“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said firmly. “It was amazing.”
“I think so, too,” she said, her heart jumping into her throat, relief pouring through her. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“That’s good. That’s what I wanted. To be what you needed. To—”
“Dylan, don’t try to tell me that was pity sex.” She grinned.
He burst out laughing. “God, no. I wanted you more than my next breath. Come here.” He got up from the table and reached for her, wrapping her into a hug. He looked at her. “I don’t know what to do now.”
“Me, neither.”
“I mean there’s no future for us. We both know that.”
He was right, but it stung how swiftly he’d concluded that. He could at least express regret. “We’re on different paths,” she said.
“If we were wise, we’d stop now, before we get more involved, before either of us gets hurt.”
“Right,” she said, deeply disappointed.
“If we were wise, that is,” he repeated. His gaze deepened. “The trouble is I’m feeling more foolish by the minute. I want more time with you.”
“Me, too,” Tara said, her heart singing. “Maybe we can be together until I leave? Or if there’s a natural stopping place...”
“I like where you’re going with this.”
Was that even possible? How could it be that easy? She could get hurt. So could he.
But when Dylan lowered his mouth to kiss her, holding her so tight she could hardly breathe, kissing her like he’d die if he had to stop, she was willing to risk it. They were wiser in some ways, after all.
Dylan broke off the kiss to murmur in her ear, “I’ve got a spare toothbrush in my kit bag. New.”
“No need,” she murmured back. “My suitcase is in the car.”
He laughed a big belly laugh. “That’s my girl.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING at nine, Dylan watched Tara and her team enter the Ryland lobby. How she managed to look alert after making love half the night then leaving at dawn to see Faye before work was beyond him.
When he’d watched her get into her car, her hair lit by the pale orange of the rising sun, he’d had the unsettling feeling she wouldn’t be back. They’d certainly made love like it was the last time. Even as they’d agreed to be together for a while, they’d both held back. Neither wanted to get hurt or hurt the other. Maybe they’d been kidding themselves to even want to try.
He wanted a settled life in Wharton and that was the last thing Tara wanted. She couldn’t wait to escape the place. Beyond that, she seemed afraid of love. He sure as hell didn’t want to live on the razor’s edge of rejection.
Get your head in the game, he told himself as Tara approached. This was a vital business meeting. Ryland Engineering’s survival hung in the balance. He smiled politely and held out a hand for Tara to shake, one professional to another.
Her gaze flickered and her body softened, sending a charge through him. She was remembering last night, too. He almost yanked her to him and kissed her like nothing else mattered, hoping that would make it so.
Behind Tara, the Wharton team approached—Jeb Harris, Matt Sutherland and two technicians. Behind Dylan stood Victor Lansing and Dale Danvers, his Quality Assurance manager, along with two techs.
Dylan led them all toward the factory. He glanced in his father’s office. Empty again. He’d asked his father to make an appearance to show his commitment to solving the problem. There was a risk that his father would say something blunt, but Dylan had laid out the plan to him. When push came to shove, his father did the right thing.
They passed through the factory doors. A tenth the size of the Wharton plant, it rivaled Wharton in efficiency and output, in his opinion. If they were paying attention, the Wharton crew would see it was a tight operation. He hoped that would help convince them to look seriously at what had to be errors in their testing protocols.
As they walked the length of the plant, Dylan showed them where the surface-mounted components were soldered to circuit boards, the reflow ovens where the connections were sealed, and where they programmed the units, emphasizing the double checks, the extra testing they’d implemented. Harris seemed impressed. Sutherland, who’d so helpfully suggested Ryland find a better supplier, walked with his arms folded, frowning.
After the tour, they gathered in a conference room for the meeting.
There were snacks and coffee—Tara’s idea, so the men