Imperfect

TWO HALVES

Sophie Schrader came to San Francisco to start over. Fleeing a broken past, she never examined if she was living her passion—until now, when one shocking night in a downtown dance club introduces her to a man who is everything she never knew she wanted. Formidable, sexy, dominating…gentle. Yet no matter what he says, how can one damaged girl from Indiana ever be enough for a workaholic real estate tycoon?

…MAKE A WHOLE

For William Peterson, life’s greatest challenge was always which building to buy next. Now it’s Sophie. The sweet, polite Midwesterner is his perfect woman, but convincing her of that is almost impossible. Keeping her safe is a start, shielding her from both her past and his future, a job more difficult than any he’s attempted. Then William must show her they two can conquer any nightmare. Through the eyes of love, our scars make us who we are: imperfect and without flaw.

IMPERFECT

Rebecca Barray & Tobi Doyle

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

IMPERFECT

Copyright © 2015 Rebecca Barray and Tobi Doyle

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-942886-94-5

To my husband, who may have a touch of OCPD himself, and definitely inspires me with our perfect love. —Tobi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to Michelle Klayman for taking a chance on us. This has been an amazing experience, and we love our Boroughs authors and family.

—Rebecca and Tobi

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Authors

IMPERFECT

CHAPTER ONE

Sophie

No doubt, I was the most uncomfortable human being on the planet. Most people mistook my sense of adventure for being a free spirit. I was not. True, I was an optimist and loved to travel, but I was more Mary Ann than Ginger. I was young and willing to take chances, but I hated crowds, loud noises, and public displays of affection.

Which was why, at that moment, I was in my own personal hell, surrounded by hundreds of people dry humping to a bass beat that reverberated in my chest. Embarrassment became mortification when a man’s hand disappeared under the skirt of the woman gyrating against him. My cheeks burned, sweat trickled down my back, and my feet were killing me. I wanted to leave. Desperately. And I promised myself I would, as soon as I wished Tanner and Jason a happy anniversary.

The cute couple was dirty dancing in the middle of a crowd of friends. I moved toward them, swaying around drunken duos, avoiding errant groping hands until I was in front of Tanner. I threw my arms around his neck and practically screamed in his ear so he’d hear me over the music. I love you and I love Jason, but I’m going home now.

Tanner hugged my waist, pulling me toward him. Thank you, Sophie. We love you, too.

He released me with a kiss on the cheek. I turned, more than ready to make good use of the closest exit, but a behemoth of a man blocked my escape. His hands gripped my hips, forcing me to sway to the electronic house music. Sway? Well, at least he wasn’t grinding on me.

My hands flew up to his shoulders and I attempted to push him away. I plastered on my fake smile and looked up to a ruggedly gorgeous face. Not pretty. Not traditionally handsome. Powerfully masculine, with long, thick lashes that lined expressive, brilliant green eyes.

I pushed harder against his shoulders to give myself a few inches of space. Hi, handsome. I was just leaving, but thanks for the dance. I tried again to disengage myself, but he wouldn’t let go.

One dance. That’s all I want. His deep voice rumbled straight through to my core and his grip tightened. I found myself pressed against his chest and not all that upset at the situation. He was the first man to make my heart race in a good way in a long time. Still, the pain in my feet reminded me why I’d been leaving.

Hey. I relaxed against him, the only movement his iron grip allowed. I tilted my head up, hoping he could hear me, and tried not to whine like a baby. I appreciate the dance, really, but my feet are killing me and I hate it here and I just want to go home.

He stopped swaying. His green eyes studied my face for a moment before he bent down and swept me off my feet. Literally. Holy hell! He carried me off the dance floor like a small child.

I didn’t even fight him. The relief that my feet were no longer being tortured overshadowed my fear. I put my arms around his shoulders as he made his way through the crowd. When he set me down, I slid out of my shoes.

Ah. I gave an appreciative sigh. Thanks for that. I leaned down, hooking my first two fingers into my shoes, and tilted my head back, way back, to find his eyes. Without my heels, he was a giant.

Let me walk you to your car. His voice resonated through my body again, melting me a little.

Oh, that’s okay. I looked back into the crowd, now pulsing and moving like a single-celled organism; it was almost mesmerizing. There was no way I could find Tanner in there now, and this man—this huge, strapping man—was crowding my space.

His arm slid around my shoulder and his lips dropped to my ear. Babe, did you drive here?

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. Um, yeah. I’m good. Thanks.

His fingers lifted my chin so he could see my eyes. Don’t lie to me.

Okay, so the big man could read me. Well, I figured I’d just get a cab. I came with some friends, but I’m ready to leave and they’re not. It’s no big deal, I said with a shrug.

He guided me toward the exit. I can drive you home.

I dug my heels in. No. Thanks. I was not letting some random guy drive me home. No way.

He scowled and rolled his eyes at me. Releasing me, he asked with a tilt of his head, What’s your name?

I lifted my eyebrows and took a step back. Okay, so, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for, ya know, carrying me off the dance floor.

He stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. His touch was light, but the message, clear. His voice was softer the second time. What’s your name?

Sophie. He looked at me expectantly, so I elaborated, Schrader.

That’s pretty. He smiled and his emerald eyes sparkled.

Thank you. What’s your name? I asked, hoping it wasn’t something stupid like Brock or Stone.

William Peterson.

Well, thank you for escorting me off the dance floor, William Peterson, I said, extending my hand.

His eyes narrowed but he shook my hand. I’ll get a cab. He shrugged off my apprehension. I’m not leaving you. It’s not safe to get a cab alone.

My cheeks burned. Again. It’s not like I’m taking the bus.

He rolled his eyes. Again.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing when I realized that he was serious. In addition to amazing green eyes, towering height, and shoulders that were probably a yard wide, he was sweet, even if it was in an overly protective, slightly creepy way.

He made me feel petite, delicate even. His dark hair was a little unruly, nearly covering a small scar bisecting his right eyebrow. His prominent brow gave him an intimidating air, but I wasn’t intimidated. He raised his hand to run his fingers over his head, and I was fascinated by the dark hair that covered his arm. He was all man. Completely and thoroughly male. It was a little heady to be near him.

He leaned in. Let me drive you home. Please.

He’d softened his voice, and its warmth melted me. I moved toward the exit to give myself a little space and organize my thoughts. William, I appreciate your offer, really, I do, but… I looked up at him and blurted out, I don’t know you and I’m not comfortable accepting a ride home from you.

He followed, looking puzzled for a moment, before his face smoothed in realization. You’re new to San Francisco. It was a statement. Maybe he played for the 49ers; he was certainly big enough to be a lineman. That would explain his surprise, too. He probably had women tripping over themselves to go home with him most of the time. Must be a slow night.

I answered honestly. It’s my second day.

When we reached the door, the bouncer opened it. Can I get you anything, Mr. Peterson?

A cab.

Yes, sir. The bouncer whistled and waved over a yellow cab from down the block.

I turned toward William. Thank you. I stuck my hand out again, but he didn’t take it.

Instead, his arm slid tight around my shoulders as he walked me toward the cab. Are you staying with your friends?

No. I stiffened.

Where are you staying?

Oh, God. Did I really want this guy to know where I lived? I moved to get in the taxi, but William leaned down to speak to the driver through the window, his big paw holding the back door shut.

Your address? he asked again.

Um… He was biting his cheek to keep from laughing, so I rattled off the cross streets. 14th and Mission.

He stood up, scowling, but opened the back door for me. That neighborhood isn’t safe. His voice was calm, but he had the same look of panic my father had when I told him that I worked until two in the morning. That hadn’t turned out well, but this man was not my father.

It’s not great, but my building is fine, I lied. The place terrified me and I hated it. Tanner told me he’d checked it out and maybe it didn’t look that scary to a guy, but for a single woman, the number of homeless lining the street at night was menacing.

I scooted in the backseat, expecting him to close the door, but he slid in beside me, moving me over in the process. He gave the cab driver the cross streets and closed the door.

Buckle up, he instructed me, sounding more like my dad than I’d have thought he could.

I obeyed, declaring defiantly, You’re not coming into my apartment.

He raised an eyebrow in amusement and replied coolly, I’m just going to walk you to your door.

I took a breath, about to argue, but realized having the hulk walk to the building with me might be the safest solution, so I just let it out in a huff. Fine.

We rode in silence for a few blocks, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. You said your name earlier like I should recognize it. What do you do?

Real estate investments, mostly. He didn’t elaborate, but looked at me curiously. Why did you move here?

A j-j-job. I closed my eyes, hating that I stuttered. He was just so damn unnerving. I turned toward the window and he shifted to give me a little more space.

Where do you work?

NetGen, I said to the window, hoping it would prevent my stutter if I didn’t look at him.

He snickered. So you’re a computer geek?

His laugh relaxed me a little, so I turned to face him. Smiling, I corrected him, Food geek, actually. I’m their new head chef. It’s my first kitchen to run any way I want.

He smiled and the harsh angles of his face softened. My smile widened, and there was a flutter deep in my belly. His deep voice hummed through me; it was melodious and soothing. So you’d like to own your own restaurant someday?

I crinkled my nose. No way; I like to sleep at night. And, I prefer the breakfast and lunch menus.

He nodded. So where did you live before?

My smiled faltered. Oh, you know, here and there, I said, aiming for a careless tone but falling short.

His eyes narrowed. Are you in the witness protection program or something?

I looked back out the window, muttering, …or something.

I suppose that means you won’t give me your phone number, he said playfully, clearly trying to keep the mood light.

I turned back and shook my head. I can’t. He looked disappointed for a moment, so I continued, I don’t have a phone.

He studied my face skeptically. Not even a burner phone?

Nope.

I can’t even imagine that.

It was painful at first, but eventually I grew to enjoy the quiet. I’ll probably break down and buy one at some point, but I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to having one on my person at all times.

You could always just turn it off when you want quiet. His low voice rumbled through me. His tone wasn’t accusatory—rather calming, actually.

I shrugged. It becomes an addiction, at least for me.

He pulled at his lower lip. How did you get a job here without a phone?

Email and Skype. I’ll have a phone at work, I figure. I just don’t know the number, yet.

He removed a card from his pocket, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. You can reach me here, anytime. That’s my personal cell number—that I have on my person at all times.

I grinned. I’m impressed. You haven’t looked at the screen in at least five minutes. Makes me feel special.

Well, the phone is for my convenience, and you are special.

My heart thrummed. Oh my…

You didn’t seem to be enjoying yourself at the club tonight.

Oh…well, no. I, uh… I took a calming breath, and tried again. I’m not a fan of crowds. Or loud noise. Or staying up late. Normally, I would never even go to a club, but that’s what Tanner and Jason wanted to do for their anniversary, and they have been so amazing and supportive these past few weeks. I shrugged.

The cab driver interrupted as we turned to my street. Excuse me, Mr. Peterson, but where do you want me to stop?

Holy cow! What’s going on? There were three police cruisers, a fire truck, and an ambulance blocking the street.

Double park, don’t move, William ordered, opening the door. We’ll be right back.

I slid out behind him, noticing that he said we instead of I.

He approached a police officer and the man looked him up and down before saying, You look like William Peterson.

My jaw tightened. Was he some kind of criminal? Why would the police be familiar with him?

I am, William said, offering his hand. Can you tell me what’s going on? he asked, looking around.

The officer shook his hand, beaming. Of course. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. And thanks so much for the new gym. It’s great, a huge improvement in the lives of a lot of the guys.

Oh. So not on the most-wanted list. A relief. He was a good guy, who seemed uncomfortable with the officer’s gratitude.

You’re welcome, William replied. So, what’s going on?

You don’t own this building, right? the officer asked skeptically.

No, my friend rents an apartment here and I was driving her home.

Really? The officer looked at me. Ma’am, this isn’t a very good part of town. He looked over to the ambulance. It’s a pretty regular occurrence. Overdoses, I mean. And there have been muggings, too. A girl was raped last week, just over there. He pointed beneath the fire escape that led from my apartment.

I shuddered. Oh… I, um… I-I, uh… I focused on what I needed to say, gathering my thoughts. I used an online rental agency. I didn’t realize it was so bad. I caught William’s concerned look. I’ll look for a new apartment tomorrow, I promised. Tanner would let me stay with him for a few days.

The officer nodded. Well, Mr. Peterson owns half the city. He can help you find a new place.

Half the city? WTF? My cheeks burned. Okay, the guy was rich. Not just rich, but crazy rich. I tilted my face down and studied my feet. My bare feet. I’d been so anxious to know what was going on, I hadn’t put on my shoes. My blistered pinkie toes matched the backs of my heels. At least my toenail polish wasn’t chipped.

William leaned down. All right babe, let’s get your stuff. Can you wear your shoes or do you want me to carry you?

What? My head jerked up in disbelief.

Well, obviously you can’t stay here tonight. You really shouldn’t stay here, ever. He nodded toward the officer. Give this officer all your information and if you turn up missing, or dead, they’ll know I’m guilty.

The officer just laughed while I glared at William. You’re not funny.

Well, what do you want to do? he asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. I can’t leave you here. It’s too dangerous. He let out a big breath and said softly, Listen, I can take you back to the club and you can go home with your friends, I can put you up in a nice hotel, or I can set you up in an apartment in one of my buildings. Your choice.

I turned to the officer, buying a moment to think. Can I go up to my apartment? I didn’t want to stay there; I was a rational person. Yes, sometimes I took chances, but not with my life.

Yes, ma’am, the officer said.

Thank you. I tiptoed toward the building. The sidewalks were clean enough; the area wasn’t a slum and most of the homeless had moved on because of all the police present.

William walked behind me, a silent protector. I opened my apartment door and he stepped through. It’s nicer than I expected, he muttered.

I glanced over at him taking up so much space in my small apartment. So much for not letting him in.

How long will it take you to pack?

I appreciate your concern, William, but I’ve got it from here. You’ve seen me home and dropped me off. The place, as you can see, is safe. Thank you for the ride. I held out my hand but he only crossed his arms and leaned against my door.

A small smile played at his lips and he rubbed his chin for a moment before speaking. Yeah, okay, so here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to get your stuff packed up and if you tell me in the next ten seconds where you want to go, I’ll take you there. Otherwise, I’m taking you home with me.

The club, I blurted. The fact that my fire escape was a crime scene wasn’t exactly comforting, and I really did want out of that apartment. The ambulance siren and red flashing lights just outside my windows made the decision to leave tonight even easier.

Good. He nodded at me to get started. Do you need help packing?

No, thank you. It was only a studio apartment. The couch pulled out into a bed, but last night I left it folded up because the joke of a mattress was lumpy, thin, and with the metal bar frame beneath it, uncomfortable. The place was clean, and, although the furniture was cheap, it had been well maintained. Fully furnished, the apartment included a small kitchen area with a couple of pots and pans. The only things I owned were my clothes, a few toiletries, and my favorite quilt. It didn’t take long to pull my clothes out of the dresser and stuff them into my duffel bag. I grabbed clean jeans and socks and went into the bathroom to change. I gathered up my toiletries and dropped them into my backpack then sat on the couch and put on my sneakers.

That everything? William inquired, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Yup.

How long were you planning on living here?

Just six months. It’s not bad until it gets dark. I figured I’d just, ya know, stay in after five, I said with confidence, and yet as I said the words aloud I realized how ridiculous they sounded.

Of course, he grunted, running his hand through his hair. He reached down and grabbed my bag. Okay, let’s go.

We walked in silence toward the street. There was a black Mercedes parked where the cab had been.

What happened to the taxi? I asked, looking around.

I took care of it. He walked up to the sleek, black car and opened up the back door, helping me in while the driver took my duffel bag and placed it in the trunk.

I sank back into the plush leather and closed my eyes. Tonight has been surreal.

He chuckled. It’s been different. He took a deep breath. I own the club you were in. My eyes sprung open, and he smiled at my reaction. "I was upstairs watching the crowd and I saw you, like a salmon swimming against the current. The whole