Back to Before

by Tracy Solheim

  “What are you doing?” Miles asked, reaching for the tray.

  “I’m entertaining my guests.”

  He flinched at her unintentional double entendre and she nearly laughed at his frustration. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek. The skin underneath her palm was no longer smooth and satiny as it had been when he was a little boy. Instead, his firm jaw was rough with late-day stubble. “Have I told you how proud of you I am? You’re going to make a wonderful congressman. I love how you continue to protect me so fiercely. Just like your father always did.” She swallowed painfully. “It means a lot to know that you’ll always have my back. But this is my decision. Lamar is going to be in my life. Just as you always will be. Our family is growing and changing. There’s enough room at the table for both of you.”

  Shiny blue eyes—so much like his father’s—that she’d adored for thirty-three years stared back at her. She watched as he swallowed back whatever it was he was going to say. He nodded silently, taking the tray from her hands.

  “I meant where the hell is Lori? Why isn’t she helping you with this?”

  One battle at a time.

  “She’s not here,” she said, picking up a pile of cocktail napkins.

  “‘Not here’ as in she disappeared?” He swore under his breath. “I told you she was trouble and unreliable.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “‘Not here’ as in she has the night off.”

  “Are you kidding? Aside from Will Connelly’s wedding, this is the biggest social event you’ve ever hosted at the inn. She can’t take tonight off. You need her help.”

  “Who do you think prepared all this delicious food? Lori worked all day in this kitchen. She’s not my slave, Miles. I can certainly put out a tray and wash some dishes. But if you’re so worried about it, meet me in the kitchen after everyone’s gone upstairs. I’ll have plenty of work for you to do then.”

  With that, she left him in the butler’s pantry, his mouth open wide, as she joined her guests in the parlor.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ginger sidled up next to Diesel, trying to convey moral support as Marvin Goldman sucked all the air out of the inn’s parlor. Diesel’s father was holding court with a glass of scotch in one hand and his other hand clapping the show’s director, Bucky, on the back. The remainder of the crew sat in feigned awe, knowing that they were at the mercy of this man’s largesse for their next jobs. Unfortunately, so were she and Diesel.

  The news that Diesel was the network president’s son hadn’t been a surprise to either the crew or the townspeople. Despite the respect he’d earned these past several months, it seemed most supposed he was too young to be tasked with such responsibility without having some pedigree. Their perception angered Ginger. But she had no one to blame for this evening except herself.

  With a shoulder propped up against the fireplace mantel, Diesel watched as his father did his best to ignore him. The network’s private jet had touched down at the Chances Inlet airstrip nearly two hours ago and Marvin had been schmoozing with the crew and assorted hotshots from town. Yet he hadn’t said one word to his son. The pain in Diesel’s eyes was almost unbearable for Ginger.

  “Diesel, I’m—”

  “Don’t.” He tried to soften his terse tone by lacing his fingers through hers. She gave his hand a squeeze and he lifted their intertwined fingers to his lips. “This isn’t your fault.”

  At his actions, the tension that had been coiled inside her began to ease a bit. Diesel chuckled, nuzzling her hand again. She followed his eyes across the room to where Gavin stood. Dressed in one of his killer tailored suits that never failed to make Ginger’s stomach flutter, he was pinned into a corner by a meddling Bernice, who was talking Marissa Ryder’s ear off. The office manager had been trying to pair the two up since the soap star had crossed the threshold of the inn. As predicted, Marissa spent the entire time undressing Gavin with her eyes, not that Ginger could blame her. But Gavin wasn’t paying attention; instead he was staring down Diesel.

  “Stop it,” she hissed, trying to pull her hand out of Diesel’s as a thrill of satisfaction swelled in her chest seeing that Gavin had eyes only for her.

  “No way. This is the most fun I’ve had all night. Watch the steam come out of his ears when I do it again.”

  Ginger struggled to free her fingers while quickly glancing around the room to see whether anyone was paying attention to them. If Diesel knew about their relationship, who else knew? Not that it really mattered any longer. She was leaving town in two days. Her stomach clenched back into a knot at the thought. She turned to find Diesel’s eyes fixed on her, their expression no longer amused, but cautious.

  “If he’s your backup plan, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Backup plan?” Ginger asked.

  Diesel squeezed his eyes shut before opening them wide again. “Yes, Ginger. This is my father we’re dealing with. We both need a backup plan. If the hottie contractor is your backup plan, I hope you’ve thought it through. That’s all.”

  She hadn’t thought it through. She hadn’t thought anything through. Her plan had always been to return to New York triumphant, a choreographer on a national television reality show. Staying in Chances Inlet had never been on her radar. Nor had staying with Gavin.

  And that is a big, fat lie, her subconscious screamed.

  She admitted to herself that their relationship had become more than just sex for her. Sure, his talented mouth and steady hands had a lot going for them in the bedroom, but Gavin was charming, good-natured and loyal, too. He’d sacrificed so much of his life for others—not all of them family. She tried to deny the ache in her chest whenever she thought of him no longer being in her bed and her life, but it was no use. Leaving him would hurt. But they’d both known there was a time limit on their relationship, and the least Ginger could do was to bow out gracefully.

  The little town with its nosy inhabitants had grown on her, too. She enjoyed teaching dance more than she ever thought she would. Perhaps it was because the studio lacked the high-intensity competitiveness of her mother’s dance company. She wasn’t sure. But she did know that leaving with Diesel in two days would be harder than she’d thought eighty-something days ago.

  “Do you have a backup plan, Diesel?” she whispered.

  He heaved a sigh. “My life is my backup plan.”

  She nodded, acknowledging that they both weren’t living their dreams. “How about second chances? Do you believe in them?”

  “You’ve been in this town too long.” He chuckled. “But, yeah, I think we’ll get our second chance.” Gently squeezing her shoulder, he kissed her cheek. “Let’s just hope it’s the one we’re wishing for.”

  * * *

  Making his way out onto the veranda, Gavin sucked in a lungful of fresh air. The perfume Savannah or Marissa or whatever-her-name-was wore was so cloying it would require a hazmat suit just to have dinner with her. Unfortunately, she’d fallen right into Bernice’s evil plan and had been hard to shake for most of the party.

  “Gaak! If that’s her signature scent I’d hate to see what she smells like before she takes a shower,” he said to Midas, who was stretched out in slumber on the porch. He reached down to see whether the dog was still breathing and Midas licked his palm. “Hey, just making sure she didn’t kill you with that swill.”

  “That ‘swill’ sells for eighty dollars a bottle.”

  His pants tightened against his fly at the sound of Ginger’s voice.

  He turned to find her standing in the shadows, the climbing hydrangea behind her weaving a halo around her shiny blond hair. Tonight, she’d dressed for the occasion, forgoing her bright colors for a simple sheath dress in deep plum. If she’d been going for subdued, she’d failed miserably because the color enhanced the green of her unique eyes while giving her skin an effervescent glow in the dusky evening light.

  “Like my father always said, there’s no accounting for taste.” He strolled along the veranda, stopping just fa
r enough away from her to maintain propriety. Leaning against the railing, he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and playing with the strand of hair that curved over her shoulder. “You’ve made yourself scarce this evening.”

  She trailed her fingers over the top of the glider he’d salvaged from the garden house and repaired. “I’ve been helping your mother out in the kitchen.”

  “More like hiding from your supposed friend.” It would be just like Ginger to let the soap actress have the limelight. Too bad what’s-her-name paled in comparison every time Ginger entered the room. “But don’t worry. Bernice and the mayor have been filling her in on how indispensible you’ve become to this town.”

  Sighing, she glanced out over the lawn. “I just want this night to be over.”

  “I hope you meant to say the party, because I had big plans for your body later on and my ego is cringing right now.”

  A gorgeous blush spread over her cheeks. “You know what I meant.”

  The sultry tone of her voice had his pants growing even tighter. She wasn’t the only one who couldn’t wait for this get-together to end. He shifted along the railing. “That dress is amazing, but I can’t wait to peel it off of you.”

  “Gavin!” She gnawed on her lower lip as she quickly glanced through the windows into the parlor.

  “No one is paying attention to us. And it wouldn’t matter anymore if they were.”

  He watched as she pulled in a deep breath, her breasts rising. Suddenly, waiting a few more hours until the inn had quieted down seemed like an eternity. Gavin wanted her naked and spread out beneath him now.

  “Come with me to the garden house, Ginger.”

  Her eyes grew wide and glassy. Gavin watched triumphantly as her nipples hardened beneath the tight silk of her dress. She licked her lips and he knew she was contemplating his suggestion. Even if he had no idea about whether or not her heart was engaged in this relationship, he knew she liked sex with him. A lot. He also knew she was game for just about anything. And he could work with that.

  “So this is where you got to.” Marissa-Savannah-what’s-her-name’s voice was like fingers on a blackboard.

  Ginger started before she wrapped her arms around her chest. Gavin slid the glider in front of his fly.

  “That girl who’s trying to look Goth and failing miserably at it is taking pictures in there for the show’s Facebook page. I’ve been recruited to drag in the handsome contractor for some shots.” She trained her eyes on Ginger. “Ginger, sweetie, we haven’t had a minute to talk yet tonight. And you wore your Michael Kors. You know I always love that dress on you. Isn’t it convenient that no one has seen you wear it several times before like I have.”

  Ginger’s smile was pinched, but her chin edged up a bit. He didn’t understand women’s obsession with clothes, but he knew enough to know that what’s-her-name’s words were meant to wound. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  “So, the lady with the unfortunate blue hair was telling me that you’ve become quite the busy bee in this quaint little town. And you’re dancing again?”

  “No.” The word was flat as it rolled off Ginger’s tongue. “I’m just teaching some beginners.”

  “Ohh, that’s too bad. I was so hoping to see you dance at Lincoln Center at least once. I mean, it was your dream, wasn’t it?”

  Gavin doubted the little bitch cared whether Ginger ever skipped rope again, much less had the lead role in a ballet. He stepped between the two women in hopes of putting an end to the soap star’s tormenting, but Cassidy poked her head out of the door, beating him to the punch.

  “Hey, Gavin and Savannah, I need y’all for some pictures. Oh, and Gidget, Mr. Goldman was wondering if there were any more cupcakes. You aren’t hoarding them out here, are you?”

  “Hoarding cupcakes, Ginger? Tsk. Tsk. No wonder that dress doesn’t fit you like it used to.” Marissa-Savannah-what’s-her-name linked her arm through his, her fingers forming a death grip on his sleeve. “I think you and I should go inside and have some pictures taken. My fans will appreciate your gorgeous smile staring back at them from my Facebook page.”

  She tugged him toward the parlor. He looked back over his shoulder to see Ginger feigning sticking a finger down her throat before she followed behind them. Miles stood inside the door; unfortunately for him, he was right in the soap star’s line of fire.

  “Oh, aren’t I lucky,” she cooed as she sandwiched herself between Gavin and his brother. “I get my picture taken with the hottest guys in town.” A mild look of revulsion skittered over Miles’ face before he pasted on his politician’s smile.

  Cassidy laughed as she snapped a few pictures with her phone. “Morgan is not going to be happy with you guys monopolizing his favorite star.”

  “Ginger, isn’t it?” Gavin heard Marvin Goldman ask as the man plucked a mini-cupcake off the tray Ginger was now holding. “You’re Elliot’s friend from Juilliard.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ginger wore a benign smile.

  “You’d think you’d learn not to associate with the boy after he ruined your life like he did,” Goldman said as he peeled the wrapper off. “But then, he never bothered with women who were that smart.”

  Ginger flinched at his words and Gavin started to make a move toward Goldman, but his chest collided with Miles’ shoulder instead.

  “Don’t even think about it, dumbass,” his brother snarled in his ear. Gavin pushed away from Miles, but his brother moved more quickly to Ginger’s side.

  “These cupcakes are delicious,” Goldman mumbled around the food in his mouth. “I used to get ones just like this from a little bakery on the Upper West Side. Their lemon curd cakes tasted exactly like these. Did Mrs. McAlister bake them?”

  “No.” Miles saved Ginger from answering. “My mother’s assistant—”

  “Ordered them from a bakery in Manhattan,” Ginger quickly interjected. “I don’t know the name, but it’s somewhere near Lex and Fifty-seventh.”

  Miles bristled at the obvious lie. Gavin watched his face as his brother the Boy Scout warred with whether or not to refute her and tell the truth. But in the end he remained silent.

  Ginger kept her own face placid as Goldman eyed her shrewdly.

  “I’d like the name of this bakery.”

  She nodded. “I’ll e-mail it to your secretary.”

  With one last hard look, he ambled off toward the music room. Ginger wisely headed in the opposite direction, avoiding both Goldman and Miles.

  “Don’t eat all those by yourself, Ginger. You want to be able to wear that dress again, I’m sure.” The actress’ words made Gavin’s fists clench, but this time he didn’t need his brother to remind him that he was in his mother’s inn. Instead, he gave what’s-her-name a brief smile and excused himself to walk Midas home. With any luck, the party would break up soon and he’d be in Ginger’s bed within the hour.

  * * *

  Ginger lay sprawled across the big bed in her suite, her naked body feeling strung out and relaxed as she watched Gavin pull his clothes back on. Not bothering to hide her stare, she memorized the hard muscled body with her eyes just as she’d done with her hands for the past hour. They had only a few more nights together and Ginger wanted to imprint everything about this man on her brain.

  “See something you like?” He blinded her with that grin of his. If she were wearing panties right now, they would have already evaporated.

  “Mmm.” She stretched on the bed. Her movement had the desired effect judging by his pants. “I see lots of things I like.”

  Gavin pulled the comforter over her, dragging his fingers along her exposed leg. “Stop tempting me, woman. It’s nearly midnight.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  His eyes softened as he draped his tie around his neck. “We both have a long day tomorrow. I’d be a jerk if I kept you up all night. Besides, Miles is camping out at my place.”

  “Is Miles afraid of the dark or something?”


  Laughing, he flopped down next to her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Her heart swelled and contracted again as she thought about leaving this man in a few days. Everything about him was so perfect. She traced a finger along his jaw. “You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”

  “Your peeping is what has me back in this bed.” Seductively, he pulled the tie from around his neck. Ginger’s heart began a crazy beat and her mouth went dry. His ragged breath brushed her face as he draped the tie over her eyes. “Maybe I should make sure you can’t look.” The words were hoarse with desire, the force of it making her legs squeeze together.

  “Go ahead,” she dared him, her body now flushed and quivering. Peeking out from beneath the tie, she watched his nostrils flare and his eyes slam shut.

  “Ah, what the hell,” he said before his mouth captured hers in a kiss that was raw and hot. Her legs kicked off the comforter and she buried her fingers in his thick hair. One of them moaned inside their fused lips; she wasn’t sure whether it was him or her.

  “Ginger?”

  Someone was knocking on her door. Someone who sounded a lot like Marissa.

  “Ginger, I know you’re up. Your light is on.”

  “Shit!” Gavin whispered before his feet slid into his shoes on the floor. He hurried toward the side panel leading down to the unused servants’ stairs he’d thankfully unblocked after a week of sneaking into her room.

  “Um, I’ll be right there.” Ginger threw on her robe and pulled it tight. Grinning like a swashbuckling fool, Gavin pulled her in for a kiss before heading down the dark stairwell.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered.

  “Ginger?” At this rate, Marissa was going to wake up the entire inn.

  She crossed into the sitting room and cracked open the door. The last thing she wanted tonight was more face time with Marissa. Unfortunately, her former costar had other ideas. She pushed the door open and sauntered into the suite. The actress didn’t seem to care about her public persona this late; she was dressed in flannel sleep pants and a tight cami stretched over her man-made breasts. With her blond hair in two braids and her face scrubbed of makeup, she looked like she’d just stepped in from the sorority house.