by Ginny Baird
“I’m just saying… It gets awfully cold in Maine this time of year.”
“Which is why I’m picking up extra logs for the woodstove.”
“Maybe you won’t need the fire to keep you warm.” Jeannie winked and Tara groaned.
“Spoken like a woman in love.”
“Takes one to know one,” Jeannie replied smartly.
****
By the time Heath landed in Boston, it was snowing hard. He’d rented an SUV in anticipation of the weather, and now navigated the interstate that would take him into Maine. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and the roads were crowded, with traffic moving along at a snail’s pace. Once Heath cleared Massachusetts and got into New Hampshire, driving conditions improved. When he reached Maine and the exit to the much smaller rural highway that led toward Augusta, traffic thinned even more. Heath drove for miles without spotting another vehicle, his wiper blades sweeping hard against the pounding snow. There were no streetlights here, and the sky was charcoal gray fading to black, its color darkening above torrents of snow as night moved in.
Heath had spent the past ten days trying to reconcile the situation with North Shore Central, but, despite his inquiries, he hadn’t been able to learn much from the bank’s current proprietors. He supposed they viewed Wellington International as the enemy, and Heath could understand why. If only they’d talk to him, he hoped to ensure a smoother transition.
While Wellington International strove to keep as many of the original employees in place during any bank takeover, some fallout was inevitable as Wellington management would naturally be put in place. Since Tara’s father was a teller, Heath wanted to believe that his position would be spared. Ultimately, it was up to the home bank to make the cuts among its own people. Wellington simply supplied the new management team and let the acquisition bank take care of the rest. In other words, do their dirty work, Heath thought with a hint of shame.
He’d never really viewed his bank as the villain. His corporation saved businesses that were failing. Rather than having an entire bank shut down and lose all of its people, when Wellington came in, the bank could continue to thrive—only with a new nameplate on its door, and with minimal impact on its original staff. Some impact was there, though. There was no denying that. But, up until now, none of it had seemed quite so personal.
Heath hadn’t mentioned any of this to Tara, as he hadn’t wanted to concern her. He also wasn’t sure how much her father knew about the precarious state of the bank where he worked. Had the higher-ups at North Shore Central even bothered to share with their employees what was coming? Or, were they leaving this as a holiday surprise, to be sprung on affected workers in mid-December, giving them no more than the required two weeks’ notice? This seemed highly unfair, particularly because, as Tara had told him, most of those people had been in their positions at North Shore Central for years. Some of them, like her father, had been there their entire careers.
While Heath hadn’t been able to make headway with his inquiries to date, he still had until the end of the year to try to improve the situation for Tara’s dad. Or, at least, feel assured that Richard’s particular job wasn’t at stake. For this reason, he decided to keep quiet on the matter, unless Tara’s father had already caught wind of the takeover, and decided to bring it up first.
Chapter Fourteen
Tara raced down the steps of her upstairs apartment when she saw Heath’s headlights in the drive. The moment he stepped from the door of his SUV, she sprang toward him, leaping into his arms. Heath laughed heartily and lifted her up in a hug, holding her against his chest as he swung her around in the driving snow. He gazed up at her, dark eyes shining, his wavy dark hair rapidly becoming covered by snow.
“Welcome to Maine, I guess?”
“Yes!” She planted her palms on his cheeks and kissed his lips firmly. “Welcome to Beaumont, Heath!”
He chuckled again then slowly set her down on the gravel drive, which crunched beneath her boot heels. “Now, that’s a welcoming party I can appreciate.”
Tara grinned and glanced back in his SUV through the driver’s door that remained ajar. “Can I help you with your things?”
“Don’t have much,” he said. “Just a backpack and a carry-on.” He stared down at her open winter parka. Tara had dashed out the door so quickly, she hadn’t taken time to zip it. “You must be freezing. Let’s get you back inside.”
“Grab your things,” she instructed cheerily. “We’ll go together.”
Tara felt as happy as a child on Christmas morning. Heath had come to see her in Maine, and she was about to show him her domain. She so hoped he’d like it. Tara had worked extra hard to make her tiny apartment cozy, by adding surplus firewood and vases of fresh flowers. She’d also purchased scented candles, which she’d placed strategically around the rooms.
There were really only three of them: the main living area with the futon, which opened on a galley kitchen with a window overlooking the bay; her miniscule bathroom, which was no bigger than a closet; and the modest bedroom that barely accommodated her double bed, two end tables, and a wooden hope chest, in which she stored extra blankets. There wasn’t ample area in her bedroom for a dresser, so she kept her underclothing in stacking bins at the bottom of her closet and hung the rest of her clothes above them in the jam-packed space.
It was simple, but it was home. Plus, the woodstove functioned properly, and you couldn’t beat the rent. The view from the kitchen window was pretty fantastic, too.
****
Heath took in the exterior of the converted barn and the broad snowy field beyond it leading to the darkened bay. “Bet it’s beautiful out here in daylight.”
“Wait until you see it in the morning.”
He nabbed his suitcase and backpack from the hatchback, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. With his free hand, he took Tara’s. Her fingers were chilly, wrapping around his, but her touch made him warm all over. Heath had never enjoyed holding hands with a woman as much. Mostly, he enjoyed the tangible connection of them being together. He found Tara’s presence sweet and reassuring, in a very womanly and companionable way.
She led him through the barn door where he saw straw strewn about on an earthen floor and bound bales of hay off to one side with some old farm equipment, including an ancient tractor that looked like it hadn’t been driven in years.
“This way!” she beckoned with a smile. Tara opened a narrow door on the far wall and cheerfully tugged him toward a wooden staircase. He could tell she was excited about him being here, and her joy was contagious. Not that Heath wasn’t already feeling pretty great about the situation himself. All the way here, he’d fretted over that dreadful bank business, but the moment he’d seen Tara, his worries had melted away. He’d work things out, of course he would. That’s what Heath did, and who he was: a fixer. Very skilled at setting things right.
They reached the landing at the top of the stairs, entering the charming second-floor apartment. It was furnished simply but in good taste, and there were many thoughtful touches throughout. Fresh flower arrangements stood on tables, and ornamental candles burned softly beside framed photos of Tara with different people Heath assumed to be her friends, and her father. There was even one of a group of women standing on a beach somewhere. “Aha!” he exclaimed, eyeing the photo. “Enchanted Island?”
“Yes. That was taken at the fancy resort where we stayed.” She pointed at another framed photo across the way. “That other one over there is of me with my dad.” Tara’s cheeks glowed in the candlelight, making her appear lovelier than ever. “And, this one’s of me and Jeannie,” she said, indicating a picture showing her with a freckled blonde. Both smiled brightly into the camera and shelves of books stood behind them.
“Was that taken in your shop?” Heath inquired.
Tara beamed proudly. “I can’t wait to show it to you.”
“I can’t wait to see it. I don’t believe I’ve ever been to a romance-only bookstore before.”
<
br /> She twisted her lips to study him then burst into giggles. “No, I don’t suppose you have. Well, there’s always a first time!”
Heath surveyed the room, trying to decide where to set down his luggage.
“Oh!” Tara said, apparently reading him. “Please. Why don’t you put your things in there?” She motioned through an open door into another room. Through it, Heath spied the end of what looked like a double bed.
“Isn’t that your room?”
“I told you I was taking the futon,” Tara replied stubbornly.
“And I told you I wouldn’t let you do that.”
“No,” she countered quickly. “You said we’d work things out when you got here. And, now we have!” She grinned like it was settled, and Heath indulgently shook his head.
“We will work this out later,” he said, waggling a finger in her direction, before carting his bags into her room. He set his things down beside the bed, then returned to the living area to find Tara uncorking some wine. Two pots simmered on the stove, and the oven light was on. Heath detected the delectable aromas of garlic, spices, and savory shellfish.
“I thought you might like wine with your dinner?”
He immediately recognized the label and grinned. “Seems like that’s becoming our signature drink.”
“If you’d like something else—?” she asked nervously.
“No, no! That Chianti is great. It came highly recommended to me by a very knowledgeable wine connoisseur I know.”
Tara smiled at this.
“You’d probably like to remove your coat and use the restroom,” she observed. Heath noted she’d already hung her parka on a hook by the top of the stairs. He hung his coat up as well, then answered, “I would like to wash my hands, if you’ll just point the way?”
She nodded over her shoulder at what looked like a small coat closet.
“In there?” he asked, amazed.
“Everything fits!” she responded lightly. “It’s just very tight.”
Heath chuckled then pulled back the door, seeing Tara was right. A pint-size pedestal sink sidled up to the smallest shower stall he’d ever seen. At the end of the narrow room, and tucked under the downward sloping ceiling, stood a toilet. He’d have to duck his head to use it. But that was okay. Heath had the notion he was going to feel very at home here.
****
Heath returned a few minutes later, noting that Tara had everything under control. The dinner was almost ready, and seemed to be coming along perfectly.
“What’s cooking?” He drew near and wrapped his arms around her from behind.
“My homemade lobster ravioli and homemade garlic bread.”
Heath set his chin on her shoulder. “Smells delicious.”
“I was hoping you would like it.” She smiled back at him. “Plus, it goes with the wine.”
“You know,” he said in a low voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were Italian, not Irish.”
“I am!” She grinned sassily. “But only half. On my mother’s side.” Tara liked to think if her mom had left her nothing else, she’d somehow imbued in her the love of Italian cooking. Tara was pleased to be quite good at it. Her friends always raved about her culinary talents, though she didn’t have the opportunity to cook for others often.
Her dad wouldn’t eat Italian. It was a matter of pride, or hurt, or disappointment. Tara wasn’t sure which, but she understood the cuisine reminded Richard of her mother, Sophia. So she never pressed him on it. Tara had plenty of friends with whom she could eat spaghetti, including Jeannie.
“A double-whammy!” Heath proclaimed, nibbling her ear. “Half Irish and half Italian! No wonder I can’t resist you.”
“Now, stop,” she scolded, but she was giggling. “I’ll burn the bread.”
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “What can I do to help?”
“Set the table and put on the salads. They’re already fixed and in the fridge.”
He reluctantly released her and complied.
“I’m looking forward to meeting your dad tomorrow.”
“He’s looking forward to meeting you, too,” Tara lied. The truth was she’d had to force her father to accept the fact that Heath was coming to dinner, whether he liked it or not. She’d also made Richard swear to be on his best behavior. None of this “corporate America is destroying the rest of the world” talk, Dad. Please.
“But I’m especially looking forward to this dinner tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for inviting me to Maine. I love your place, and what you’ve done with it.”
“I found your townhome pretty spectacular myself.”
“Yes,” he said pensively. “But now that I’ve seen your apartment, I’ve decided it’s been missing something.”
Tara slid on her oven mitts and withdrew the steaming, aromatic garlic bread from the oven. “Oh? What’s that?”
Heath shot her a warm grin. “You.”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you really are a charmer.”
“If you say so,” he said, returning to the kitchen. She served a couple of plates and handed them to him. The perfectly formed pasta bites in a heavenly lobster cream sauce looked divine.
“This is gourmet cooking,” he said, carrying the plates to the table.
“Only the best for my Savannah gent,” she said with a smile.
****
A little while later, the two of them snuggled together on the futon by the glowing woodstove, as snow gently fell outside the windows. Tara had covered them with a throw blanket and refreshed their glasses of wine. Heath brought an arm around her, thinking he’d never felt more at peace than he did right now. There was no boardroom business to consider, or busy travel schedule to adhere to. All I have to do is sit here and relax with the woman I lov… He choked on his wine, reality hitting him upside the head.
“Heath? What is it? What’s wrong?” Tara viewed him with concern, and he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand.
“I…um…was just thinking about how great it is to be with you.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Kind of chokes you up, doesn’t it?”
Heath chuckled warmly, thinking that was just one of the many things he loved about Tara: her sense of humor. And, he did love her, he could see that clearly now. She’d gotten to him in a way no other woman had. It was a new feeling. Phenomenal. He’d of course understood love objectively, and had even believed himself to be in it once or twice. Now, Heath saw he’d been wrong. He’d never known an emotion this deep and pure.
It made him want to hold onto Tara tightly, and never let her go. What’s more, it made him want to give her the world. He set down his wine and hers, wrapping his arms around her.
She gazed up at him with her beautiful green eyes. “I was only joking, you know.”
Heath lightly kissed her lips. “I know. I love it when you tease me. No other woman… What I mean is, you’re very sure of yourself, Tara, but in such a great way. You’re not stuck-up or pretentious. Just wonderful and real.”
“I think you’re pretty wonderful, too.”
“I like the way we fit together. We’re both so different and yet—”
Color warmed her cheeks. “It works.”
“Sometimes the best things in life are long shots,” he told her. “Spectacular doesn’t come around every day.”
“No,” she said softly, and he kissed her again.
The fire crackled beside them as snow pinged against the windows, and shadows hugged the walls with candles burning low. He ran his fingers through her hair, cradling her head in his hands. “Tara, I have a confession to make…” When he drew nearer he whispered, “I’ve fallen madly…passionately…and desperately in love with you.”
She viewed him tenderly, her lips quivering. “And, you’ve completely captured my heart.” Then, she said the words he’d longed to hear. “I love you, Heath.”
“Oh Tara, I love you to
o.” He claimed her mouth again, deepening his kisses, and urgent sensation burned through him—every ounce of his spirit aching for more.
Tara felt another wave of heat crash over her, as Heath held her in his arms. His kisses were insistent, commanding…and they were driving her over the edge. But it was a journey she was ready to take. She’d dreamed about it ever since that first night in New York. Then, she wasn’t ready. But, now… “I think…we should move to the bedroom,” Tara managed, barely catching her breath.
Heath gave her a slow, sexy smile and released her. The next thing she knew, he’d stood and swept her into his arms. Tara felt reckless and sexy and free, almost like a heroine in one of her romance novels. Only nothing like this had ever happened to her in the real world. She hoped fervently that this wasn’t a dream. But, if it was, she was going to savor every bit of it before she woke up.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning Tara awoke dreamily, wrapped in Heath’s embrace. He was lying beside her and gently spooning her back, while his strong arm draped across her belly. From the feel of his skin on hers, neither of them wore a stitch of clothing… The sun outside the window was just starting to rise over the freshly fallen snow.
It was then that Tara remembered they hadn’t bothered to close the blinds. Or, extinguish the candles for that matter. She gasped at the thought, relieved that she’d bought the squat kind in glass jars rather than tappers. Still, leaving them ablaze had been unnecessarily dangerous. Tara didn’t know where her mind had been! Oh yeah, she did… Fully focused on Heath. “It’s a miracle we didn’t burn the barn down!”
Heath’s husky voice rumbled from behind her. “Things did get pretty hot in here, yeah.” He warmly kissed her shoulder and Tara shuddered with delight, her whole body recalling the ecstasy of the evening before.
