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real name.
    Or as real a name as she had. She figured she’d been about
five or six years old when she realized that unless she and Arthur were playing
a con in which he’d assigned them both names, he didn’t call her anything but
“kid” and she didn’t know what to call him except “mister.”
    “Your name?” Arthur had said when she badgered him enough.
“Fine. It’s Sophia. And I’m Arthur. Are you happy now?” How old had Arthur even
been back then? He looked no different really than he did now.
    “Well, Sophia,” Brendan said. “Why in such a hurry?”
    She expected a player like him wouldn’t ask a question like
that. She supposed she should be insulted. She kind of was. But maybe his
midnight burglary was making him a little cautious, even if he hopefully would
never connect her to it. That was understandable.
    Or maybe she hadn’t been playing nice enough for his tastes.
Time to change that.
    “I just thought,” she reached one finger up to his lips,
moving even closer to him, “it might be fun to have a little private party
together. Wouldn’t you like that?”
     
    The burglary last night must have rattled his brain more
than he’d given it credit for. This Sophia was so hot he was practically
panting. So why was he slowing her down? His answer to “take me upstairs”
should have been an automatic “okay.”
    If she wanted to go from playful—actually sort of
hostile—banter one minute to getting down to business the next, who was he to
question the pace? When she put her long, slim finger up to his lips, he felt a
jolt. Which for a guy translated into an immediate erection, and frankly he
didn’t want to attend his sister’s wedding sporting an erection. He kissed her
fingertip and then moved it away. Clasping her hand, he walked with her back
into the house, smiling at acquaintances as he passed them. Ducking in the back
way, he took the servant’s stairs up to the second floor, leading her into his
suite of rooms a moment later. He’d brought women to Bransport many times,
usually when no one was around. And they inevitably cooed at the size of the
place. Sophia, however, said nothing.
    Who the hell was this girl and why the hell was he bringing
her to his room?
    He looked at her in her halter dress as he closed the door
to his bedroom suite. God, she was stunning.
    Oh yeah, that was why.
    He was so fucking easy.
    Admittedly, he had a pretty high sex drive and women had
come to him from an early age. So why was he questioning it now? The woman last
night must have done more damage to him than just a conk on the head.
    The woman last night.
    Was that it? Was that what was bothering him? It couldn’t
be…she couldn’t be… No. He remembered the feel of that woman. She had been
tall, maybe as tall as this Sophia, but she had been relatively flat in
comparison. He looked down at this girl as she casually went to sit on the edge
of his bed, crossing her legs and looking around at the room. The height may be
right, but if he’d had those boobs under him before, he would have noticed. No,
he was just letting that Miss Smarty-Pants from last night spook him.
    “Nice,” she said.
    “Yeah, I was just about to say the same thing, although I do
feel like Sonny in the Godfather.”
    She arched an eyebrow.
    “You know the wedding scene? Sneaking off during his
sister’s wedding and the bridesmaid up against the door and…” At her blank
look, he drifted off. Probably not wise to get into banging a girl against the
door. “You never saw the Godfather?”
    “The old movie?”
    “The classic.”
    “Oh, no.”
    She looked at him expectantly. So much for small talk
apparently. Since they were in his bedroom and everything, he supposed he could
move right ahead and be honest here, forward as it may seem. “Listen, I’m sure
this makes me sound like a jerk, but I just have to say you have the most
incredible body.” He loosened his tie.
    “And I imagine you’ve seen quite a