Simply Irresistible (35 page)

M
uffin?” Tara asked with a smile that was beginning to feel a little forced as she walked the long line of people waiting to
enter the pier’s summer festival. “Have a fresh Life’s-a-Peach Muffin.” The large basket she held was heavier than she’d planned
on, and the late-afternoon sun beat down on her head. A little trickle of sweat dripped between her breasts.

She hated to sweat.

At least her dress was lightweight and halter-cut. She’d bought it because it screamed sophistication and elegance, and because
it would hopefully make her legs look long and give her some badly needed confidence.

It was a tall order for a dress.

“Muffin?” Each had been painstakingly wrapped in cellophane and ribbon. Tara had slipped a flier advertising the inn under
each ribbon.

The method to her madness.

“I’ll take one of your muffins anytime,” a man said with a smile and leaned in close. Clearly feeling brave, as he was surrounded
by his friends, he added, “In fact, I’ll take two.”

Tara recognized him from the mechanic shop. His name was Dan. Stan.
Tim!
Tim had changed her tires last month. He’d offered to change her life—from in his bed—but she’d politely declined.

It might have been two years since she’d had sex, but she had high standards. Truth was, she was waiting to feel that sense
of…
wow
before she got naked for a man again.

Unfortunately, there’d been a sad shortage of
wow
in her life lately. “Sugar,” she said with her classic southern belle smile that she knew damn well could render a man deaf
and dumb, “you don’t have what it takes for more than one of my muffins at a time.”

At this, several of his so-called buddies burst out laughing and shoved him good-naturedly.

Tim grinned at her sheepishly but still took two muffins.

No harm, no foul. She kept her smile in place as she moved along the line, but it was proving difficult.

She wasn’t exactly chipper by nature.

“Muffin?” she asked the others in line. She was on a mission, and that mission was different than it had been last year. Last
year she’d wanted peace on earth and her manicure to last a full two weeks.

This year things were more basic. She wanted to be able to pay her bills on the thirtieth of the month. That was all. Just
a single month in which her means met her
ends. Thirty days during which she wasn’t constantly angsting and fretting over the arrival of a paycheck.

Or lack thereof.

“Muffins,” she said again, determined to land some customers for her family inn.
Family
being a loose term for her and her sisters. The three of them were still somewhat warily circling each other after six tumultuous
months of rebuilding the Lucky Harbor Beach Resort together. And they weren’t done yet—they still had decorating to do, which
was going to be interesting with three very different personalities and tastes.

The sun continued to beat down on her as she walked. It seemed as if the entire town had shown up at the pier for the Summer
Music Fest, but that wasn’t a surprise to Tara. The only thing the people of Lucky Harbor liked more than their gossip was
a good social gathering, and there would be plenty of both tonight. A warm night, good music, dancing, drinking… even she
herself began to feel a tiny bit looser as she approached the end of the line.

And for someone known as the Steel Magnolia, that was saying something. “Here you go, sugar,” she said to Lucille. Lucille
ran the art gallery and was somewhere between seventy and a hundred years old. “Enjoy.”

“I will, dear, thank you.” Lucille was wearing her favorite pink track suit. Eye-popping hot pink that said Juicy across her
saggy tush. “There’s supposedly going to be a lot of honeys here tonight playing bingo.” She gave a saucy wink from an eye
lined thickly with blue eyeshadow.

Tara didn’t want to think about Lucille having “honeys.”

“You ought to join us,” Lucille said. Like Tim, the older woman snatched a second muffin from right beneath Tara’s nose and
shoved it into her purse, which was the size of a suitcase. “You’re wound a little tight these days.” Leaning in, the older
woman said in a conspirator’s whisper, “I bet a man could unwind you, real nice.”

Tara sighed. No use arguing the truth. “I don’t need a man.”

“Darling, every woman needs a man. Why, even your momma—bless her soul—used to say, ‘You can’t buy sex on eBay.’ ”

Tara blinked, but she had no comeback for that one. Hoping her smile was still in place, she moved on.

The sun sank low on the water as if it was just dipping in its toes to cool off. There were only about five people left in
line and then, Tara thought, then she’d be free. “Here you go,” she said to the next person in line, looking up as warm, long
fingers brushed hers.

And up.

And just like that, her smile congealed.

“Nice of you to offer me a muffin,” he said, his voice low and almost unbearably familiar.

Ford Walker.

He was six foot three with a linebacker build that should have seemed bull-in-a-china-shop, but he had a way of moving all
those he-man muscles with easy, male, fluid grace.

Stupid muscles.

He had sun-kissed brown hair, stark green eyes, skin bronzed from long days spent out on his sailing boat, and a ready smile.
Half the people in Lucky Harbor were in love with him.

The other half were men and didn’t count.

She was the odd person out. Not only was she
NOT
in love with him, he tended to step on her last nerve. There was a very good reason for that.

Several, in fact.

But she’d long ago given herself permission to pretend the Thing That Happened
hadn’t
happened. Silently she offered him her basket and he perused the muffins as if he was contemplating his life’s path.

“Just take one!” she finally snapped, making him flash a grin.

Sweet baby Jesus, he was gorgeous, and it irritated the hell out of her. “What are you doing in line?” she asked him. “Why
aren’t you running the bar?”

He owned the town’s most popular bar, the Love Shack, mostly because, near as she could tell, he’d majored in shooting the
breeze. During the months he wasn’t off sailing with the world’s best, he spent his time behind the bar mixing drinks. He
cocked his head and ran his gaze over her like a caress. “Maybe I got in line hoping you’d offer me a morsel, a crumb.”

She smacked him on the broad chest. Not that she could hurt him if she tried, the big, sexy lout. “Like you’d settle for a
crumb.”

“Once I settled for whatever crumbs you’d give me. Remember?”

Again she tipped her head back to meet his gaze. He was still smiling, but his eyes were serious, and something pinged low
in her belly.

Memories. Unwelcome ones. “Ford—”

“Ah,” he said very softly. “You
do
remember my name.”

She felt herself tighten again, all the tension back in a flash. Damn him. She remembered everything, and if he thought she
didn’t, he was an even bigger ass than she’d given him credit for. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he reached in
and stole a second muffin and was gone before she could blink.

“Irritating man,” she muttered beneath her breath.

“They’re all irritating.” Chloe popped up at her side and double-fisted the last two muffins.

Tara opened her mouth to complain but ended up just shaking her head as Chloe ogled Ford’s backside.

“I’d still take him for a spin,” Chloe said.

Tara just slid her a look.

“What,” her sister said guilelessly, biting into a muffin and moaning. “Goddamn, you can bake.” She chewed and thoughtfully
watched Ford as he walked through the crowd. He moved sure and easy, his long-legged stride in no hurry as he was stopped
to greet nearly everyone that he passed.

Chloe let out a low hum of pure enjoyment and shook her head. “You telling me that you don’t want to grab a handfulla his
muffins?”

Tara closed her eyes. “I absolutely do not.”

Chloe’s low laugh ran in her ears, calling her out for the liar she was.