Three Little Words (24 page)

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” he said, his gaze intense. “All right. Let’s see about that.”

He moved his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her swollen clit. But instead of holding still, he circled it against all those suddenly hungry nerve endings.

Five seconds ago she would have sworn she was incapable of coming again for at least twenty-four hours. Suddenly she was breathing fast and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” she said, grinding her hips down. “Keep doing that.”

“I swear.” His voice was practically a growl.

He kept his word, rubbing her harder and harder, but suddenly it wasn’t enough. She rose on his penis, then sank down. Her eyes fluttered closed as she rode him, her release tantalizingly out of reach.

“More,” she murmured. “More.”

With each rise and fall, he filled her completely. Friction left her gasping. Again and again. Then it was there and she was so close. So close.

She came with a scream. This orgasm lasted longer than the one before. She leaned forward so she could brace herself on the bed and pump back and forth. At some point Kent wasn’t touching her center anymore. He was holding her hips, helping her keep pace. She opened her eyes and saw him watching her, saw the moment he went over the edge.

They came together. He shoved in deep and she clamped her muscles around him. They stayed like that until they were both still.

With quiet came reality. Consuelo had a vision of herself going up and down, her breasts pounding, as she screamed for him not to stop.

She’d lost complete control. Twice.

A hand touched her cheek. She forced herself to open her eyes and found him watching her. A self-satisfied smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

“So,” he said. “You’re a screamer.”

She slid off him and lay back on the bed. “I’m not. I’m very quiet and controlled in bed.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I could tell.” He leaned over her and lightly kissed her. “So I was thinking I’d make you come with my mouth, and then we could do it with me behind, because hey, have you seen your ass? Then dinner?”

She felt the moment of choice. Where she could let her past define her or she could give herself to this glorious man. She flung both arms around him and hung on tight.

He pulled her against him and whispered, “You know I like the screaming, right?”

“I know.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I
SABEL
WALKED
THROUGH
the empty store next to Paper Moon. It was owned by former champion cyclist Josh Golden, who had spent the past decade buying a measurable percentage of the town. Rumor had it he was a generous landlord, which was good because it wasn’t as if she was swimming in money.

The space wasn’t very big. Just a couple of thousand square feet, but there were large windows, and best of all, it shared a wall with Paper Moon.

The previous occupant had left shelving in place, and the hardwood floors were in excellent condition. There were two restrooms, one much more elegantly appointed than the other, and a decent-sized storage room.

She returned to the center of the store and turned in a slow circle. It wouldn’t take much to put an opening in the wall. She could use the dressing rooms from the bridal shop, which would save on remodeling. The nicer bathroom could be for customers. She would have the cost of painting and some fixtures, but the lighting was already how she would want it.

She could use the shelves for accessories and wondered how hard it would be to find designers who created handbags, belts and jewelry.

She didn’t have a business plan, so she couldn’t run the numbers, but there were possibilities. She let herself out, careful to lock the door behind her, and returned to Paper Moon.

She tried to look at the store as if she’d never been in it before. Again, there were plenty of windows and lots of light. There was a little too much red velvet on the furniture and gilding on the chandeliers for her taste, but that was easily fixed.

The basic floor plan worked, and the inventory was current. If she had the space next door, she wouldn’t have to make any changes in Paper Moon, at least not for a while. It would provide a nice cash flow.

She knew her parents would be thrilled to have the business stay in the family and that they would let her buy them out over time. Once she got her business plan together, she could run the numbers. She had a feeling with the cash she’d gotten out of her marriage, she could make it work, financially. The question was, did she want to?

Staying meant being with her friends. Staying meant being close to her family. Staying meant the confusion of what to do about her feelings for Ford.

But staying also meant giving up on her dream of living in New York again, of being on the cutting edge of fashion. It meant returning to her hometown permanently, and right now she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing—mostly because she’d retreated here after her divorce. She wanted to be moving forward, not going back. She supposed that the biggest issue was if she stayed, she might feel as though she was giving up.

It all came down to making the choice that was best for her, given her change in circumstances.

The front door opened. She turned and saw Ford walking in with two beautiful young women. They were petite, with long dark hair and brown eyes. Their perfect skin glowed in a way that made Isabel feel she should be exfoliating more.

“Hey,” Ford said, walking toward her. He had a large garment bag in each hand. “I want you to meet Misaki and Kaori. They’re sisters.”

“Nice to meet you,” Isabel said.

She would guess the sisters were in their early twenties. Misaki had on deep purple harem pants and a black leather vest. Kaori wore a dark red dress with inverted pleats.

“Love the store,” Kaori said as she looked around. “Retro, but still elegant.” Her gaze settled on a display of a Vera Wang dress. “Man, I’d kill to deconstruct that.”

“You want to deconstruct everything,” her sister said.

Isabel returned her attention to Ford. “So, um, why are you here and why have you brought these lovely young women to me?”

Misaki grinned and took one of the garment bags from Ford and unzipped it. “We make clothes.”

Two dresses and a ball gown spilled out of the opening and suddenly Isabel didn’t care about how Ford knew the sisters or why he’d brought them. The garments claimed her attention. The dresses couldn’t have been more different. One was all draping and movement, while the other didn’t look big enough to fit a fashion doll. Talk about skintight.

The ball gown was made of layers and layers of champagne-colored lace. But the detail work was done in leather.

“That belongs on the red carpet,” Isabel murmured, touching the capped sleeve and admiring the clean workmanship.

“I wish,” Misaki said. “We haven’t had much luck placing our designs in stores. We’re too edgy for the department stores, and the one boutique we went into basically stole our clothes and paid us nothing. So we’re nervous about trying that again. Ford said we could trust you.”

Madeline walked in from the back room and gasped. “I want that. I have nowhere to wear it, and I probably won’t be able to eat for a month to afford it, but I want that.”

Isabel performed the introductions. Misaki beamed. Kaori pushed her aside. “Mine are better.”

She pulled out a suit that was both stern and playful. A fitted jacket, with zippers running down the sleeves. The wool blend was soft, with just enough structure.

“Taryn would buy that in a heartbeat,” Madeline said.

“She would buy most of them,” Isabel admitted. She looked at the girls. “Where did you come from?”

“San Francisco,” Misaki said. “We’re supposed to be studying to be doctors. Our parents aren’t happy at all. You’ve heard of the Tiger Mom? Well, our mom makes tiger moms look like slackers. Kaori and I can both play three different instruments. We got into UC Berkeley on full scholarship. But we drew the line at medical school. We just want to design clothes.”

“You’re good at it,” Isabel told her. “I’m impressed. I’ll take them all on consignment. Do you have prices?”

Kaori whipped out a pricing sheet, along with a simple, single-page contract. Ten minutes later, the deal was done.

Misaki grinned. “This is fantastic. Okay, we’re going to walk around town for a while. Ford, text us when you’re ready to go.” She linked arms with her sister. “This place is so strange. Like a movie set or something.”

They walked out of the store. Madeline took their clothes to the back. They’d already agreed the ball gown would go in the front window and the suit would be displayed in the side window.

Isabel looked at Ford. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “You were upset. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You found me designers. That’s impressive.”

“Their brother is a buddy of mine. He was always talking about them. They were a handful for his parents. I thought I remembered him mentioning they were designing clothes now, so I got in touch with him. I drove out to get them this morning.”

She walked into his embrace and held him tight. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He hugged her back. “You were hurting and I didn’t know what to do. It’s in my nature to fix things.”

She raised her head and looked at him. “You fix good.”

He flashed her a smile. “Thanks. They’re both excited about New York. Misaki wants to move there, but Kaori says they have a West Coast vibe and have to stay here.”

It took her a second to understand what he was saying, and then she got it. Of course. Ford still assumed she was leaving. That even without Sonia she was going to return to New York. Because she’d always said she would.

Only now she was less sure about anything.

She opened her mouth to tell him that she might not be leaving, then pressed her lips together. Not for the first time it occurred to her Ford was perfectly happy with the idea of her walking away.

* * *

C
ONSUELO
HIT
THE
BAG
HARD
.
She was already dripping sweat and her arms had started to tremble from exhaustion. Anyone else would call it a day, but she couldn’t. Not while she could still think.

Rage burned hot and bright inside her. If she stopped hitting the bag, she would hit something else. She would take out her anger on someone innocent, and that never went well.

For the greater good, she told herself as she hit the bag—left, right, left right.

She’d done it. She’d allowed herself to believe. She’d given herself body and soul to a man, and he’d turned out to be as much of an asshole as all the rest.

Kent hadn’t contacted her in two days. She’d spent the night with him, had made love until they were both exhausted and then she’d gone home. And since then, there had been nothing. Not a single word.

She wasn’t sure where she wanted to put all her anger. Most of it was directed at herself. For taking the chance, when she knew better. But some of it went to him for making her believe. He’d encouraged her to trust him. Somewhere along the way he’d decided to play her, and she’d practically handed him a script.

Ford walked into the gym. He looked cocky and proud of himself. She glared at him.

“What?” she demanded.

He came to a stop and studied her for a second, then held up both hands. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

“For once you’re right.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She glared at him. “Do I ever?”

“No.”

“Then you have your answer. What are you so happy about?”

He squared his shoulders. “Isabel had a problem and I fixed it.”

She gave him a pitying look. “Seriously? You believe that?”

“Sure.” He told her about the phone call from Sonia and how her friend no longer wanted to go into business with her.

Consuelo winced. “That sucks. Betrayed by two people she trusted back-to-back. How did you help?”

“I found her two new designers. Sisters. Their brother is a SEAL. They’re willing to work with her in New York.” He grinned. “Problem solved.”

“You’re such an idiot.” She dropped her arms and started to remove her gloves. “And you have it bad.”

“It?”

“You’re falling for Isabel. The master of noninvolvement has gotten caught in a net he never even saw.” She supposed she should be happy that her friend had found someone. She wasn’t mean-spirited enough to wish the whole world be as miserable as her.

“It’s great,” she added, hoping she sounded sincere. “I like her a lot. She’s better than you deserve, but then, you were always lucky.”

He took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend to be an idiot. You’re not far enough from the real thing for it to work. You care about her.”

He looked confused and uncomfortable. “Sure. We’re friends, but we’re not really together. We’re fake-dating. Because of my mom.”

“Not after all this time.” She pulled off the first glove, then the second. “You’re practically living in her house, aren’t you? You spend all your free time with her, you’re sleeping with her and it’s the best it’s ever been.”

Like her night with Kent, she thought bitterly.

“We’re not dating,” Ford insisted stubbornly.

Consuelo walked up to him and poked him in the chest. Hard. With luck, she would leave a bruise.

“You’re in love with her, you moron. You probably have been for years. Don’t screw this up.” She poked him again. “She’s great. Ask her to stay. Get married and have babies. It’s what you want. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

He shook his head. “I’m not that guy.”

“You were born to be that guy. You’re just like everyone else in this damn town. Accept your fate.”

With that, she turned and walked away. Her eyes burned, but she told herself it was from sweat and nothing else. She wasn’t actually crying. She didn’t cry, didn’t believe in tears. Or wallowing. She’d made a mistake and now she would move on.

The fact that moving on meant she would have to leave Fool’s Gold was a problem she would deal with later.

* * *

T
HE
F
ALL
F
ESTIVAL
had been one of Ford’s favorites as a kid. It fell on the second weekend in October, when the leaves were turning and all the storefronts were decorated with pumpkins and scarecrows.

There were a lot of carts selling stuff nobody really needed, like honey soap and apple-scented candles. But the women in town seemed really excited about it all and were buying it by the truckload.

What he liked was the food. There were ribs and grilled corn on the cob. Corn bread, slow-cooked pulled pork and, his personal favorite, sweet-potato pie.

“Seriously, you have to try this,” Isabel said, offering him a bite of her S’More. “I don’t know how Ana Raquel makes it the best thing ever, but she does.”

He didn’t care about the dessert, but he was relieved to see Isabel smiling again. For the past week, she’d been kind of down. He knew she’d been thinking about what had happened with Sonia.

He tasted the S’More. It was sweet, but not too sweet.