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.
“I’ll make more drinks,” she said, jumping up, her heart racing, her cheeks on fire. Despite their earnest, wish-you-well speeches, she wanted something to happen. She thought he did, too. Her hands shook as she dropped in ice, added a splash of vodka and poured in Mountain Dew.
At the last minute, she dumped in more vodka. What the hell, let’s try the high jump.
* * *
“TO US,” TARA SAID, lifting her glass.
“To us,” Dylan repeated. The fading sun turned the drinks into liquid gold in their hands, some magic elixir that would put a spell on them both. Tara’s eyes held that familiar mischievous light that made him want to skip the drinks, the food, the talk and just haul her into his arms.
Despite what they’d said about not going home again, here she was, and he felt it all again, just as big, just as all-consuming.
It didn’t help that she looked so good. She’d become softer and tougher at the same time. Sexier, too, because she was more certain of her appeal, more secure in herself, more sure of what she wanted.
And what did she want right now? Sex?
Damn, he hoped so.
He took a gulp of the drink and had to cough. “This is straight vodka.”
“Pretty close,” she said, coughing, too. “How ’bout we get hammered. For old times’ sake. Escape all this.” She made a circular motion over her head.
That would work. Vodka would fuzz their brains and drown whatever inhibitions remained. It would distract Tara from her troubles and him from his mixed feelings about helping her out.
Go for broke. That was Tara for sure. She took things too far, ready to ride the raft straight over the falls, heedless of the danger. His job had been to stab the oar down to bedrock, anchor them in place before they tumbled to their deaths below.
Yeah, they could get drunk and have sex. It would feel good in a blurry way. But they would be sorry later. He didn’t want to see regret in Tara’s eyes or feel it in his heart, or hear them mumble that they’d been too wasted, that they barely remembered what happened.
He didn’t want that. He doubted she did, either. He knew what she did want—to find out all she could about the car accident—and he had information she would appreciate.
“I talked to Fallon,” he said, putting down his glass.
“You did?” She set hers down, too, and honed in on him, the dare forgotten, as he’d hoped. “What did he say?”