Girl Gear 3: Bound to Happen (28 page)

He cut her off, slicing his hand through the air and bringing his palm down hard on the desk. "Oh, baby, you don't know shit about me. I'm sorry to be blunt, but we've only scratched the surface of one another's deeper selves.

"You can't possibly know how I feel about Patrick, or about the things I've seen in my line of work, the brothers I've lost on the job." He shoved both hands back through his hair and took a deep breath. "You need to talk to your father. Your mother, too, for that matter. It bothers me a lot that you won't."

"You
can't possibly know how
I
feel about my father. Or my mother." She flung his words back in his face.

Ray headed for the door, stopped with his hand on the handle. He hadn't wanted to get into this with her. He'd wanted a warm and fuzzy vacation, not a trip into the gritty and all too graphic life he'd led.

But if this was the way she was going to live hers, he wouldn't be there living it with her.

"All I'm saying is that you should make the effort. Because you have today. You don't have any guarantee of tomorrow."

THE NEXT MORNING
found
Sydney
sitting cross-legged on the sand at the water's edge. She wore the most comfortably worn T-shirt she'd brought along and an equally faded pair of running shorts. Her feet were bare. Her hair was twisted into a topknot and secured with a sharpened pencil.

She did not in any way shape or form resemble gIRL-gEAR's classy, chic and sophisticated CEO, an image she worked hard to project. And yes. It was an image. But an image that earned her the respect, the approval and the recognition she'd sought her entire life.

She hadn't wanted anything out of the ordinary, only what a mother usually gave her child—her love, which unfortunately, Vegas saved for herself.

Well,
Sydney
thought. Here she was all these years later. And she had her damn respect, approval and recognition, didn't she? Her CEO position had provided what her mother had not. Proof positive that Sydney Ford, daughter of the world-famous Vegas Ford, actually had something creative worth offering.

So what if she was the brains behind the artistry, rather than the artist herself? She had still put together one of the most talented, creative teams in the fashion industry. And she'd done it all on her own.

For some reason here in the light of day, that rationalization didn't work as well as it had in the dark of her father's office last night—at least, before Ray had walked out and left her alone. Truly alone. Even immersing herself in her father's things as she'd done—so obviously even Ray had noticed—hadn't been the salve she'd hoped.

She missed her father terribly.

And to top off everything, now she didn't even have the man she loved. Ray had left the island this morning with Menga Duarte. And with Anton Neville. Both men were headed back to
Houston
on a flight later today.

Which was why Lauren was sitting next to
Sydney
in the sand.

Her gaze on a sailing craft flirting with the horizon,
Sydney
sighed. Then Lauren sighed. Then
Sydney
sighed again and said, "I wasn't expecting them to leave."

"Me, neither," Lauren admitted, pulling her knees to her chest and dropping her chin onto them. "What kind of men run out when the going gets a little bit tough? You don't see either one of us running away, do you?"

"Well, no. But then, we don't really have a way to go anywhere, anyway, until Menga gets back."

"Hmm. I guess you're right." Lauren started rocking back and forth, side to side.

She was making
Sydney
seasick and
Sydney
put out a hand. "Would you be still before I throw up?"

"Oh, fine." Lauren stretched out her legs and fell onto her back in the sand. "Now I'm making you sick."

"You're both making me sick." Poe dropped down to sit on
Sydney
's other side. "But not as sick as those two men inside. You would think they were the ones abandoned by their lovers, the way they're moping around."

"I am not moping,"
Sydney
stated unequivocally. "I am mourning."

Lauren gave an annoyed huff. "It's not like Ray's dead, Sydney."

Sydney
matched the huff and raised the level of emotion to patent irritation. "I'm not mourning a man. I'm mourning the end of my vacation … and the fact that I could've taken Amtrak across the country.

"I could've been sleeping in feather beds offered by the best bed-and-breakfasts. I could've seen masseuses from coast to coast, instead of spending a very long week stranded on a tropical island."

Poe, having sat quietly through
Sydney
's diatribe, now rolled her eyes. "You forgot the part about screwing your brains out."

"Oh, yeah, that,"
Sydney
said, squinting as the yacht on the horizon began to take on a familiar shape. It had to be the
Indiscreet.
She'd been expecting the crew's return tomorrow. But hallelujah. They were ahead of schedule. Finally she could go home.

Back to her fulfilling CEO life. Big whoop. Still, she didn't want to diminish the importance of what she'd shared here with Ray by joking about their time together. And so she said, "The problem with my brain has nothing to do with sex, but is directly related to the unholy amount of alcohol I have consumed this week."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that. You've always been a tea-drinker." Having pushed herself back up on her elbows, Lauren lowered her sunglasses to the end of her nose and squinted out across the water. "Hey, is that the
Indiscreet!"

"If any of my prayers have been answered, it is,"
Sydney
said. "I cannot wait to get off this island."

Kinsey walked up then and dropped to sit on Lauren's other side. "I don't get it,
Sydney
. How could you possibly prefer
Houston
over this place?"

That was one question
Sydney
didn't want to answer. Right now this place was too redolent of Ray. Later she could return and enjoy the tropical setting for the paradise it was. Later, once she'd worked Ray Coffey out of her system.

Sydney
snorted in self-disgust. Maybe in another lifetime. "I have a lot of work to get back to, that's all."

"Right. I can believe that. All of us here can't wait to get back to work." Poe slanted
Sydney
a give-me-a-break look. "Of course, I'm only saying that because you're the boss."

"Why does
that
not surprise me?"

"Uh,
Sydney
?" Lauren's voice hovered on the question. "During all the repairs, do you think the crew forgot to load the dinghy back onto the yacht?"

"Why would you think something like that?"
Sydney
asked.

"Because someone is obviously swimming toward shore," Lauren replied.

Sydney
looked up, as did the others, and saw that the yacht was now anchored in the keel-deep water, and someone was indeed swimming toward shore. Her gaze followed the swimmer's approach until he found himself close enough to wade the rest of the way to the beach.

He shook the water from his hair and his face, slicking his hair back with his palms. He wore no shirt; his swim trunks were knee-length and a plain navy blue with white drawstrings and trim.
Sydney
figured they bore a designer label because that was all her father ever wore.

Nolan Ford raised a hand in greeting.

Getting to her feet,
Sydney
settled her hands on her hips.

Kinsey stood, as well, and waved in return.

Lauren scrambled up, shaded her eyes with one hand and waved with the other. "Hey, Nolan. What a surprise!"

Poe was the last to stand. Nolan drew closer, the water at his knees, then his shins, then his ankles. He was out of the water and on the hard-packed sand when she blew out a long, low she-wolf whistle.

"Hello, Daddy."

11

«
^
»

"
W
HAT ARE YOU DOING
here?"
Sydney
demanded.

"It's my yacht. My island."

Nolan Ford's brows had drawn together, creating a deeply creased V above the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was plastered to his scalp, and water dripped down his forehead and temples to run the length of his neck.

"You're my daughter. I think I'm entitled to show up without having to sit through your third degree."

He wasn't sitting anywhere. He was standing on the end of the villa's private pier, which was as far as he and
Sydney
had made it after walking off down the beach, leaving Lauren, Kinsey and Poe on their own.

Sydney
, on the other hand, was still walking. Pacing, actually. A short strip of planking, back and forth, back and forth, her frustration at an all-time high.

In a span of less than twenty-four hours, she'd been forced into two confrontations, each with one of the two men who meant the most to her.

No. This was definitely not her idea of a vacation. Not in any sense of the word.

"Okay, then.
Sans
the third degree. What are you doing here?" It didn't matter that seeing him had made her realize she missed him. A big part of her still hadn't let go of the betrayal she felt.

His hands were on his hips, and his head was cocked to one side as he watched her pace. He waited until she'd tired of not getting anywhere before he said what he'd obviously been waiting to say.

"You need to go see your mother, Sydney."

If she hadn't already been standing still, she would've come to a feet-stumbling stop. "Excuse me?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Surely she hadn't heard what she'd just heard. "Why do I
need
to go see my mother?"

Nolan kept his gaze steady and unflinchingly honest. "Because she wants to see you."

What would've been a pang of guilt if
Sydney
felt any guilt over her unraveled relationship with Vegas settled like a jagged seashell in her stomach. "And that's supposed to mean something to me?"

"It should. It will." Nolan looked off across the expanse of green-blue sea before turning to face her directly again. "She told me she has a wealth of apologies she needs to make to you."

Well, that would be a first,
Sydney
thought, even while her heart began to race. Emotion pricked with pinpoint stings at the backs of her eyes. "But
I'm
supposed to make the first conciliatory step and go to
Paris
."

"She won't come back here. In
Paris
she's…" Nolan trailed off. The grim line of his mouth spoke of his effort to choose words that wouldn't hurt her feelings.

A little late for that, Daddy, but thanks, anyway,
Sydney
thought. She went ahead and finished his sentence for him. No reason to mince words, after all. "In
Paris
she's what? Happy? Adored? The center of attention? Independent? Unfettered by a husband and a child?"