by Goode, A. J.
Somewhere, deep inside, he felt a tiny quiver of doubt begin to gnaw.
Smiling at Tara, he squelched the doubt and held up his glass of wine in a toast to her future.
Chapter Fifteen
The following Saturday was the day of the Fall Ball, and Ethan agreed to accompany Tara to the event rather than let the very expensive tickets go to waste. Melissa offered to take her to the mall in Grand Rapids to find a formal gown for Tara to wear.
“I really appreciate your bringing me to the mall,” she said now, smiling at Melissa. “I’m ready to start trying to drive again, but I wasn’t sure if I could deal with the traffic—“
Melissa waved her gratitude aside. “Let’s look at my choices for the day, shall we? Spend a couple of hours shopping for pretty dresses, or stay home and do laundry. Hmm, it was a tough decision.”
Tara giggled. They entered the first dress shop, and she led them directly to the bargain racks first. She had gotten a sizeable check from the insurance company earlier in the week, along with a politely-worded apology letter, but that didn’t mean she had to buy something expensive. Although she planned on using the money to start paying off her debts, there was no reason why she couldn’t spend a little of it on a dress for tonight’s event.
“Is Ethan going to be able to rent a tux at such short notice?” Melissa wondered.
“He won’t have to. Sean actually owns one, and he’s going to let Ethan borrow it.” Tara shook her head, still marveling at the fact that Ethan’s friend actually owned a tuxedo.
The older woman started pulling dresses off the rack and holding them up in front of Tara, talking to herself as she considered each one. “Too pink . . . too matronly . . . too much frou-frou. . .”
‘’’Frou-frou’?”
Melissa shook a fluffy green creation with row upon row of cascading ruffles. “Looks like a pageant dress for a six-year-old.”
Tara giggled again. It had been too long since she had just had fun shopping with another woman, she decided. “We should get a dress for you, too,” she said. “You and Dan might still be able to get tickets for the Ball. It would be so much fun to make it a double-date.”
“No, it’s not as much fun to shop for dresses for me. You’ve got such a cute figure; it’s like dressing a Barbie Doll.”
The first dress Tara tried on was a black velvet number with a plunging neckline so low that made her blush. It was form-fitting and sexy and very nearly inappropriate. The next was an emerald green that emphasized her hair and eyes but with an Empire waist that did nothing for her figure. There was something wrong with each one, and Tara was feeling desperate by the time she reached the last one in the pile they had carried into the dressing room.
“That’s the one,” Melissa declared as soon as she saw Tara in the dress.
It was a deep teal color that emphasized her creamy skin and vivid green eyes. The sweetheart neckline and princess seams played up her hourglass shape, while its graduated hem showed off her shapely legs and fell away to full formal length in the back. Tara turned this way and that in front of the three-way mirror for a moment, and nodded.
“I’ve got some strappy silver heels and a matching clutch that will be perfect,” she said. “I’ve got everything I need.”
“Not quite.” Melissa took her arm and led her to another part of the store. Tara blushed again when she realized what her friend meant.
“Oh, I don’t need –“ she began.
“Don’t be silly. Of course you do. Ethan’s eyes are going to pop right out when he sees you in that dress, and something else is going to pop right out when he sees what’s under the dress.”
“Melissa!” Tara gasped.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” the older woman laughed. “I may be an old married lady, but I remember what it’s like to be young and in love. And I remember the power of naughty underthings.”
Young and in love? Tara opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come out. In love? No, Melissa was being ridiculous.
She barely paid attention to the cream-colored corset and thigh-high stockings that her friend added to her purchase. If Melissa noticed her sudden silence, she said nothing about it, chattering instead about Tara’s hairstyle and jewelry for the night.
“Tara? Hello? Are you listening?” She asked, snapping her fingers.
“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry. I was . . . thinking about something.”
“About someone, more likely.”
They left the dress shop, bags in hand, and headed toward the food court. Glancing at her watch, Tara decided that they had plenty of time for lunch before heading back to Beach Haven to get ready for the big evening. She tried to recapture the light mood from earlier in the day, but her mind kept turning over Melissa’s words.
Young and in love.
“Okay, what’s the deal?” Melissa finally demanded, after watching Tara pick at her Chef Salad. “Buyer’s remorse?”
“No! No, I love the dress. I just . . . “
“Was I too pushy about the underthings?”
Tara felt her face grown warm again. “No, that’s not it, either. I – I . . .” Suddenly, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She told her new friend everything, from the accident to meeting Ethan for the first time in the lawyer’s office, to their decision to con everyone by pretending to be together. By the time she finished, her eyes were burning with tears that threatened to fall.
“When did it stop being pretend?” Melissa asked softly.
Tara just shook her head, unable to say more at the moment.
The other woman reached across the table and took her hand. “What are you so afraid of, Tara? Are you afraid Ethan doesn’t love you back?”
There was that word again. Love. “Oh, God,” she breathed. “I’m in love with him.” She stared at her friend in wonder, and then her face crumpled as she burst into tears. “Oh, God, I’m in love with him,” she repeated.
“That’s not such a bad thing, is it? Ethan’s a good man, and he obviously cares about you.”
“You don’t understand,” Tara said, struggling to get herself under control before other shoppers could start staring. “He only knows me as this weak, recovering, victim. What if . . . what if he only feels pity for me, not love?”
“Give him more credit than that. And give yourself a little credit, too. Any person who can go through everything you’ve gone through is definitely not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I have ever met, Tara. And I’m sure Ethan feels the same way.”
She sniffled. “Really?”
“Really. You need to talk to him.”
“Okay.” Tara nodded and took a deep breath. “Now I’m going to need extra time for my makeup because of all that crying. My face is all red now.”
“Gee, too bad you don’t have any experience with makeup or anything,” Melissa deadpanned.
Tara felt better for having confided in her friend. She was able to relax during the drive home, although there was a whole new kind of nervousness starting to build inside her. Tonight was the night, she promised herself. Tonight, at the Fall Ball, she was going to tell him how she felt.
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan looked better in a tux than Randy ever had, Tara decided, gazing appreciatively at him. His borrowed tuxedo accentuated his lean, athletic build, while the dark color and crisp white shirt played up his lingering summer tan and clear blue eyes.
From the expression on his face, she could tell that he liked what he was seeing as well. Her friends at Jeffrey Leonard Salon had twisted her auburn hair up into a loose knot with just enough soft curls cascading down her back to conceal her scars, and she knew that the new teal dress emphasized her figure in a way that made her blush.
“Tara—“ Ethan stopped and swallowed noisily. “Tara, you look beautiful,” he managed.
“Thank you. You look pretty nice yourself.”
“We could just stay home, you know,” he teased. “I can think of all kinds of things
to do right here at home with a gorgeous woman in a sexy dress.”
“Hmm.” Tara pretended to think about it. “Do any of your ideas involve activities that would smear my make-up?”
“Oh, it’s getting smeared, all right, whether we stay or go,” he said. He pulled her close and planted a tiny kiss on the side of her neck. “It’s just a matter of whether I start smearing it now, or later.”
Tara leaned into him, drinking in his clean masculine scent. “The tickets . . . are . . . “
“The tickets are what?”
His kisses on her neck were really making it difficult to hold onto her train of thought. “The tickets are . . . in . . . my purse.”
“I see. So we should get your purse?”
“Mmm. . . yes. Definitely yes. “ Tara pushed him away. “Melissa is going to kill us both if she finds out we didn’t go, after she spent all that time helping me find this dress.”
“Remind me to thank her on Monday,” Ethan said wryly. He guided her out to the Expedition and helped her into the seat.
The Fall Ball was held at the Yacht Club at the local marina. The building was only a few years old, obviously designed by someone with a love of the sea but very little actual knowledge of waterfront buildings. It was an overdone, gaudy monstrosity burdened with cupolas and a Widow’s Walk, and an abundance of nautical decorations attached to every possible bit of trim. There were anchors and fishing nets, wrapped around gigantic fake sand dollars and starfish. Tiny white lights sparkled around each and every window and doorframe.
“Wow, that’s . . . really . . . something,” Ethan said, after helping Tara out of the Expedition and handing the key to a valet. They both stood and stared at the building. “I’ve never seen it up close before.”
“Awful, isn’t it?” Tara asked under her breath. “All that money and not an ounce of taste.”
“Is the inside like that, too?”
“Not quite as bad, but close. It’s all anchors and swordfish on the walls. Of course, I’ve only been here to help decorate for the Fall Ball, so I’ve always done my best to hide the tackiest seaworthy items behind pumpkins and hay bales.”
With a shake of his head, Ethan placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the doors. She shivered at his touch.
The interior wasn’t as bad as she remembered, thanks to the abundance of sparkling white lights and orange and brown fabric strategically draped around the room. The tables were set with a tasteful assortment of fall colors and simple centerpieces, with gleaming crystal and china reflecting the golden light of the dance floor.
Tara glanced from the dance floor to Ethan. “I just realized that I never asked you if you can dance,” she said.
“Oh, I can dance. Not very well, but I think I can manage to avoid your toes. How about you?”
She loved dancing, but she had some concerns about how much of it her body could handle tonight, especially since this was also the first time she had attempted to wear heels since her accident. But for tonight, she just wanted to feel like a normal woman on a date, not a woman recovering from a broken neck.
“Tara? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “I was just thinking about how much I hope they play slow songs.”
According to the embossed programs they had been handed at the door, the first hour of tonight’s event was the “Social Hour” with drinks and appetizers. Tara recognized several clients and Ethan also recognized several of the locals. Between the champagne and conversation, the hour seemed to fly past, and they were both surprised when uniformed waiters ushered them into the next room for the dinner.
The first course was creamy seafood bisque, followed by stuffed flounder, roasted potatoes and delicately seasoned vegetables. By the time the waiters cleared away their plates and brought slices of cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce, Tara felt as though her taste buds were ready to explode from sheer overstimulation. “That was the best meal of my life,” she sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been so full!”
“I know a very good way to work off some of that meal,” Ethan murmured, leaning in close so that only she could hear him.
“You mean dancing?” she asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.
“Yeah . . . that’s what I meant. Sure.”
It turned out that Ethan was actually an excellent dancer, moving effortlessly around the dance floor to every song, fast or slow. Tara felt like Cinderella in his arms.
When the band took a break, they needed one as well, so she led him outside to a small deck that overlooked the marina. It was early enough in the fall that most of the boats were still in their slips, and it was quiet enough on the deck to hear the gentle splashes of the water as the boats bobbed gently in the calm water.
“Beautiful,” Ethan breathed.
“The boats or the moon?”
“You.” He turned her to face him and brushed his hand along her cheek. She looked up at him and discovered that she couldn’t move. Not that she really wanted to; she couldn’t think of anywhere else she would rather be than right here in Ethan’s arms, listening to the Lake and feeling the gentle breeze brush across her skin.
He bent and kissed her then, gently at first and then more passionately. She didn’t care about her hair or make-up any more. She pressed herself against him, overwhelmed by a sudden need to touch him, all of him.
Ethan slid his hands up under her dress, stopping in surprise when he touched to top of her thigh-high stockings. He pulled away from the kiss and gave her a questioning look.
“I bought something for you, too,” she told him.
He smiled at her and ran his fingers around the clip and then allowed his hands to stray higher. She caught her breath as his fingertips brushed the tiny triangle of fabric.
He lifted her to the railing, slipping one arm around her waist to help her balance while his other hand worked around to her hip and hooked the strap of her panties. A gentle tug and he had freed them enough to slide them down and off.
She wrapped her legs around him and tried to draw him closer. His fingertips strayed back and touched her damp entrance, stroking her softly until she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning. “More,” she whispered.
Slowly, he pressed one finger inside, then withdrew it. “You are so wet,” he told her. He used two fingers this time, caressing every part of her until her entire body fairy hummed with arousal. Tara leaned against him and buried her face against his chest to smother her cries as she climaxed again and again, and then collapsed in his arms, gasping for air. Suddenly, she giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“I was just thinking that I would have bought tickets to the Fall Ball years ago if I’d known it was like this.”
They both heard the startled gasp behind them and whirled at the same time, to see a uniformed waiter standing awkwardly in the door, with a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other. Ethan turned his body to shield Tara.
“Please, excuse me,” the waiter stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was – I didn’t mean to – I was just taking a smoke break.” And with that, he disappeared back through the doorway, pulling it firmly closed behind him.
Tara clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Oh, that poor kid,” she giggled. “That just may make him give up smoking! Do you think knows what we were doing?”
“Um, well. . .”
“Oh, Lord!” Her hands flew up to cover her face. “Oh, I’m sure he’s in the kitchen by now, telling everyone about it!”
“Should we get out of here before word gets around?”
“Please. I need a few minutes to pull myself back together,” she murmured. “I am not walking through that room looking like this.”
“I’ll go have them pull the car around,” he said, kissing her again. “I’ll be right back.”
Tara nodded. When he had gone, she smoothed her dress and used the tiny mirror in her purse to fix her hair and
smudged lipstick until she almost looked presentable again. The dress was hopelessly wrinkled, and her cheeks were flushed, and only a fool wouldn’t realize what she and Ethan had been doing out here on the deck, but she didn’t care. It had been a glorious night, and she couldn’t wait to be alone with him again at the Seashell.
She turned to greet Ethan when she heard the door open again, but the smile died on her lips when she saw who had just arrived.
Jacqueline.
Ethan’s ex-wife looked stunning, as usual. Her pale pink sheath dress was a figure-hugging masterpiece of design, accompanied by glittering opal jewelry and a sleekly styled French Twist. The red-lipped smile she gave Tara was triumphant.
“Oh, have I missed Ethan?” she asked. “What a shame. I had a message for him from our friend at the bank.”
“He’s gone to get the car.”
“Of course he has. Well, maybe you could give him the message for me? Be a dear and let him know that he’s been approved for his loan, won’t you?”
“His loan?”
“Yes, dear. The loan he applied for to buy out your half of the cottage.” Jacqueline tutted sympathetically. “You didn’t know about that, did you?”
Tara’s hand flew to her chest, as if to slow her suddenly racing heart. “He didn’t – he wouldn’t—why?”
Jacqueline took her other hand between her own. Somewhere, in the back of her stunned mind, Tara took note of the fact that the other woman’s hands felt as cold as her own.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to betray you,” the blonde woman cooed. “He’s just trying to take care of you. He probably understands that you’ll never be able to take care of yourself again. I think it’s perfectly sweet that he’s willing to risk so much just because of your weaknesses.”
Tara said nothing.
