“I wouldn’t say I’m really playing it.” There was a diffidence to his voice. As if he himself wasn’t sure how to answer the question.
“Do you ever miss it?” she asked as she steered the car into his driveway.
He didn’t answer, but pulled the automatic door opener from the glove box.
She waited while the carriage house doors cranked open and to fill the noticeable silence, she started talking.
“I started sewing because of my abuela. She could make anything, usually just by looking at it. Emma’s mother, Denise, had bought her these beautiful dresses. Spent a fortune on her clothes. Emma couldn’t bear to get rid of them after her mom died, so Abuela reworked them so Emma could wear them for years. Eventually, Emma started to bring her pictures of things she’d seen in a magazine and Abuela would make her clothes, too.”
Ana coaxed the car into its spot and cut the engine. Then she shifted in her seat, bringing her leg onto the bench beside her as she faced him. Opening the garage door had triggered an overhead light, which cast the hard planes of his face in interesting shadows, but did little to reveal more of his mood.
“She taught me to sew when I was ten. It was something we did together. Even now that she’s gone, I feel closest to her when I’m sewing. I still like to make my own clothes. It’s the one thing I miss about being a costume designer.”
Ward quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what you regret about leaving Hollywood? Sewing is the only thing you miss?”
She chuckled. “Well, that and the fact that I never got to wear any of those gorgeous clothes I made.” She held out the keys to the Hornet and dropped them into his hand. “That’s why I was asking about the Alvarez. It was such an important part of your life for so long. I can’t believe you don’t miss it.”
He carefully reached up and set the keys on the dashboard and then grabbed her hand from where it rested on her leg. “I’m not really interested in talking about the Alvarez.”
She stilled instantly, her breath caught in her chest. His hand was warm, his fingertips rough as he ran them along her palm. Pressing her lips tightly together, she swallowed and forced her gaze from their joined hands to his face. “What do you want to talk about?”
A smiled played at his lips. “Maybe I don’t want to talk.”
He gave her hand a gentle tug. Heart pounding, she scooted across the bench toward him. Waiting for him to lower his mouth to hers, she felt as though she could barely breathe. And she was pretty sure that oxygen was overrated anyway. She didn’t need it. Not the way she needed him.
Seven
He’d meant to give Ana a quick kiss and then send her on her away. But the second her lips touched his, it was as though a fire had sparked between them. She met his kiss with the same vibrant passion she’d brought to each of their arguments. She was all heat and emotion. She tasted of the sweet tea she’d drunk at dinner and the salt caramel gelato she had for dessert.
Her passion was so intense, so ardent as to be almost clumsy. Her tongue met his boldly, stroke for stroke. Her hands cupping the back of his head as she angled her mouth over his. Her awkward fumbling aroused him far more than a skilled seduction would have. His blood pounded through his veins, stirring his erection. She shifted her body this way and that, as if desperate to rub against him but unsure how to negotiate around the confines of the front seat.
He reached a hand down to the lever beneath the bench seat, gave it a tug and pushed the seat back as far as it would go. Then he stretched his legs out in front of him. Hooking his hand behind her knee, he pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him.
She groaned in approval, rubbing the juncture of her legs against his growing erection. She tore her mouth from his, throwing her head back and gasping aloud. Grinding her h*ps against his, she gave a visible shudder.
Combined with the delightful pressure against his penis, the sight of her arousal was so erotic, he nearly came right there.
Still struggling to rein in his growing passion, he watched helplessly as she shrugged out of her jacket. He nearly cheered when her fingers reached for the buttons of her shirt. But some tiny shred of sanity made him grab her hand to stop her.
As gently as he could, he pushed her off his lap, sprung the door open and climbed from the car.
“Ward, wait—” she gasped.
He leaned down to talk to her through the open door to the car. She’d scooted to her side, her back pressed against the driver’s side door. Clutching her jacket to her chest, she looked confused, delightfully rumpled, her arousal evident in her bruised, moist lips and wide eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain control over his reaction, but unfortunately, the interior of the car was laden with her sweet scent.
“Get out of the car,” he said gently.
She hurried from the car, but he held out a hand to stop her from closing the distance between them.
“I don’t understand,” she asked, the confusion on her face taking on a hurt look.
He was tempted to reach for her again. To offer comfort. But if he reached for her again, he knew how it would end, with the two of them na**d, upstairs in his bedroom. Or, hell, maybe they wouldn’t even make it that far. Maybe he’d take her up against the wall by his front door. Or just press her down over the hood of the Hornet, shove down her pants and plunge into her from behind.
As gut-wrenchingly tempting as any or all of those fantasies were, he didn’t want their first time together to be like that.
He wanted to savor her. To lavish her with attention. To spend hours learning her every nook and cranny. But he wasn’t going to do that tonight.
“I just—” he began, then broke off and sucked in another breath. “Let’s take it slow, okay? Like we agreed.”
“Okay.” She nodded. But then took another step toward him.
He held up a hand to ward her off. “Whoa.”
“I’m okay with slow,” she said.
“I meant, let’s take the relationship slow. Not, let’s slowly hop into bed.”
“Oh.” Comprehension spread across her expressive face. She frowned. “Oh,” she repeated, sounding miserable.
“There’s no rush. Tomorrow night, we’ll go back to Vista del Mar. We’ll see what happens there.”
Her frown only deepened. “I guess that’s okay.”
It would have to be. Despite her eagerness, he sensed that she wasn’t as experienced as she wanted him to believe. Which only made her more vulnerable to him. He didn’t want to rush into a sexual relationship that she wasn’t ready for. Moreover, he didn’t want her to rush into it and then regret it later. And she almost certainly would regret it.
Women who got involved with stars nearly always did.
Sure there were some women who could handle a one-night stand with a man they barely knew. He’d certainly been involved with plenty of those women. But Ana wasn’t that type. The fact that they would have to work together only complicated matters further.
Which was precisely why he wanted to take things nice and slow. There was a good chance she was going to see past his finely crafted layer of bull to the man beneath. When she did, he’d let her go. Maybe that would happen sooner rather than later, but whenever it did happen, he wanted her to have as few regrets as possible.
He couldn’t stand it if one more woman regretted being with him.
By the time she returned to Vista del Mar the following evening, Ana still wasn’t positive she’d made the right choice when she’d decided to date Ward. But after spending a day and a half constantly in his company—after seeing firsthand all he’d accomplished with CMF, after having him escort her around Charleston, where he was universally treated with affectionate respect—after all of that, she’d definitely reached one conclusion. She may not have made the right choice. But she’d really made the only choice.
How could she turn him down?
It would have been impossible.
But she could certainly appreciate how tenuous their situation was. And for that reason, she told him on the flight home that she didn’t want anyone at Hannah’s Hope or in Vista del Mar knowing about their burgeoning—but still very undefined—relationship. Her trust that he would follow her wishes was absolute. That same stalwart honor that had made him warn her off meant he would respect her request.
Still, even though she was not yet ready to share their relationship with others, she couldn’t hide the improvement it made to her mood. She tried not to be too bubbly when she showed up at Hannah’s Hope the day after her return.
“So how was the trip with Mr. Fabulous?” Christi asked, hovering in the open doorway.
Ana ducked her head, trying to hide from her friend’s too astute gaze. “It was great. Charleston was completely charming.”
“Really?” Christi asked. “I thought you were dreading it.”
“Oh… Well, sure.” Of course she had been dreading it. Back when she thought that Ward was a class-A jerk. Back when she’d wanted to believe the worst of him. So now she was stuck wondering how to change her tune without revealing what had really happened in Charleston. Her gaze pinned to her keyboard, she said, “Great restaurants, lots of Southern charm, nice people, beautiful old buildings. What’s not to love?”
Christi’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised. Last I heard you thought it was going to be… What was the phrase you used? A ridiculous waste of time. So was it?”
Ah. Finally, a truly safe topic. She launched into a detailed explanation of how the CMF office worked. That was stuff she could talk about until the cows came home. She just carefully avoided saying anything about Ward. If she so much as mentioned his name then she might blush crazy red and embarrass herself.
After a few minutes of listening to Ana enthuse about CMF, Christi’s eyes started to glaze over. She edged toward the office door. “Hey,” she finally interrupted. “I think I’m going to run out for coffee. You want anything?”