The room had started to steam. She flipped the switch for the fan and heard nothing. Not the slightest whirr. No big surprise there. The place was falling apart, and that old bat Phoebe Matrix was too lazy and greedy to get anything fixed. You’d think since she owned the place, wasn’t just the manager, Phoebe would take better care of things. But she didn’t. Instead the old woman spent her hours and days peering out the window, spying on her tenants, when she wasn’t doting on that yappy little dog of hers or complaining about her ailments : a bad knee, arthritis in her back, diabetes, and her deathly aversion to peanuts. As if anyone cared.

Sophia pulled off her sweater and bra, then wiggled out of her skinny jeans and undies.

The shower pipes groaned as Sophia stepped into the phone-booth-sized shower with its stained panels. In the thin spray, she scrubbed off her makeup, careful to wash around her hairline, under her chin, and around her neck.

She thought of James again and was instantly pissed that she’d let him slip through her fingers. He was the one—the only one. It wasn’t that he was smart and sexy, it was that he was rich. Even though he hadn’t yet inherited the fortune he was due to receive, he still had money from all of his business ventures. Sophia knew. She had checked.

And once he inherited . . .

She lathered, then rinsed, turned off the shower, and stepped into the foggy bathroom to swipe at the mirror and crack the door. She let down her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, covering the freckles on her neck, then found fresh clothes.

She set her jaw as the moisture in the room dissipated and goose bumps rose on her skin in the cold air. She’d made love to him, tried her best to be sexy and sweet, and . . . oh, it wasn’t working!

But she had a plan . . .

She snagged her bathrobe from the hook on the back of the old door and slipped it on, the thick white terry cloth drying the remaining droplets from her skin. Then she hurried downstairs and decided to call Julia.

Her sister would know what to do.

She always did.

But all Julia would do would be to caution Sophia not to lose her heart.

Well, too late for that!

Julia would remind Sophia how high the emotional stakes were and to play it cool.

As if she could!

Cinching the belt tight around her waist, she speed-dialed her sister. Noticing the date on her phone, she smiled to herself. Only a couple of weeks until Christmas . . .

She felt a warm rush of anticipation, her fingers skimming the terry cloth over her abdomen.

Things were bound to change.

* * *