Girl Gear 3: Bound to Happen (26 page)

And standing here now, in this room, surrounded by inanimate objects that uncannily seemed to pulse with Nolan's spirit, she had never felt the connection more. Neither had she ever felt so alone.

Sydney
leaned her forehead on the window and breathed a circle of condensation, looking into her own eyes reflected back in the glass. She rarely allowed herself to get sulky over family issues. She was an adult, after all. Her problems with her mother had, for the most part, been settled.

Yes, Vegas was a flake. She spoke without thinking. She hurt people's feelings on a regular basis, never even realizing what it was she'd said wrong. Her heart was in the right place, which made the injured party feel guilty for hesitating to forgive her transgressions.

It had taken
Sydney
a long time to come to that realization and to get beyond the things her mother had said to her the night of Boom Daily's party. At twenty-six, she was no less vulnerable. But she did have more objectivity.

Or so she'd thought. Until Nolan, her father, the one person to whom she'd always been able to turn for advice, for solace, for security when she'd felt as if she was floundering, hadn't been there when she'd counted on his help. Not only had he failed her by going back on his promise of funding for Izzy, but he'd then turned to Vegas.

The same Vegas who had, eight years before, breezily announced she was giving him a divorce. She used the same tone of voice she would have used to announce buying tickets to the latest Broadway musical.

It made Sydney sick, knowing Nolan was wasting his money, building the Parisian gallery an "artist of Vegas Ford's stature deserved," when Isabel Leighton was using her degree in nutritional anthropology to improve humanitarian efforts in famine-stricken countries.

Abstract oils versus starvation. Yeah,
Sydney
could see exactly why Nolan had made the choice he had. Her forehead still resting on the windowpane, her reflected eyes still glistening, she gave a huff of disgust.

The man she'd put on a pedestal, who'd been her lifeline from freshman orientation to graduation four years later, who'd been there when gIRL-gEAR was the size of a mustard seed and had walked her step by step through the concept development, had hit a crisis in his life, one that made no sense to Sydney.

He was taking yoga, climbing mountains, hitting the streets in his classic Corvette convertible and leaving his cell phone behind. She didn't know her father anymore.

And that, above everything else, was what was making her so miserable.

Almost as miserable as the realization that she'd fallen in love with Ray Coffey. And that she'd been half in love with him for eight years.

How could she have been so stupid as not to recognize what she was feeling long before now? Or, at least, to explore the possibility that her fantasies had a more realistic foundation than simple infatuation?

Not that anything about her infatuation with Ray was simple. But Sydney Ford did not do groundless, ethereal fantasizing. She should've admitted to herself months ago that what she was feeling was not simply going to go away on any prescribed timetable.

Feelings were not as easily organized and classified as spreadsheets and demographic surveys. And unfortunately she was well aware of her tendency to avoid dealing with emotional confrontations. Look what she'd done after the fight with her mother the night of Boom Daily's party.

Sydney
laughed to herself, at herself. Eight years ago she'd known exactly what she was up against dealing with Ray Coffey. She knew him by reputation, and she'd willingly gone with him that night. She only wished she knew what she was up against in dealing with him now.

He scared her to death, the things he made her feel. The passion. The uninhibited desire. The freedom from the rational thinking that drove every aspect of her life. How was she supposed to run a business when she wanted to run away, run wildly through fields and meadows, run her hands all over his body, run until she had nothing left from which to run?

What she was going to do was run gIRL-gEAR into the ground if she didn't call this dalliance to a quick halt. Look at her father, his focus all over the map, his priorities shifted, his attitude too carefree to be believed. If building an art gallery in
Paris
wasn't enough, for God's sake, he'd been dating Lauren Hollister!

Sydney
banged her head lightly against the window, then took a step back from the tempting view beyond. If she lost gIRL-gEAR, she would have nothing worth fighting for left in her life. She'd be back to being nothing but the rich-bitch Ice Queen she'd been for too long—until the night she'd gone to bed with Ray Coffey.

During that one night, everything had changed. Especially what she'd felt about herself. During the long hours of making love, he'd held her close and let her cry over her mother's selfish dissolution of their family. And she'd realized the next morning that Raymond Alexander Coffey was a force to be reckoned with.

He'd frightened her, turned her world upside down. He'd seen things in her she'd never seen in herself. It had been a staggering overload, the physical awakening and the birth of new emotions. She'd been glad when he'd told her he had to get back to
College Station
the following day. As glad as she was that she'd be heading to
Austin
the very next month.

What Ray had offered had overwhelmed her. He'd fed her ego, given a boost to her weary self-esteem. He'd made her feel whole, when she'd always thought of herself as missing pieces. It had been too much to trust, to assimilate. Too much to ask of herself to believe in his instincts when she'd known herself for eighteen years. She'd tucked that night away.

And now he was back.
Sydney
closed her eyes, opened them while shaking her head. She'd had another eight years of time spent in her own company. Enough time to know that loving Ray didn't change a thing. Her focus still had to be her business.

If she lost her career footing, she'd fail all of those around her. And, worst of all, she'd fail herself.

RAY FOUND HER
in Nolan's office. The one and only place he hadn't looked. She'd disappeared right after the group had eaten. Right after everyone
else
had eaten, anyway.
Sydney
had barely touched a thing on her plate. She hadn't even lingered long enough to help clear the table, a task she'd helped Auralie take care of after almost every meal.

She'd smiled at the conversation, but Ray had known even then that she hadn't heard a word. He could tell by the faraway look in her eyes. A look that had caused more than the jerk-chicken casserole to burn in his gut. By smiling, she'd been responding politely to etiquette's demands.
Sydney
was an expert on etiquette.

An expert, too, on the talents most men considered a big part of life's finer moments. Sex between them had been indescribable. Ray had been totally blown away.

Sure, he might be Mr. Big Shot Search-and-Rescue Man—and he was going to kill Doug for that one—but he did have enough sensitivity to know that, no matter that they'd knocked each other's socks off, what he and Sydney had done together earlier today wasn't sitting well with her. With either of them, to tell the truth. Ray knew about women. And he knew about sex. Sex wasn't supposed to turn a man's world upside down; he knew more than a few candy-ass names for men who let that happen. Well, it had happened. And the situation was laughable. Ray Coffey, done in by sex. Except, in this case, it wasn't the sex at all. It was
Sydney
. Only
Sydney
.

He'd stepped into the office, and now he softly closed the door behind him. He had a few things to say and he didn't want to be overheard or interrupted. The others were spending their next-to-last night on the island on the villa's rooftop deck, searching the
midnight
sky for shooting stars.

As much as he and Sydney had needed the time they'd spent wrapped in each other's arms and bodies earlier today, now they needed to talk. To use words not meant to arouse or to tease. But words designed to cut to the heart of the matter. "
Sydney
? You okay?"

He knew she heard him. Because her shoulders lifted as she drew in a breath, sank as she released it.

And she nodded. "Enjoying the view. Thinking."

She could enjoy a better view from the veranda or the deck. Which left the thinking part. And if he had to hazard a guess, he'd say she was thinking about her father. "Must be about Nolan."

She cast a glance over her shoulder before turning completely around to face him. She was so beautiful. So tall and so elegant in every move she made. Her loose-fitting pants managed to show off her body in ways Ray wasn't sure they were designed to do. Her hair swung when she tilted her head, every strand falling perfectly into place.

He felt like a great big clumsy ox, watching as she seemed to float across the room, boosting one hip onto the corner of the desk, keeping her arms
snugged
around her middle as she lifted a questioning brow. But even more powerful was the strength and cunning he felt, the instincts driving a man to protect a woman he wanted to claim as his own.

And that state of mind made him feel even bigger and clumsier than ever, because he seemed to be plowing heart first into a mine field, instead of taking carefully thought-out and logically measured steps.

Finally
Sydney
responded, wetting her lips before she did. "Are you into reading minds these days?"

The softly suggestive tone of her voice caught him off guard. He shook his head. God, the way she looked at him … he shook his head again. "Powers of deduction. You're in Nolan's office, surrounded by his things. And you haven't spent any time in here at all so far this trip."

"Had your eye on me every minute, have you?"

That was about the easiest of any question she could've asked. "Pretty much."

Sydney
smiled. "Well, your powers are amazing. But then, I already knew that."

His ego wanted him to ask exactly what else she thought she knew. But he wasn't here for himself. At least not in the ego-stroking sense. This time he was here to discover if he had totally lost his mind.

He gave her what he hoped was a heart-stopping grin. And he winked. "Well, Ms. Ford, if you know so much, then tell me why I invited you along on this vacation."

She cocked her head to one side and considered him from beneath long lashes. "To finish what we started eight years ago?"

Ray's grin began to slowly fade. He didn't like thinking that what they'd done today might be the end. A hard reality to face after sex that had turned him inside out.

But even more than the sex, he didn't like thinking they were finished, because he was thinking, instead, of changing his mind. Of not being finished at all. Of making this a start, rather than an end.

He could see himself growing old with this woman. Relaxing in the lagoon in matching orthopedic floats. Napping nude, hand in hand on the sundeck. Watching the sunset from the veranda as they rocked together to the rhythm of the sea.

His self-preservation skills were strong enough, however, that he wasn't going to offer up his heart without a better idea of where they stood. "I wouldn't say to finish it necessarily."

"What would you say?"

"I'd say it was more a case of figuring out why that night has stuck like it has with both of us. For the entire eight years since."

"I don't think that's so hard to figure out," she tossed off. "A girl only loses her virginity once in her lifetime."

No. That was taking the easy way out. He wasn't going to let her get away with a quick surface swipe over something that needed a deeper excavation. "Well, it's not like a guy has his to lose more than once."

"True," she said, then pressed her lips together, hesitating a minute, before asking, "So how did I compare?"

He frowned. "Compare?"

"To your other virgins." Her explanation came in a voice with a slight hitch.

He moved farther into the room, making his way to the leather billiard chair facing the desk she was leaning against. He placed both hands on the corner posts and made sure he held her attention. "I haven't had other virgins, Sydney."