by Jill Shalvis
Just looking at the two of them together had Tara’s heart sighing. They were so meant for each other. That they were together was because Maddie had done what she’d just told Tara—she’d taken her now.
“We’re good,” Maddie told Jax. He smiled at her, stole a long swallow of her wine, sneaked another kiss, and ambled back to man his station at the barbecue. Maddie watched him go with a dreamy sigh on her lips. “I love his ass,” she said.
Tara laughed out loud, causing Jax to turn and eye them curiously. Maddie waved at him, and Tara murmured, “You’d better snag him up, Mad. Because a good ass is muy importante.”
Maddie grinned broadly as she blew Jax a kiss. “There’s other reasons I want to marry him too, you know.”
Tara lifted a brow. “Listen to you, saying the M word so freely now.”
“He’s the one,” Maddie said simply. “The only one.”
Tara nodded and sipped her wine, and envied the conviction that was all over Maddie’s face.
The next morning Ford took Mia out for a long sail. He’d discovered that his daughter liked early mornings, as he did, so they left just before the crack of dawn and caught the sunrise. He taught her how to motor away from the marina and then point the bow into the wind, how to work the mainsail with the halyard and crank it around the winch when she needed to, in order to get it hoisted. He had her unfurl and furl the jib and pull it out with the sheets, and now she stood in the cockpit, hands on the wheel, the sail billowing in front of her, the wind whipping her hair from her face, looking happy and carefree.
Just watching her reminded Ford of a young Tara and warmed a place inside him that he hadn’t even realized was cold.
She caught his eye. “What?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “I’m just sitting here thinking how glad I am that you came looking for answers.”
“I don’t have them all yet,” she said.
He loved her bluntness and hoped growing up didn’t beat that out of her. “All you have to do is ask.”
Mia steered into the wind like a pro, her face thoughtful. Then she suddenly ducked as they hit a swell. The spray hit Ford right in the face, making her laugh out loud, a beautiful sound.
“You’re a quick learner,” he said, swiping his face with his shirt. “Jax still can’t pull that off.”
She grinned with pride. “Tara said you were the best of the best.”
“She did?”
“Yeah.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “She likes you.”
Ford laughed, but Mia didn’t. She just looked at him earnestly. “I have a couple of questions now,” she said.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“The first one might seem intrusive.”
“Ask.”
“Do I have any genetic diseases to look forward to?”
“No. Well, unless you count orneriness,” he said. “My grandma’s ninety and ornery as hell.” He smiled thinking about her. He’d have to fly her up before the summer was over so she could meet Mia. “She’ll love you, though. What else?”
“Are you afraid of anything?”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s a typical boy answer. Everyone’s afraid of something. Spiders? Snakes? Heights?”
“Actually,” he said, “frogs.”
She stared at him. “Shut up.”
“No, it’s true, and it’s all Sawyer’s fault. We were ten. We’d told his dad we were staying at my place, and my grandma that we were staying at his, and then we went camping.”
“By yourselves?”
“Yeah. That night he loaded my sleeping bag with frogs. When I got in, they crawled all over me. Slimy suckers.” He shuddered. “To this day I can’t stand them.”
She was smiling, but then her smile faded, and she studied him in that careful way that she’d inherited from Tara. “Are you really not afraid of anything else?”
He felt his own amusement drain as well. She was being serious, and she deserved for him to be as well. “Actually, there is one thing.”
Her gaze searched his. “What?”
“I was afraid I’d never get to meet you.”
Her eyes shone brilliantly, those beautiful, heartbreaking eyes. “Lucky for you I found you then,” she whispered.
“Lucky for me,” he repeated softly.
Since Mia was scheduled to work at noon, eventually they headed back to the marina. Ford had her reverse their original process with the mainsail and jib, then motor back into the marina and dock. He stood over her as she tied up, but she had no problems, and pride burst from his chest. She was a natural.
Tara came out of the marina office, a few files in her hands. When she saw the two of them standing on the dock, she stopped short.
She looked tired and stressed, and Ford knew she had good reason. She’d been working at the inn and the diner, and working two jobs was stressful for anybody. And here he stood with Mia, the two of them clearly back from a sail, looking carefree, like they didn’t have a responsibility in the world.
For years, Ford had purposely cultivated that perception. After the way he’d grown up, he liked living low-key and easygoing. No stresses, no worries. He enjoyed not caring too much about anything. You could care about whatever you wanted: your family, your next meal, whatever, and it didn’t amount to squat if you didn’t have the means to obtain it.
He realized that having a daughter in his life should have been a threat to that lifestyle, or at the very least disturbed him. But it didn’t. And he also didn’t feel the same terror that he knew Tara felt about getting involved in Mia’s life. In fact, he relished it, because here was a kid who needed them. In return, he needed her, too.
They belonged to each other by blood. No one could take that away.
“Nice day for a sail,” Tara said.
Mia grinned as she hopped off the boat. “Yep. You two should go out.”
“Oh,” Tara said, backing up a step. “I can’t. We’re really busy, and—”
“Chloe and Maddie are at the inn, right?” Mia asked, giving Ford a sly look.
Oh shit, Ford thought, Look at her go.
“And I’m betting you already have dinner on,” Mia said to Tara. “Yeah?”
“Berry Sweet Turkey and Cranberry Quiche,” Tara admitted.
“See?” Mia nudged Tara toward the boat, giving Ford go-for-it eyes over Tara’s shoulder.
His daughter, the smart, beautiful master schemer.
“Everything’s handled,” she was saying to Tara, “so go, and I don’t want to see you back here for at least an hour, young lady. You hear me?”
Ford had to bite back his smile. Oh, yeah. They were being horribly manipulated by a girl half their age. “Come on,” he said to Tara, taking her hand. “Let’s do this. Let’s go for a quick sail.”
“But you just went.”
“I could go all day long. And besides, like Mia said, it’s perfect out there. An hour, Tara. Let’s take an hour.”
“I have things to do.”
“You always do.” He slowly but firmly reeled her in. “Chicken?” he asked softly, pressing his mouth to her ear.
“Of course not.”
“One hour,” he repeated, then propelled her on board with an arm around her waist.
Mia was beaming. “Gotta run,” she said and ran like hell up to the inn.
Tara craned her neck to watch her go. “That girl’s going to make a great lawyer.”
“No doubt.”
Tara turned back and met Ford’s gaze, hers troubled. “I’m worried that we’re leading her on, setting her up for disappointment.”
“You need to stop worrying about things you can’t control. In fact, stop thinking altogether. For the next hour, your only job is to live in the moment. In the moment of a gorgeous day and…” He smiled. “Not such bad company.”
She hesitated, and he gently tugged on a strand of her hair. “What’s the matter? Still don’t trust yourself with me?”
When she winced, telling him that was exactly what it was, he laughed. “An hour, Tara. That’s all. How much trouble can we get into in one hour?”
She gave him a look of blatant disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
Ford smiled the most innocent smile in his repertoire. She didn’t buy it, but she nodded. “Okay,” she said, poking him in the chest. “But no monkey business.”
“Define monkey business.”
“No nakedness.”
“Well, damn,” he said. “There goes the striptease I had planned.” He gestured for her to step ahead of him into the cockpit, but she hesitated and gave him a speculative once-over.
“Are you good at it?” she asked.
“Sailing?”
“No.” She laughed. A glorious sound. “Stripping.”
He felt his grin split his face. “Actually, I’m a master.”
She waggled a brow, and he laughed. “Tara Daniels, are you flirting with me?”
“No!” She turned and busied herself with the halyard. “Ignore me.”
“Now there’s one thing I’ve never mastered.”
Chapter 21
“You’ve grown up if you have learned to laugh—at yourself.”
TARA DANIELS
Ten minutes later, Ford had them flying across the swells. The sun was at their backs, the wind in their faces, and Tara couldn’t have held back her grin if she tried.
“Mmm,” Ford said. “Love that look on you.” He pulled her in between the steering wheel and his big body, easily holding her steady.
She cuddled up to him. “Okay, but remember, no monkey business,” she said. “Just sailing.”
“Just sailing.” His hands urged hers to the wheel, freeing his up to go to her hips as he rubbed his jaw to hers, then kissed her neck. “It’s good to see you smiling. And I’m seeing it more and more. I’m thinking Lucky Harbor agrees with you.”
Tara was afraid that was true.
“Admit it,” he said, running his hands up and down her body, just barely grazing the sides of her breasts.
She ached for more. “Admit what?” she asked faintly.
“That you’re right where you want to be.” He slowed them down and turned her to face him. “Here in Lucky Harbor.”
“I stayed because my sisters needed me,” she said. “The inn needed me.”
“Maybe, but we both know that neither of those things would have held you here in the past.”
Meaning, of course, that in the past, she’d considered only her own needs. Tara absorbed the truth of that for a moment and let out a breath. She could leave it or she could be honest. “I wanted to stay,” she admitted.
Ford pulled off her sunglasses. His eyes were intense, and she imagined hers were the same. “Why?” he asked.
Again she could leave it, or give him the truth. “Because my life had fallen apart, and I really had nothing to go back to.”
“And?”
“And…” Dammit. “Because I like being a part of a unit. I like being with my sisters, even when we fight.”
A very small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “And?”
She stared at him, feeling a little… exposed. “Isn’t this getting a little deep for you?”
“Deep?”
“Yes. Drawing me out, asking all of life’s burning questions. Not your usual M.O. when we’re alone like this.”
Ford looked into her face for what felt like a very long time, not saying anything. “I need you to do something for me,” he finally said.
She shook her head. “Oh, no. I already told you, no monkey business.”
She expected a smile at that, but instead there was a spark of very rare temper in his eyes. “Don’t paint all men with the same brush as your ex-husband or your father,” he said.
“They’re both good men,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but also by the very nature of their lives, selfish, even neglectful.”
“It was their jobs,” she said, defending them. “They both traveled and were gone all the time because of their jobs.”
“It’s about choices. I’m different, Tara. And you need to remember that. Maybe even take a chance on it sometime. A real chance.”
Her heart was suddenly in her throat. “We’ve tried that.”
“We should try again.”
Oh, God. She wanted to. “You wouldn’t know what hit you,” she whispered.
The corners of his mouth curved slightly. “I never do when it comes to you.”
“I need to be getting back.”
“It’s been fifteen minutes. You owe me forty-five more. I’d think after working as hard as you have, you’d enjoy this.”
She watched as he adjusted their direction slightly so they glided easily through the swells. “I’m used to hard work.”
“And not so used to fun,” he said.
“No.” Tara eyed the horizon, clear and wide open. Gorgeous. “But you’re right, I am enjoying this. It’ll fill my fun quota for the whole week.”
Ford slid an arm around her and pulled her in close, brushing his mouth to her temple. “I bet we could come up with something even better for you.”
“Like old times?”
“If you like.”
She tipped up her head and met his gaze, seeing both the heat and the teasing there, and felt her stomach quiver. “I’m not that same girl,” she warned him. “The one who used to live her days just to be with you and have fun every night.”
“I know. You grew up. Became a smart, amazing woman. But you’re still just going through the motions, not allowing for enough fun.”
“No monkey business,” she reminded him, her voice far too unsteady to convince herself, much less him, dammit.
Ford just smiled. “What if you’re the one to start it?”
“I won’t be,” she said with far more confidence than she felt.
He was still looking amused, and she couldn’t blame him. She had a history of being very weak where he was concerned. Very weak. And then there was watching him handle the boat, looking quite in charge and at ease as he did so. He stood legs apart, braced for the wind whipping at him. The sun gilded his tanned skin, reflected off his sunglasses. He wore a USA T-shirt and navy blue board shorts just past his knees, which clung to his every line and muscle as he moved with such innate grace that it was hard to believe that he was so big.
“Sheet it in?” he asked.
She was proud to be able to lean over and pull the sail in tight. She was halfway there when a swell hit and leveled her with a wall of water, leaving her dripping from hair to toes and gasping for breath.
Ford grinned. “You’re supposed to duck.”
Tara narrowed her eyes. “Do you have any idea how long it took me this morning to have a good hair day?” She squeezed the water from it, but it was too late. The frizzies were upon her, she could tell. “I mean you get to wash, shake, and go, and come out perfect while you’re at it. But look at me.”
They both looked at her. Her blouse was thin and wet, and working like a second skin now. Ford had been smiling during her little tirade, complete with hand waving. The corners of his mouth had twitched into the promise of an amused smile, but that was replaced by something darker and hungrier now as he set the controls and stalked toward her.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She backed up a step and pointed at him. “You stay right there. Or—”
Ford kept coming. “Or what?”
“Things’ll happen,” she said, slapping a hand to his chest. “Naked things. Really great naked things, but no.” She shook her head. Be strong. “I’ve gotten it out of my system, Ford. I mean it.”
He reached for her. She tried to step back but she had nowhere to go. “Okay, well, maybe not all the way out of my system,” she admitted, “But we have this little chemistry problem—it’s not anyone’s fault. We just have to stay strong. Ford!” she gasped when he caught her up against his warm, hard body.
His rich laugh washed over her
and felt like a touch, a kiss. “Stop,” she said weakly. “You’re getting me all worked up.”
He dipped his head and rubbed his jaw to hers. “I love it when you get all worked up. Your eyes flash, and you say what you’re really thinking.”
“You’re all wet now. You realize that?”
“Mmm, I think that’s you.” He rocked his body to hers. “Tell me just how wet you are. Slowly. In great detail.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Incorrigible, too,” he said. “And like you said, wet. Maybe I should strip.”
Oh, yes. “No!” But she slid her arms around his neck. “What is it with you and stripping?” She snuggled into him. Lord, she was so damn weak. “How much time is left?”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “Thirty minutes.”
She blew out a breath. “Probably I only need ten to fifteen.”
He was still grinning. “Is this you starting it?”
She looked into his eyes. God, she missed this. The fun. The teasing. The laughing. Talking…
Him. “If I say yes, are you going to hold it against me?”
“Yes,” Ford assured her. “I’m going to hold it against you for every single one of those minutes we have left.” He dropped anchor and pulled her below deck, nudging her along toward his bed.
As if Tara needed nudging. She was practically running. She hit the mattress and rolled to her back, watching as Ford slowly peeled his wet shirt over his head. He untied his board shorts and let them slide off his hips to join the shirt on the floor.
She heard herself moan as she took him in, one glorious inch at a time, and there were a lot of glorious inches.
“I love your uptight, prissy clothes.” That said, he stripped her right out of them until she was in just her peach lace bikini panties. He dropped to his knees beside the mattress and shot her a bad-boy smile. He gripped her ankles in each hand and leaned in to kiss her calf before slowly working his way up.
She was writhing by the time he got to her inner thighs.
He hooked his thumbs in the lace at her hips and slid it down her legs, stroking a thumb over what he’d revealed. “Pretty,” he said silkily, then lowered his head and worked his usual magic. And, as it turned out, she didn’t need fifteen minutes. She only needed five.