From Exes To Expecting
Laurel Greer
This time there’s a baby on board…Dr Lauren Dawson knows her marriage to footloose photographer Tavish Fitzgerald ended for a reason. But when Tavish returns home to Sutter Creek for his sister’s wedding, the sparks between them turn into a blaze…can the two exes build a forever family together?
This time there’s a baby on board...
Dr. Lauren Dawson knows her brief marriage to footloose photographer Tavish Fitzgerald ended for a reason. That doesn’t mean their undeniable chemistry isn’t as potent as ever. And when Tavish returns home to Sutter Creek for his sister’s wedding, the sparks between them turn into a blaze. But when Lauren finds herself pregnant, these exes have nine months to build a forever family together...
Raised in a small town on Vancouver Island, LAUREL GREER grew up skiing and boating by day and reading romances under the covers by flashlight at night. Ever committed to the proper placement of the Canadian “eh,” she loves to write books with snapping sexual tension and second chances. She lives outside Vancouver with her law-talking husband and two daughters. At least half her diet is made up of tea. Find her at www.laurelgreer.com (http://www.laurelgreer.com).
From Exes to Expecting
Laurel Greer
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07743-9
FROM EXES TO EXPECTING
© 2018 Lindsay Macgowan
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Rob and our Bear and Mouse. A lot of family juggling took place for this book to get written, and I’m immeasurably grateful for the sacrifices made and support given to have my dream come true. I love you.
Contents
Cover (#u1dcfc2ee-0f07-54f7-bd51-2585fca16805)
Back Cover Text (#u8935e8aa-e549-59ed-ba7a-e5ac73e8eeb3)
About the Author (#u30933f0c-25b3-570c-a94e-b5e676f31bbe)
Title Page (#u66e9ddeb-751f-5e16-9697-e34b809598ea)
Copyright (#ubf0b6ea9-69b5-5f86-bc88-c49d864761e7)
Dedication (#uaec4beac-f20d-5fa1-adfe-f6d7f2b20106)
Chapter One (#u1a26c1de-31bb-50ed-9ca2-9bc827ae088c)
Chapter Two (#u0cbc04ce-ee7c-5a6b-8f28-e555d09d3456)
Chapter Three (#ua1d9221f-27ba-58f1-9fb2-aab2b5915c07)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_5afabf22-f4e7-5d6e-b3e2-c5f09dfd3020)
Sneaking out the back door is self-preservation, not bad form, right? Biting her lip, Dr. Lauren Dawson glanced at the clock on the wall of the Sutter Creek Medical Clinic’s staff lounge. Five-oh-one. Yup, skedaddle time. After working a series of six-day weeks, her body ached for the cushy lounge chair on her lakeside deck. Getting to start her long weekend while the late-May sun still had heat left in it was worth the faux pas of creeping out without saying goodbye. She threw her leather flats into her messenger bag and slid on her flip-flops.
The door to the lounge creaked behind her. Her stomach sank and she stared into her locker, not wanting to turn around. If it was one of the nurses coming to nab her to treat another patient, she’d—
“Lauren. Glad I caught you before you left. Do you have a minute?”
Damn it. The longer she lingered, the higher the chance of getting asked to cover drop-ins for an extra hour or two. But no way could she slough off a conversation with the man who held the future of her career in his hand. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she forced a smile and faced her boss. “Hi, Frank.”
The fluorescent lights of the staff lounge yellowed Frank Martin’s gunmetal-gray hair as he took a seat on one of the couches arranged into a conversation pit. “Quitting time?”
Lauren nodded and pulled off her lab coat. “Yeah. Andrew’s still very understaffed at work, so I’m picking up some slack for him this weekend. He’s got his bachelor party, so he’s asked me to cover some zip-line tours, and I’m helping his fiancée with some wedding stuff.” As the Director of Safety and Risk Management and the head of summer operations for their family’s Montana ski resort, her older brother did more than his fair share of boosting their bottom line. Lauren pitched in where she could despite the clinic’s tendency to consume her waking hours. Once her summer holidays started in six weeks, she’d be subbing for her brother, letting him get away on his honeymoon. “Pretty sure I won’t get a moment to myself for most of the weekend. Though I’m hoping for a few hours to myself tonight. My dock is calling me.”
His mouth curved in understanding. “Well, I won’t keep you. But I wanted to make sure you got the partnership papers from your lawyer.”
Those cursed papers sat on her kitchen table, mocking her every morning as she ate her oatmeal and berries. Mocking her commitment to follow in her mother’s footsteps. Dampness bloomed on her palms. She’d wanted to have a practice in her tiny hometown since she was fourteen. Getting to buy in to the clinic her mother had founded was nothing less than her childhood dream. So why am I having so much trouble putting my signature on the contract?
She mentally flicked away the doubt and nodded at her boss. “Yeah, but I’ve run into a glitch getting the funds released from my grandparents’ trust. My lawyer’s busy arguing with their lawyers.” She gripped the strap of her bag and took a centering breath. Ugh, what she’d do to have her vacation starting today. Both the wedding and working for Wild Life Adventures would be a welcome change of scenery. She would get outside for a few weeks and come back to the clinic refreshed and ready to make her plan a reality.
“Did your lawyer indicate how long it would take to fix the problem?” Concern edged Frank’s words.
“She wasn’t specific, no. I’m sure it’ll be dealt with by the time I’m back from my holidays in July.”
“That’s two months from now.”
Swallowing her nerves, she nodded. “It’s not affecting the work I can do, though. So I’m hoping the delay isn’t a deal breaker.”
“No. Nothing you can do about banking complications.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Lauren. Having a Dawson as a partner again is going to fill a void. You’ll be a great permanent addition to the clinic.”
Permanent.
Normally a calming concept, but Lauren’s heart started to thud as if she were sprinting. She inhaled. Her mother had been proud of her calling. And Lauren was nothing if not a mirror of her mother.
She’d almost given up on their dream once. Never again. She could do this. Was meant for it.
Her heartbeat slowed, but the burn in her stomach refused to subside.
One of the nurses poked her head into the lounge. “Dr. Dawson? Can you take one more patient before you leave? Sutures. Exam room two.”
Son of a—Keeping her curse from spilling out, Lauren nodded to the nurse. She returned her satchel to her locker and shrugged back into her lab coat. “Count me there.”
Frank touched his brow in a playful salute. “We’ll talk later, Lauren. See you Tuesday.”
“Have a good Memorial Day.” Lauren changed back into her flats, straightened her khaki capris and rushed out of the lounge to her patient. Stupid long weekends and the abrasions and lacerations that came along with them. She picked the clipboard out of the Lucite holder and glanced at the patient file.
Her already complaining gut lurched and the font blurred on the page.
No. N-fricking-O.
Feet frozen two feet from the door, out of view from the patient inside, she stared through the door frame. Only the patient’s legs were visible, golden-tan skin over defined calf muscles. Muddy biking footprints marked up the white linoleum. A two-inch-thick black tattoo ringed one ankle. At first glance, it looked like a series of interwoven spirals, but she knew closer study would reveal the second and third stanzas of Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night. Even marred by a fresh, index-card-size scrape, she’d recognize Tavish Fitzgerald’s legs anywhere. Difficult not to, given the nights she’d spent sliding her toes along those hard calves while he’d driven her out of her mind with ecstasy.
She leaned against the hallway wall and swallowed. He must be in town for her brother’s bachelor party. So much for him not coming home until a day or two before the wedding. The wedding where Lauren would have to once again stare at Tavish across the aisle. But as the maid of honor this time.
Not the bride.
Lauren’s brother was marrying Tavish’s sister on the Fourth of July weekend, and Lauren was thrilled to be getting a sister-in-law. She just didn’t want to have to see her ex-husband in the process.
Telling herself to get a Godzilla-size grip, she stuck the clipboard between her knees and took the time to redo her ponytail. After a quick wipe under her eyes to check for afternoon mascara remnants, she clutched her clipboard between both hands, threw back her shoulders and marched through the doorway.
A millisecond after she met Tavish’s gaze, her bravado tumbled into a heap around her feet. He regarded her with a simmering look as he lounged in the patient’s chair next to the examination table. His violet-blue irises pierced through her layers of preservation.
Eyes that color were wasted on a man. Ditto his thick, dark eyelashes and the sun-streaked, tawny hair he never bothered to keep tidy. A navy bandanna, rolled to a hand-width and tied around his forehead, kept the windblown strands from falling in his face. He wore a technical shirt and baggy cargo shorts over black Lycra bike shorts. It was enough to make a woman’s heart stop.
But no, Lauren’s pulse went into overdrive, thumping loud enough she’d have worried he could hear it except she knew was it impossible. Shrinking under his silent observation, she forced herself to snap into medical mode.
“You did a number on your leg,” she said.
Shrugging, he shot her a half smile. “An unruly pine.”
Judging by the scrape on his left cheek, the rip in the short sleeve of his shirt and the bandage on his arm, the tree reigned victorious. His chart noted that he needed stitches for a laceration already dressed by one of the mountain first-aid attendants, but her hands were shaking so badly she didn’t trust herself to pick up a needle quite yet, no matter how quickly she wanted him out the door.
“Tree, one, you, zero?” She forced out the joke.
“Yeah. Blew a tire. Landed in a snowberry bush, thankfully. Could have been worse. But where are our manners? Afternoon, Dr. Dawson.” He bit out her last name.
She flinched at the emphasis. Considering she’d once shared his last name and his bed, the use of her professional title seemed overkill. “Seems silly to bother with the formalities with me.”
“You’re working. I respect that.”
“I don’t think it matters where we are. I’ll always be just Lauren to you.” Her voice came out way softer than she’d intended. Fighting the need to get closer to his hard, muscled body, to offer to kiss him better, she broke her gaze from his and methodically counted the eleven parts of the ear illustrated on the poster over his shoulder.
“You’re never just anything, Lauren.”
The rough sincerity in his voice chafed at her still-raw heart. She froze, not able to look at his face, to see whatever emotion accompanied the sweet words. She grabbed a pair of latex gloves from one of the cabinets and pointed at the examination table. “Up on the bed.”
By the quirk of his mouth, the potential double entendre wasn’t lost on him. Mercifully, he left it alone and lay down as asked, stretching out his lean frame and propping his head with his good hand.
Pulling her stool alongside him, she positioned his injured forearm for the best access. With tentative fingers, she peeled back the rectangle of gauze and recognized her brother’s handiwork in the immaculate row of butterfly strips holding together the finger-length gash. The sterile material of her gloves did nothing to block the effect of touching Tavish. The moment her fingertips brushed his arm, the heat there threatened to melt the glove to her hand.
Ignoring her pathetic physical response, she continued undoing the bandaging. “Your sister’s going to smack you for getting scraped up so close to her big day. You should’ve held off on bodily harm until after the wedding.”
Lifting his other hand across his face to touch his abraded cheek, he tilted his lips in a sheepish smile. “I wanted to try a few of the new expert trails in the biking complex. Drew took me.”
“You took my brother on the double blacks? You’re as bad an influence on him as you were on me.” Her chest panged with immediate regret. Way to bring up how he’d made her want to veer so sharply from her life plan. To cover up her folly, she blurted, “At least he wasn’t idiotic enough to tackle a tree.”
Something crackled behind Tavish’s eyes. Probably not the medical tape tugging on the golden hairs of his arm, either.
“You really want to get into this, Laur?” His voice held threads of warning twined with wariness.
No, but probably best to hash things out before the wedding. “We’re due.”
“I’d rather wait until you aren’t in arm’s reach of a needle.” He glanced at the syringe on the rolling tray, gritting his teeth as she fussed with his laceration.
“Fine with me.” She took a breath and shoved the curious blend of shame, wanting and need for escape to the back of her mind. Only in rare situations would she choose suturing over a conversation. Wouldn’t be the first time Tavish had her doing something that went against instinct, though. “You’re going to need quite a few stitches to make sure this heals properly. The edges are snagged pretty badly.”
“Bled like a scalp wound, but doesn’t really hurt.”
She rolled her eyes and readied the syringe. “You’re such a guy.”
“You used to like that about me,” he said under his breath.
“Used to.” She draped the wound and closed her eyes for a second, just long enough to push away the nausea that rippled whenever she had to pierce someone’s skin. Frustration flared over the surging acid. She’d learned to control her gag reflex back in the first month of medical school. But the minute her lawyer had given her the partnership papers to sign, it had come back with a vengeance.
Clenching her hands into fists, she breathed until her ears stopped buzzing and she was no longer on the verge of losing the BLT she’d had for lunch. Then she grabbed the needle.
Tavish sucked in a breath and looked away as Lauren worked to numb the area. His brief display of nerves made her hand itch to put down the needle and caress his cheek. She ignored the ridiculous impulse and finished her task.
“Let that set. I’ll be back in five.”
“Not going to stick around and chat?”
“I have things to do.”
His lips twitched with saddened amusement. “Don’t let me get in your way.”
Half standing, she settled back onto her stool, meeting the challenge in his voice. “You’re not in my way.”
“That’s not the honest Lauren Dawson I know.”
She stared at him, trying to make her expression as unreadable as possible. “Fine. It’s weird having you in town. And if you’re insisting on small talk, where’ve you been since you were last home? When was that, March?” Not like she’d counted the fifty-seven days. Not purposefully, anyway.
Tavish’s expression flattened into impatience. “Here and there. New Orleans for a few weeks. Italy. Brazil.”
“You’re definitely living your dream.” If only he’d been that committed to her. To them.
“Isn’t that the point?”
“Obviously. I’m doing the same.”
“Sure about that?”
“Even more than when I signed our divorce papers.” Though she’d had as much trouble scrawling her signature on that as with the documents for the clinic partnership. “I saw your Peru spread in Traveler last week.”
“Make you want to go there?”
She shook her head. “Not hardly.”
“Right.” A visible flicker of defeat made his mouth twitch. “It wouldn’t.”
“I’m happy here, Tavish.” Damn it. He’d made her defend her choices one too many times.
“Yeah, now you are. A year ago you were ready to come see the Great Barrier Reef with me.”
The truth of that smacked her in the face. Tears welled at the reminder of how her grandparents’ accident had turned her family upside down, had forced her to admit how her marriage would never work. Blinking away the moisture, she probed the edges of his wound. “This hurt?”
Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head.
She flushed the gash, biting her lip as saline-thinned blood trickled under the drape. Hold it together, Lauren.
“I traveled enough as a kid. I’m good for life.” Why couldn’t he understand that being rooted in Sutter Creek didn’t stifle her as it did him? Besides, she had explored the globe in the past six months—via gorgeous, full-color magazine spreads. Vicarious living courtesy of Tavish himself. She’d bought every issue featuring his work.
The wearied lines in his forehead told her he hadn’t changed his opinion about her choices, but he didn’t bother arguing further.
“Breathe,” she soothed, not liking the strain marking his stubbled jaw. “This won’t take long.” Thankful for something to focus on aside from the reasons her marriage had failed, she began to suture his wound.
“Getting stitched feels so weird. You probably live for this, though.”
Ha, right. She’d be happy if she never saw blood again. A necessary evil, though, in getting where she wanted to be career-wise. “Don’t look if it makes you sick.”
“I can’t not.”
“Ah. You’re one of those. Common enough.”
“Glutton for gore, I guess.”
“Checking off all the guy-stereotype boxes today.”
Conversation died as she continued her stitches, a neat row of fifteen. Once finished, she dressed the wound and examined his scrapes. “I’m surprised my brother didn’t cover up your other abrasions. He’s the most anal medic on the mountain.”
“I told him not to. I’ve had road rash so many times, it’s second nature.”
“It’s your face.”
He sent her a wry smile. “Worried I’ll wreck my good looks?”
More like worried his good looks would wreck her sanity.
She shook her head. “We need to give each other space.”
“I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair until I leave town. I’m taking off on Sunday—I have jobs lined up until the wedding.”
She’d have to learn to pretend ambivalence in his presence by then. She wouldn’t let their ruined marriage impact Mackenzie and Andrew’s ceremony. “How long are you going to be in town that weekend?”
“Five days.” The blank look on Tavish’s face gave away nothing. “But, look, Sutter Creek’s not that small, right? We won’t be in each other’s pockets.”
Ugh. Sutter Creek was exactly that small. But she appreciated his optimism. “You haven’t spent that much time at home since college.”
“I know. But I have to, for Mackenzie’s sake. You’re okay with it, right?”
“It’s been a year.” Last May, embarrassed by her failure, she’d hidden her short marriage and speedy divorce from her family. The soul-sucking lie of omission ate at her daily. She never wanted to lie to a person she cared about again. And as much as she didn’t want to, she more than cared about Tavish.
He stared at her, eyes stark with honesty. His cheek flinched. “This still gets to me.”
So not admitting I agree with that one. Lauren brushed a thumb across his jaw, under the abraded skin. She wished she could chalk up the pang of concern to her Hippocratic Oath. But she knew better. “You winced. I’ll get you a cold pack for your face.”
Giving a one-shoulder shrug, he tossed her a smile. A delicious smile. One he’d used mercilessly when he’d spent hours with his mouth on her breasts. On her stomach. Everywhere. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”
The careless endearment hung in the air long after he left the room.
She propped her elbows on the table and took the weight of her head in her hands. She could feel the imprint of his words on her skin.
Don’t worry about me...
That was the problem with Tavish Fitzgerald. She did worry about him—not for his sake, but for hers.
...sweetheart.
Knowing he’d be in Sutter Creek for the next couple of days, her muscles twitched with a sudden, and long-absent, urge to run away from home.
* * *
The last thing Tavish felt like doing after locking horns with the living reminder of his divorce was to go to a bachelor party to celebrate someone else’s impending bliss. And offering to pick up the happy groom from the Sutter Mountain base lodge did nothing to help clear his mind of the woman he’d never been able to love like she deserved. The minute he set foot into the rubber-floored hallway next to the ski school, he was thrown back to the summer he’d graduated high school. How many times had he sneaked kisses with Lauren in the staff lounge? He’d worked for Sutter Mountain Resort in his junior and senior years, teaching skiing in the winter and rock climbing in the summer. The work had been awesome. So had finding excuses to flirt with Lauren up at reception.
And if he was going to have even half a chance of enjoying Drew’s bachelor party tonight, he needed to get his mind off his high school girlfriend. His wife.
Ex-wife.
Trudging down the hall, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The movement tugged on his bandaged forearm, making him wince. Making him think of Lauren again, of her struggle to stay unresponsive while she’d sutured his cut. Her cheeks had gone all pink and... Stop it. She’d been holding back distaste, not desire. He shoved open the door to the ski resort’s safety department headquarters. “Greetings.”
“Hey.” Drew, alone in the room, sat at his desk with his fingers in his dark brown hair. “Get stitched up?”
“Yeah.” He rolled his shoulder, hissing at the soreness caused by his dismount into the shrubbery. “Your sister did her level best to chastise me—us—for our stupidity.”
“Not surprising. Have a seat.”
“Uh, where?” Tavish blinked in surprise at the disastrous state of the office. Outdoor equipment and first-aid supplies covered every surface in the place. During the winter, the office served as the headquarters for Sutter Mountain Resort’s safety department. In the summer, it was the nerve center for Wild Life Adventures—or WiLA, as the staff nicknamed it—which offered everything from zip-line tours to rafting adventures. Drew and Mackenzie were damn proud of Sutter Mountain’s success. Even though it was one of the smaller resort towns in Montana, they’d been operating at capacity for the last five years. And his friend would be run over by the paraphernalia involved in all that success if he didn’t find a minion to organize his crap quick. “Tough to find office lackeys these days?”
“With both Zach and Mackenzie out of the rotation I had to promote my lackeys,” Drew grumbled.
“Raw deal. Still, no way should you still be working at seven on a Friday. We should get going. There’s a line of shots on the bar at the Loose Moose with your name on it.”
“I need another ten minutes.”
“All right. It’s your party. Guess we’ll be fashionably late.” Tavish eased his way past a stack of paddles leaning against a shelf and threw himself into the chair behind the other desk. He linked his hands behind his head and leaned back in the cushy leather seat, propping his booted feet on the corner of the desk. The seat springs complained with a metallic squawk.
The complaint from Drew was a hell of a lot more colorful. He yanked off his reading glasses and tossed them onto a stack of invoices. His eyes lit a livid blue. Put Lauren and her brother side by side and he’d barely be able to recognize them as siblings. Lauren, with her blond hair and hazel eyes, resembled their late mother. But temper-wise, the Dawson siblings shared a hair trigger.
“Quit it.” Drew spat the words out.
“What, this?” He leaned back again, eliciting one more metal-on-metal grind from his chair for emphasis. He shot his friend a cocky grin. “Invest in some WD-40. Problem solved.”
“Funny, lubricating the chairs hasn’t been a priority.” He waved a hand around the office. “We’re so short-staffed I barely have time to sleep. I need to find a replacement for Zach or else I’m going to lose it.”
“Shouldn’t you have replaced him months ago?” Drew’s assistant had been injured in a brutal ski accident during spring takedown and had been off since. Add in Tavish’s sister being almost seven months pregnant, and Drew was short two of his most experienced guides.
“I thought I’d be able to cover for him. Once Mackenzie started showing, she pretty much took over as my assistant in Zach’s stead. But he had a setback with his rehab. He won’t be back to work until well after the wedding. And without him—or someone to work in his place—Mackenzie and I won’t be able to go on our honeymoon.” Drew pressed his fingers into his temples.
“Jeez. Getting married makes you overdramatic.”
The other man glared before turning back to his computer. “You offering to step in?”
Tavish snorted.
“Then shut it. I’m just emailing a few buddies in Colorado who might be able to help me out. Then we can go.”
Him, work in Sutter Creek? Ha. Right. Tavish was about as capable of that as his father had been. Even if he didn’t have plans to hop on a plane to Alaska on Monday—which he did—there would be no way he could cover for Zach once Andrew and Mackenzie were out of town. Being in Sutter Creek had always made him itchy to leave. Adding his divorce to the mix made that nagging itch intolerable.
But I have a few weeks off after the wedding. And Drew’s in quite the bind.
Not wanting to look too closely at the strain lines on his friend’s face, he stared at the ceiling and tapped his fingers against the arms of the chair. It would be super crappy if his sister couldn’t go on her honeymoon. She’d been talking about the two-week retreat to a nearby spa resort for months. The baby was due to arrive at the end of the summer, meaning it would be a long while before Mackenzie and Drew could get away again.
Tavish couldn’t imagine holing up in Sutter Creek with a kid and a wife. When he and Lauren had married last year, it had been because she’d decided to leave Sutter Creek behind, to split time between his assignments and her volunteering internationally. He just wasn’t built to stay in one place for long.
Two weeks, though. That would be a heck of a present for Mackenzie. Better than the set of wedding portraits he’d planned on taking for her. Ignoring his conscience as it chomped a hole in his stomach lining, Tavish picked up a pencil to doodle on a piece of scrap paper. “What kind of work?”
“Supervising sites, occasional guiding. Assistant crap.”
“Maybe I could help out.” He’d have to avoid Lauren, but that wouldn’t be hard. She was married to her job at the clinic.
“Uh...you’re not the most reliable. No offense.”
Tavish bristled. Knowing he was genetically incapable of sticking around Sutter Creek for any length of time was one thing. Having his best friend confirm it was another. “No, man, I think it would work. I’ll leave Monday to hang out with the polar bears, then come back for your wedding, hit on the bridesmaids—”
“Hey! My sisters are the bridesmaids.”
“Right. Sorry. Scratch that. Still, I’ll pitch in here and be gone the minute you’re back.”
Drew didn’t need to worry about his sisters’ honor when it came to Tavish. Given Tavish’s relationship with Lauren, he’d never seen Cadence, the baby of the family, as eligible. And Lauren? Well, tried and failed there.
Seeing her today had made his brain spin, a clicking whir not unlike the ancient slide projector of his grandmother’s that he credited with getting him hooked on photography. Except instead of pictures of his mother being schlepped across the country in her family’s old woody station wagon, the images that flashed across his brain starred Lauren’s creamy skin against white hotel sheets and the lights of the Las Vegas Strip glinting off the gold band on her left hand. A gold band Drew knew nothing about. Tavish had promised to keep that secret, even though hiding something so monumental from his best friend made him feel like a pile of bear crap.
And when he’d promised secrecy to Lauren, he’d also made a promise to himself—that he’d stop thinking about his ring on that gorgeous hand that somehow knew just the right way to grip him.
More than that—she had a total grip on his heart.
Helping out Mackenzie and Drew ran the risk of having to fight those thoughts from surfacing daily. Hourly. But what kind of brother would he be if he didn’t facilitate a final kid-free trip for his sister?
“I can’t let Mackenzie give up her honeymoon. She’s already had to compromise by rushing the wedding. Thanks to your not having paid attention during tenth-grade sex-ed,” Tavish added lightly.
A crumpled-paper ball bounced off his head.
“Asshole. But you’re serious about filling in, aren’t you?” Drew asked.
He nodded, curving up one side of his mouth in his own disbelief. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to help Mackenzie.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve been willing to help her, you mean.”
Ouch. The accusation reverberated in his chest. He rubbed at the resulting ache. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”
Drew blew out a breath. “Add on the few days you’d be here before the wedding and you’d have to be in town for over two weeks. You sure about that?”
Tavish picked up a hunk of shale that served as a paperweight and passed it back and forth between his hands. “Thanks for the math lesson, but I know what I’m offering.”
“Do you still have your EMT cert?”
“Yeah. I’m not stupid enough to enter war zones without knowing what to do in an emergency,” he said. “Warning—this offer will self-destruct in five seconds unless you accept it.”
Drew tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. “Okay, then. I’ll fill Lauren in on the plan tomorrow. She’ll be relieved, to say the least.”
Every cell in Tavish’s body froze. “Huh?”
“Well, you’ll be replacing Zach, but Lauren’s replacing me. Looking forward to it, or so she says. So you’ll be helping her out.”
Clenching his fist around the rock, he resisted the impulse to hurl it through the glass pane of the hallway door. Working with Lauren would kill him. She’d consider his involvement the antithesis of help. And he couldn’t back out of the commitment now. If he did, Drew would ask questions.
Lauren’s inevitable freak-out when her brother informed her would also result in raised eyebrows. Better to avoid any possibility of suspicion. “She and I should start communicating about how I’m going to best support her while you’re gone, so let me tell her.”
Drew shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just happy that Mackenzie doesn’t have to go on our honeymoon without me.” His smile turned wicked. “Two weeks of being alone.”
“Dude. Sister.”
“Dude,” his friend mocked. “You have to know what you’re facilitating.”
“I know you have to shut up about it.”
Mackenzie better enjoy her holiday. Because by making the most important woman in his life happy, he’d be making the woman who should have owned that title miserable.
Chapter Two (#ulink_8ff40b22-156d-545d-9bb2-4f4c35e0e58d)
Lauren woke up on Saturday morning and reveled in not having set an alarm. Clear sky glowed blue through the skylights in her loft bedroom, promising a cloudless morning. And she planned to enjoy her three days of freedom. Freedom from blood, freedom from needles. She wasn’t free from her contract, but at least with the financial glitches she could drag her heels a little longer before signing in triplicate. And her 10:00 a.m. date to help Mackenzie make chair decorations and centerpieces all but guaranteed she’d be able to steer clear of Tavish. No way tulle pew bows and glass vase arrangements would capture his interest. He barely stayed still long enough to snap pictures on the ultra-fancy camera habitually slung on his shoulder.
He was happy enough to be still when we were snuggling in bed together.
Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, she shot out from the covers. Her plush featherbed and Egyptian cotton sheets felt way too much like the bed they’d shared during their honeymoon in Las Vegas. She needed to clear her Tavish-and-work-filled brain with some fresh air before she headed into town to meet Mackenzie. Throwing on a sports bra, thin jacket and cropped leggings, she jogged downstairs.
Wanting her space to reflect the outdoors, she’d decorated the spacious, cathedral-ceilinged main floor in soft moss and earth tones to complement the green visible through the expansive panes of glass at the front and rear.
She loved it.
Never wanted to leave.
Her gaze landed on the thick manila folder on her reclaimed-barnwood dining table. Damn. Usually never wanted to leave. But the house was full of specters this morning. She’d fled the enchanting reminders of nights tangled in Tavish, only to run headlong into her work anxiety. She needed to get away from that contract before it sprouted legs and chased her around the butcher-block island.
Yoga on the dock. Yes. An excuse to leave the house without feeling like a total chicken.
Crisp forest air pricked her sinuses as she opened the glass French doors and toted her yoga mat down the stairs to the long wooden raft. The sun had risen far enough above the lush pines on the opposite bank to lend a hint of warmth to the light breeze. She sat cross-legged on her mat and stared at the ripples marring the surface of the water.
Living out on Moosehorn Lake, a twenty-minute drive from the town center, gave her enough distance not to feel truly pathetic about the double knots keeping her tied to home. She was close enough to take care of her dad and her sister, and to help Mackenzie and Andrew once the baby arrived, but far enough away she wasn’t living in their pockets.
She was independent. Owned a stunning, green-roofed log house on a pristine chunk of waterfront. Had a meaningful job that connected her to her mom. So what if she chose to be a homebody, to put her family first? Just because her chosen lifestyle was the polar opposite of Tavish’s didn’t make it any less valid.
Though it does mean we shouldn’t have exchanged rings...
And shouldn’t have made promises neither of them was capable of keeping.
She was stretching into downward dog when the roar of a ski boat broke through her meditative breathing. Teenagers, probably. Her nearest neighbor, the quintessential get-off-my-lawn sort, would be pissed off to have boat noise before eight.
A quick glance west corrected her assumption of the age of the perpetrators. She immediately recognized not only the stripe down the side of the sleek vessel barreling in her direction, but the passengers within it.
Not teenagers.
Clearly the groom had escaped any serious abuse at the bachelor party if he was on the lake at this hour. The early-morning sun silhouetted her brother’s broad shoulders as he steered from his perch on the top of his seat. Mackenzie’s red ponytail blew in the wind from her position in the bow seat, facing backward as the spotter. Cadie snuggled in the passenger seat across from Andrew, the hood of her zippered sweatshirt pulled up.
Lauren didn’t need to look to know who they were towing.
Every muscle stood out on Tavish’s wetsuit-clad body as he tore up the water behind the boat, creating an incandescent rooster tail taller than his six-foot frame.
So much for steering clear of him.
All four of them waved as they passed Lauren, seemingly headed for the slalom course a few hundred yards east of her dock.
Giving up on yoga and ready for any entertainment that could distract her from the little voice in her heart that said things she didn’t want to hear, she pulled her knees up to her chest.
Her brother aimed his boat through the two white marker balls. She shadowed her eyes and reluctantly admired Tavish as he passed through the course, creating an S pattern as he cut around the balls positioned on alternate sides of the center guides.
She’d have accused him of showing off, but he had perfect right to do so. Tavish Fitzgerald carved up the water like a four-star chef did a Christmas turkey.
Something hot and needy, something she didn’t want to acknowledge, pulled at her core and made her skin tingle. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms and tried to focus on his skill rather than his amazing body.
After Tavish successfully rounded all six obstacles, Andrew slowed the boat and Tavish sank into the water. Cadie unhooked the tow rope and reattached it at a shorter length, and Andrew kicked the boat up to a roar once again.
Tavish didn’t look as competent with less rope to deal with, bailing hard after two passes. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat until she heard his laugh echo on the water. Andrew didn’t waste any time getting Tavish back up and heading in the direction of her dock.
She cursed her brother’s efficiency. Tavish in a wetsuit five hundred yards out had heated her to the point of needing to jump in the chilly lake. Said man, plus said wetsuit, but minus four-hundred and ninety-nine yards might get her on the evening news for proving spontaneous combustion wasn’t a myth.
The boat ripped by, and he let go of the rope. He was nice enough not to spray her. As a teenager, he’d been able to drench the entire public dock without getting his hair wet. She imagined he hadn’t lost that talent. Then again, had he sprayed her, it might have saved her a load of embarrassment by killing the flush she knew had crept up her cheeks. He knew how to read her. Would know what her pink face meant.
Lauren bent down at the edge of the dock to catch his ski and shook her head in disbelief. “The lake’s freezing and the sun is barely up.”
“I don’t see any ice.” With a powerful stroke, he pushed his ski toward her. It skimmed into her waiting hands.
He climbed up the ladder just as she lifted the ski out of the lake, bringing her gaze within inches of the pull of his violet eyes.
She straightened, breaking away from the hypnotizing effect he had on her brain. “You’re not supposed to get stitches wet. Plus, the strain could tear them.”
“Drew and I made a waterproof dressing.”
“And tearing?”
He grinned cockily. “I’m a risk taker.”
They were interrupted by the rumbling of the boat as Andrew maneuvered it up to the dock and cut the engine. He turned down the dial on the stereo, lowering the volume on the country song blasting out of the speakers by half.
She smiled at her brother, then shook her head at Tavish. “You’re a dumbass.”
Tavish laughed and scrubbed the water from his hair. A few chilly droplets landed on Lauren’s cheeks. She was surprised they didn’t evaporate on contact.
“Nice welcome there, Laur.” Andrew raised a teasing eyebrow as he shoved up his sunglasses.
“One of the many services I provide.” Lauren grinned. Mackenzie tossed her the bow rope and she fastened the length around one of the cleats.
“We figured you wouldn’t be busy,” Mackenzie said as Andrew hopped out of the boat and proceeded to offer both his hands to help her to the dock. “We can hold off on the pew bows for an hour or two. Garnet’s covering for Andrew this morning.”
An hour or two. Doable. Right?
But Lauren had been wrong about Tavish one too many times to believe her own bravado.
Smiling stiffly at her siblings, she tried to ignore her ex-husband as he peeled off his wetsuit.
She failed miserably. There were things a girl could forget in her life. Tavish’s ripped abdominals, marred only by a faded appendectomy scar, didn’t qualify. But they didn’t look exactly the same as they had the last time she’d seen him shirtless—a tattoo wrapped his torso under his left arm, a watercolor nature scene bleeding out of a bold diamond-shaped frame. The bottom of the frame dipped below the waistband of his navy-and-white surfing shorts. The scene looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She fought the urge to reach out and trace the outline from mountain peak to stream.
Admiring Tavish’s taut stomach, another urge built deep in Lauren’s belly.
She fought that, too.
Mackenzie tossed him a towel, and he dried the water droplets clinging to the butterscotch-colored hair sprinkled on his well-formed chest.
Lauren jerked her gaze away. “Cadie, is Ben with Dad?” she asked, referring to her sister’s baby son.
Her sister nodded. “They headed off to see some of the new horses at Auntie Georgie’s ranch for the day.” Doting on Ben became a downright family competition at times. Parenting solo had been that much harder given Cadie had been recently widowed when Ben was born, so everyone pitched in when they could. “We brought chocolate croissants, Laur. Thought we’d have a bite to eat and then do some more skiing.”
Accompanied by Tavish’s perfectly formed pecs. Great. Drawing from the same well of determination as when she dealt with bodily fluids at the clinic, she forced her lips into a grin and reached for the box of pastries. “I’ll take these up to the patio table and go put on a pot of coffee. Want me to boil some water for herbal tea, Kenz?”
“Please,” Mackenzie replied, eyes slightly narrowed. She’d glanced between Tavish and Lauren more than once since getting out of the boat.
Lauren beat a hasty retreat to her kitchen. She had to do a better job of hiding her reactions to Tavish over breakfast.
For the next twenty minutes she sipped her coffee, munched on a croissant and participated in small talk. She even did a decent job of keeping her eyes on her food and off the way Tavish’s arms bulged under his T-shirt.
Setting down his empty coffee cup with emphasis, Andrew looked at her with a cheeky smile. “You going to try to beat my slalom-course record today, Laur?”
“I just may.” She grinned back, feeling in her element for the first time since Tavish showed up for stitches yesterday. Skiing, she could do. She ran into her house to grab her wetsuit and skis, early hour and ex-husbands be damned.
When she returned, Cadie and Mackenzie had taken up residence in the pair of cushioned lounge chairs on the dock. Her brother sat sideways in the driver’s seat of his boat, sandals propped on the passenger’s dashboard. Tavish straddled the port-side gunwale, one bare foot in the boat and one on the dock. All long limbs and straining T-shirt and way too delicious.
As Lauren strolled down the gangplank with her ski in one hand and her life jacket in the other, she caught him watching her. His throat bobbed. Yeah, she knew she looked good in her wetsuit. The neoprene enhanced each one of her curves. A thrill zipped through her body that he’d noticed.
“I’m up next,” she announced. “I want to see what my new ski can do.”
“I think it’s more the skier than the ski, Laur.” Tavish raked a hand through his hair. Sunlight reflected off the twisted gold-and-silver links of a bracelet on his left wrist. “When was the last time you went out?”
“Last weekend.” She walked to the end of the dock, watching him with a confident eye as she sprayed lubricant in the bindings and slid her feet in.
“I don’t remember you being that into waterskiing,” he said, sounding puzzled.
She mimicked the cocky grin he’d sent her way when he’d skied up to the dock. “That’s what happens when you stay away—people change. And learn how to trounce you on the slalom course.” She sat on the edge of the dock, both feet secure in midcalf-high boots, and held her hand out for the tow rope.
“You want this length?” Tavish’s eyes widened. The rope was still the length he’d last used—one requiring a good deal of skill.
“For now. I’ll use it as a warm-up.”
He guffawed. “A warm-up. Right.”
“Yeah. Right.” She left no room for misunderstanding in her voice.
“Okay.” He didn’t sound at all convinced as he tossed her the rope and sat on the passenger side of the boat with his feet resting on the carpeted engine cover.
Andrew turned to Tavish. “Ten bucks says you eat your words.”
Tavish snorted. “Done.”
Within a minute they roared away from the dock. Lauren channeled her frustration over Tavish’s doubt into cutting back and forth across the wake until they entered the slalom course. Then all thoughts of her ex-husband disappeared as she focused on leaning against the rope, flying back and forth. Releasing her outside arm as she rounded each ball, then pulling the rope in tight to her hip as she turned in the other direction, she did her best to send up a cascade of water twice the size of Tavish’s.
As she cut around the third ball of six, she let out a whoop—she’d beaten Tavish’s performance. Ha. Her competitive streak hadn’t kicked in this strong in a while. She’d blame him for that, too. He was already at fault for stealing away the peace of her morning; what was one more charge?
Successfully reaching the end of the course, Lauren held up a palm in a stop signal. Andrew slowed the boat to an idle, and she sank into the water.
“Take the rope in, Tavish,” she called.
“Seriously?” His voice lifted in surprise. “Twenty-eight feet off is damn tough.”
“And I’m damn good.” Satisfaction spread through her at being able to bring the glow of amazement into Tavish’s eyes. “Change the rope. And hurry up. Pretty sure I can feel ice crystals in my capillaries.”
“Don’t get testy. I just didn’t know you were trying to go pro.” Tavish unhooked the rope and refastened it, six feet shorter.
“I beat you. Now I need to do the same for Andrew.” Lauren took a breath and gripped the rope handle. She’d have to stretch out parallel to the water to get around any of the balls—her five feet and one scant inch worked against her at this point.
“Ready, Lauren?” Andrew called.
“Hit it.” Lauren tucked and let the boat pull her out of the water.
She quickly adjusted to the short rope. The heat of temper buzzed in her muscles as she stretched out toward the first ball. Releasing the handle with one hand, she cut around the obstacle. Inches from the surface of the lake, she somehow managed to pull herself up with enough time to repeat the feat on the other side. Her arms and quads screamed at her. She forced her body to submit one last time but that was it. Muscles totally gassed, she ripped back toward the middle of the wake where she stayed instead of trying for the remaining balls. That tied her brother’s personal best—she’d beat him by the end of the summer. And surpassing Tavish tasted too sweet to fuss about Andrew’s record. Tapping her head with the palm of her hand to signal she wanted to head home, she made lazy passes all the way back to the dock.
Cadie and Mackenzie clapped loudly as she let go of the rope and sank into the water. She shimmied out of her ski and propelled it toward Cadie, who waited for it on the dock. “My turn!” her sister announced, getting ready to enter the water.
Tavish climbed out of the boat, and Mackenzie took his place as spotter, and then Andrew gunned the engine once more.
Lauren busied herself drying off and slipping back into her yoga pants, not happy to be left alone with her ex-husband, who stood by the ladder. With his back to her and his arms crossed, she could only guess that he was feeling the same. But she wasn’t in a hurry to find out if she was right on that. The out-in-the-wide-open dock smothered like a musty closet.
By the time she acknowledged him with a quiet “Pretty sure you owe Andrew ten bucks,” the boat was at the far end of the lake.
Sitting on one of the lounge chairs, he stretched out his long legs. He linked his fingers behind his head and fixed her with an inquisitive look. “You trying to prove something out there?”
“Maybe.” She sat down on the other deck chair and snuggled against the backrest. “Guess I wanted to remind you that just because I’m a homebody doesn’t mean I’m boring.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Pixie, I haven’t had a boring moment with you once.”
Pixie? Oh, God. He’d started calling her that back in high school once he’d officially surpassed her by a full foot. It had made her laugh then, so she’d put up with it. After she broke up with him—college plus distance did not mix—he’d stopped using the endearment. Until he and Andrew had crashed her friends-only trip to Vegas to celebrate her finishing her residency. He’d confessed to still loving her, to wanting to make it work. And she’d loved him enough to try to compromise. Once they’d exchanged vows, he’d added “Pixie” back into his lexicon.
Usually when he was trying to get her out of her clothes.
Then again, “I love you” had worked like a charm, too. But it had only taken a couple of weeks to learn no compromise was enough to keep that love alive.
He pressed his lips together and looked away. Was he as tortured by the memory as she? He deserved to be, damn it.
“Quite the place you found,” he ground out.
Glancing up at the sparkling glass and stained logs, Lauren smiled. “I bought it in the fall.”
His eyes turned serious. “I’m surprised you’re this far out of town, though. Given how you insisted you wanted to stay close to your dad and Cadie.”
“Just because I want to be close to them doesn’t mean I need to live next door.” Glaring at him, she pressed her water-chilled hands against her too-hot cheeks.
He got a near-apologetic look on his face. “Or maybe they don’t need you as much as you claim they do.”
The heat in her face spread down her neck, spiraled into her belly and legs. She dropped her hands, clenched her fingers. “I’m less than a half hour away. That’s pretty fricking close.”
“And if we’d been somewhere else and they’d needed you, you could have—” He sighed. “Never mind. I needed to talk to you about—”
“We’ve done enough talking.”
“I—” He shifted his gaze to the end of the lake, where the boat had turned around. The hum of the engine reached a crescendo as it approached. “I guess it can wait. So, you were pretty impressive to watch out there.”
She wanted to insult his own performance to regain a fighting position in their spar, but couldn’t, not when any insult would be a lie. “You, too,” she admitted.
His expression flickered with amusement. “Was that so hard?”
“No.” Some lies were worth the guilt. She pivoted, feeling stronger facing him head-on, and rubbed her hands together to try to increase the blood flow to her ice-cold fingertips. Sometimes she could forget, could go back to when she was seventeen and he was eighteen and they had all summer to flirt and gibe. Other times, the pain of his desertion—and the knowledge she was equally to blame as he was—hurt so badly she expected to spit up blood.
He leaned forward and took her hands in his. The warmth of his touch immediately seeped into her skin. “I didn’t think we’d end up like this. I thought we’d move on.”
A solid rush of frustration erupted in her chest. “How am I supposed to move on when you keep poking at me, trying to make it sound like it was all my fault we couldn’t make this work?”
He sat, mouth open, gripping her hands so she couldn’t get away. She pulled, but he hung on.
“Let go, Tavish. We failed at being together. And I’ve been lying to my family about it for a year. Two transgressions I don’t take lightly.”
He met her challenge with a gaze that bit straight through to her core. His grip on her fingers changed from a utilitarian warming rub to a more sensual press. “It’s not something either of us should take lightly. And had you been willing to tell our families about what happened in Vegas, you might not be so damn stuck.”
“I am not stuck.” And he’s not going to believe me unless I stop shouting. She lowered her volume. “What would it say about me if I didn’t feel bad for lying to my family?”
“They didn’t need to know. That’s what you said, anyway.” He traced his fingers against the backs of her hands. His touch felt too gentle, too caring, coming from someone incapable of a functional relationship. Lifting one of her hands to his lips, he kissed her fingertips, setting them off like sparklers.
“I don’t need you to validate my guilt, Tavish,” she snapped. Not only might their siblings be watching from the boat, but his lips plus her skin still equaled electric currents—both problems with potentially disastrous outcomes. Yanking her hands away, she stood. “I’m going to go get more coffee.”
By the time she climbed the stairs to her house and entered her kitchen, all her self-preservation had drained from her like a trail of gasoline from the dock to the house, ready to ignite and burn to cinders. She poured herself a fresh mug of coffee but didn’t drink, just let the heat from the pottery leach into her hands. It was a safer heat than Tavish’s.
Her life felt like an “Oh, God, Dad’s coming over in ten minutes and the house is filthy” moment. But she had carefully stuffed her crap into closets so no one would realize how messy she was. She’d been Cadie’s sounding board since Sam died, and her father’s since her grandparents’ fatal car accident last May. Last May when she’d been secretly standing at an altar with Tavish. Goddamn it. Sure, Andrew was a rock, but he had Mackenzie and the baby to worry about, and couldn’t always be there for Cadie and their father like Lauren could.
Somehow, she needed to construct a Rocky Mountain-size barricade between herself and her ex-husband. Gripping the kitchen counter, she stared through the window as the boat returned to the dock and everyone piled out. She relaxed at the prospect of no longer being alone with Tavish. Until realization struck—she’d let him chase her off her own dock. Shameful. She stomped back down the stairs.
Cadie flopped onto a lounge chair and snuggled under a towel, and held her hands out to Lauren. “Can I hold your coffee for a few minutes? My fingers are numb.”
“Sure.” Lauren passed the mug over and sat down in the chair next to her sister’s, trying to convince herself that the smell of sandalwood lingering on the cushion hadn’t come from Tavish’s soft hair. He’d climbed back into the boat and sat in one of the stern seats, concentrating intently on the screen of his cell phone. He’d zipped into a hoodie, but that did nothing to minimize his hotness—just one more article of clothing to strip off him. Getting to undress him in their honeymoon suite while he stood stock-still, eyes burning with need, had been one of the best—
Ugh. What is my problem today?
He stretched, exposing a thin line of tanned, tattooed skin between his hoodie and board shorts.
Thanks for the taunt, universe. That was a hypothetical question. Didn’t really need the object lesson.
“Let me know when you’re warmed up, Cadie,” Andrew said, tugging Mackenzie into the bow seat and pulling her in close next to him. “You can drive and I’ll ski back to the boat launch. After this run, I’m going to head into the office for a few hours.”
“You were supposed to take the day off,” Tavish said in a half-engaged tone, still focused on whatever he was reading on his cell.
“And so were you, but you seem pretty absorbed in your emails,” Andrew countered.
“Yeah, just got my itinerary for my Thailand assignment in the fall.”
Leaving again. Of course. She steeled herself before disappointment struck, before she wasted any more emotions on Tavish.
Turning off his phone, Tavish jammed it in his pocket. “Sorry. All yours until tomorrow.”
Andrew rubbed his hands together and let out an exaggerated cackle. “Better get used to it. In no time it’ll be the wedding and I’ll own your ass. I think I’ll start training you this afternoon so there’s less to do in July.”
Training? The word skittered down Lauren’s spine like an unwelcome insect. She shivered and pinned Tavish with a questioning look.
He paled. “Uh, well—”
“What is going on?” Her heartbeat filled her ears, drowning out the sound of water slapping against the dock.
“Finally found you help for while I’m away,” Andrew said, climbing out of the boat with an oblivious grin on his face. “Tavish is going to be your assistant.”
* * *
Gripping his sandwiched-together flip-flops in one hand, Tavish smacked the rubber against his thigh and huffed out a breath. Ah, hell. That was not how he’d wanted Lauren to find out. He should have told her when he had the chance.
Turning white, she stammered out an excuse of having to have a shower before meeting Mackenzie in town for wedding prep. She sprinted up her multileveled deck as if trying to escape an encroaching forest fire.
And it was up to Tavish to put out the flames. He tilted his chin at Drew, who was sitting on the dock waiting for his turn for a ski. “You know, Lauren and I need to coordinate our best-man/maid-of-honor speeches. I’m going to stick around, throw some ideas by her. I’ll catch a ride into town with her.”
Drew nodded and zipped up his life jacket. He caught the tow rope from Mackenzie. “See you at the office?”
“Yeah, give me an hour.” Provided he made it to town without Lauren dispatching his body on a deserted dirt road.
He hugged his sister and Cadie, ignoring the suspicion written on their faces.
A minute later the roar of the boat retreated into the distance. He stared up at the house, the one Lauren had bought and made into a home without him. Not that he needed a house. Just the opposite.
After Mackenzie had shacked up with Drew, Tavish had taken over her apartment to avoid having to find a new place to stash the few boxes of childhood mementos and photography equipment he’d been keeping in her spare closet. That served as more than enough of a base. No point in owning a chunk of property or some neatly constructed glass and logs if he wasn’t ever going to be in town long enough to enjoy them.
He took a deep breath and trudged barefoot up the sets of half stairs. His knock on the glass door went unanswered, so he pulled it open and stepped into the open-concept kitchen and living area. Running a hand along the green-flecked granite counter, he blinked as his eyes adjusted after being in the bright morning sun. “Lauren? You here?”
The dining table sat empty, as did the chocolate-colored leather couches and armchairs curved around a stunning river-rock fireplace that soared all the way to the pine-planked ceiling. He let out a low whistle. Talk about a showpiece. But the house managed to look livable, too.
Touches of Lauren livened the room: clusters of family pictures and splashes of color in throw pillows and an orchid, plum and cream-striped floor rug anchoring the couches. Job hazard, noticing color. Though that didn’t stop his friends from giving him grief for knowing the difference between orchid and plum. Whatever. The predominant moss-and-tree-bark motif made him think of curling up with a bowl of popcorn under a blanket and listening to spring rain on the tin roof. Thanks to the sudden end of their marriage, they hadn’t had the chance to do normal husband-and-wife things, movies on the couch and the like. But they’d been pro snugglers when they’d dated in high school—it took zero effort to remember the comforting shape of her shoulders under his arm.
He wandered over to the mantel, to a pair of photographs in mismatched standing frames. None of him there, not that he expected it.
But he did recognize himself in one sense—he’d taken both the pictures on display. A shot of Drew, Cadie and Mackenzie laughing on a chairlift—he’d been on the chair in front of them and had turned around at the exact right time to capture the women doubled over at one of Drew’s jokes. The other one, though—he had to close his eyes for a second before he could fully take in Drew and Lauren on their trip to Vegas, sitting in the center of a small group of Lauren’s friends. Lauren wore a tiara, a silly gift from her brother for finishing her residency. Tavish had been working on a magazine spread in LA, so he’d joined them on impulse. And the day everyone else had left, Tavish and Lauren had exchanged rings.
“Why are you still here? Your ride’s gone.” She threw the accusation out from somewhere behind him.
He turned, held up his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace.”
Gripping the newel post, she shuffled her feet on the bottom tread of the staircase. Her sleek hair hung in just-showered tendrils around her shoulders, making damp spots on her silk bathrobe. That material would be touchable as hell and, with her soft skin, it would be hard to tell where silk ended and flesh began.
Cool it, Fitzgerald.
He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his hoodie sweatshirt. “Just needed to explain myself.”
“Explaining yourself is well and good, but you’re getting back to town how?” she demanded.
“Uh, you?”
“Try again, Tavish.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she sent him a death stare.
Okay. So his prediction he might end up in a shallow grave wasn’t far off. And no way were his fingers getting even close to touching her.
Instead of verbally running in circles, he went for the easy out. He pasted a cheeky smile on his face. “That’s a pretty complicated half hitch in your panties, Lauren.”
“You can dream about seeing my panties, but it’s not going to happen.”
He chuckled. She made it so easy. “I don’t need to dream, sweetheart. I got my fill in Vegas. You still like lace, or have you moved on to the waist-high, granny kind?”
“Wouldn’t you love to know?”
A predictable response, clichéd even, but it pierced the bull’s-eye. Discovering white lace under Lauren’s wedding dress had killed him. And getting to touch her over the soft material, coaxing sexy moans from her with his fingers? The memory still kept him up at night. He barely held in a groan and ran a hand over his face before she realized just how much he’d love to delve under her robe. To find out what she had hidden beneath. Maybe nothing but her sweet skin.
“Nice house. I recognize the artwork.” He jabbed a thumb toward his photography on the mantel.
“Don’t read anything into it. You have a way with a camera.” Her pink cheeks contrasted with her blanched knuckles, which were clenched in fists at her sides. “And with ruining my summer vacation, apparently.”
“You going to give me the chance to explain before you reduce me to ash with that glare?”
“By all means.” She stomped into her kitchen and started opening and slamming cabinets before yanking out a coffee canister and grinder and placing them on the granite island. Sure, her anger had grown to the point that he could almost see it shimmering on her skin, but too much white showed around her irises to peg her as solely pissed off. She was covering for something he didn’t want to poke too much. Unearthing their feelings could suck him past the point of no return.
He strolled to the island and leaned his forearms on the surface across from where she was shakily scooping beans into the grinder. “Mackenzie and Drew needed help, Lauren. Otherwise they were going to have to cancel their honeymoon.”
“Nice to know you’re more concerned about your ex-brother-in-law than your ex-wife.” She pressed her lips together, brows knitted into a near V-shaped blond line.
Tavish’s heart dropped. “That’s not... I didn’t know I’d be working with you when I offered. And it’s about my sister, too, not just Andrew.”
Beans whirred in the grinder. She stared at the counter and gripped the machine as it slowed into silence.
“I figured you’d be so busy at the clinic that we’d barely see each other.” He offered the excuse in a gentle voice.
“Whatever.” Deserting the coffee, she circled the island and stood close enough to him that she had to tilt her chin to look him in the eye. He had a good foot on her, something she’d always complained about. Why, he didn’t know. It had just made it easier for him to pick her up, pin her against a wall and send her into oblivion. Her fresh-from-the-shower scent drifted into his nostrils, a hint of tropical summer and sugary sweetness. His mouth watered for a taste, just one...
And now he was lying to himself and not just his family. Great.
She slumped against the counter. “So, two weeks?”
The urge to touch her, comfort her, licked up his arms. He fisted his hands. “I’m sure if we schedule things right, we can avoid actually being in the office at the same time.”
“That’s not the problem!” She jabbed him in the chest. Her utilitarian-length nail wasn’t sharp enough to dig in, but she put enough force behind it for it to sting. “I can’t believe you’d step in with this, but you wouldn’t stick around for me!”
He caught her by the wrist before she could poke him again. “You needed more than two weeks, Lauren.”
Swiping at her eyes with the back of her other hand, she nodded. “I needed a lifetime.”
“And I couldn’t give that to you. Still can’t.” Not if it meant holing up in Sutter Creek. He ran his thumb along the fleshy base of her palm. The tendons in her hand tensed under his touch.
She glanced down at his fingers circled around her wrist, then back up to his face.
Those damp eyes. Holy hell. Through all of his travels, the countless people he’d captured with his camera lens, he hadn’t come across irises that exact blend of amber and spring green. Nor had he ever encountered eyes that could stare right to the core of his soul. A fist clamped around his stomach. He released her arm and tucked a damp wave of hair behind her ear. “That’s why we cut and ran. Better for both of us.”
“Was it really? Better, that is.” Her lips parted and her chest rose and fell faster than normal.
“I’m betting my mom would say it was. My dad jerked her around for almost a decade—did the same to Mackenzie and me—before disappearing. Our decision seems miles more responsible.”
Her expression softened, and she touched his face. Skilled physician’s fingers drawing down his cheek, leaving behind a trail of aching emptiness. They settled on his left pec. Did she know she owned the organ beating under her palm? That he’d given it to her in high school, and even through long-distance breakups and divorce, he’d never quite gotten it back?
“I’m not putting all this on you, you know,” she said. “I changed my mind. Was just as much at fault as you sticking to your need to roam.”
He settled his hand over hers and squeezed. “Never thought you were.”
“We’ll get through working together somehow. Through seeing each other every day.”
Anticipation, blended with dread, fused his heart to his lungs. He wanted to see her every day. And knew he’d feel like he was walking on knife blades each day he did.
“Maybe it’ll help us find closure,” she added.
He snorted.
“What?”
“We’ve wanted each other for over a decade. I don’t see that ending for me after spending two weeks watching you trot around the WiLA sites in tight technical gear.”
Her cheeks pinked. Her hand still rested on his chest and her fingertips dug into the muscle a fraction. “Kind of like you showing up on my dock in a fricking wetsuit?”
“I couldn’t exactly turn down the invitation when Drew extended it. Figured the fewer questions the better.” Sending her a pained grin, he brushed the backs of his fingers along her jawline. “And you can’t point fingers about wetsuits.”
The corner of her mouth curved as she toyed with the open zipper on his hoodie, running the tab up and down the teeth. “Pretty sure Cadie and Mackenzie suspect something’s going on between us.”
“We’ll hide it. Even if you did decide that you were ready to be honest about our marriage, dropping it on our families right before Drew and Kenz tie the knot would be the definition of unfair.”
Nodding, she slid her hand under the cotton of his hoodie. It rested on his waist. What he would give for her to drop that hand lower, cup his hardening length. He closed his eyes and shifted his weight, hoping she didn’t notice how much of an effect she was having on him. “I should probably go.”
It would be a long walk back, especially in flip-flops, but he didn’t trust himself to stay in her presence any longer without reaching for the row of tiny buttons holding the fabric of her robe snug under her breasts.
She stepped into him, until only an inch separated their bodies. A charged, heated energy thrummed between them, seeped from his skin deep into his bones. He couldn’t be the first to close the space. Couldn’t do that to her.
He didn’t have to. Standing on her toes, she pressed a kiss just above the collar of his T-shirt. “I dunno. If we’re needing closure... Maybe you should stay.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_d20396eb-8441-5adf-bd5f-ff78f35bd52a)
Tavish sucked in an embarrassingly shaky breath. “Stay?”
“Yeah.” Her lips landed on his collarbone again, along with the smallest flicker of her tongue. A fluttering, resolve-weakening caress. “Stay.”
“I shouldn’t.” He cupped the back of her head with one palm. Taking one of her hands, he twined his fingers with hers. “But when have we ever done what we should?”
She looked at the floor, sucked in a breath and then made fierce, needy eye contact with him. “Never. And we’ll be quick.”
He chuckled. “I might take my time. It’s been a year since I’ve had my hands on you, and since you’re talking about closure, we won’t do this again. So I’m going to savor every second.”
A faint complaint escaped the back of her throat. Those flushed cheeks, the bare thread of control in her eyes—she’d be the death of him.
Settling his hands on her hips, sliding them over the slick silk, his heart stuttered. Yup, cardiac arrest city. But what a way to go.
Rocking back a step, she plucked open one of the buttons holding her robe closed on the side. The thin strip of material was the only thing keeping him from palming her soft, pretty breasts. Man, he had a backlist of ways he wanted to pleasure Lauren Dawson. Freezing in his cot in Siberia this winter, he’d compiled a mental tally of ways they could have kept warm together. He started to shrug out of his hoodie, but she stopped him with a firm look.
“I’ll do that.” She frantically shoved the material off his shoulders. It landed on the hardwood with a swoosh. “Hurry.”
She flicked another one of her buttons open.
His body twitched in agreement with her command for speed. No, slow down. “Why so urgent?”
“To make sure we get into town on time.”
“They think we’re speechwriting. If we’re late, they won’t question us.” His fingers shook as he managed to undo the rest of the delicate placket. One side of her robe fell to the side, baring a hint of supple skin, but another layer of thin material hid the rest of her. Lifting her and settling her on the counter, he groaned. “This robe is keeping me from seeing you, sweetheart. I think you did this on purpose.”
“It’s buttoned on the side. Inside.” A sheen of sweat glimmered on her upper lip. She near to whimpered, forehead creasing with complaint, and scrambled for the bottom of his T-shirt. She tossed the material to the floor and moved on to the Velcro fly of his board shorts.
He placed a hand gently on the side of her neck, kissed the opposite collarbone. “Hold on, Laur. I don’t mind speeding this up some, but I don’t want to miss the next part.”
Shaking, eyes closed, she paused. Clenched her hands around his hips as, with a care he’d only ever felt for Lauren, he popped a few of the hidden buttons holding her robe together. Jade lace peeked out on one side from the parted fabric. He traced a finger along the exposed material.
“Tavish.” She kneaded his hips and squirmed under his touch, bucked forward. Pressed her heat into his hardening erection. He let out a loud groan and dispensed with the rest of her buttons. Her robe parted like a jacket, only a few scraps of sheer lingerie covering all the parts he wanted to touch.
Starting with her mouth. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.” And he’d fix that. He claimed her soft lips with his, nipped and delved and loved her mouth until the faint hint of her chocolate-and-coffee breakfast flooded every part of his tongue.
Reaching again for his shorts, she dipped her fingers under the back of his waistband and cinched her legs around his hips. Her soft center was aligned with his very need. Amazing enough on its own, but then she twisted her hips. He had to lock his knees.
“Tavish, foreplay is nice and all...”
“Nice?” He shot her a look of mock insult and reached a finger down to the lace below her navel, drew a wavy line in and out of the top inch of her panties.
“Really nice.” Her chest rose and her thighs tightened around his pelvis.
Tavish’s mind cleared of everything but Lauren and how good it was going to feel to bury himself in her body. He flicked open the front clasp of her bra and cupped her breasts with all the reverence she deserved, swirled his thumbs around her beading nipples. “Pixie, you are so gorgeous.”
“You, too. But I want more.” She framed his face in her hands, took his lips hostage and dueled with his tongue until he could barely breathe. “All of you. Now.”
* * *
Within seconds of her command, one that came from a place Lauren hadn’t known existed, Tavish unwound her legs from his hips. He shucked off his shorts.
Lauren was caught by his beauty. Not unawares. She knew the shape of his muscular chest, the hair that delineated the center of his abs. But having all of Tavish in front of her, having him offer himself to her, made her realize how unprepared she was. Unprepared to deal with the sum of muscles and entrancing tattoo and that sexy happy trail. And every time she tried to speed up the kissing and stroking, he slowed her down.
She didn’t want to question having asked him to stay, just wanted to escape into the sensual haze. Shedding her panties, she pulled his hips back into the cradle of her own. A groan escaped from his parted lips. He played with the ends of her half-dry hair, ran his fingers through it. Seemed to savor, soak in the sensual touch.
The trees and water of his tattoo rippled, took on life. She outlined the diamond shape from the top of his rib cage, along the smooth skin of his side until she hit cotton. She nudged down the waist of his boxers, her fingers kissing the tight ridge of muscle that arrowed toward his groin. And something about the movement of his muscle under ink had her straightening. “Oh, my God. You designed your tattoo. It’s your river spot.”
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