The Sweetest Thing (22 page)

“Okay,” she said shakily. “Here’s the thing. I’m… still attracted to you.” Her breath shuddered out when he nudged her hair
aside and brushed his lips along the nape of her neck. She locked her knees. Had to, in order to keep standing. “But I don’t
want to sleep with you again.”

“And yet here you are,” he murmured against her skin. “On my boat. In the middle of the night.”

“Yeah. That looks bad,” Tara admitted. “But really, it was all about the chips.”

“And my shirt.” He ran a finger down her spine, stopping far below the line of decency, making her breath
catch in the sudden silence. “How is it that you have it?” he asked, his hand on her ass.

She fought against the urge to thrust her bottom into his palm.

Or better yet, his crotch.

“Tara.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I stole it. The day I returned your crepe pan.”

“Look at me.”

No. No, thank you very much.

His hands settled on her hips and he turned her to face him. “Not that I don’t like the sight of you in the shirt,” he said.
“Because I do. Very much. But you’ve been keeping your distance, and I’ve been trying to respect that. But you came to me
tonight, so all bets are off. Tell me why you’re in my shirt.”

She nibbled on her lower lip. She didn’t have an answer. At least, not one she wanted to give him. “You gave me one just like
it when you first got them.”

“I remember. I just didn’t realize you did as well.”

“Yes, well, I do. And I loved it,” she told him. “And I lost it in the fire. I really missed it. So when I saw yours…” She
closed her eyes. “Hell, Ford. I can’t explain it. I lost my head and stole your damn shirt. There. You happy?”

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally. “The fire was six months ago.” He was still gripping her hips, his hands beneath the hem of
the shirt now and his thumbs scraping lightly up and down on her bared belly, making her muscles quiver. “You had it all that
time?”

“It was comfortable.”

He smiled at that. “Comfortable. You kept a shirt for seventeen years because it was comfortable.”

“Yes.”

“Liar. Such a beautiful liar.” Leaning in, he kissed her.

Soft.

A warm-up round.

She knew just how potent the next round would be, so she put her hand to his chest, not quite sure if she was stopping him
or making sure he couldn’t stop.

In the silence, her stomach growled, and he grinned. “I stand corrected. You really
are
hungry.” Turning to the small refrigerator, he pulled out tortillas, grated cheese, and salsa.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you a quesadilla. I’d grill it, but I can’t do that in here.”

She watched as he stroked a spoonful of salsa onto the tortilla, then layered grated cheese over it. There was something about
the way his hands moved, his concentration, the obvious ease that he felt in his kitchen, that got to her.

And he did get to her, in a big way.

He waited until she’d eaten the entire quesadilla to take the plate from her and then lifted her up to the counter. Eyes on
hers, he stepped in between her thighs.

“I didn’t come here for this,” she whispered as he slowly lifted his shirt from her and peeled it off over her head.

“Your nose is going to start growing, Pinocchio,” he said, resting his hands on her waist.

“You didn’t eat anything,” she said inanely.

“Wasn’t hungry for a quesadilla.”

“What are you hungry for?”

His eyes were so heated that she felt her bones melt away. “Guess,” he said, and slid his hands up her thighs. He hooked his
thumb in her panties and inched them down. Then he dropped to his knees and proceeded to show her.

Over and over again.

T
ara stood alone in the inn’s kitchen in rare blessed silence. She was trying not to think about how many times Ford had taken
her—and she him—last night before he’d walked her back to her bed at dawn.

Or how much he was coming to mean to her. Along with Mia. And her sisters. And Lucky Harbor…

It was all those strings that Ford had pointed out, tangling around her heart.

Damn strings. She didn’t want them. She wanted to be able to protect her heart as needed, and that was getting damn hard to
do. At least with Ford, she knew what she was getting. A good time. Okay, a
really
good time. She’d meant for it to be nothing more but it was…

Chloe came into the room just as Tara was staring blindly into the refrigerator. “Hungry?”

“No,” Tara said. “Trying to decide between juice or the vodka.”

Chloe laughed. “Always the vodka. It’s fewer calories. But I’ve never actually considered vodka and OJ to be mutually exclusive.
Go ahead, splurge, have both.”

“Hmm,” Tara said and pulled out the eggs.

“You’re probably starving from burning all those calories having wild animal sex last night, right?”

Tara nearly dropped the eggs before turning to stare at Chloe. “What?”

“Well, you came in at dawn with crazy hair and a ridiculously wide smile for someone who hates early mornings.” Chloe shrugged.
“I figured it had to be sex. And given that it was Ford, I also figured it had to be a pretty fantastic night. It
was
Ford, right?”

“Oh my God,” Tara said. “
Yes
.”

Chloe grinned at the confession.

“Stop that,” Tara said. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Pretty please? It’s so much better than what I have to talk to you about.”

Tara opened her mouth to respond to that but Sawyer came in the back door with his usual long-legged stride. It faltered only
slightly when he locked gazes with Chloe, whom he wasn’t used to seeing in the kitchen when he made his early morning coffee
run.

Tara pulled out a to-go mug from a stack that she kept just for him and filled it up.

Chloe watched the process, including Sawyer’s quiet but grateful thank you, although she didn’t say a word until he was gone.
“Why do you let him steal your coffee?”

“Because he’s a good man with a crappy job, that you
make all the more difficult for him, by the way. I feel like I owe him.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Back to you, missy, and you’re just-got-laid expression. You should try to lose that. You know, for
the children.”

Tara attempted to catch sight of herself in the steel door of the refrigerator. Damn, Chloe was right. She was glowing.

“Oh, and I borrowed your laptop this morning,” Chloe said casually, gathering strawberries, yogurt, and the blender.

“Don’t tell me you were looking at porn again,” Tara said. “You froze my computer last time you opened that
See Channing Tatum Naked
attachment.”

“Hey, anyone would have clicked on that, and it was a total hoax. I never even got to see him naked. And no, I didn’t do any
of that today. I was just getting my mail. Oh, and I accidentally clicked on your Firefox history.”

“So?”

“So I happen to know you went to Facebook, created an account, and voted for Ford.”

Tara went still. “Did not.”

“Okay. But you did.”

Tara crossed her arms. “I’ll have you know that there’s not a single Tara Daniels on Facebook,” she said with confidence.

Chloe looked amused. “And you know this how,
Tallulah Danielson
? Tallulah? Danielson? Seriously? Because Jesus, if you ever find yourself with the need to go deep undercover again, I’m
begging you, ask for help. And never consider a job with the FBI.”

Well, hell. This was embarrassing. Worse, she couldn’t come up with an excuse. Not a single one.

Oh! Temporary insanity. That would work. Or avoidance, Tara decided, and turned away from a grinning Chloe, only to come face
to face with the man himself.

Ford. Who was also grinning. “Bless your heart, Tallulah,” he said.

Chloe laughed and walked across the room to hug him. “If you weren’t so totally hung up on her,” she told him, “I’d claim
you for myself.”

Ford hugged her back. “It’s true. I’m totally hung up on her.”

Aw. And
dammit
, he really had to stop doing that, Tara thought, watching them, her heart going all mushy. It was all those little things
that added up, like making her a quesadilla in the middle of the night, or the way he looked at her, like maybe she was a
better sight than say his first cup of coffee in the morning. Or, in the case of how he was looking at her right now, like
she was greatly amusing him. “You might have told me he was standing there,” Tara said to Chloe.

“I might have.”

Tara shook her head and looked at Ford. “I meant to vote for Logan. I hit the wrong button.”

Ford burst out laughing. He wore a T-shirt and Levi’s that were faded into a buttery softness and doing some nice things for
his bod. He had a day of scruff on him and looked so utterly delectable that she found herself just staring.

He looked right back, that small smile still hovering at the corners of his mouth.

Chloe cleared her throat. “Well. This is cute and
all…” She looked at Tara. “But I actually do really need to talk to you. Got a few?”

“Actually, not until later and neither do you. The guests are going to want breakfast.”

“This is a quick thing,” Chloe said, “but an important one.”

Oh hell. It was something big, Tara could see it in Chloe’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you got arrested again, because I’m pretty
sure Sawyer’s going to throw away the key on you this time—”

“No. Jeez,” Chloe said, tossing up her hands. “A girl gets arrested one time—”

“
Three
times.”

Chloe sighed. “This is about
you
.”

“What about me?”

Chloe glanced uneasily at Ford, who clearly wasn’t budging, then sighed and pulled a white plastic stick from her pocket.
“I was in the downstairs bathroom setting up a basket full of lotions and soaps, cleaning up, emptying the trash, that sort
of thing.”

“I emptied the trash just this morning,” Tara said.

“I know,” Chloe said. “I saw you. Which means you were the last one in there. So I figured you’d want me to give this to you
so no one else could come to the wrong conclusion.”

Tara looked down at the thing in Chloe’s hands in shock. “That’s a pregnancy test stick.”

“A negative one,” Chloe said. “Probably a relief for you guys, right?”

Tara nearly went into heart failure. “What are you talking about? It’s not mine.”

Ford’s face was utterly blank as he stared at the stick. After a beat, he lifted his head and met Tara’s gaze, his eyes completely
shuttered.

Because he knew what she did. They’d used a condom. Every time. It was an unspoken, very serious thing with them, and they
both knew it. So undoubtedly his mind was now leaping to the next possibility, that she’d slept with… Logan?

“It’s not mine,” Tara said again and grabbed Chloe by the arm. “Excuse us a minute?” she said to Ford, then without waiting
for an answer, yanked Chloe into the pantry and slammed the door.

“Yeah,” Chloe said, looking around at the small but cozy space. “I can see why you pull Ford in here whenever you can. It
screams ‘do me.’ ” She tested a shelf. “Does this hold?”

“Chloe,
how could you
?” Tara demanded in a harsh whisper.

“I don’t know. I guess I’d hop up right here, and then he’d stand between my legs and—”

“I meant how could you give this to me in front of Ford? My God, that was the most irresponsible, rude, grossly negligent
sisterly thing you’ve ever done, and you’ve done a lot!”

Chloe paused a moment, clearly startled by Tara’s fury, as if she sincerely, honestly hadn’t given anyone else’s feelings
a thought. As always, though, she rebounded with an excuse for herself. “Hey, if you’re close enough to need a pregnancy test
with him, then he’s close enough to go through the worry with you. For the second time.”

“It’s not mine
!
”

“Well, it’s not mine,” Chloe said emphatically. “I haven’t had sex all damn year. Not since that hot Cuban guy in Miami, which
landed me in the ER. A bit of a post-coital downer, I should add.”

“Oh my God,” Tara said. “It’s Mia’s.”

“What?”

“The pregnancy test! It’s Mia’s.”

Chloe contemplated this, then let out a slow breath. “Oh boy.”

Tara gritted her teeth. “I’m going to kill Carlos—”

“It’s not Mia’s. It’s mine.”

Tara and Chloe looked at each other, and then at the door, which had spoken to them. Chloe pulled it open and there stood
Maddie.

And Mia.

They stood side by side, Maddie looking sheepish. “I thought I wrapped it up so no one would see it,” she said.

Tara stuck her head out into the kitchen and looked around for Ford.

“He left,” Maddie told her.

Mia still hadn’t said a word. She stood staring at Tara with barely veiled resentment. “You thought the stick was mine.”

Tara opened her mouth but Mia shook her head and took a step back. “I have to go,” she said and moved to the door.