Back Where She Belongs(22)

She remembered being in his arms, swept away by a passion so hot that nothing else in the world mattered. That had been mind-blowing. How had she forgotten passion?

Duster gave out a groan, as if he felt the tension between them. He lay below them like he used to when they would make out in Dylan’s living room. Their knees touched, pressed together. Dylan’s arm was across the back of the sofa, his fingers just brushing her shoulder, feeling natural. All she had to do was turn toward him, lean in and they would slide right into it.

It? What is it? Kissing? First base? All the way? Stop acting like you’re seventeen.

“But you can’t go home again,” she said, scooting a few inches away.

“Nope,” he said, leaning into the corner of the couch. “Nothing stays the same, even when you stay.”

They both looked away at the same time, then back, smiling sheepishly at each other, as if they’d gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“And now I have my own company and you saved your father’s,” she said on a big breath in a bright voice. “Does he realize what you did for him, what you sacrificed?” She sounded harsher than she intended, still reacting to the earlier temptation. It was true, though. Dylan’s father had taken advantage of his son’s loyalty.

Anger flared in Dylan’s eyes, which surprised her. She’d clearly hit a sore spot. “Staying was my decision, not my father’s, and I have no regrets.”

That hurt a little. Her teenage self lurked inside, she guessed. She had needed more than anything to be first in his heart. It had killed her to learn she wasn’t. He’d chosen his father over her. “Really?” she said. “No regrets about giving up NAU? Astronomy? You missed out on all that. It seems sad to me.”

“People change. They grow up. You did.” There was an edge to his voice. “You work for big business now. What happened to the pyramid of exploitation, the evils of corporate greed, all your ideals?”

“Wow,” she said, falling back against the sofa. “You jabbed back. I’m impressed. You always used to fold when we argued.”

“You were a bad loser. It was rarely worth the fight. I figured you could take it now.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, the friction gone.

She laughed. It just burst out of her. “You called me a sell-out, a sore loser and a baby and I’m laughing. Only you could pull that off.” She shook her head.

“I did regret hurting you, Tara,” he said, touching her knee. “I regretted that a lot. I still do.” He looked closely at her, telling her he meant it. His words helped, but didn’t touch the deeper ache—that he thought she was incapable of love.

“I hurt you, too,” she said.

“You did that.” Pain flickered in his eyes, remembering.

“I’m sorry, Dylan.”

“Me, too.” They held each other’s gaze letting the feeling settle and fade.

“That was then and this is now, and we’re friends, right?” she said brightly, determined to get past this. “Like you and Candee?”

“Like me and Candee.”

“But without the benefits.” She winked and tapped his glass with hers, proud of her jaunty tone, though she felt heavy inside, weighted down, as if she were saying goodbye to something she didn’t want to lose.

“I need to check the chicken,” Dylan said, pushing to his feet.

She followed him through the kitchen—cranberry-red with dark granite countertops, fancy pots and pans hanging over an island—and out to the patio, where a table was set with colorful pottery plates and cloth napkins rolled around flatware.

Dylan opened the grill to baste an upright chicken, its skin just browning. The aroma was mesquite smoke and dark beer. “Mmm, smells like Ruby’s minus the cigarette smoke,” she said.

He laughed. “Ruby’s doesn’t smell like cigarettes anymore. No smoking in restaurants, remember?”

“Right. Probably ruins the food.”

“You’ll see. I’ll take you there—” He stopped abruptly, probably realizing he’d sounded like they were a couple, making dinner plans. “Anyway, looks like another fifteen minutes. The rest is ready inside.”

He sat at the table. She sat across from him. “You must be a great cook. You’ve got all that gourmet cookware.”

He laughed. “I got talked into buying all that. Long story.”

“Judging from your face, it was a woman, right?”

“Yeah. Candee. She does these home sales parties—candles, jewelry, handbags. She’d been hounding me to come to one and I figured cookware was about as masculine as they were going to get.”

“How sweet. You help out your ex-wife.” Candee was lucky to have such a generous and kind guy in her life. Tara envied her.

“There were no benefits involved, okay?” he said firmly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it. I know you.”

“You do. You do know me.” Better than anyone ever had. It had been ten years. The thought made her stomach drop. She finished her drink in one swallow. Dylan did the same.

Beyond his pool on a concrete rise, she noticed a telescope on a stand. “You still do astronomy?”

“Yep. That’s computer guided. You can really see a lot.”

“I took an astronomy class, you know,” she said. “Freshman year.”

“You’re kidding.”

“After all you raved about Lowell Observatory, I had to. I mean, I hated the snow, so I had to get something out of being there.”

“Sorry about that.” He winced. NAU had been his choice, not hers.

“It’s fine. I got what I wanted. I escaped Wharton and didn’t let my parents buy my way into an Ivy League school.” She shrugged, remembering that time. “I was lost at first. I knew who I didn’t want to be—Abbott and Rachel Wharton’s screwed-up daughter—not who I wanted to be.”

“We all have to figure that out, whether or not we have a town named after us.”

“True.” There was more she wanted to say, more questions she wanted to ask, and she could feel that Dylan felt the same, but she knew they were tender around each other and always would be. They’d crossed lines not meant to be crossed, gotten too close, hurt each other too deeply. You truly couldn’t go home again.

“How’d you end up in the business you’re in?” he asked, clearly changing the subject.

“I took a sociology class, and there was an expert on corporate culture. He walked us through a few of his case studies and it just set me on fire.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in, eyes focused on her face, eager to hear whatever she had to say. He’d always been a good listener.

“What we do is fix employee-manager dynamics in the workplace. Managers become more humane. Employees feel empowered. People over profits, you know? See? I still have my ideals.”

“I never doubted that.”

“It’s about relationships. Building trust. Open and honest communication. Shared values.”

“Sounds like marriage counseling.”

“It’s like that. Companies are families, really. There are issues, conflicts, personality clashes. Our job is to develop better ways to be together.” She hadn’t needed a shrink to tell her that her own terrible family played no small part in her passion for her field. “I talked the guy into an internship, ended up working for him until I opened my own company a year and a half ago.”

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I feel the same about you.” They were wrapping it all up and tying it with a bow. They’d been in love, they’d broken up, they’d made happy lives for themselves, so long forever. Something in her resisted that. She didn’t want to slap on a friendship bracelet and call it a day, dammit. There was more here. Lots more.

Tara took in the gorgeous sunset, the orange light making the telescope glow. “I used to love sitting out in the chill, taking turns looking into the eyepiece.”

“Tonight’s a good night for stargazing,” he said. “If you’d like that.” His tone said they were talking about more than a telescope. Tonight was a good night for stargazing and getting naked and tangling in the sheets, and not leaving the bed for hours, days, weeks....

“I would like that.” She felt herself being pulled into this moment, like the tug of stars on their planets, steady and sure. Irresistible. She saw that same tug in Dylan’s smoky gray eyes.

They were daring each other to go for it, to kiss, to make love. She tingled with the thrill of it, the burn and ache of it. It was like the time they’d challenged each other to jump from higher and higher ledges into the river. They got to the highest spot, dripping, breathing hard, looked down, then at each other and burst out laughing, chickening out at the same time.