the door where his father was already headed. She made her fingers walk, miming leaving. He nodded and mouthed his thanks.
“Nicely done,” Tara said.
When he turned to her, he caught a glimpse of pure exhaustion before she slapped on her smile.
“You look worn out,” he said.
“I feel that way. Too much smiling and nodding, too many back-in-the-day tales. I feel like I can’t catch a breath. I need a hummingbird break.” She put a hand to her mouth, realizing she’d used their code for making out on her back terrace where hummingbirds crowded the flower trellis. “I mean a real break, not a...” She blushed, which made her look more beautiful than ever.
“I know what you meant,” he said, his body flooded with lust all the same.
Her lips parted and she took a quick breath, feeling it, too, he guessed.
“Just say the word,” he said. “Need me to run interference?”
Tara looked around the room, her gaze pausing at her mother, standing with their housekeeper. “No. Mom’s okay. The guests are content. I can duck out. Ask the bartender for the bottle of Patron Silver and meet me.”
Tequila had been their drink—usually shots or over ice, once in a while in a margarita. Maybe it had been Tara’s drink and he’d grown to love the bitter tang and kerosene burn because he loved her.
When he got to the terrace, Tara lay on a chaise lounge in just her blouse and skirt, the blouse open low, sleeves rolled, her arms folded behind her head.
“You look...comfortable.” She looked sexy as hell. Her skirt ended mid-thigh, exposing long, tan legs and bare feet, toes painted as red as the flowers that lined the trellis before them. One tug on that slippery-looking shirt and it would slide right off her shoulders.
“I am.” She gave him a lazy smile.
He made himself stop staring and sat at the table, setting the glasses, lime and tequila on the wrought-iron table.
“You always knew what I needed,” she said, sitting sideways on the lounger to reach the table, her knees bumping his and staying there.
“This was your idea, not mine, remember?” he said, pouring tequila over the ice and lime, the smell alone taking him back.
“Yeah, but I was reading your mind.” She grinned and picked up her drink.
“You think so?” He tapped her glass with his. If she had read his mind, she’d have slapped him or kissed him, he wasn’t sure which.
Their eyes met over the drinks and he felt a flash of connection, like heat lightning slicing a summer monsoon sky. Just like that, ten years evaporated. They were together again.
They both dipped into their drinks and sipped. The sharp taste filled his mouth, his throat, burning a path to his stomach, bringing back the heady excitement of being with Tara, anticipating her naked body against his, the pleasure of knowing that she needed him, that he made her happy, the glory of sinking into a place that consisted of the two of them alone.
That was a lot to get from one sip of tequila, but those months with her had been branded into him, vivid as an acid etching in his head.
“Yum,” she said, licking her lips in a way that almost stopped his heart.
“Yeah,” he said. “I haven’t had tequila in a while.” Ten years to be exact. Too many associations. Stupidly sentimental of him, he realized, but he’d done it automatically.
“Me, either.” Had she done the same thing? He doubted that. She’d cut all ties with him. That had to include the pleasant memories.
“It’s nice out here,” she said, looking out at the terrace. The marble fountain splashed peacefully, the arbor was thick with flowers—bloodred with dark green leaves, the stamens stabs of gold.
She settled her eyes on him. “You look good. More, I don’t know, filled out, I guess.” She dipped into her glass, as if embarrassed she’d noticed.
“You look the same. Still beautiful.” He cleared his throat, hoping that hadn’t been too sappy.
“The same? No way. It’s been ten years.”
“Your hairstyle is new. You seem more...mature.” He wasn’t about to mention her being curvier. No telling how she’d take that.
“Is that a polite way of saying older?”
“More confident. Like you know what you want...and how to get it.”
“I do. I do know what I want.” Her tone made his mind go straight to sex. He caught the flare of it in her eyes, too.
They watched each other. He remembered them together—the heat, the love, the hurt and loss. It flowed through him