Because that would be idiotic.
She blew out a quiet breath. Idiotic was precisely how she’d been acting since he’d come to town. The man pushed buttons she hadn’t even known she had, and she, a woman who would ordinarily take the time to think things through if anyone else tried that, turned into a damn reactionary with him.
Every. Single. Time.
Just look at what she had done to Axel. She’d been gently turning him away for years, but a couple of stupid kisses from Luc, and she had not only used a really decent guy but had hurt him, as well.
“So,” Peyton said casually, “can I ask you something?”
Please do. Anything to get her mind off this crap. She looked up from scraping half the sliced peppers into a glass container. “Sure.”
“How do you know when a guy likes you?”
Oh, God. Tiffany had recently clued her in to the fact that her teen employees thought she was cool. The poor deluded fools actually believed she had her shit together.
How sad was it that a month ago she would have agreed with them?
But now Peyton was looking to her for sage advice? On romance?
Oh, yeah, baby—I’m your girl. Because just look how well I’ve handled my own love life.
As she snapped the locking lid over the superfluous peppers, she had an almost-uncontrollable urge to yell, “Run! Run like the wind!” Or at least tell Peyton to go talk to Jenny. Or Harper. Now, there were a couple of women who had successful relationships.
But Peyton had asked her. And now that she thought about it, perhaps just a little too casually. The girl had come a long way since Tasha’s first impression of her. When Peyton wasn’t fiercely hiding her problems behind a snooty-girl facade, she was chatty and pretty darn sweet. And Tash didn’t have a clue how to answer her question.
So she told the truth.
“You’re asking the wrong person, kiddo.” She set the onion container atop the one with the peppers and scraped the remainder into one of the stainless pots she used for the daily pizzas. “I’m the woman who, the only time I truly took a chance and opened myself up to a man—trusting him with everything I had—ended up embroiled in a disaster that included being slapped in cuffs and thrown in a Bahamian jail.”
For a second the emotions of that night roiled in her stomach. But shaking it off as best she could, she looked Peyton in the eye. “This is what I think it should be like, though—if he opens up to you, especially with personal details you’ve never heard him mention to anyone else, he probably likes you. If you can make him laugh when he’s generally a pretty grave guy, and he seems to want to spend time with you, the same thing applies. And if you’re talking about Jeremy, Peyton, and he looks at you the way I’ve seen him look... Well, I think it’s pretty clear he’s sweet on you already. So if you like him, too, then just be yourself with him. Treat him nice and be honest and you should have a good shot at building a real relationship with him.”
Peyton studied her. “You’re really big on honesty, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And the Bahamian-jail thing? I don’t suppose you’d care to expand on that a little?”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
Peyton grinned. “Okay. But he really looks at me like he likes me?”
“He does.” And she smiled gently because she remembered what it had felt like to discover the thrill of conquest with someone you were really, really attracted to. Unfortunately, since she hadn’t had the time or social standing in high school for the usual crushes and experimentations, those feelings had been primarily with Luc. Before him, she’d had a couple of sexual encounters, but even with the boy she had given her virginity to she’d never felt a comparable rush of excitement and sheer joy.
So regardless that her heart had been dashed on the rocks of That Night, leaving her perhaps a little bit emotionally stunted, she still envied Peyton that everything-is-brand-new-and-glorious feeling. And she hoped like hell that it all worked out for her and Jeremy—for however long it lasted.
* * *
LATER THAT EVENING, she sat in Jenny’s living room with her bestie. “You’ll be happy to know,” she said over tea and cookies, “that I’ve given up my plan to give Luc a taste of his own medicine. You were right. It was a stupid scheme.”
“I don’t believe the word stupid ever crossed my lips,” Jenny said mildly.
“Still, you probably thought it, and rightfully so. It was a butt-brainless idea, but, dammit, Luc’s to blame for the fact that I even came up with it.” She grimaced. “Okay, saying that out loud makes me sound even dumber yet. I have free will. I’m in charge of my own destiny.”
“You are woman,” Jenny inserted dryly. “I know this because I’ve heard you roar.”
“Mock me all you want, but, man, he brings out the worst in me.” She filled Jenny in on her date with Axel. “I feel like crap over the way I used him.”
“I agree it wasn’t your finest hour, but you wanna know what I think you should do to take your mind off it?”
She hitched a shoulder. “Absolutely. It’s gotta be better than anything I’ve come up with.”
“I think you should have head-banging sex with Luc.”
Yes! Yes! her body enthusiastically agreed, but her brain apparently wasn’t as totally fried as she’d feared, because that had her gaping at her best friend. Tightening her jaw enough to keep from looking like the village idiot, she said sarcastically, “Annnnd I was wrong—it’s pretty much on a par with what I can come up with. For God’s sake,” she snapped. “Did you trip and hit your head?”
“No. Think about it, Tash. You’ve tried avoiding him, right?”
She nodded. “For all the good it’s done me when he’s related to Jake and Max and lives in my own building. But I am trying not to think about him on those rare occasions when I’m not forced to be in his company.”
“And how’s that working for you?”
She grimaced. “Not great.”
“Look, sweetie, you’ve been stuck for years—ever since your trip to the Bahamas, in fact—and it’s past time you moved forward. The chemistry between you and Luc is off the charts—just ask anyone with eyes in their head. I’ve watched him pursue and you evade since he came to town, and I gotta tell you, girl, your avoidance doesn’t appear to be making you happy. Instead of being your usual positive, goal-oriented self, you’ve been jumpy and cranky. And you said it yourself—your way of handling things isn’t working all that well. Plus, how many times have I heard you complain that you’re not getting any? So why not go for it with him? Screw the guy’s brains out until you get him out of your system. At least you know he’s good at it.”
Oh. He is. Or at least he had been.
But that was not a direction in which she cared to have her mind wander, and she gave her head a little shake to cut loose the images that had started flashing across her mental screens. “Let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You’re advocating that I dance with the devil?”
“Hell, yes, if it brings back the Tash I know and love.”
She was tempted; she couldn’t deny it. But the ugly truth was that, even knowing he was no good for her, it had taken only a couple of his kisses for her to start rationalizing à la Nola Riordan. And going to Stupidville for some man was simply not a trip she was willing to take.
Irritated that she had to spell that out to a woman who had been her best friend since she was sixteen years old, she rose to her feet and looked down at Jenny. “Yes, well, that’s not gonna happen. I opened myself up to Luc Bradshaw once, and look where it got me. You’re right. I was a wreck for a good long time. So you’re crazy if you think I’m ever going to let him get close enough to wreck me again.”
Then, unsure what to do with the feelings of betrayal that churned her stomach acids, she turned and strode out of Jenny’s house.
* * *
JENNY BANGED THROUGH the front door of the Sand Dollar across the parking lot from her place a
nd called Jake’s name. Without waiting for him to answer, since she knew damn well he was packing for a six-day National Explorer photo shoot in the Ozarks, she raced up the stairs to the second floor.
“Up here,” he called superfluously since the words were barely spoken when she barged into his bedroom.
She hung on the doorjamb to catch her breath. Then she stated categorically, “You and I are going to get Luc and Tasha together.”
“What?” Jake paused in his packing to stare at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then his green eyes narrowed and his face went all stern. He glanced away to set a short stack of silk T-shirts in his suitcase, then straightened and gave her his undivided attention. “There is no way in hell we’re getting involved in their love lives.”
“Really,” she said. “You’re dictating what I can do now?”
He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Blew out a gusty breath. And shook his head. “Shit. You’re going to dig your heels in on this, aren’t you?”
“Well, I could certainly use some help at the inn. You know Oktoberfest is about to start.” She nodded. “Yep. I really should call Luc and Tasha.”
“Yes, I’m sure she in particular would be thrilled to help you,” he said neutrally. “Because it’s not like she’s busy running her own business or anything.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders slumped. “There is that. Business is really picking up for her this year. She hasn’t had nearly the post–Labor Day drop she had the first two years.” She shook her head. “Damn. I can’t ask her.”
“Hey, look on the bright side. This way she won’t be taking Harper’s job away from her.”
“Yes, that’s very helpful,” she said flatly. “Thank you.” She knew she sounded more sullen than Austin when they told him he couldn’t play “Halo” until his homework was done, but she was embarrassed that, in the heat of the moment, it hadn’t even occurred to her that she’d already hired Harper to handle Oktoberfest, since the girl could plan events better than anyone.
If she sounded stiff and insincere, however, she did mean every word when she added, “You have to agree, though, that Tash needs to hire more help. Even with Jeremy there shouldering part of the burden, she still hasn’t taken an entire day off since Memorial Day weekend.”
“I know, sweetheart. And, between months of nonstop work and Luc being in town, I’m sure the stress is getting to her.” He picked her up, flopped down on the chair in his room and rearranged her across his lap. “But underhanded matchmaking isn’t like you. You and Tash have one of the closest friendships I’ve ever seen, and the thing I admire most about it is your honesty with each other.”
The truth of that struck to the marrow of her bones, and for an instant she could only stare at him. Then she blew out a long breath. “Dammit, Jake, I hate it when I’m wrong.”
“Excuse me?” He stuck the tip of his little finger in his ear and wiggled it. Pulling it out, he examined its clean tip. “I could have sworn you said you were wrong. But that can’t possibly be right.”
“You’re such a funny guy.” She laid her head on his chest and blew out a sigh. “I just want her to be as happy as I am, you know?”
“I do.” He stroked her hair. “But you have to let her arrive at her relationship decisions on her own timetable.” He pulled in his chin to look down at her, his eyes somber. “Has she ever told you the details of those days she spent in jail?”
“No. Not really, and I never pushed for them because it was clear she’d been traumatized.”
“Luc’s showing up here in town has probably brought everything she’s buried to the surface.”
She felt slightly sick to her stomach. “And I’m not helping by trying to push her into bed with him.”
“No, you’re not.” There was no judgment in his voice, however, and he tipped his head to slide her a crooked smile. “But scheming to get her together with Luc wouldn’t have flown even if they were a match made in heaven like you and me.” He hooked a strand of her hair that had slipped forward behind her ear. “Think about how you would have felt if she’d tried to trick you into your relationship with me before we were ready to go there.”
“I would have nailed her hide to the wall.” She exhaled. “Annnd she’s every bit as independent as I am. So I admit it, I miscalculated. Took a misstep. Still, I’ll tell you what, smart guy. If I ruled the world, things would be one hell of a lot more efficiently run.”
“Yes, they would,” he agreed. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
* * *
TASHA STEAMED DURING her march back to town. Luckily, she could maneuver the boardwalk blindfolded, because it was almost that dark out here tonight, low clouds obscuring the moon and a fine mist beginning to fall.
When she arrived at the pizzeria, she simply could not force herself to go upstairs. Not when she knew she’d only stew. Sure, she’d likely continue to do that anyway, but at least she could do so outside, where no walls hemmed her in. She crossed Harbor Street to the marina. When in doubt, hang out on the water and look at the boats, she always said. Well, okay, she’d never actually said that. Didn’t mean it wasn’t still a decent philosophy.
The floating dock off the main walkway rocked beneath her feet as she picked her way along its boards, the boats secured to it rising slightly with the gentle swell, then settling back down. Rising and settling.
She couldn’t freaking believe Jenny. Had she involved herself in Jenny and Jake’s relationship? She had not. So, what the hell was her so-called best friend doing trying to talk her into a sexual relationship that she didn’t have the least desire to—
“You’re really big on honesty, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
She stopped dead next to the stern of a huge wooden cabin cruiser. The name Summer Samba shone in the misty light of an overhead lamp, and she vaguely noted that it was out of Bellingham. “Crap,” she whispered. “Crap, crap, crap!”
She wasn’t mad at Jenny because her friend had interfered. She was mad at her because she had been tempted almost beyond enduring to do exactly what Jenny had suggested.
She hadn’t, though. She had hung in there.
And she admitted that she was pissed at Jenny for that, as well.
She firmly believed what she’d told Peyton. She did think honesty was the most important element you could bring to a relationship. Being truthful, even when she’d known lying would ease her way in many situations, had been the cornerstone that she’d built her life view on. Too many people lied. God knew they had about her mother. And about her as well, plus so many other things both large and small. People lied all the time.
But she didn’t.
Or she hadn’t. But from the moment she’d first seen Luc sitting at Max’s table, she’d been lying her fool head off. About the way she felt whenever he was around. About the want that was a banked fire in the pit of her stomach. And she knew what she had to do to rectify it.
She turned and picked her way along the floats back to the street.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LUC PACED AROUND the studio for a good forty-five minutes before finally plopping down on the couch. Swinging his feet up onto the coffee table, he stared at the dark mist pressing against the slider. It was rare for him to be bored. And maybe boredom wasn’t the precise emotion he felt at this moment, but he couldn’t say exactly what was. He was simultaneously enervated and restless—even as a part of him felt drained, he found it an effort to sit still.
Neither of the disparate conditions was enough to make him turn on the TV or go in search of one of his half brothers. Reaching for the book he’d tossed aside earlier, he hoped giving it another try would engage his attention better than it had before he’d impatiently abandoned it the first time around.
When a knock abruptly sounded on his front door, however, he tossed the paperback down on the coffee table without a second thought. Welcoming the distraction, he dropped his feet to the floor, climbed off the sof
a and strode over to answer the summons.
Tasha stood on the other side of the door and pushed past him into the studio the moment he opened it. Her skin was dewy, and her orangey-red hair curled even more wildly than usual. Luc’s weariness and minor dissatisfaction disappeared. He closed the door behind her.
“You got anything to drink?” she demanded, making herself at home on the wicker chair that faced the couch. “I have all kinds of wine in the restaurant, but of course I didn’t think about grabbing any until I got up here—and I don’t feel like going back down.”
“I have a beer or two in the fridge.”
“Nothing stronger?” She shot him a disgruntled Well, you’re useless look. “I could really use something with a little more kick. Jet fuel is sounding good about now.”
“All right, hang on. For you, I’ll break out my special stock.” He turned and went down to the kitchen end of the studio, where he retrieved a mostly full bottle of Buffalo Trace Straight Kentucky Bourbon from the top shelf of the little cupboard he mostly used to store his coffee paraphernalia and mugs. Snagging two smallish glasses that were short on fancy but would do the trick, he assembled them on the tray that had come with the studio—which was a damn good thing since he would never have thought to buy one. Adding the pint, he picked up the tray and carried it to the living area.
Tasha sat restlessly tapping a foot, but she stilled when she saw him. “Oh, good,” she said and gave the little coffee table between her and the couch a pat.
“I don’t have any kind of mixer.” He set the tray where she indicated. “But if you want water—”
“Straight is good.”
He wondered what was going on with her, but merely opened the bottle and poured a tot into each glass.
She twirled her hand in a keep going gesture, and he obliged her with a couple more fingers of the fine whiskey. After returning the bottle to the tray, he passed her the fuller glass. “Mind telling me what’s got you chasing the hard stuff?”
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