He was here because he knew there would be insurance money.

  “Have you talked to the insurance adjusters yet?” he asked, tucking his hands in his pockets. “This has to be worth several thousand.”

  Frank was a selfish, lazy pathological liar. But, ironically, he had never lied to her. He wouldn’t pretend that he wasn’t here about the money. She supposed she should be glad about that.

  And she couldn’t lie to him about this. Not because she didn’t want to or because she felt some sense of loyalty to him, but because he probably knew exactly what th
eir policy said and he probably had a pretty good idea of how much the check she held was worth. Frank worked very hard at not working, and part of that was knowing a little about a lot of things and being incredibly computer savvy. He could find almost anything out about anything or anyone. If he’d turn those skills to something productive, he could make a nice living.

  And if he were even a touch more ambitious, he could turn it into a terribly impressive crime spree.

  “I have.” Sophie crossed her arms. She would love to refuse to give him any of it, but he was a 50 percent owner of the theater. Half of that money was his.

  “So how much are we getting?”

  Sophie felt her spine stiffen. She knew he thought of all of this as his too. Her grandmother—his mother—had made them partners in her will. It had been the elder Sophia’s effort to give her son some purpose, some steady income, and a way to bond with his daughter. The steady-income thing was the only one that had turned out, and it wasn’t enough to keep him out of trouble. Or out of the beds of women who were willing to be his sugar mamas.

  She could lie to him, but he could call the insurance company and get the information easily enough. “Ten thousand total,” she said. “Assuming they can rule out arson.” She studied Frank’s face. No reaction to the word arson. Surely her father wouldn’t have set the fire? “After expenses, there won’t be anything left,” she added.

  He frowned at the blackened wall behind her. “Don’t tell me you’re going to sink it all back into this place.”

  “Of course I am going to use it to do the needed repairs,” she said, holding herself tightly. Ranting and yelling and swearing at him wouldn’t do any good. She’d tried all of that. Multiple times.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Tear up the carpet, slap on some paint, replace those seats with folding chairs, and you’re good to go.”

  “Forget it, Frank. That insurance money goes into the theater.”

  “Half of that insurance money can go into whatever you want,” he corrected her. “The other half goes into my bank account.”

  He didn’t care about the theater at all, and it killed Sophie a little bit each month when she deposited half the profits into his account. But it did keep him from messing around in her life.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Frank, did you set my theater on fire?”

  He appeared genuinely surprised. “Don’t you mean our theater?”

  That was not a denial, and Sophie felt her whole body begin to grow cold. Would he have done this? Would he have taken this away from her for an insurance payout?

  “No,” she told him firmly. “I mean my theater. Did you set the fire?”

  He started laughing. “Of course not.”

  Sophie crossed her arms. “You should understand why I would ask.”

  “Sure,” Frank said, clearly not offended. “But no, I didn’t set the fire.” His tone indicated that not burning down the theater was like not having a turkey sandwich for lunch. Just a regular, everyday choice that he’d made.

  “Really?” she pressed.

  “Who do you think is going to be the first suspect, Sophia?” he asked. “Probably the guy with no money in the bank and who is one of the beneficiaries on the insurance policy, right?”

  “That’s exactly who they’re suspecting,” she said with a nod. “Along with the woman who is the other beneficiary on the insurance policy.”

  “Well, did you set the fire?” Frank asked. And he didn’t seem to be joking.

  Sophie scowled at him. “Of course not.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. They have to investigate, but that shouldn’t take more than a week or so. Then we’ll get the check. But I promise you, I did not do this.”

  Sophie didn’t want to know how he knew about arson investigations. “Why aren’t you in Florida?” she asked. “There’s no way you heard about this fire from Miami.”

  “Cynthia kicked me out a week ago,” Frank told her.

  Ah, Cynthia. Her sixth stepmother, and the first she hadn’t met.

  “That one lasted almost two years,” she commented. That was about average for Frank’s relationships. The longest one had lasted five years. Sophie’s heart still hurt when she thought about Maggie and some of the best years of Sophie’s young life.

  “Yeah, well.” Frank shrugged, clearly not terribly broken up about his failed marriage. “She wanted to retire, and I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

  Of course not. Retirement would have meant a decreased income and, almost worse, more time together.

  Okay, she was done with the small talk. Or whatever this was. “I’ll move the money to your account as soon as the deposit goes in,” she told him. She started up the aisle past him.

  Frank moved in front of her, and Sophie pulled up short. Again her body tensed for a confrontation. Not a physical one—though she definitely felt the urge to throw a punch or two whenever she talked to him—but he didn’t use force to get his way. He didn’t have to. He was very charming. And manipulative. People sincerely liked him—at least the Frank they got to know. Frank was an amazing actor. He just wasn’t much of a human being.

  “I need a place to stay.”

  Of course he did. “Where have you been staying for the past week since you got back to town?” she asked.

  “Stayed with a friend in Miami for a few days, then came back here and crashed with Bernie for a few days. But I need my own place.”

  Which actually meant, “I need my daughter to find and pay for a place for me to stay.”

  It had been four years since she and Frank had lived in the same city. Four wonderful years. And those four years apart meant a couple of very important things. One, Frank didn’t know Sophie’s living arrangement, and two, he didn’t know her friends.

  “It’s not like I can afford rent for both of us,” she told him.

  “You got an extra room?” he asked.

  “No.” She didn’t. The house she lived in was her roommate Kiera’s, and it wasn’t just Sophie and Kiera living there. They had another roommate, Maya, and Kiera’s boyfriend and Maya’s boyfriend were both there almost as much as the girls were. And there was no way in hell she was letting Frank near any of them.

  “How about a couch?” Frank asked. “Temporarily. Until we can figure something else out.”

  “Frank,” Sophie said firmly. She hadn’t called him Dad in years. “There is no way I’m letting you spend even one night in my house, and we aren’t figuring anything out. This is your problem.”

  He sighed. But she knew he’d been expecting that. They had put on acts for other people ever since Sophie’s mom had died and it had been just her and Frank, but they had never pretended with one another.

  “That house you live in is huge. I can’t believe there’s not even a corner for me.”

  Sophie froze. He could be bluffing. But more likely, Frank had looked up her address and gone by her house. “Did you talk to the girls?” she asked. She wasn’t going to give him Maya and Kiera’s names if she didn’t have to. But it was also possible he’d met her roommates.

  “No one was home.”

  So he had tried.

  Sophie thought about her strategy for a moment. Did she downplay how much the girls meant to her in the hopes that it would throw Frank off the idea of getting to them because she cared about them? Or did she threaten to end him if he so much as sneezed on one of them? Did she let him see that she’d gladly suffer physical harm, go broke, even go to jail to spare Kiera and Maya any hurt, especially any hurt caused by her father? Or did she play his game of chicken? See if she could get him to blink first?

  He wouldn’t stay in Boston. He’d get bored and head out eventually. He’d decide it was time to fall in love again. She just had to wait him out.

  “There’s no room for you in that house,” she told him. “And I could never ask them for a favor like that.”

  Frank watched her carefully, but Sophie wasn’t worried. He wouldn
’t see through her. She was a phenomenal actress. She’d learned from the best.

  “You could still convince them to put me up for a while. I’m your father.”

  Sophie shrugged. “They would probably think it was strange I was asking, actually. They know that you and I aren’t close.”

  “We aren’t?”

  She frowned at him. “No. We’re not.”

  “We have quite a history. Just you and me all those years.”

  “You and me and all of my stepmothers,” she reminded him, not able to keep the bite out of her tone.

  “But really, it always came back to just us,” Frank said calmly.

  Yes, it always had. Just them. Sleeping in the car and eating at the local shelter until Frank could charm his next victim into letting him and his sweet little daughter into her life—and house.

  Sophie swallowed against the emotions that suddenly welled up. She wasn’t proud of the cons she’d helped her father with, but she vividly remembered those cold nights in that car, where she’d barely slept because she was afraid they’d be murdered or arrested. She would have done anything to sleep in a real bed after even one night like that. After a month or so, she’d been quite willing to put on her manners and sweet smile and be the next woman’s dream daughter.

  “I am not supporting you, Frank. You’re not sleeping on my couch, and you will stay away from my roommates. They don’t have any money, and they’re too young for you to marry.”

  She almost bit her tongue off as those words fell out of her mouth. Dammit. The idea of one of her friends being romanced by her father made her queasy. Not that either of her roommates would fall for his crap. And they were both, thankfully, madly in love now. But she shouldn’t put any ideas into Frank’s head. Because there was one friend of hers who was single, and right about Frank’s age, and sweet, and a little naive. And Angie had one incredibly important quality that Frank had always looked for in the women he wooed—she loved Sophie.