Suddenly One Summer

  When she kept right on following him, he shook his head and turned into the alley that led to the side street where he’d parked his car.

  “Ford, hold on.”

  He spun around. “What?” She stopped at his brusque tone, and stood a couple feet from him in the alley. When she hesitated, he gestured impatiently. “What, Victoria?”

  She lifted her chin. “Are you dating that woman who was with you in the elevator?”

  Fuck that. All his frustration boiling to the surface, he took a step closer to her. She had no right to ask him that, not anymore. She had kicked him out of her life. “Would it make any difference if I was?” he asked sharply.

  Victoria held her ground, peering up at him and taking a moment before answering. “No.”

  His shoulders slumped.

  Well. He’d asked.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said tersely. He spun around and started walking toward his car.

  “Because I’d fight for you anyway.”

  He stopped.

  His heart pounding, he turned around to face her.

  She stepped toward him, speaking determinedly. “This was not supposed to happen. My whole adult life I have avoided exactly this happening. I had things all mapped out, I knew what I wanted, and I was set. But then you came along, and you messed up all of that, with your little quips, and your jaw that twitches when you get protective, and the way you somehow manage to always be so infuriatingly unfazed no matter what I throw at you. And now I’m stuck. I can’t get back to my old life and, even crazier, I don’t want my old life anymore.” She held his gaze. “Because that life doesn’t have you in it.”

  She moved closer. “These past two weeks without you have felt . . . wrong. And I miss you. So much.” Her lip began to tremble, but she swallowed and kept going. “I know I pushed you away. But not because I don’t care. It’s because I care so much that it scares me.” Her voice softened. “But losing you scares me even more. And I thought, maybe, if you felt the same way, that we could start over. Only this time . . . we’d do it for real.”

  She fell quiet then, standing still as she waited.

  His throat feeling tight, Ford needed a moment before he could answer.

  If I ever were to go down this road, and let myself fall for someone, it can’t be halfway. I have to know that she’s in, too.

  And that speech, coming from her, said everything.

  He moved closer and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, her expression suddenly so hopeful and vulnerable it made his heart ache. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He smiled softly. “Like, crazy, awful, miserable-without-you kind of love. Hell, even Tucker was trying to cheer me up.”

  Victoria bit her lip. “But the blonde in the elevator—”

  “—was just a co-worker.” Ford stroked his thumb across her cheek, wiping away one of her tears. “See, apparently, that’s how these crazy, miserable-without-you things work. It means you’re the only one I think about. Ever since the day I first knocked on your door.”

  She smiled and touched his cheek. “You weren’t the only one who was miserable. Friday night, I had to sleep at Rachel’s because I couldn’t stand the thought of you with another woman.”

  “Ah . . . Rachel’s. That’s where you were.”

  In his head, he did a little victory dance.

  “Where else would I have been?” She cocked her head. “Wait, did you think—”

  He cut her off. “Still don’t want to think about it. Ever.”

  Her lips curved. Then she looked at him for a moment, her expression softening. “You know I love you, too, right?”

  He pulled her closer, his voice thick with emotion. “I do now.”

  He bent his head and kissed her, tenderly at first, and then more heatedly as they leaned against the building, her purse falling to the ground, and his forearms pressing on the brick as he held her face in his hands.

  When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed. “I think we need to get out of this alley.”

  His thoughts exactly.

  Ford scooped up her purse and they hurried through the alley. But then Victoria stopped in her tracks when they got to his car. “Shoot. I forgot about Nicole. She’s still with Peter and Melanie.”

  “Nicole will be fine.”

  “I was so distracted when you left, I’m not sure I even said good-bye. Not my usual level of client relations,” she said with a sheepish grin.

  He took out his phone. “I’ll text her and explain everything.” He read out loud as he typed. “‘Victoria left with me. She says good-bye.’” He hit send and winked at her. “Now can we go have make-up sex?”

  A guy passing by them on a bicycle looked over sharply and nearly crashed into a parked car.

  “Seriously,” Victoria said to Ford.

  But he noticed that she climbed into his car lickety-split.

  “I got a funny vibe from Nicole earlier,” Victoria said as she buckled her seatbelt. “Do you think she knew something was going on between us?”

  As Ford got behind the wheel, his phone buzzed with a new message. He shook his head while reading it. “Well, at least now I know why she asked me to come tonight.”

  He held out the phone so Victoria could see his sister’s reply.

  You’re welcome. Now stop brooding.

  * * *

  IN HIS BEDROOM, as the evening summer sun filtered in through the shades on his windows, Ford kissed the back of Victoria’s neck. He slowly inched down the zipper of her dress, thinking how, a mere hour ago, he’d been going out of his mind at the thought of some other man doing exactly this. But now here they were.

  And she was all his.

  He pressed his mouth to the top of her shoulder as he pushed the dress down her arms and let it fall to the floor.

  “Ford,” she murmured, leaning against him.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed. After setting her down, he stripped off his clothes as she kicked off her heels and took off her bra. Then he climbed onto the bed and swept his mouth over hers in a long, possessive kiss. When his hands finally moved to her underwear, she sighed. But instead of yanking them off, he pulled them down just an inch and slowly kissed his way down to her stomach.

  She groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  He smiled wickedly against her skin. “Better get used to it, Ms. Slade. I have two weeks’ worth of driving you crazy to make up for.”

  Afterward, they lay face-to-face on their sides, looking at each other as the fading sunset cast a soft orange glow around the bedroom.

  She reached out and slid her hand over his.

  “Don’t even think about asking me for brownies,” he growled.

  She laughed. “I was just going to say that I’m really glad those assholes broke into my town house. Because that led me to you.”

  He slid a hand down her back and pulled her close once again. “You slay me, Victoria. You know that, right?”

  She sunk her fingers into his hair and smiled.

  “I do now.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Ford woke up to the sound of his front door creaking shut.

  He sat up and saw that the other side of the bed was empty. Frowning, he quickly threw on his jeans and went out into the living room.

  No Victoria.

  Then he noticed a dim sliver of light filtering in through a crack between his front door and the wall, and realized that someone had left the door propped open with the deadbolt.

  Seconds later, that someone tiptoed back in, bare-legged and wearing his shirt.

  Victoria smiled when she saw him standing there. “Sorry. I was trying not to wake you.” She held up a skinny travel container. “Toothbrush.”

  Ford’s mouth curved. Saying nothing, he walked into the kitchen and opened one of the drawers.

  She rested her hip against the counter, watching him. “You are awake, right? This
isn’t some creepy sleep-walking thing, is it?”

  He gave her a look as he walked over. Then he set something down on the counter in front of her.

  A spare key to his place.

  She smiled softly, looking down at it for a moment, and then picked it up. “Well. I guess we’d better alert the cavalcade that unit 4F is officially closed for business.”

  “Had to get that in, did you?” He scooped her up as she laughed, and set her on top of the counter, liking this look of her in his shirt and not much else.

  She looked again at the key in her hand. “It’s been years since I’ve had an actual boyfriend.”

  That made him go soft on the inside all over again. “It’s going to be even longer before you have another one.”

  Her expression turned almost shy. “This happily-ever-after stuff . . . marriage, two-point-five-kids, and the minivan . . . I never thought those things were in the cards for me. This is all very new.”

  It was new for him, too, but it also felt very right. He wrapped his arms around her. “We have plenty of time to figure out those things. And we always have the frozen eggs.”

  She peered up at him. “We?”

  “Yes. We.” No hesitation.

  “We,” she repeated, not a question this time. Then she slid her arms around his neck, her voice husky. “I like the sound of that, Ford Dixon.”

  He lowered his head and kissed her, not worrying about what would happen tomorrow, or three months from now, or even thirty years down the road. All that mattered was that she would be by his side.

  And that was the happiest damn ever-after of them all.

  Epilogue

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Victoria sat side by side with Ford, trying not to smile when she saw him run a nervous hand through his hair.

  Ah, had she ever been there.

  “So, this is Ford,” she told Dr. Metzel, with no small amount of isn’t-my-boyfriend-so-cute pride.

  Two days ago, when she and Ford had been talking about their weekend plans, she’d offhandedly remarked that she had her therapy appointment on Saturday. Much to her surprise, he’d offered to go with her.

  And then her heart had melted when she’d heard why.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ford,” Dr. Metzel said with a warm smile. “As I told Victoria on the phone, I’m happy to explore therapy options for the both of you. Normally, in circumstances like these, I’d recommend a combination of couple’s sessions and individual sessions. But let’s see how things go today, and then we can figure out a plan of attack. Okay?”

  When they both nodded, the good doctor picked up his pen. “I think we should start with you, Ford. What is it that you would like to accomplish in these sessions?”

  “Wow.” Ford exhaled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “We’re just diving right in with that one, are we?”

  Victoria patted his knee. “It’s okay, babe. He already knows you have issues, too.”

  “Right.” He held out his hands, going for a joke. “I guess Dad didn’t play enough catch with me growing up.”

  Victoria turned to Dr. Metzel. “Clearly, he’s going to have to dig a little deeper.”

  Ford shot her a look. “Smart-ass.” But when they shared a smile, he eased back in his chair, seemingly more relaxed.

  Dr. Metzel pointed between them with his pen. “Ah. I see how this works.” He began scribbling in his notepad.

  Ford glanced sideways at Victoria, speaking under his breath. “Does he always write everything down?”

  “You get used to it after a while,” she whispered back.

  Dr. Metzel looked up and folded his hands on his lap. “So, Ford. You were about to say what you would like to accomplish in these therapy sessions.”

  “Well . . . I think we all can agree that Victoria and I aren’t the best at letting down our guards. A few weeks ago, after her panic attack, both of us held back instead of opening up and we nearly lost each other because of that.” He looked at her, his blue eyes holding hers meaningfully. “And I think, basically, we both know that this is a really good thing, and don’t ever want to be in a place where that happens again.”

  Victoria linked her fingers through his, feeling her throat tighten with emotion. “Well said.”

  I’m not about to cede control to Fate, waiting around for Mr. Right to show up on my doorstep.

  But apparently, Fate had gone and done her thing, anyway.

  That sneaky little bitch.

  Keep reading for an excerpt of another irresistible novel from Julie James

  Love Irresistibly

  Available now from Berkley Sensation

  BROOKE PARKER STEPPED up to the bar at The Shore restaurant, ready to place her lunch order. The bartender, however, beat her to the punch.

  “Hey, it’s my favorite customer—Chicken Tacos, Extra Pico.” He flashed her a grin. “That’s my nickname for you.”

  Yes, she got that. “I suppose I’ve been called worse,” Brooke said as the bartender moved to the cash register to ring her up. She was indeed a regular, and she took pride in that. The restaurant was only two blocks from her office, right on Oak Street Beach, which made it the perfect midday escape. And it had the best chicken tacos in the city. Not that she was biased.

  Okay, maybe she was a little biased.

  She handed over a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll take a strawberry-mango smoothie, too.”

  “Ooh, a smoothie. Getting a little crazy today, are we?” In his early twenties, with blond hair and a tanned face, the bartender had the look of a recent college grad who planned to spend a lot of time playing beach volleyball this summer.

  He called Brooke’s order back to the kitchen, and then looked her over. “I’m starting to feel like I should know more about you, Chicken Tacos, Extra Pico.” He winked. “Since we’ve been seeing each other on a weekly basis for nearly a month now.” He took in the tailored gray suit she wore. “I’m thinking that you are a . . . lawyer.”

  “Good guess.”

  “I knew it. I bet you’re one of those ballbuster types in court.”

  Brooke fought back a smile. Really, she should just spare the poor guy the embarrassment, but this was kind of fun. “Actually, I’m not a trial lawyer.” She decided to give him a hint. “I’m general counsel for a company based here in Chicago.”

  He made a big show of being impressed. “Look at you, Ms. Thing. What kind of company?”

  “Restaurants and bars.”

  “What a coincidence. We’re both in the restaurant business.” He leaned his elbows on the bar, giving her a smoldering, sexy look that likely helped him rake in big tips with the female clientele. “It’s Kismet.”

  Or . . . maybe not so much. Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Are you supposed to be flirting with the customers?”

  He brushed this off with an oh-so-cool smile. “Probably not. But for you, Chicken Tacos, Extra Pico, I’ll break the rules. Just don’t tell any of those stiffs in corporate.”

  Brooke had to bite her lip to hold back a smile at that one. Aw, she definitely couldn’t clue the poor guy in now. Then a voice called her name.

  “Playing hooky for the afternoon, Ms. Parker?”

  Brooke turned and saw Kurt McGregor, one of the managers of The Shore. “Unfortunately, no. Just sneaking out for a quick break.”

  Kurt gestured to the bartender. “I hope Ryan here is treating you well.”

  “Ryan has been most charming,” she assured him.

  The bartender pointed between them. “You two know each other?”

  Kurt chuckled at that. “You could say that. Ryan, this is Brooke Parker from corporate. She’s general counsel of Sterling.”

  The grin on the bartender’s face froze, replaced by a look of panic. “Oh, shit. Sterling Restaurants. As in, the people who sign my paychecks?”

  “The one and only,” Brooke said.

  The bartender looked like he’d swallowed a bug. “I just called you a stiff.”

  “And Ms. Thing.??
?

  “Please don’t fire me,” he whispered.

  Brooke pretended to think about that. “It’s tempting. But firing someone involves a lot of paperwork. Not something I want to do on a Friday afternoon. I’ll hold off until Monday instead.” She saw his eyes widen. “I’m kidding, Ryan.”

  Kurt cleared his throat pointedly. “Ryan, maybe this would be a good time to check on Ms. Parker’s order?”

  The bartender straightened up, clearly relieved to be dismissed. “Good idea. One order for Chicken Tac—uh, Ms. Parker—coming right up.” With that, he bolted for the kitchen.

  Kurt turned to her after the bartender left. “Okay, seriously. Should I fire him?”

  “Nah. He sneaks me extra pico on the side. He’s a keeper.”

  Kurt chuckled at that, then gestured to the terrace. “Are you sticking around? I’m sure I can finagle you a table with a view of the lake if you want to eat in.”

  Brooke looked out at the umbrella-covered tables on the sunny terrace, tempted by the idea. It was a gorgeous June day, and the view from the terrace was undeniably one of the best in Chicago: skyscrapers towering majestically against the shimmering blue of Lake Michigan. Today, however, duty called.

  Actually, duty called every day. Duty had her on speed dial.

  “Wish I could. But I’ve got a conference call in”—Brooke checked her watch—“yikes, twenty minutes.”

  Ryan the bartender came out of the kitchen with a carryout bag and a smoothie. With a sheepish look, he set both on the bar in front of Brooke and scurried off.

  “By any chance would this conference call have anything to do with a certain deal you’re negotiating with the Staples Center?” Kurt asked in a sly tone after Ryan disappeared.

  Brooke’s face gave nothing away. “I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of any such deal.”

  “Spoken like a true lawyer.”

  Brooke winked as she grabbed her smoothie and tacos and headed for the door. “Always.”