Girl Gear 3: Bound to Happen (31 page)

There wasn't yet, but
Sydney
had everything that could be crossed
crossed
. Her hopes were up, even though she'd told herself there was a good chance she'd waited too long to make up her mind. And her eyes were open wide. She wasn't going to him wearing blinders or rose-tinted glasses.

And yes. She had something more to give him. A surprise propped up against the six-pack in her passenger seat. A surprise several years, an exorbitant expense and extraordinary expertise in the making. A surprise she wanted to deliver, whether he welcomed her or not.

She found him in his backyard, wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans and high tops without socks or laces. His dark hair was sweat-soaked. His chest gleamed with perspiration even now in the late afternoon sun, and the scar stood out like a bright reminder of the news she'd come to share.

He'd been mowing and raking, cleaning the gutters along the eaves. Suburban home owner chores. And she wanted to help. To work at his side. To sleep in his bed. To give him the babies he wouldn't let himself want. And she wanted to do it all for the rest of her life.

All Ms. CEO Career Woman had to do now was convince Ray that he couldn't live without her.
Sydney
drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was about to give the most important sales pitch of her life.

Holding both the six-pack and the envelope she'd come to deliver in one hand, she reached for a bottle and had the offering in the other hand when he looked up and caught sight of her. His face broke into an immediate grin, before he had the chance to pull down his emotional shades.

The grin gave
Sydney
hope.

She handed him the beer. He took it and twisted off the cap. She didn't even try to hide her appreciation for the workings of his throat as he swallowed. She remembered the taste of his skin, the feel of his resilient flesh beneath her lips.

He'd already downed a good third of the bottle when she came to her senses. "I was going to tell you that it's only free if you drink it. But I see I would've been wasting my breath."

"It's good to see you, too, Sydney." Ray swiped the back of one hand over his mouth. "What brings you to suburbia?"

Suburbia.
She had to laugh at that. Though she'd originally considered the casual side of her closet, she'd ended up in a pair of sling-back
Manolo
Blahnik's
and a simple boat-neck sheath dress in butter-yellow linen and pearls. Her visit wasn't about fitting in, but about being herself. Accepting herself. Giving herself permission to try, and to fail.

"A couple of things actually."

Her heels clicking against the pebbled walk, she carried the rest of the six-pack to the patio, setting it on the glass top of the shiny black wrought-iron table. Her fingers held tight to the letter.

"Such as?" he asked, finishing off the one beer and reaching for a second.

She looked into his eyes, searching for and making the connection she needed to make. "I wanted to tell you why I gave you my virginity."

Ray paused, frowning, the beer bottle halfway to his mouth. "I'm over that,
Sydney
. I told you it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me." She crossed the rest of the patio,
steepled
fingers tapping the envelope to her chin, making her way beyond the table and chairs before taming back to face him. "I had a huge crush on you, Ray. I had a crush on you for two years. But you were popular and I was a joke and I doubted you knew I existed."

His eyes flared. His fingers flexed around the bottle he held. "I knew you existed."

"Please let me finish." She smiled, tilted her head and held her hands to her stomach. God, she was nervous. And she wasn't going to be able to finish if she thought too much about that look in his eyes.

"You didn't talk to me, except for maybe a passing hello, but you didn't ignore me, either. You looked at me. Really looked at me. And that gave my cold-fish fantasies a lot of warmth."

A flush crawled up Ray's face, and
Sydney
knew she'd never loved this honorable man more.

She loved that he had the ability to be embarrassed. That she had the ability to get to him that way. That he didn't try to hide what she made him feel. Hope bloomed.
Sydney
felt it color her cheeks. She felt it in her heart. She felt it until she felt like she was floating. Oh, if this was being in love, she was never going to get enough.

Ray cleared his throat. Twice. "I think we're flirting with the edge of too much information here,
Sydney
."

She laughed, worrying the envelope back and forth between her hands. "It's true. I slept with you dozens of times before you ever took me to bed. I think even then, as naive as I was about relationships, that I knew how special you were. How special you are."

"I'm not special," he said, and snorted, setting his half-empty bottle on the table.

"You are special." She crossed to him quickly, placed her free palm on his chest, moved it to cup his face. She had to do this now before she lost eight weeks' worth of nerve. "You're a good man, Ray Coffey. You don't have an unkind bone in your body. If the words you speak are sometimes harsh, it's because your honesty won't allow you to say anything but what needs to be said. It was what I needed to hear."

"I hurt you." He wrapped his hands around her wrists and held on.

"I deserved it," she said. "I needed it," she added. "I love you," she finally whispered and held her breath.

His gaze snapped up. His fingers tightened. "
Sydney
—"

She pulled free from his hold and stopped him with fingers pressed to his lips. She had to finish.

"I've never been in love before, Ray. And it scares me to death that I'm doing this all wrong. I know how to put together marketing proposals and how to design intricate spreadsheets and how to turn a group of six coffee-shop employees into a fashion empire. But I don't know about relationships. I don't know about love. I don't know what to do now and, oh, Ray, please say something before I—"

His mouth devoured her mouth, cutting off her ability to speak. He kissed her. Desperately. Hungrily.

His lips were soft, even while his touch was rough and demanding. He kissed her as if he never again needed to take a breath of air.

But she did. She moved away and gasped, "Ray, I can't breathe."

He wrapped her in a bear hug tight to his chest. "Neither can I," he said before letting her go, setting her back a step and saying, "Sydney Ford, I have never loved another woman in my life the way I love you. I'd say you had me at 'hello,' but that line's way overused."

Sydney
wanted to laugh, but her eyes were misty and Ray's were swimming with a liquid emotion. "You had me at 'It's only free if you drink it.'"

He chuckled, a sound that wavered with a wealth of emotion. His voice was still unsteady as he came back with, "Well, call me a guy but my favorite line was, 'I thought you wanted to party.'"

This time her laughter was a cry of pure happiness. She stepped back into his arms because it was where she belonged. Where she'd always belonged. Where she'd never been happier. Where she would never leave.

"So, I guess you've decided to keep the house?"

He hugged her tighter. "Yeah. But living here by myself is getting old. I've spent a lot of years shutting doors I should have left open. I haven't let myself lean on anyone, or need anyone. I thought I was protecting those who love me, keeping them safe. What I was doing was keeping myself from feeling. And I can't be any good to anyone like that.

"Not to those whose lives I'm sworn to save. Not to friends. Not to lovers. Funny thing, but walking away from you made me realize that. Now that I've finally woken up, and now that you're here, I think this big
ol
' house might come in handy."

"It just might,"
Sydney
added, stepping out of his arms but only far enough to hand him the envelope. And to watch his face as he read.

"What's this?" He frowned, flipping the unmarked envelope back and forth as if thinking he'd find the answer to his question printed there.

Her heart was pounding so hard in her ears she was surprised Ray couldn't hear it as well. She nodded toward the letter, her voice wavering when she told him, "Just read it."

He absently slid his thumb beneath the flap and continued talking about the house while pulling the letter free. "Yeah. Neville and Storey are just going to have to suck it up. I won't be sending any commission their way. I like taking care of my own. And this place—" Ray looked up into the branches of the oak tree towering overhead, down at the beds of pansies and finally to the letter. "This place is my … own … oh, God."

Ray's voice broke on a sob. "Patrick!"

Sydney
stepped away, giving Ray the private time he needed to read the letter. The letter that had arrived by courier only yesterday from his brother who would soon be coming home. One more thing for which she had to thank her father, because it was Nolan's involvement, Nolan's cash and contacts, that had finally yielded what Ray had not been able to accomplish on his own.

And now, watching the man she loved swipe fingers over the tears in
his eyes, watching him digest the brief note that promised to explain all later, watching every breath he took hitch hard and catch in his chest, Sydney pressed her hands to her mouth and sobbed.

Ray looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and swimming with joy, and he came for her then, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to his body, crushing the letter in his fist at her back.
Sydney
buried her face in his chest and breathed deep of both her happiness and Ray's.

They held on to one another, loving one another, knowing that, as long as they were always here to offer one another solace and bliss, nothing else in the world mattered.

And, at that moment,
Sydney
knew nothing else did.

* * * * *