Flirting With Forever by Kim Boykin Page A

to buy every year that totaled thirteen grand. It was the real estate version of an albatross, which is what Marsha and I always called it. Then one morning, I got up before Jim to walk on the beach, watch the sun come up. The dolphins were playing along the shoreline, putting on a show. The sunrise was so spectacular, it made me cry. I was angry that I’d hated the house so much, I’d missed such a beautiful sight every morning. I decided then and there, I wouldn’t take anything I had for granted again.
    There were things I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to have kids, but that wasn’t happening. I wanted to publish, and since nobody wanted to read my romance novels, I went back to the house and started writing the book that ended up changing my life.
    “You missed your beach trip when you got me, Jake.”
    Oh, that grin that always made my knees wobbly. “I got lucky when I got you.”

Chapter Eleven
    ‡
    T hey pulled into the driveway around seven. Every light in the huge oceanfront house was on. Marvin Gaye was blaring on the outdoor speaker system. A woman who looked close to Jake’s mom’s age was hanging off her balcony waving an empty wine glass at them.
    “Tarrrrra! You’re here. Hurry up, Melissa is too.” An older man appeared, wrapping his arms around the woman and was smiling until he saw Jake.
    “Put your things away and come over,” the guy said like it was an order, not an offer.
    “I have that spicy pimento cheese dip you like so much. And wine, lots and lots of wine.” Which was surprising because it sounded like the woman had already drunk half the wine in Sonoma.
    “Hi, Marsha, Mike,” Tara said. “Give us a minute.” The guy looked like he’d been hit with a bucket of cold water when Tara said the word us.
    “This is going to be weird,” Jake said, taking their bags out of the car. They walked up the steps of the beach house. Tara punched in the code to the numeric lock and opened the door and dropped her purse on a table beside the door. She went straight to the great room drapes and opened them. The broad view of the Atlantic was amazing.
    She stopped for a minute shook her head and laughed. “The three-million-dollar view I can’t afford.”
    After about five minutes, it was obvious whoever had put the music on had put “Sexual Healing” on repeat. Tara mumbled something about strangling someone named Melissa, turned the music off and opened the pantry with a small fridge and a few cabinets that were locked to keep the summer guests out of the owner’s stash. The shelves were well stocked with an overabundance of things Tara said she used often, crab boil, red rice mix, and—oh, great. Grits.
    She pulled a couple bottles of wine out of the cooler to take next door and set them on the kitchen counter. “Boy, I’m ready for a drink. It was kind of a shock, seeing the For Sale sign in the front yard; Melissa had said it would be. How about you?”
    But it couldn’t be worse for her than seeing pictures scattered around the house of her husband and her and her dog, Lilly. Could it?
    He wondered if being here was as weird for her as it was for him. She seemed really happy now, and Jake was glad he was here with her. “The house is rented on and off June through August,” she said. Jake stood there with his briefcase and carryon, unsure of where to go. “There’s a master suite on this floor and five bedrooms and five baths upstairs. Want to see?”
    He nodded and followed her up the stairs lined with more pictures of Tara and the husband, but he was focused on the way her hair swayed across her back, those legs that ended at her perfect ass. What happened to keeping things platonic?
    He stopped to look at the last photograph at the top of the stairs. It looked like her book launch party. The woman who was hanging over the balcony when they drove up was proposing a toast on Tara’s special day. Everybody was looking at Tara, except for her asshole husband standing