by Paige Rion
“Maybe not officially but you know what I’m talking about. We’ve almost kissed two or three times now.” She spread her arms out to her sides, her voice rising. “All the conversations about us—life, love. You’re always touching my face…”
Ford got to his feet and stepped closer. “You mean like this?” he whispered. He brought a hand up to her cheek and ran his thumb over the contours of her jaw. Her lips quivered, her words forgotten. “Or like this?” His breath kissed her skin as he moved in closer, running the back of his hand against her cheekbone, his gaze never leaving hers. Her breathing hitched, and everywhere he touched tingled until all she wanted was to close her eyes and surrender.
No. She swallowed and forced herself to push his hands away from her, taking a step back after she’d done so. “Yes,” she croaked. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Inhaling, she took another cleansing breath and stepped back. “And as much as I hate saying this, the personal conversations are going to have to end, too. We can’t … I can’t try to be your friend. I don’t think it’s possible. For whatever reason, you and I could never just be friends. I know that seems crazy, but…”
The words hurt more than they should have. The pain lingered in her throat like tiny shards of glass, and she felt the moisture in her eyes as she spoke. “Our relationship has to be a hundred percent professional.”
Ford’s eyes darkened at that and he withdrew his hand.
Andi took another step back, lowering her gaze because the pain in Ford’s hurt too much. “I’m sorry. I wish it could be different. I wanted to be a friend for you. I already feel like I’ve known you forever. And I care. Too much. In just a short amount of time, I’ve grown to care far more than I should, which is half the problem… I know this is a really hard time for you right now. I wanted to be that person you could lean on, but I just can’t. I have Peter, and it’s not fair to him.”
Ford nodded. “Okay.” His tone turned cold. “Is that all then, Miss Callaway?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Why don’t you go ahead and leave for the day? I don’t have any need for you here this afternoon.”
Andi’s gaze flashed to his, panic rising in her chest. “What? It’s only noon.”
Ford said nothing but turned away from her, sat down at his desk and tapped on his keyboard.
She stared at him wordlessly until she realized he was done with the conversation. Turning, Andi left his office.
What had she just done? What if she lost her job because of what she’d said? Stupid!
She pressed her fingers to her temples. She pictured Ford calling Rachel and offering her the job, much to her delight. Andi would be out. She’d lose Ford, and along with him, any connections she had to the publishing world.
Lose Ford? What was wrong with her? Maybe she deserved to lose the job.
She gathered her purse from her desk, wondering what had gotten into her and if she’d have a job left in the morning. She was in love with Peter and had only known Ford for little more than a week. To be jealous of his relationship with Rachel was absurd.
She shook her head, and suddenly, it all made sense—her connection with him, their chemistry. It was all a result of her desire to cling to this job. Then again, Rachel wasn’t trying to steal her job, at the moment. She was only trying to win over Ford. So, the question remained. What was she trying to compete for? Ford or the job?
Andi threw her bag over her shoulder and stomped out of the office. Fire burned in her chest as she made her way through the house. She marched outside and opened her car door, slamming it behind her.
Rachel had been a sore in her side since she’d returned to Callaway Cove. No more. It was time to set the record straight. If Rachel wanted to maintain their friendship, she needed to back off. For good.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Andi pulled up to the Beaumonts’ estate and hopped out of her car. She stomped up the walkway and paused at the door, picking up the handle of the heavy iron knocker, and banged it against the thick mahogany. She waited, not entirely sure of why she was there or what she would say, until the door opened and Marietta, the Beaumonts’ housekeeper, frowned at her.
“Andi? You always just come in. Is everything okay?” Marietta asked. She wore her usual black pants and blouse. Her silver hair was held away from her face with a thick headband.
Making an effort to soften the anger in her face, Andi said, “Sorry. Is Rachel here?”
Marietta’s frown deepened. “She just got home and went out back for a swim.”
“Brilliant. Thank you.” The thought of throttling Rachel in one of her skimpy swimsuits made Andi smile.
Marching past Marietta into the expansive foyer, she made her way through the kitchen and glass doors to the massive sun room, then exited out the back of the house. The smooth surface of the pool reflected the glare of the sun, and there, in the shadows, Rachel lay on a lawn chair in nothing but a pale blue bikini. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore her dark sunglasses, which covered half of her face, making it impossible to decipher what she was looking at or if she’d even noticed Andi’s arrival.
Andi clenched her hands into fists as she came to a stop beside her. “Getting some sun?”
Rachel turned. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“You know, that’s funny. Yes, I should.” Andi moved closer, taking her time, watching Rachel’s every muscle tick and her expression change. “But you see, you won’t leave Ford alone. You won’t stop trying to weasel your way into my position.” She stabbed a finger at her chest. “A position I won fair and square.”
“It’s not like I didn’t warn you. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a quitter. And I’m not giving up until I win him over. I probably don’t need the job to do it, but if I do…” Rachel shrugged. “I have a feeling Ford’s heart will be hard-won.”
Andi flung her arms out. “Listen to you! Do you hear how selfish you sound? Do you not care about me at all? You’re just going to throw almost twenty years of friendship away for a guy?”
Rachel removed her sunglasses and narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you doing the same thing? There are a lot of ways you can look at this. What’s more important? Love, having a family, or a job? I want love and a family. You want nothing but your career.”
“No, there’s only one way to look at this. You and Ford have absolutely nothing in common. And all you want is to be a trophy wife, like your mother. All you care about is finding the right man who can provide you with the lifestyle you’re accustomed to so you don’t have to develop a career yourself or keep using Daddy’s money.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “Well… I guess I know how you feel about me and my family. But before you start spouting off, maybe you should get your facts straight. Maybe you don’t know my family as well as you think you do.”
Andi blinked. “I’ve known you forever. Of course I do.” Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m sorry. You know I love you and your family. I do.” It was the truth. “They’ve been nothing but good to me growing up. But why, Rachel? Why him? There are other successful men. Your dad probably knows dozens of them. So why Ford? Does he talk to you about his life? What’s going on with him and how he feels? What he sees for his future and what he wants? And do you really even care about him, or is it just about his social standing—”
“Unbelievable.” Rachel tipped her head back and laughed.
“What?” Andi crossed her arms.
“That’s what this is all about. Isn’t it? It’s not about the job. You have feelings for Ford.”
Andi scoffed. “No.”
Rachel raised a brow. “You’re jealous. It kills you to see me with him, like it did this afternoon.”
Andi shook her head, but her face burned, betraying her. “I barely even know him.”
“Mmm. You know a hell of a lot more about him than I do. And from the sounds of it, he’s been sharing quite a bit with you, as w
ell. You just don’t know what to do with it because this is going to interfere with your well-laid plans.”
Rachel got up from the lounge chair and closed the gap between them. “Lord knows you must control every damn thing. If it’s not a part of your “life plan” then you have no idea what to do with it. And, this, you hadn’t planned on.”
“That’s not true. Ford is a path to my career. That’s all.” Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her. Still, she tilted her chin up, ignoring the part of her that wondered if Rachel was right and this was really about jealousy.
“Good. Then you won’t mind if I continue pursuing him. We have a date tomorrow night. I rented a room at The Weeping Willow for after.” A wicked grin spread over Rachel’s face. “The lover’s suite,” she whispered.
The delicate string tied to Andi’s sanity snapped. She rammed into Rachel’s chest with her palms, using all of her weight. Rachel’s high-pitched yelp, along with the crashing of water, echoed poolside.
Andi’s chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath. She watched as a sopping wet Rachel emerged. Her hair spilled from its bun, and she coughed on a mouthful of water. Glancing up at Andi, she stared at her open-mouthed.
“Keep your hands off Ford and my job,” Andi said, and with those last words, she turned on her heels and left.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Andi hurried out of her bedroom to the stairs of the old farmhouse in a white caftan she had bought at the local thrift store—perfect for a quick row on the lake. The air outside was still cool, and since it was Saturday, she didn’t have to work. She’d scheduled a brunch with Peter later, but for now, she had nothing to distract her from the early morning sunshine and water.
Since her abrupt dismissal at work Friday, she still hadn’t the chance to ask Ford about her manuscript, but she planned on calling him tomorrow. Talking over the phone had to be easier than in person.
Despite the chaos of the last couple weeks, she was determined to enjoy her day and put everything out of her mind. No obsessing. No Ford. No Rachel. A quiet row in the cove was just the way to start her day. She needed the solitude to figure out what had gotten into her over the last week. Fighting with Rachel and Peter was so unlike her, no matter the cause. And her feelings for Ford had to be a result of her respect for his craft and veneration for what he had done to turn around his life. At least, that was what she told herself. She only wished she could fully believe it.
She bounced down the stairs to the landing. With her hand on the rail post, she swung herself around with the intentions of grabbing something quick for breakfast before heading out. But when she lifted her gaze, she halted, stumbling over her own feet.
A series of pinpricks pooled at the base of her spine, and a weight settled over her, as if the room were blanketed in a heavy fog. Ford sat at her kitchen table. He glanced up, meeting her eyes from across the room, and Andi’s mind shifted into overdrive, trying to make sense of his presence. He was in her home. At seven thirty in the morning. Eating pancakes…
She glanced to the stove and spotted her mother. The culprit, she assumed. The plate in front of him, loaded with perfectly round cakes, coated in butter and drowned in syrup had to come from none other than her own flesh and blood.
A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of him. His golden eyes glowed as he flashed her a tiny smile. Glancing down at his plate, he laid his fork down and said, “Um, your mother—”
“Andi? Don’t just stand there. Say hello and come get a plate.” Her mother’s voice thundered through the kitchen, the same tone she used with Andi as a child.
All Andi could do was stare, wordlessly, at her mother. She stood in front of a griddle, wearing her favorite apron, waving a spatula at her. She took a step toward Andi, her blue eyes gleaming in the soft light of the kitchen. Cupping a hand around her mouth, she whispered, “It’s Ford Delaney. Eating breakfast in our house.”
Andi groaned. He got to her, too.
Her mother swatted at her with the spatula and whispered, “He’s been waiting for a while. Go.” Nudging her toward the table, she turned her attention back on the pancakes.
“That’s it. I’ve finally gone nuts and woke up in another dimension,” Andi muttered, shaking her head. What the hell was he doing here? So much for my morning of solitude.
She hated the way his gaze burned straight through her. Mostly because, deep down, a part of her liked it more than she should, which only reminded her further of why he shouldn’t be there. Did their talk yesterday mean nothing? She had no idea what to say, but she needed to collect her scrambled thoughts before she said anything idiotic. Lord knew she’d done enough of that in the last week.
Moving to her place at the table, she took a seat across from him and grabbed the empty plate and clean fork that waited for her, then stabbed a pancake from a stack on a platter and put it on her plate. “So, you’re making house calls to your assistants on their days off now?” She kept her tone light, knowing her mother was listening.
“Well—”
“You know, if there’s something you need done, maybe you shouldn’t send your employees home after half a day.” She forced a tight smile.
Her mother turned and narrowed her eyes at her, but Andi ignored her. It was her fault Ford was sitting there in the first place. Had she sent him away instead of making him breakfast, he wouldn’t be there and Andi would be eating cold cereal while clomping through the fields and woods on the way to the cove.
He was like a stray cat. Now Andi would never get rid of him. All she needed was Rachel to walk through the door and for Peter to show up early; then her day would be complete. And with the way her summer vacation had been going so far, could she expect anything less?
Ford smirked and shoved a forkful of pancake in his mouth. “I’ll ignore that, as you just woke up, and after your speech yesterday afternoon, I’m assuming there’s a lot on your plate.”
“A lot on my plate?” Andi raised a brow in question.
Ford ducked his head, glancing toward her mother, then whispered, “You know … your failing relationship and all. You and Peter fighting. Your undeniable attraction to me…”
Andi straightened, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Peter and I are not failing. We’re just fine!” She glanced over at her mother, who stood perfectly still, her back stiff as a board and her ear cocked toward them.
Turning back to Ford, she hissed, “And I have no attraction to you. What would you know about a real relationship, anyway? According to you, all the relationships in your books are fictional, while everything else in them is real. For all your life experiences, you seem to know about everything except love!”
Her mother scooped more pancakes off the griddle. She gave Andi a questioning look as she put them on the platter on the table. “These are the last,” her mother said, then untied her red and white gingham apron and placed it on the counter. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”
“I don’t want—”
“Just wrap up the leftovers and put ‘em in the fridge when you’re done,” she said, already half out of the room.
Andi sighed and turned back to Ford, who leaned back in his seat, watching her. He brought his mug to his lips and took a sip of coffee.
Sighing, she pushed back from the table. She had a million reasons to be irritated with him. The fact that he’d completely ignored everything she told him yesterday being the main thing. But there were also his mixed signals—almost kissing her one minute, then flirting with Rachel the next—as well as her attraction to him and his complete awareness of it. If there was one thing Andi knew for sure, Ford Delaney was toxic. He jumbled her thoughts, making it hard to think, and while, with his coming to town, she may have been one step closer to her dream career, she was also one step away from losing the tight grip on her sanity, along with her boyfriend.
“Where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked.
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nowher
e that’s any of your business.”
Ford laughed. “Feisty this morning. You must be upset about something. A fight with Peter? Bad night’s sleep? Or are you just upset because I let you go home early yesterday? That I didn’t declare my love for you after your little impromptu, ‘We can’t be anything to each other, not even friends’ speech? Hmm?”
“My personal life is none of your business,” she said, feeling a ball of fire fist in her chest. “And maybe I’m annoyed that I had that talk with you, which you’re clearly making into a joke now, then woke up to you sitting at my family’s table. My relationship with Peter will be fine, by the way.”
“Your relationship with Peter is broken.” Ford said, his tone hard, eyes tight.
Andi gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. “You’ve only been here a couple weeks. You don’t have any idea. Just because we don’t see eye to eye on some things doesn’t mean we’re broken.”
“From where I sit, you don’t see eye to eye on the most important thing to you.”
“This is none of your business.”
“What does he think of your work?”
Ford’s question slipped underneath her skin like a splinter. She thought of all the discussions she’d had with Peter about her writing and how he always alluded to the fact that he thought she could do better. It was the academic in him, she always reasoned. But maybe there was no excuse.
Ford shook his head and lowered his gaze. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. You’re right. It’s none of my business, and you were right to think that there’s … something between us, whatever it may be. If what you want is nothing but a strictly professional relationship from me, then that’s what you’ll have.” He released a long breath and rubbed his forehead. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to discuss this. Can we get out of here for a minute and talk? Professionally, I promise,” he added, after she remained silent.
