It Must Be Your Love (The Sullivans #11)(7)

As if she realized she was rising to the bait by reacting to him, she suddenly took a deep, steadying breath that had her flushed skin cooling and her fists unclenching. Another man might have thought this was a step in the right direction, but Ford knew otherwise. Mia Sullivan was meant to be fire and sparks.

Cool meant that he was losing her.

He’d lost her once. No matter what he had to do, he wouldn’t lose her again.

Now she was the one leaning lightly against the doorframe, crossing her gorgeous legs at the ankles, her mouth curving up slightly at the corners in a mocking smile. “Are you really in the market for a home in Seattle? Or were you just feeling a little bored on the road and ready to have a laugh today at my expense?”

Yes, he couldn’t deny that having his lawyer call her about seeing houses in Seattle had been pure, unavoidable impulse. But before Mia had arrived this morning, he’d spent some time wandering around the property before heading up to the tower, where he had been pleased to find an unlocked door. He should have been more surprised that the thought of living in Seattle full time was a good one. Especially since in all his adult life, he’d never spent long enough anywhere to have grass of his own to cut or a kitchen to keep clean, just a tour bus that he swapped out every year for the newest, flashiest model. But there was something strangely enticing about those grounding chores.

The idea of giving up everything for Mia had seemed to come at him from out of the blue on his tour bus. But being near her again confirmed that it had always been there, humming away inside of him for five long years in the same way that some melodies toyed with him for weeks, months, even years, before the day when they finally became a real song.

“I do want a house in Seattle,” he confirmed, just barely keeping the words because of you from falling out of his mouth. It was too much, too soon, but he had to tell her, “And I needed to see you again.”

“Congratulations,” she said in that same icy tone. “You got what you wanted. You saw me. For the very last time.”

Though she was still only a few feet away, as she turned from him, Ford felt like she was almost as good as gone. Which meant he had nothing to lose by saying, “I never thought I’d see you like this.” When she didn’t turn back, he upped the ante with, “So frightened of seeing me again that you’re walking away less than five minutes in.”

The ice that she’d encased herself in cracked more and more with each word out of his mouth until he watched it shatter and fall completely away from the force of her renewed fury. She spun to face him.

“I’m not frightened of anything.” She tossed her head, her long, dirty-blond hair flowing down over her shoulders and br**sts. “Certainly not of you.”

This time he was the one raising an eyebrow. Still forcefully shoving down the urge to move across the round room to drag her against him, he shrugged. “Could have fooled me.”

Even as her fists clenched tighter, she moved closer to him. Her scent—a sweet hint of flowers wrapped in sinfully hot spice—wound through him. Lord, he’d loved her passion. The problem was that he’d been too young, too idiotic, to know how to appreciate it...or to know the true worth of one woman’s love versus ruling the world from a stage.

“Fear isn’t why I don’t want to take you on as a client. It’s because you’re fickle and self-centered, and I don’t have time for people like you who say they want a home in Seattle, but are really just wasting my time because you’re bored with all your money and playthings and staff scraping and bowing at your every command.”

“Seattle has always been my favorite city,” he told her in an easy voice. He shrugged again. “But I understand if you don’t think you can take me on as a client because you’re not over me.”

“Not over you?” Her glare was sharp enough that he could almost feel it slicing through his clothes to pierce his skin. “If you’re done with this really fun trip down memory lane, we’ve got three houses to see today.” She gestured toward the room with a flick of her hand. “This is the tower. It’s unique and one of my favorite things about this house. The stones were imported from a thirteenth-century castle in the north of England.”

Each word was clipped and scrupulously professional, but he still had to work like hell not to smile—at least not until she’d turned her back on him to head for the stairs.

Ford Vincent had been on stage in front of millions of people, had crushed music industry sales records with his last release, and had some of the most famous people in the world on speed dial...but he hadn’t felt this alive in years.

Chapter Four

In that first moment that Mia set eyes on Ford, looking gorgeous and strong as he stood in the tower, her heart had leapt as if he were the fairy-tale prince finally coming to wake her from her emotional slumber with his kiss of true love.

By moment two, thank God, she’d remembered the truth of who he really was.

Even so, she couldn’t possibly deny that seeing him again hadn’t just been a punch in the gut. It had been a punch in her heart...and her libido, too.

The week she’d met Ford five years ago had begun as the best of her life, and ended as the worst...all because her every fantasy of love had been kindled, then left to burn out and smoke, her eyes watering long after he’d gone.

Ford walked just a little too close behind her as they made their way down the staircase. Close enough that she could smell his clean, masculine scent, the same one that had driven her wild on those nights when they’d lain skin to skin, their hearts racing from their fierce, wild lovemaking. She had never been able to get close enough to him, and at the time, she’d thought it was just a physical manifestation of how badly she wanted him.