Isabelle looked up at him and smiled. “Sounds great.”
Tate picked up Jake from the seat, slung his bag filled with toys and essentials over his shoulder, and headed for the hallway.
“Ned again?” Tate tried to sound as casual as possible as he punched the elevator button.
“Yes. Who knew divorce was more complicated than marriage?” Isabelle sighed.
“Maybe he wouldn’t call if you stop telling him that you love him,” He said.
Isabelle and Jake looked at him like he had two heads.
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard you tell him you loved him.”
“So you were eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I was. You’re sending him mixed signals.” He moved closer to her.
“I told him I loved him too, past tense. Do you hear that letter d on the end of the word love? And why are you so interested in whether or not I love my ex-husband?”
Tate swallowed hard. “He doesn’t deserve you. Don’t let him trick you into falling for his bullshit again.”
“There were some good times. It wasn’t always lies and betrayal. But I have no intention on being a fool for him twice in this lifetime.”
“Oh.” Well, he felt like a world-class idiot.
“Besides, he’s convinced himself I won’t give him another chance because I’m involved with you.” She looked into his eyes.
“Don’t tell him otherwise. Let him think he lost you to a man who appreciates you and cares about you.” He grinned.
“Thank you.” She caressed his arm.
“For what?”
“For not wanting me to make the same mistake twice.”
They stepped onto the elevator. Isabelle pushed the button for the ground floor. When she moved back, she accidentally brushed the back of Tate’s hand with her arm. She began fidgeting with her shoulder sling, then put her arm back down. This time when she brushed against his hand, Tate caught hers and held it. She didn’t pull away, and he didn’t want to let go.
* * *
Tate and Jake walked around the toy store playing with everything in sight while Isabelle had her hands full getting Tate to control his impulse buying. She took pictures with her phone as he and Jake played in the aisles and even sat down at some point and began playing a xylophone. Soon they made their way to the sports equipment area, and Tate ran the “ice cream” play with Jake. He obliged when Tate told him to go long, which in Jake’s case was a mere six inches, and successfully caught the ball. Jake then spiked the ball like Seth did when he scored a touchdown and did a little victory dance. Isabelle sent a few of the pics to Morgan and Seth. No way would Jake forget this day. By the time they made it to the register, Tate had racked up an outrageous bill.
As Tate paid for the toys, the cashier commented that their son was a handsome little boy. Isabelle and Tate locked eyes, each waiting for the other to correct the cashier. Tate finally managed a thank-you and proceeded to gather up all the bags. They loaded up the Range Rover, and she expected to go back to the penthouse, but from the voice directions of the GPS, they were headed to her Uncle Curtis’s house.
“I called Sydney this morning, and she said it was OK for us to stop by,” Tate answered her question before she could ask it. “Actually, she said I shouldn’t have asked to come by. I’m family and I don’t need to announce myself.”
“And she means it.” Isabelle watched the scenery out the window until she felt Tate’s eyes on her. “Is something wrong?”
“Why didn’t you come to Jake’s party?”
Isabelle sighed. “I was in the middle of divorce proceedings and too busy at home feeling sorry for myself. I woke up with raccoon eyes. I went to bed with raccoon eyes. I didn’t want to depress the whole state of Texas, but it sounds like I missed out on the party of a lifetime.”
“Don’t worry. The Blakes are known for grand affairs. Jake’s first birthday party was guaranteed to be an extravaganza, but I’m sure they’ll be another amazing party.”
“The Blakes like to have fun, huh?”
“We’re all about being with family. I know that sounds corny, but we enjoy each other’s company.”
“Not at all, I totally get what you mean. The Reeds are like that. Probably a little louder than your family, but we value moments when we can all be together. I’m an only child, but I never felt like it. I’ve always had tons of cousins.”
Before Isabelle knew it, they were in front of her uncle’s house and Tate was opening the car door for her.
Sydney practically flew off the front porch when she saw them. “How was the taping?”
“It went very well.” Tate kissed her on the cheek.
“Does it grate your nerves? Seth says sometimes interviews can be daunting.” Sydney ushered them into the house.
“I like morning show interviews. They’re usually light and fun. I didn’t sing because I didn’t have my band with me. I don’t perform without them.” Tate removed his hat.
“Tate, Curtis is out in the backyard. He decided to fire up the grill since you were coming over. He went out and got some steaks.”
“Jake, let’s go see what good grub your grandpa is cooking up.” Tate turned back to Sydney and smiled. “You have a lovely home, Sydney, thank you for inviting me.”
“You can squash the niceties, cowboy. We’re family. Anytime you’re in town I hope you know you don’t need an invitation.”
“Thank you.”
Tate was barely out of the room with Jake when Sydney turned her laser beam on Isabelle. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a cake in the kitchen. Want to help?”
“Sure.” Isabelle followed her into the kitchen.
“So, how did you like seeing Tate in action?” Sydney smiled.
“I was having a great time until Tate overheard me on the phone with Ned and assumed I was taking him back.” She tapped her fingers on the kitchen table.
“Tate likes you.” Sydney hit her with her hip.
“I don’t think so.” Isabelle shook her head.
“You two have…chemistry. I could see it when he opened the door for you. You were helping Jake, and he was smiling at you.”
“And you can tell all this because the man opened the car door for me?”
“When two people have great chemistry, it’s like an aura that surrounds them. You like him too. Admit it.”
“Well, yes, he’s attractive.”
Sydney looked at her.
“OK, he’s gorgeous and a nice guy. A complete contradiction of what I thought he’d be like.” Isabelle drew a deep breath. She hadn’t been able to tell anyone about the real attraction she felt toward the man who, before a week ago, was some random celebrity she’d fantasized about. Surely it was OK to tell Sydney.
“I let him touch my violin.” Isabelle sighed.
Sydney furrowed her eyebrows. “Hmmm…is that some new sexual lingo?”
Isabelle’s face burned with a blush. “No!”
Sydney shrugged. “I didn’t know.”
“I mean, I don’t let anyone touch my violin. He helped me with a problem I was having with one of my music students.”
“Still sounds sexual to me, but that’s good news!” Sydney beamed.
“Is it?”
“You’re divorced. What’s wrong with having some fun with a gorgeous man?”
“I feel like…I’m standing on the beach and Tate is a tidal wave come right at me.” Isabelle chewed on her lip.
“Not a bad way to drown, if you ask me.” Sydney winked at her while she spread icing on the cake.
Isabelle sank further into a chair. “Tell me about it.”
“Just stay open to the possibilities. OK?” Sydney rubbed her arms.
“I’ll try.”
“Feeling any better?”
“The pain comes and goes but I’m trudging along.” Isabelle accepted the glass of lemonade Sydney offered her.
�
��How’s the new apartment?”
“Cozy. But I miss my garden.” She closed her eyes.
“Honey, things will get better. Divorce turns your world upside down. Jared stayed with us for a while after his divorce. Once he cleared his head he found a nice apartment that was to the liking of his finicky architect tastes.” Sydney patted her hand.
“Well, it’s a good thing he had family close by.”
“Did you ever think about moving back to Philadelphia? I’m sure you could get a spot on the symphony orchestra here. You don’t have to be alone, you know. You’re related to half the city.”
“I have been thinking about a fresh start, but I don’t know. First I’ll have to see if I still have a career after the rehab.” Isabelle ran her hand along her cast.
“I’m sure your arm will heal fine.”
“But…what if it doesn’t?” Isabelle looked down at the floor.
“Isabelle, you are a talented person. I know that violin is an appendage to you, but I also know you possess other great qualities. If for some reason, you couldn’t play again the way you want, then it would be a good time to take a new direction in your life. Maybe with a new person too.”
“Sydney.” Isabelle cleared her throat.
“I’m just saying,” Sydney muttered and continued putting frosting on the cake.
* * *
Tate had to return a few business calls he’d been putting off, so Isabelle volunteered for bath duty with Jake. Isabelle and Jake had a great time leading a parade of rubber duckies around and had even managed to capsize a sailboat. By the time they’d finished playing, Jake had his favorite jammies on and was sleeping soundly before she’d finished reading him a book.
Isabelle changed her clothes and decided to get some fresh air on the terrace. It was a lovely spring evening. The weather had been waffling from hot to cold since she’d arrived in town, but today was a nice prelude to springtime. She didn’t see Tate in the living room or study, so she assumed he’d turned in early tonight.
She stepped out on the terrace with her violin and made sure the lock wasn’t on the door. She took her violin out of the case, walked to the railing, and looked out at the sparkling lights of the city.
“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” a voice came from the other side of the terrace.
Isabelle turned around to see Tate lying on a lounger, barefoot, with his guitar in his hand.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Looks like we had the same idea.” He held up his guitar.
She looked at the door. “Are we bad babysitters? What if we get locked out and Jake roams around the house alone and gets hurt?”
“Unless he opens the door with the lion behind it or wants to see Seth’s Heisman trophy on the top shelf in the war room, he’ll be fine.” Tate waved the baby monitor in his hand.
Isabelle gave him a skeptical look.
“I have the spare set of keys, which has the terrace door key on it in my pocket, the war room is locked, and I have Morgan’s high-powered listening device. It took her and my momma four months to find this thing. On that last dial you could probably talk to an astronaut in space. So there.” He stuck his tongue out at her.
“So this isn’t your first babysitting rodeo?” She grinned.
“No, ma’am. How long has it been?” He motioned to her violin.
“Too long.” She sighed.
Tate put his guitar down and came toward her. He faced her forward, gripped her hips, and pulled her body to him. He took the violin out of her hand, positioned it against her shoulder for her, and kept it there. Realizing what he was doing, she put her chin on the chinrest and raised her bow to the strings.
“You wouldn’t happen to know any classical music, would you?” she whispered.
“Let’s see, how about Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor, Op 64, movement two?”
Isabelle’s eyes widened at his choice. That was one of her favorite pieces. “Good choice.”
Isabelle glided her bow along the strings as Tate pressed his fingers to the fingerboard. They played together for a while, and she became so comfortable with the rhythm, she barely noticed his other hand splayed lightly on her waist. She leaned back against the defined muscles in his arms and chest, his breath soft on her ear. His mouth moved from the tip of her ear down to her neck. She let out a moan as he moved his hand from her hips, traveled up her stomach, and cupped her breast. She stilled his hand as he ran his thumb over her nipple. A small voice screamed through the pleasure that she could end up as another sexy footnote in his music catalog.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she whispered.
“Hell, it’s the best idea I’ve had all day.”
“You know anything about tidal waves?”
“You scared you’ll be swept away?” Tate chuckled against her ear.
“Yes.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
Isabelle let Tate continue to caress her, overriding that nagging voice, and gave in to him playing her just as he did her violin. His body was calling out to hers, and she had no power to resist it.
Tate let out a deep sigh. His intention really had been to help her play her violin. He could see how much she missed it. But as soon as they’d begun playing, the smooth striking motions she made with her bow got him hot and bothered. Back and forth, in a slow, smooth rhythm building up to a passionate musical haze. When he ran his thumb over her nipple, he felt her knees buckle and a low feral-like growl escaped her lips, but she didn’t stop playing. She was a consummate professional whose dedication to her craft was endearing, but there were more important things to do.
Tate removed the violin from her shoulder and the bow from her hand and carefully set it down in its case. Isabelle tried to turn to face him, but he kept her positioned with her back against his chest. He pulled her closer to him so she could feel the physical reaction she evoked in him. The feel of her firm bottom against him made him want to rush, but he knew he had to take his time with a woman like Isabelle. Cautious in every way imaginable, he knew he hadn’t gotten this far because of a whim. She wanted him now just as she’d wanted him in the library when he was about to kiss her and she freaked.
Tate pulled the spaghetti strap of her tank top with his teeth, thankful she didn’t have a bra on. He continued his sensuous massage of her naked breast while he moved his other hand between her legs. He played with her taut nipple, rolling it between his fingers. She fit perfectly in his hands, as though she were made just for him. When he kissed her neck again, she rubbed his face.
“Tate?” Isabelle moaned.
“Yes, Izzy?” he whispered.
“Should we be doing this?”
“Let’s save our regrets for tomorrow.”
Tate couldn’t see it, but he could feel her smile. He tugged at her jeans until they were in a puddle on the terrace floor in front of them. He slipped his hands inside her panties and began to caress her clit with his thumb, steadily increasing the movements. He could feel the coiled tension build up like a volcano ready to erupt until she couldn’t stand it anymore and climaxed. They stood there for a moment while Tate kept his fingers inside her, holding her close. Isabelle leaned her head back against his chest and sighed. The sound of thunder and a sprinkle of rain brought them out of their haze.
“You have the softest skin I’ve ever felt in my life.” He kissed her neck.
“It’s going to rain,” Isabelle murmured.
“It already did.” Tate held up his hand with evidence of her climax dripping from his fingers.
Isabelle swatted his hand away. “We’d better get inside.”
Tate turned her around and nipped at her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, and he dove in with his tongue. Their tongues met stroke for stroke as he pulled Isabelle against his erection. She reached down and caressed him through his jeans, then slowly pulled at the belt buckle and unzipped him. Tate caught his jeans as they fell onto the terrace floor and pulled
his wallet out to retrieve a condom. He slipped it on in record time. He gave a firm tug and Isabelle stepped out of her lace panties.
Isabelle grabbed hold of his neck, and Tate lifted her up as if she were light as a feather and brought her back down on him. They both let out a moan as their bodies connected. Just as he’d imagined, Isabelle fit like a glove over him. A thousand different emotions flooded through him as he began to rock into her, careful not to scrape her back again the railing. Another thunderclap rippled through the air, followed by a heavy downpour. Isabelle wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her hands through his hair.
“Izzy, you feel so good. Too good,” he said, his voice ragged.
Isabelle leaned her back over the railing as Tate trailed kisses from her neck down to her full breasts where he licked and teased. Isabelle leaned forward and kissed him too. She nibbled at his neck and his ears while they kept in time with the steady rhythm of his thrusts. The rain was now coming down hard, Tate’s T-shirt was soaked, and the bun on top of Izzy’s head was drooping backward. As the rain fell onto her skin, he sucked her nipple like a thirsty man in the dessert.
“Tate,” she whispered.
He looked up at her, and that’s when he knew that he’d been missing out on something in his life. Something wonderful. Something that had the potential to break his heart.
Tate picked up the tempo, and the rain continued. He gripped Isabelle’s waist when he felt that hard rush in his balls he knew he couldn’t control. Hell, he didn’t want to control it. He growled as he came, hoping he wasn’t holding her too tightly. She came with him, grasping onto his back and laying her head on his shoulders.
“I’ve got to get you inside,” Tate said when his voice had finally returned.
Isabelle gave him a loopy smile as he took her into the house and straight to his bed.
* * *
Isabelle woke up to find Tate curled around her, their legs entwined beneath the sheets. She looked at the clock; it was three in the morning. She should have taken her meds hours ago but grinned when she thought of the reason why she’d missed taking them. A certain smoking-hot country-western singer had been giving her a workout. She was sore as hell and would probably need to upgrade to a full-body cast in the morning, but it was totally worth it. They’d made love four times, and she still ached for him. Tate had stretched her to all her limits physically and emotionally. She’d never experienced sex in such a raw, carnal way before, and she had the bites to prove it. She tried to move, but Tate’s muscled arm, draped over her waist, prevented her from getting out of the bed.
Texas Heat Page 7