The Sweetest Thing

Chapter 3

Tara waited in the freshly painted hallway off the inn’s large, open living room with what she felt was admirable calm until finally, a half-naked Ford slowly strode inside.

Not hurrying.

Of course not. Ford never hurried when he could saunter. He never rushed a damn thing in his life. The big, sexy lug moved when and where he wanted.

She knew she was just damn lucky he’d decided to move at all. He was unpredictable.

Spontaneous.

Not to be confused with uncontrolled. Because Ford, for all his sense of humor and smart-ass-ness, was one of the most controlled people Tara had ever met. It was one of the few things they had in common. She did her best to keep her eyes on his, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d seen him without a shirt before, of course. But it’d been a while.

Watching her watch him, he reached out and played with the lace on her collarbone. “Why are you always dressed like you’re going to a business meeting?”

“I am at a business meeting. Sort of.” She paused and admitted the truth. “But mostly I wear dresses or skirts because I don’t have a good butt in jeans.”

With a laugh, Ford stepped close, so close that she could smell the ocean on him. He was salty and tangy, and so indelibly male that Tara almost closed the last inch between them simply so that she could lick him like a lollipop. Just one lick, she told herself, from sternum to the very low waistband of the basketball shorts…

His eyes lit with wickedness, as if he knew her secret longings, but he said nothing as he leaned over her shoulder to view her backside.

Ford Walker, Resident Butt Inspector.

“Looks fine from here,” he assured her in a low, husky voice that scraped at every single erogenous zone she owned. “Damned fine.” He paused. “Maybe I should give it a hand test to be sure.” Before she could say a word, he slid a hand down her spine, heading south with wicked and nefarious intent.

With a shocked laugh, she shoved him away. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“So,” he said, recovering far faster than she. “Still constipated?”

Tara choked. “What?”

Ford lifted a broad shoulder and unsuccessfully bit back a smile. “After the other day, it got around town that you were having troubles.”

“ ‘Got around town,’ ” she repeated faintly and closed her eyes to count to ten. For peace and Zen.

Neither made an appearance.

“I think Lucille tweeted it, and it ended up on Facebook,” he said, amusement heavy in his voice. “She took the opportunity to put up a recipe to fix the problem. You take a few plums, pit them, get a blender and-”

“I’m not-” Tara broke off, glancing through the inn to the sliding glass door before purposely lowering her voice. “Constipated!”

“You sure?”

“Very!”

He grinned, and she felt conflicting reactions-her brain melting, and steam coming out her ears.

How could this be? How could he drive her so insane and make her want him with equal intensity? She didn’t understand, she really didn’t. “Here,” she said and thrust the glass of iced tea and the bag of desserts at him. “And you should know, regarding your friend request the other day at the music fest, I’ve thought about it. Us.” Fact was, she’d done nothing but think about it. But they’d failed once. More like crashed and burned, spectacularly, and she shook her head. “I can’t go there again, Ford.” The last time had nearly destroyed her. Only he seemed to have the power to do that, and she wouldn’t, couldn’t, let it happen again.

“I didn’t ask you to go there again,” he said.

She met his gaze, his giving nothing away, and she flushed because he was right. He hadn’t asked her to fall in young, crazy love; he’d only suggested they have sex. Very different. “That’s an equally bad idea. You know it, and I know it. Now please go.”

“You’re big on that word,” he noted. “ ‘Go.’ ”

His was a not-so-subtle rebuke, and an unpleasant reminder of their past. And she resented like hell that he was throwing it in her face. By leaving as she had, she’d done him the biggest favor of his life. And not for one minute did she believe he hadn’t been thrilled to see the last of her, given how she’d turned his life upside down. He certainly hadn’t chased after her. He’d just let her go. The painful memories reared up and bit her, making her voice tight. “We are not doing this now, Ford.”

“Fine. Later then.”

“Never.”

“Never is a long time,” he said evenly, calmly, and since she couldn’t find her even or calm to save her life, it pissed her off. That he could be so relaxed through this conversation made her fingers itch to pour the tea right over his damn sexy head. Two things stopped her. One, he’d be half-naked and wet, and watching the iced tea drip down that bronzed chest, with its barely there spattering of sun-kissed hair and six-pack abs, might just be too much for her to take. And that was just his upper half. Lord almighty, if his basketball shorts got wet, they’d cling to all his glory.

And there was a lot of glory.

The second problem, the real problem, was that dumping the tea over his head would show her hand to him, because she could make no mistake with Ford. He might look and act like a frat boy with no concerns beyond the next good time, but she knew better. Behind that lazy smile was a mind as sharp as a tack. She thrust the goodie bag and the glass at him.

Ford accepted both. Their hands brushed together, his tanned and big against her much smaller one. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m sure it’s perfect, as well as the desserts.”

“Are you buttering me up?”

“Trying.” He smiled. “Is it working?”

“No.” Yes. Dammit.

Through the sliding glass door, she could still hear the ladies chattering amongst themselves, and she kept her voice as low as possible. “Just drink up. You looked parched, and I don’t want you passing out.”

“Aw. You care.”

Yes. But caring wasn’t the problem, for either of them. Longevity was. His. She was no longer seventeen and looking for a good time. She wanted more. Certainly more than Ford was looking to give. She knew him, or at least she was pretty sure she did. She’d read about him over the years and followed his career. For the six months she’d been in Lucky Harbor, she’d paid attention to his current life as well.

He’d grown up, there was no doubt. Once upon a time, he’d been headed for trouble but he’d gotten it together. He was a good man who was doing exactly as he wanted for a living and making it work for himself. But he was still content to live his life c’est la vie, to let the cards fall where they might, not all that interested in keeping anything, or anyone, long term.

And then there was her real stumbling block. They’d already had their chance and had missed it. End of story. “I don’t want to make Lucky Harbor’s Facebook page again,” she said. “We don’t need that kind of publicity.”

“You care,” he repeated softly.

She paused, but there was no reason not to admit it when he’d always been able to read both her heart and her soul like a book. Once, he’d seen everything she was, and he’d made her feel like the most beautiful, love-worthy woman on the planet-at least as much as a seventeen-year-old could feel. “Yes,” she said softly. “I care.”

He looked at her for a long moment, clearly surprised at the admission. Then he broke eye contact and downed the iced tea she’d given him in approximately two huge swallows. Letting out a heartfelt sigh of appreciation, he smiled down at her from his towering height as he handed back the glass.

Which was another thing. She wasn’t petite. She was five-seven in her bare feet, but today she was wearing three inch heels, and she still felt small next to Ford.

Small and… feminine. “Okay, then.” Tara set the glass aside and turned him toward the front door, ignoring the way her hands tingled at the feel of his biceps beneath her fingers, hard and warm. “This has been fun,” she said. “But buh-bye now.”

“What’s your hurry? Afraid you’ll be unable to keep from having your merry way with me?”

Since that was far too close to the truth for comfort, she nudged him again, a little harder now. “Shh! If the women hear you talk like that, I’m going to blame you.”

“Not my fault. You’re the one who can’t keep her hands off me.”

She looked down and realized her fingers were indeed still on him, practically stroking him. Crap. She snatched her hands back and searched for her dignity, but there was little to be found. “I didn’t say it would be your fault. I said I’d blame you.”

He laughed. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks of you?”

“Since I want to impress these women-all of whom have connections and will hopefully send their family and friends here to the inn. So please. Please, Ford, you have to go. You can mess with my head another time, I swear.”

From outside on the deck, the women were still talking and their voices drifted in. “Lord alive,” someone said, possibly Ethel. “I’m still having a hot flash. If this inn comes with that man walking around like that, I’ll shout recommendations for this place from the rooftops.”

Ford’s gaze met Tara’s, and he slowly raised a brow.

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She gave up trying to push him out. “It’s your damn body, that’s all!”

“I have charm, too,” he cajoled. “Let me back out there, Tara. It’ll help, you’ll see.”

And here was the thing she knew about Ford. He never made pie-crust promises. His word was as good as money in the bank. If he said he’d help, he would.

She could trust him.

Problem was, she couldn’t trust herself.

Not even a little bit. Leaning back against the wall, she covered her eyes, thinking that not looking at him might help clear her thoughts.

Except that he planted a hand on the wall next to her head and leaned in.

“Stop that,” she said weakly when he leaned close. “You’re all…” Delicious. “Sweaty.”

He sidled up even closer, so that their bodies were brushing against each other. “You used to love it when I got all sweaty.”

Oh yeah. Yeah, she had. She’d loved the way their bodies had heated and clung together. She’d loved how they’d moved together, she’d loved…“That was a damn long time ago,” she said, ruthlessly reminding herself how it’d ended.

Badly.

Eyes holding hers prisoner, Ford remained against her for an interminable beat before finally taking a slow step back, still far too close for comfort.

She busied herself by grabbing the empty glass and striding back out onto the deck to refill it. She smiled at her guests and said, “I’ll just be one more moment.”

“Take your time, honey,” someone replied. “I certainly would.”

Doing her best not to grimace, Tara once again entered the cool interior of the inn.

Ford was almost at the front door, but he turned when she said his name. She watched the surprise cross his face when he took in the refilled tea. He moved back toward her and never took his gaze off her face as he accepted the glass.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you looked like you’re still thirsty.”

His mouth quirked. “Thanks. But that’s not what I meant.”

Tara exhaled in an attempt to hold it together. No, she knew that. “You make me forget my manners. I hate that.”

“Can’t have you without your manners.” He ran his fingers over her jaw, his eyes at half-mast as he took in her expression. “You ever remember it, Tara? Us?”

She’d done little but remember. Her emotions had long ago been shoved deep down, but being back in Lucky Harbor had cracked her self-made brick walls, and all those messy, devastating emotions came tumbling down every single time she looked at him.

She’d first arrived in town, a pissed-off-at-the-world seventeen-year-old, banished here by her father and her paternal grandparents for the summer, and she’d resented everything about Lucky Harbor.

Until her second night.

She’d had a simple but particularly nasty fight with her mother. Tara hadn’t known Phoebe well, which hadn’t helped. The fight had sent Tara sulking off to the marina, where she’d run smack into another seventeen-year-old. A tall, laid-back, easygoing, sexy-as-hell Ford Walker.

He’d been sprawled out on one of his boats, hands behind his head, watching the stars as if he didn’t have a care in the world. One slow, lazy smile and an offer of a soda had pretty much been all it’d taken for her to fall, and fall hard.

He hadn’t been like the guys back home. He hadn’t been a rancher’s kid or a cowboy. Not an intellectual or the typical jock, either.

Ford had been the bad boy and the good-time guy all in one, and effortlessly sexy. He’d drawn her right in, making her laugh when she hadn’t had much to laugh at. His eyes had sparkled with wicked wit and a great deal of promised trouble, and yet he’d also been shockingly kind. They’d gone out sailing by the light of the stars and swam beneath the moon’s glow.

She’d escaped to his boat every night after that.

As unbelievable as it seemed, they’d truly been just friends. She’d come from a broken home and had all the emotional baggage that went with that, including anger and confusion and restlessness.

She’d felt… alone.

Ford had known what that was like. His parents had split up when he was young, too, and his father had taken off. His mom had remarried a few times, so he also knew how tenuous “family” was.

But he’d been far more optimistic than she, possessing a make-your-family-where-you-can mentality. And actually, she’d loved that about him. She’d loved a lot about him, including the fact that he’d been a bit of a troublemaker and had encouraged her to step outside her comfort zone.

It hadn’t taken much encouragement. That’s when they’d become more than friends.

They’d gone for a long sail, dropped anchor… and their clothes. They’d made love-her first time.

Not his.

Ford had showed her just how good it could be, how amazing it could feel, and for that one long, glorious month of July, Tara had found herself hopelessly and thoroughly addicted to his body.

He’d felt the same about her; she’d seen it, felt it. There’d been no spoken vows of love between them, but it’d been there. They’d been lovers in every sense of the word.

A very grown-up word, lovers. And given that Tara had ended up pregnant and giving the baby up for adoption before hightailing it back to Texas, she hadn’t been ready for all that went with being grown up.

No matter what Ford thought, neither of them had been.

Tara hadn’t come back to Lucky Harbor after she’d had the baby, not once in all these years. She’d moved on. She’d gone to college. Traveled. Sown some wild oats. She’d even fallen in love. Logan Perrish had been charming, funny, and accepting, and a huge NASCAR star. Tara had married him, and, determined to get things right, she’d done everything in her power to fit into Logan’s world of whirlwind travel, press, billboards, and cereal boxes.

She’d lived and breathed the part of a celebrity wife, always on the go, doing whatever it took to make Logan love her as much as he loved his racing world.

Even when it had all failed, she’d still stuck in there. She’d made a commitment, and she’d faked it.

Fake it until you make it; that had been her motto.

But somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself. It seemed she always lost herself. And what made it even worse was that Logan hadn’t been a bad guy, just the Wrong Guy.

So she’d escaped back to Texas once again, to lick her wounds in private, struggling to remember who she was-a woman who’d lived through some bad things and still persevered.

A woman who wouldn’t lose herself again.

The steel magnolia within her had finally served Logan divorce papers. Due to his celebrity status, they’d had a prenup, of course. Without kids to complicate things, she’d willingly walked away free and clear. Still Logan had insisted on giving her a very fair settlement, which she had used every last bit of when she and her sisters had needed money for the inn.

She was now a take-no-prisoners sort of woman, and maybe also a don’t-get-too-close-to-me woman. It was necessary, in order to keep her heart protected and safe.

And to keep herself pain free.

Unfortunately, she’d just broken her own rule by tangling with Ford. Problem was, when it came to him, her mind and body appeared to be at war.

Want him.

Hold him at arm’s length.

Want him…

The ongoing battle was complicated by the fact that she now lived within a stone’s throw of him. As she knew all too well, Ford was lethal up close, especially when he wanted something.

And he’d admitted to wanting her. Her body, anyway.

He was just watching her now, and when she said nothing, he slowly shook his head, a bittersweet smile twisting his lips. “Thanks again for the tea,” he said, and when the door shut behind him Tara drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, struggling for her equilibrium. As always, she eventually found it, and once she had, she headed back outside to the deck.

“There you are,” one of her guests said slyly. “Everything okay?”

Tara smiled. “Absolutely,” she said, taking her own advice-fake it until you make it.