He shot her a quick glance, but his aviator sunglasses shielded his eyes. He quickly turned his attention back to the road.
“What?” she asked, as he slowed to make the turn into the long driveway.
He parked near the flagstone staircase leading to the front door of the lavish, picture perfect, Mediterranean-style home. “It’s nothing.”
She settled her hand on his arm. “Are you sure?” The last thing she wanted to do was fight with him, but after last weekend, it was more than obvious to her he still had issues with her relationship with Trenton. She wanted to be understanding, but she was a little tired of defending her actions to him. He needed to accept the fact that she had eventually managed to go on with her life. What he didn’t need to know is what she went through to make that happen. What’s more, she’d found a man she could trust, and Trenton had made her happy. And that was something he needed to come to terms with, or they’d never make it.
He killed the engine before he reached across the console to take her hand and give it a light squeeze. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, then.” She flashed him a smile, although she had a feeling the conversation had been tabled for another time rather than dismissed.
He let go of her hand and hit the button for the lift gate on her Edge before sliding from the vehicle. She dug in her purse for the set of keys Griffen had given her. The bulky key ring with the Texas Wranglers emblem held every key related to the house, from the front door to the twin freezers in the massive walk-in pantry, along with a specialty fob to operate all four garage door openers. There was also a private dock and a boat house where the boat and jet skis were kept. Griffen had told her Jed had replaced the fancy speed boat with a more sedate vessel, one complete with cabins to sleep eight and an efficient galley below deck, should they decide to spend some time on the lake. Since her pregnancy, anything to do with water travel made Griffen seasick, so the water toys were on hiatus for the time being.
She joined Ford, and pulled a few of the grocery sacks from the back, then started up the impressive flagstone staircase to the massive, heavy wooden door. After a few tries, she found the appropriate key just as Ford joined her on the stoop, the weekender bag she’d packed slung over his shoulder, along with the last of the supplies they’d purchased. “You’re in for a treat,” she said, as she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
He followed her inside, letting out a long, slow whistle as he looked around the enormous three-story foyer. “Wow,” he said, peering down the roughened brick steps to the impressive den, complete with an antique mahogany bar and an old-fashioned brass, foot rung. Memorabilia from Jed’s football career adorned the walls, and she suspected Ford was itching to take in the sight. She imagined he’d enjoy the seventy-inch, 3D, flat-screen television, too.
“This way,” she said and led the way to the other staircase to the main living area with the gourmet kitchen. The formal dining room could easily seat two dozen, and a large living room, tastefully decorated in soft, cool white and shades of gray with bursts of bright yellow accents, held a breathtaking view of the lake.
An open-air staircase that looked as if it were suspended, stood off to the left, leading to the upper floor with the master suite and three guest bedroom suites. Every room in the enormous house boasted lake views, but nothing was quite as impressive as the view from the living room and den with their floor to ceiling windows.
Ford left the weekender bag by the open staircase and followed her into the kitchen to help her unload the groceries. “This kitchen must be nirvana for you.”
“I won’t lie,” she said, setting the seafood and New York strip steaks they’d bought on the counter. “It is spectacular, but I really do love the upgrades I made to our kitchen. It’s so much more efficient now, and I like how it opens into the family room.”
“That’s a plus with Phoebe.” He opened the fridge. “Hey, Matt? I think they were expecting us.”
She walked to the fridge and peered around him, then let out a sigh. “This is Jed’s handiwork.”
Sometime between Griffen’s text message to Ford to confirm their weekend in Possum Kingdom and their arrival, her sister must’ve told Jed she’d loaned them the lake house for the weekend. As a result, her very thoughtful brother-in-law had somehow managed to have someone stock the fridge with Ford’s favorite brand of beer, wine for her, and a bottle of very expensive champagne with a notecard attached that said, “Enjoy! Love Jed and Griff,” tied to the bottle with a red ribbon.
“We have enough food to survive Armageddon,” Ford said.
He wasn’t exaggerating, either. There was fresh milk, butter, eggs, several types of cheese and lush fruit. Green veggies, fresh herbs and a variety of steaks, ribs, both pork and beef, and even two giant lobster tails. Thick sliced bacon, ham steaks and fat sausages for breakfast. There were plenty of ingredients for just about anything she might want to whip together.
Ford laughed. “Does he have a food obsession or what? Our freezer at home is still stocked to the gills, too.”
“No, but he knows I love to cook, so this is just his way.” She pulled two imported beers from the fridge and closed the door. “Moderation is not a part of Jed’s vocabulary.”
Ford took the beers from her and twisted off the caps before handing one back to her. He tapped the long neck of his bottle to hers before he took a drink. “I have to admit,” he said, “the guy has style.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m good.” He took another drink from the beer bottle. “Wanna sit on the deck for a while? Watch the sun set?”
She set her beer on the counter and slowly walked toward him. “I was thinking of unpacking, then taking a shower.”
Heat immediately filled his gaze. “Who needs sunsets?” His voice went all low and husky. “Want some help?”
Need pulled low in her belly. She gave him a sassy grin. “What could you possibly do for me that I can’t do for myself?”
He snagged her hand and playfully pulled her to him. “If you have to ask,” he said, dipping his head to nibble on the side of her neck, just below her ear, “then it’s been way too long. But if you want to show me what you have in mind...”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, sifting her fingers through his hair. “I guess I’ll just have to show you, then,” she said, before guiding his mouth down to hers for a tongue-tangling kiss.
* * *
Two orgasms and a hot shower later, Mattie opted for a soft, comfy pair of pajama bottoms and low-cut, scoop-neck tank. For about half a second she considered wearing the new, sexy slip of a nightgown she’d bought at the lingerie store while she’d been in Dallas with her sister, but decided to save it for tomorrow night. The lingerie had been a bit of an extravagance, but when she’d tried it on at the store, she’d loved the way the champagne-colored silk had whispered across her skin like a caress. She’d even indulged in a decadent silk thong, decorated with strategically placed ostrich plumes, knowing Ford’s eyes would pop out of his head when he saw her.
She carefully slid the tissue-wrapped garments into the dresser drawer with the other items she’d already unpacked. Not comfortable utilizing her sister and Jed’s master suite, they’d selected the larger of the two remaining guest rooms. Austin had chosen the smaller bedroom at the end of the hallway, far from his parents’ master suite, and the room was now very much the domain of a teenage boy. That left them with what Griffen referred to as the blue suite or the purple suite, or one of a trio of smaller bedrooms on the lowest level off the extensive game room, none of which had their own private bathroom. Having been a guest here on one other occasion, she had shared the purple room with Trenton, so she opted for the blue room that really wasn’t blue, but more of a soft turquoise with antique-white furnishings.
She slid the drawer closed, then zipped up the weekender bag and stowed it in the closet before heading back into the bathroom to blow dry her hair. Twenty minutes later, ha
ir dried and her skin perfumed with the scent of her favorite body lotion, she went downstairs to find her husband. After cracking open the bottle of moscato she’d had chilling, she loaded a small platter with various fruits, cheeses and a few snack crackers. Glass of wine and munchies in hand, she joined Ford in the cavernous den where he sat on the leather sofa, iPhone to his ear, television remote in hand.
“I love you, too, sugar,” he said into the phone. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to talk to Austin’s dog.”
She smothered a grin, knowing exactly what was coming next. Ever since Griffen had adopted a puppy, Phoebe had been relentless in her pleas for a dog of her own. And she wanted one just like Austin’s, a high-energy, very hairy, albeit completely adorable, Golden Retriever. She’d been hesitating, but she supposed so long as Ford didn’t object too strenuously, she didn’t see much reason not to adopt a dog. Although nothing was ever considered permanent when it came to duty stations, after what they’d all been through, she held serious hope the Navy wouldn’t be uprooting them any time soon.
When he saw her, he flashed that sexy smile of his, the one that never failed to make her toes curl. “I promise I’ll talk to Mommy,” he said, and patted the cushion next to him. “No, I will. Yes. I already promised.”
He looked at her, a huge smile on his face. “She never stops, does she?” he whispered.
“Nope,” she said as she joined him on the sofa.
“As soon as we hang up, okay?” He said into the phone. “Say goodnight, sugar.” He chuckled. “Because you’re sweet, that’s why?” He shook his head. “Yes, I’ll tell Mommy.” He let out a sigh. “Okay. All right. Goodnight.”
“So? Who was that?” she asked teasingly as she plucked a small handful of grapes from the platter.
He set his iPhone on the coffee table, snagged his near empty glass and took a final swig. “A beautiful, brunette fireball who’s stolen my heart,” he said as he stood. “And I’m finding it impossible to say no to her. Want a drink?”
“I’m good,” she said, then took a sip of the cool, crisp wine in her glass. “So, we’re getting a dog?”
“She really wants one.” He went to the bar to freshen his drink. She admired his ass encased in soft, battered denim, and her nipples hardened. Considering they’d just made love little over an hour ago, sex should be the last thing on her mind. Apparently, her body had other ideas.
He grabbed a bottle of Crown from the glass shelf behind the bar. “I take it she’s been begging for a while now.” His gaze momentarily dipped to her breasts.
“She has.” She tugged at her tank, wishing she hadn’t worn something so form fitting. “Do you think she’s old enough? I don’t expect her to take care of it, but she needs to at least share in some of the responsibility.”
Drink refilled, he walked back to the sofa, his expression thoughtful. Her gaze slid from his face to the long, powerful length of his legs and back up to admire his broad chest. The last time she’d seen him in the old, heather-gray Navy Strong t-shirt, the soft, worn fabric had clung to his chest and had emphasized his thick, muscular biceps. While the fabric wasn’t exactly hanging on him now, the fit was nowhere near as snug as it had once been, reminding her of how harshly he’d been treated.
He sat beside her. “You know her better than I do.”
Although his words weren’t accusatory, she still winced. “Ouch.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He slung his arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing lightly along her shoulder, skimming over her skin to the back of her neck. “But, it is a fact we can’t change.”
She took a long drink of wine. “I know,” she finally said. “What do you say we declare this the part of the conversation where we just say ‘get over it’ and we move on?” Because really, how much longer could they keep rehashing the past five years?
His expression turned thoughtful, and for half a minute, she thought he might agree with her. “Do you mean that?” he asked. “Or is it because you don’t want to talk about what you’ve been doing all this time?”
She frowned. “That’s not—”
“Because you never did answer my question.”
They’d both been to hell and back, what more did they really need to say?
How about the truth?
She drained her glass.
“And what question would that be?” she asked innocently, but knew exactly what he’d meant. She’d badgered him into telling her about his time in the hands of the enemy, but so far, she’d managed to avoid the truth about exactly what she’d gone through.
“What have you been doing the past five years?” His warm hand cupped the back of her head as he smoothed his thumb up and down the side of her neck. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea about the past two years,” he added dryly, “but what about before that? What are you afraid to tell me?”
She leaned forward, away from his touch, under the guise of selecting a slice of cheese. Because, dammit, she was incapable of concentrating when he touched her, even absently. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He gently patted her thigh before he stood. “We might have been apart for five years,” he said, “but I know you better than that. Is this a conversation that’s going to require more wine?”
“There’s going to be a conversation?”
“There needs to be.” He went to the kitchen and came back with the opened bottle of moscato to refill her glass. “We can’t keep going in circles, Matt. You just said it. At some point, we have to stop looking back and move forward, but we can’t do that if we aren’t honest with each other.”
She took a quick, fortifying sip. “I’ve never lied to you.”
“I know.” He walked to the bar and tucked the bottle into the small, built-in fridge. “But, you haven’t told me everything, either.”
“You’re home. We’re spending the weekend in Jed’s gorgeous lake house. We’re together,” she said, a little alarmed by the panic creeping into her voice. She cleared her throat. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No, Mattie. It’s not,” he said. “And I think you know it, too.”
Dammit. She hated when he was right. She had insisted on the truth from him. She’d pushed and pushed for it. Wasn’t it only fair that he be afforded the same courtesy?
“Quid pro quo,” he said.
Needing space, she set her glass on the table, then walked to the wall of windows to look out into the night. The lights behind her prevented her from seeing much but darkness and her own terrified reflection. “It’s been a really long day. Can’t we do this another time?”
He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. “Let’s do this now.”
She tried to take comfort from the feel of her back pressed against the warm, solid length of his body, but instead, a coldness crept into her bones and chilled her. She wasn’t ready. They weren’t ready.
“Pick a day, babe.”
She would’ve smiled at his choice of words, but her insides were a jumbled mess of nerves. “Wouldn’t you rather I start at the beginning? Isn’t that where all good stories begin?” she asked, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice.
Dammit, she didn’t want to turn the discussion into an argument. He’d asked her a legitimate question, but that didn’t mean her defenses hadn’t immediately come into play in order to protect herself. He deserved an honest response. Too bad the truth still scared the hell out of her.
“Sure.” He loosened his hold on her, and she stepped away from him. “Start at the beginning.”
There was a guarded quality to his voice that had shame and regret crawling all over her conscience, looking for a place to set up shop. She went to the table and snatched her glass of wine, hoping for a dash of courage. After she downed a sufficient amount, she asked, “What would you like to know first? How I can’t even remember the words Paul Ravelli used to tell me your plane had been shot down and there were no survivors? Or maybe how I went into labor, be
cause I was in shock? Or how I was so out of it, I have almost no memory of Phoebe’s birth?”
He snagged his own drink from the bar and went back to the sofa. “I want to know all of it.”
Out of morbid curiosity? Or because he was trying to be supportive?
She told herself it didn’t matter, but she knew better. And because she needed the warmth of his body to chase away the deep chill inside her, she sat beside him. “Do you, Ford?” she asked quietly as she turned to face him. “Do you really want to know that I barely survived? How if it weren’t for my mom and Griffen...” She shook her head. She really didn’t want to tell him how weak she’d been. Wasn’t it better that he hold onto the erroneous illusion she’d survived by sheer strength of will despite the excruciating heartbreak losing him had caused her?
He took hold of her hand and laced their fingers together, as if his mere touch held the strength she needed to tell him the truth. “If it hadn’t been for your mom and Griffen, what?”
She shook her head again, but the memories she’d kept deeply buried threatened to rise to the surface despite her fervent wish to the contrary. The pain, the agony she’d gone through weren’t emotions she cared to revisit, and she sure as hell didn’t want to enlighten the one person whose opinion mattered to her the most, how badly she’d failed. They’d had enough pain between them to last ten lifetimes. Why add more?
Because he deserved the truth, regardless of how painful. Regardless of how much more hurt it caused.
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If it weren’t for your mom and Griffen, what?” he prompted again.
She drew in a long, unsteady breath, then briefly lowered her lashes as she let it out slowly. “I wanted to die,” she whispered, then opened her eyes.
Apprehension highlighted his features. “Babe,” he said, “I know it was hard, and I’m—”
Playing Dirty Page 21
