Still Lake - Anne Stuart [48]
“It’s a good way to be,” Doc said fondly. “Don’t listen to your mother, Sophie. Virtue is a highly underrated commodity nowadays. Treasure yours.”
Sophie resisted the impulse to make a moue. She’d started to think of her relatively untouched state as more of a liability than a selling point, and there had been a number of times when she’d been determined to get rid of it with the next available man. Unfortunately the next available man had always proved unacceptable for one reason or another, and she was now the oldest living virgin in the Northeast Kingdom. Maybe in the entire United States.
“Speaking of random sex, where’s Marty?” she asked, changing the subject. Grace laughed, but Doc’s sweet face drooped in sorrow.
“Last we saw she was chasing around after the Laflamme boy,” he said. “Whatever made you decide to hire him to do the yard work? There’s no denying he’s a hard worker, but I would have thought you’d try to avoid temptation as far as your wanton younger sister was concerned.”
That was going a bit too far. Sophie was allowed to criticize Marty and her flagrant habits—Doc had no right to disapprove.
“She’s not wanton,” Sophie protested. “Just…young. As for Patrick Laflamme, he seems like a levelheaded young man, and Marge Averill assured me he wouldn’t be interested in Marty.”
“He’s a man,” Doc pronounced. “The worst kind—halfway between being a kid and being grown up. He may mean well, but his hormones will make him crazy, and practically unable to resist any kind of temptation. I know his family, and he’s a good, smart boy, but your little sister could tempt a saint.” His genial tone took the sting out of the words.
“I’ll keep an eye on them. As a matter of fact, I’d better look for her right now. Make sure she hasn’t dragged young Patrick into the toolshed,” she said cheerfully.
“Oh, she wouldn’t do that, Sophie,” Grace said with all seriousness. “There are too many spiders in there. Ghosts, as well.”
Doc’s teacup dropped to the porch floor, smashing. “I’m so sorry!” he said, leaping up. “I’ve broken your pretty dish.”
“Don’t worry,” Sophie said, already picking up the bigger pieces. “All the china is mismatched—I just bought anything that took my fancy.” In fact that had been one of her favorites, but she wasn’t about to tell Doc that when he was looking so mortified. She turned back to her mother. “What were you saying, Mama?”
Grace just gave her a vague smile. “I don’t remember.”
“I’m trying to talk your mother into coming to town to have dinner with us. Rima hasn’t seen her for a week now, and she gets a little isolated.”
“You should go, Mama. You know how you enjoy your little outings,” Sophie said, heading for the door, the broken cup in her hand. “If Doc can’t pick you up I can drive you.”
“I’ll come fetch her at five,” Doc said. “If that’s all right with you, Grace?”
Grace waved an airy hand of acceptance, looking rather like a youthful Queen Elizabeth for a moment, and Sophie disappeared into the kitchen before another awkward question surfaced.
His face was as good as his body, Marty thought, breathing a sigh of relief. She’d put her contacts in, showered and was wearing a halter top and the shortest shorts she owned, the ones that showed off her long, tanned legs to perfection. She knew she looked gorgeous, but Sophie’s new gardener was looking at her out of the most beautiful, liquid eyes she had ever seen in her life, and he actually didn’t seem interested.
“Hey,” Marty said. She’d wanted to wear her high-heeled sandals, the ones that made her legs look even better, but she figured that would have been a bit much. Subtlety had its uses.
“Hey,” he said, unpromisingly. He had a gorgeous chest, but to her dismay he quickly pulled a T-shirt on. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Marty Davis. My sister’s your boss.”
“Yeah,” he said, again not very enthusiastic. “I’ve cut up the three poplars that came down in the last storm, and I was going to start in weeding the flower bed on the east side of the house. Did she have something else she’d rather have me do?” He