It was him.
Tanned, tall, beautiful Ford. Snowflakes in his hair, his holdall slung over his shoulder.
He approached the reception desk without looking directly at her, his eyes scanning the room. Ever the hotel manager, Ruby’s eyes followed his anxiously, hoping that everything in the former coaching inn met his approval. The building’s mellow stone walls and deep mullioned windows framed the tasteful reception room, a huge stone fireplace its glowing, warm centerpiece. Butter-soft leather couches invited weary guests to relax alongside the glittering Christmas tree, understated luxury that rightly allowed the architecture to be the star of the show.
Proud as Ruby was, she was well aware that it was a far cry from Ford’s beachfront Barbadian property. “Elegantly ramshackle” had been the phrase used by a prominent newspaper reviewer, and it was a term that seemed apt.
Ruby held her breath as Ford approached the desk. He dropped his bag at his feet, and it felt like at least three hours before he slowly lifted his head and finally looked at her.
It was almost comical.
His expression cycled from politely bland, through disconcerted, to shocked disbelief to genuine joy.
“Fuck … Ruby!”
He half-laughed, his eyes scanning the desk for a way to get to her, and when he didn’t find one he hoisted himself over it and landed on his feet in front of her.
Neither of them hesitated for even a second. They were in each other’s arms, a welcome-home hug of epic proportions.
Jesus, he was warm for a man who’d just walked out of a snowstorm. He had her hauled hard against him, her thin blouse pressed against the softness of his T-shirt beneath his coat. The thought that only Ford would wear a T-shirt in the middle of winter ran through her mind, but then he’d never been one to let anyone or anything dictate how he lived, not even the weather.
One warm hand rested on the small of her back, the other cupped the back of her skull against his chest. Ford. She breathed him in, his scent familiar and new all at the same time—he smelled of sunshine, and fresh cotton, and something so uniquely, undeniably him that memories of their one and only kiss bubbled straight to the surface. Finally he let her go, holding her out at arm’s length to study her face.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Just exactly the same.”
“Look at you,” she laughed softly. “Unsuitably dressed and unsuitably tanned.”
He glanced down at his well-washed and all too well-fitted T-shirt and faded jeans with an unapologetic shrug, that trademark smile of his still in permanent residence on his face.
“So, what … you work here, Rubes?”
She nodded, watching him as he digested her presence. “I’ve been the manager for the last four years.”
“Wow,” Ford nodded slowly, his gaze unreadable. Was he impressed, or did he think her boring for having settled for this? She couldn’t tell.
“I guess you’d better check me in then, boss lady.”
I’m not done checking you out yet, sir. The words somehow stayed inside Ruby’s head, a mercy for which she was grateful. This was Ford. The guy whose shoulder she’d slept on, the one whose hangovers she’d nursed, the one whose girlfriends she’d comforted when he’d inevitably drifted to another girl. The one whose kiss had set a seal on her heart and whose absence had almost broken it.
Ruby glanced down and tapped the keyboard, not needing to check which room he was in because she’d already allocated the attic suite to Ford, her favorite room in the place. She’d reserved it originally for Emma and Niall, but they’d had a last-minute change that morning when Niall had fallen for the double Jacuzzi in the first-floor honeymoon suite and Emma had given in graciously.
The attic suite rambled across the top of the building, housing a huge brass bed and a cute sitting room beneath the eves. Lovely as those features were, it was the roll-top bath at the end of the bed that stole the show. The height of decadence and a feat of plumbing mastery in a building of the hotel’s age, the attic suite was the one featured most in magazine articles about the hotel.
Ruby looked up again, suddenly awkward and unsure of what to say now that the initial euphoria of seeing each other had dimmed. Ford’s smile was still in place, but the unfettered joy in his eyes had slipped into something a little more guarded.
“You’re right at the top,” Ruby said, handing him his room key. “We don’t have any lifts, but it’s only three flights up.”
Ford accepted the proffered key. “You’re not going to show me to my room?”
Ruby needed Ford to leave reception, to give her time to breathe and work out how to handle having him near again for a few days. Spending time with him was easy; it was the letting go of him again afterwards that might kill her.
“I’m sure you’ll find your way.”
Ford tipped his head to the side and arranged his face into a forlorn expression. “Take pity on a jet-lagged old friend, Ruby red. Show me the way.”
He didn’t need to beg; her resolve was paper-thin. She glanced at her watch pointedly, aware that Robert, her evening replacement for reception, had arrived and was hovering interested in the back office doorway. It wasn’t every day that the manager staffed reception, and it certainly wasn’t every day that she allowed handsome strangers to vault reception and bear hug her. She smiled at Ford, a professional smile for the benefit of Robert, and lifted the old hatch-style counter.
“This way, sir,” she said as she inclined her head and walked off towards the stairs, leaving Ford to pick up his bag and follow in her wake.
Ford followed Ruby, not trying very hard to look away from the gentle undulation of her hips as she led him up through the building. It really was a gorgeous old place, all exposed rafters and natural stone. Ford loved his Barbadian paradise, but he could see why Ruby had fallen for the charms of the inn.
He’d been wrong with his earlier assertion that Ruby hadn’t changed at all. She had. At twenty-one she’d been exuberant, a bright light. At twenty-nine, she was subtly different. More womanly. More mature. Sexier. Jesus, she was sexy.
He’d never completely understood his feelings for Ruby. He’d accepted the role of older brother back in university; protecting her, enjoying her company, sharing her life. Then he’d cracked and kissed her in the most un-brotherly fashion possible.
And then he’d left her.
There was nothing brotherly about his thoughts anymore, either. The intervening years of separation had driven a wedge between them, taking away that easy closeness and leaving behind a burning ache of attraction that had him halfway to hard as he followed her up the final narrow flight of stairs to the heavy, planked wooden door of the Attic Suite.
He couldn’t miss the way her dress wrapped itself around her curves, and he couldn’t deny that he’d like to unwrap her like a belated Christmas gift.
She cleared her throat as she turned the key and opened the attic door, stepping aside for him to go in ahead of her. He ducked beneath the low doorway and found himself inside an enchanting den, an intimate space clearly designed for lovers.
He inspected it in silence, aware that Ruby was waiting for his professional verdict.
“It’s pretty fucking amazing, Rubes. Did you design it?”
She nodded, almost shy. “Most of it.”
His eyes dropped to the tub at the end of the bed.
“Was that your idea?”
Ruby dropped her gaze to the antique tub too, her cheeks pink. “Yes.”
“I like it.”
“Thank you. Me too.”
“Have you ever used it?”
“No … no!” She looked completely flustered. “Of course not.”
“Well, I will.”
Ruby looked away and smoothed her hands on her skirt. “It’s great to see you, Ford. It really is.” She was about to leave. He could sense her withdrawal, both from him and from the room.
“Have dinner with me tonight.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he co
uld stop to think, and he didn’t miss the wary shadows that filled her eyes. Was she with someone else now? He suddenly wished he hadn’t made such a thorough job of not keeping in touch. It had seemed the best way to handle things, but standing here knowing so little about the woman in front of him made him question the wisdom of his choices. His eyes dropped belatedly to her fingers in search of rings. Bare. Thank God. “Please?”
He watched her hesitate, and he understood, because even he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. It had taken a long time for his life to feel complete without Ruby in it, and neither of them needed that kind of mess in their lives again. Yet still he wanted her to say yes just about more than he’d wanted anything else before.
“Okay.” She nodded, and her beautiful smile lit up the room far brighter than the glowing lamps dotted around the attics could hope to. “I’ll see you downstairs around seven.”
Her fingers were already on the door, and he crossed to hold it open for her. Ruby jumped when his fingers covered hers, and closed her eyes momentarily when he curved his other hand around her shoulder. “Looking forward to it, Ruby red. It’s been too long.”
He dipped his head, aiming to kiss her cheek, catching the side of her mouth as she turned her head. She stepped back almost straight away, and if she hadn’t, Ford would have, because he felt the same bolt of carnal lust. Her mouth had barely touched his, but it was enough to let him know that what had been a slow burn between them for more than ten years was now so tinder hot that it was in serious danger of burning this old place to the ground.
Chapter Four
Living on site had its advantages, not least of which was the lack of commute in a snowstorm. Ruby glanced worriedly at the fat flakes falling outside the mullioned windows of her cottage, hoping that the weather wouldn’t have a detrimental effect on Emma and Niall’s impending nuptials. Everything was in place for their special day. Thankfully they’d kept the numbers low for intimacy, but they were still expecting twenty or so guests in the morning, some of them travelling quite a distance.
None as far flung as the man currently residing across the courtyard in the attic suite, though. Her mind conjured up images of him lounging on the brass bed she’d hand-selected and of him stripping naked to sink into the bath she’d insisted should be placed at the foot of the bed. The idea of him stripping naked lodged itself in her mind. Would he have tan lines? Probably not, knowing him; he’d no doubt be perfectly at home sunbathing nude. Ford. Nude. Ford. Naked. Ford. Ford. Ford.
Ruby pressed her hands against her hot cheeks and belted her coat over her favorite black dress. It was the only suitable thing she possessed for dinner with the hottest man on the planet. Black lace over satin, its neckline and long sleeves said demure, while its short skirt and low back screamed sex kitten.
A glance out of the front door confirmed that her high heels weren’t going to cut it across the courtyard between her cottage and the hotel. Holding her shoes in her hand, she shoved her bare feet into the wellingtons by the door and trudged her way across the courtyard.
Her flimsy umbrella fought a losing battle against the blizzard, making her glad she’d fastened her hair into a messy side-bun at the nape of her neck, an attempt at casual classy that hopefully didn’t look as if she’d tried too hard. It was just as well she’d opted for something unstructured, as by the time she reached the back door of the hotel her umbrella had blown inside-out and her hair had half tumbled around her shoulders.
“Crappy, shitty weather!” she swore under her breath as she tussled with the umbrella in the doorway, hoping that no one was in earshot in the quiet back corridor.
“And hello to you too.”
Ruby closed her eyes without turning around. Of course. If anyone was going to find her in her wellies and mac with her hair hanging off her head at a weird angle, it was going to be him.
She threw the mangled umbrella down onto the hallway floor in disgust and dragged the heavy door shut against the wind with both hands.
“Ford,” she breathed as she turned around.
It didn’t help that he looked the opposite of bedraggled. He looked … delicious. Dressed in charcoal, his expensive-looking shirt outlined the athletic flow of his body and clung to the width of his shoulders. Ruby’s eyes skimmed fleetingly down his fitted trousers and hurriedly back up to his amused eyes without stopping at crotch level.
“You clean up well,” she muttered, well aware of how ridiculous she looked by comparison.
“Thank you. You look…” he glanced pointedly at her wellingtons, “interesting. Like a cross between a strip-o-gram and a farmer’s wife. Are you wearing anything under that coat?” He raised his eyebrows. “For the record, I’m hoping that the answer is no.”
Ruby scowled at him, yet at the same time registered the fact that he was flirting again. They didn’t flirt. Or else they never used to, before the kiss that changed everything.
“Let me help you.”
Ford unhooked her shoes from her fingers and set them on the floor, and as he straightened he held out his hand to steady her as she stepped out of her boots.
Ruby placed her hand in his bigger warm one without thinking, and then had to hold in her gasp at the thrill of awareness that his touch triggered. She’d touched him many, many times before, but this was different. His fingers curved around hers and held her steady, and she busied herself kicking off her boots to avoid looking up at him. Standing barefoot on the flagstone floor, Ruby was hyper-aware of Ford’s height next to hers, and of the heat emanating from him. Had he always been so tall? Logic said he must have, but the Ford of Ruby’s memories seemed slighter; less of a man, more of a boy. Maybe that was the difference. They weren’t kids anymore. Ford was a successful Caribbean hotelier, and Ruby was justifiably proud of the position she’d carved out for herself too. They were all grown up now, and it would seem that their easy friendship of old had morphed into something far less platonic.
She stepped into her shoes, glad of the extra few inches and the way they evened up more than just their heights. Barefoot had somehow equated to vulnerable.
She didn’t miss the flare of interest in Ford’s eyes when she let go of his hand and reached for the belt on her coat.
“Behave,” she murmured, shrugging out of the damp jacket.
“Nice dress, Ruby red,” he said, taking the coat from her fingers and hanging it on the wall hooks by the door. His eyes wandered down her legs. “Did you get taller?”
“Surprisingly, no,” she said dryly, reaching up to attempt damage control on her hair.
Ford reached out and stilled her hands. “Leave it down.” He plucked the remaining pins out and mussed it around her face. “It suits you.”
Ruby swallowed hard. Was it a come-on? From any other man it would be an obvious come-on, yet from Ford it just felt … right. Sexy, but right. She nodded, and stepped ahead of him to lead the way through to the restaurant. Safety in numbers, even if the hotel was pretty quiet.
“Fucking hell.”
Ruby heard his low curse a second before she felt his fingers fasten around her wrist. She turned around, realizing belatedly that her low-backed dress had been the cause of his consternation. The raw, naked lust on his face knocked the bottom out of her stomach. He’d looked at her like that once before. They stood stock still staring at each other in the hallway, and Ruby noticed the way his lips parted slightly as his restless eyes scanned her face. She suddenly wanted to kiss those lips very badly.
When he tugged her towards him by the wrist her heartbeat skipped up to heart-attack levels, and a couple of steps brought her almost flush against his body.
If Ford had spoken, it might have broken the spell. But he didn’t. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her up against the length of his body, scorching her from shoulder to hip, the firm heat of his hand imprinted against her exposed spine.
His mouth was a whisper from hers as he backed her against the wall, his other hand flat on the stone next t
o her head as he dropped his head to hers.
The final switch from friends to lovers happened as easily as that. With just one look, Ford had her wanting him more than she’d ever wanted anyone, willing to risk a lifetime of heartache in exchange for one perfect night. With the first touch of his lips against hers, he had her needing him more than she’d ever needed anyone. By the time he slid his tongue inside her mouth, he had her desperate to rip the shirt off his back.
His scent surrounded her as his hands moved to cup her face, holding her steady as he took the kiss from sensual to intimate. His hard aroused crotch pressed her into the wall, and she wanted him to press even harder. His kiss was a delicious, urgent assault, a hot tangle of tongues as Ruby’s palms flattened against the front of his shirt, and she could feel his heart hammering every bit as hard as she knew her own was. He had her pinned between his body and the wall, and she wanted him to lean harder against her, to push the hard heat of his erection further into her.
If any of her staff or guests had walked down that corridor, she probably wouldn’t have registered their presence, because in that moment she wasn’t the manager of the hotel. She was just Ruby being kissed by Ford for the second time in her life, and it was a million times more amazing than the first time. She was a woman consumed with molten lust for the man whose kiss had dissolved all of the good intentions she’d had of keeping things platonic. The fact that it had taken eight years to get over just one of Ford’s kisses didn’t matter once his mouth touched hers for a second time.
He lifted his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I don’t want dinner. I want you. Come upstairs with me.” He tipped her head back to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. “Christ, Rubes, you taste fucking amazing.”
She dragged her eyes open and slid her hands into his hair. “Stairs,” she murmured, lifting his head from her neck and nodding towards a staff doorway just along the corridor. “There.”
He nodded and half-dragged her through the doorway by the hand. “Does this go all the way up to the attic?” he said, taking the narrow staff staircase at a fast pace and tugging her along behind him.
Wanderlust: A Holiday Story (A Heroes and Heartbreakers Original) Page 2