matter. She’d never let anyone that close.
“The whole way home you yelled at me, said I was a macho asshole, a self-righteous jerk, a—”
“Stop!” She cringed. “I was awful to you. Why did you ask me out?”
“I knew you were showing off for your friends. We used to play Parcheesi when our parents had card parties, remember?”
“I do. And I used to cheat.”
“I remember.”
“I couldn’t stand to lose. What a brat I was.”
“I didn’t care. You made me laugh. You viewed the world so quirky. It was like you tickled my brain.”
“I tickled your brain. I think there were more parts involved than that.”
“That goes without saying.”
Zing. It hit again. That low, swooping charge through her body, zooming to the spot between her legs. When her knees gave way, she said, “Let’s sit down.” She barely made it to the overstuffed brown leather sofa. Dylan sat close to her, his knees turned toward hers, eyes on her face. They both set their drinks on the table.
“So that was why? You asked me out because I tickled your brain?”
“Also I’m a masochist.”
She gave him a playful slap, though she knew she hadn’t been easy to be with, restless, always pushing for more, testing his love, his patience. She’d been a pure mess.
“The truth is I asked you out because Reed Walker was an ass,” he said in a low, serious voice. “He didn’t get you. You were wasting your spark on him.”
“Oh.” She felt hot all over. “What a nice thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
“You were good to me, Dylan. I know I was...intense.”
“We were good to each other.” He paused. “When my parents were ripping into each other every night, you made me feel better.”
“You steadied me.” He still did. Since she’d returned, he’d had that effect on her. He’d cheered her, comforted her, made her feel like she belonged...at least for now and at least with him.
“We really had something,” he said.
“It was something, all right.”
“I keep thinking about us.” He smiled wistfully.
“Me, too. The good parts anyway.”
“The sex?” He grinned that wicked grin she’d always loved.
“Oh, yeah. The sex was great.” Why admit it? What was she doing?
“Yeah, it was.” His words sent a charge zooming along her nerves, lighting everything up like a pinball machine.
Tara could smell him. His cologne, laundry soap and that sweet tease that was just his skin. Sometimes, just smelling him would make her feel so light-headed she thought she might faint.
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