“No one.”

He had her divested of her short, lightweight sweater and was working on the buttons of her dress, thinking this was the best idea he’d ever had. No more dancing around each other. From now on, all their dancing would be done naked. Naked was good. Naked was great.

Tara appeared to feel the same. Her hands were everywhere, his chest, his arms, his ass, stroking and tormenting. The only sound was their heavy breathing and the sexy little murmur she let out when he cupped her breasts.

He remembered that sound. He’d dreamed about that sound. She writhed under his touch, pressing closer, like she needed to climb up his body-which he was all for, by the way. Her fingers found their way beneath his shirt, running lightly over the skin low on his abs, just above his low-riding jeans.

Ford wanted more and took it, letting his hands do the walking and talking beneath her clothes. There was no question about what they were doing now, or why. No thinking. Just feeling, and God help him, he was feeling a whole hell of a lot. Soul-deep, wrenching hunger. And need.

Nothing new when it came to Tara.

His next staggering thought, more than the feel of her hands beneath his shirt gliding downward, caught him. The last time they’d done this, they’d nearly destroyed each other.

Or at least Tara had destroyed him. Ford still wasn’t clear on what she’d felt. She’d been good at holding back. She didn’t seem to be holding back now. Her touch felt so damn good his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, and that was before she went for the button on his Levi’s, banishing his ability to think. Yeah, baby. Go there.

She played in the loose waistband of his jeans for a minute and he groaned. He had one hand threaded through her hair. The other was cupping a breast, his thumb teasing her nipple as he deepened their kiss until they were both panting.

“Ford,” she sighed when he finally released her mouth. Her lips traveled down his throat to the base of his neck, where she licked at his pulse. “Mmm,” she said, then nipped him. When he jumped, he felt her smile against him.

“You think that’s funny,” he asked, dipping his head to return the favor, his hands sliding south, down her back to her sweet, sweet ass. He sucked at her neck and-

“Wow,” Chloe said from the doorway. “Now that’s a way to unpack a kitchen.”

“I especially like the flour accents on your pretty dress, Tara,” Maddie said from next to Chloe.

Ten more seconds and they wouldn’t have seen the pretty dress at all. It would have been on the floor.

Tara jerked away from him, and given her pale face, she’d realized that same thing. Or maybe that was the flour. In any case, in an irresistible bout of multi-tasking, she was busy simultaneously brushing off her dress, checking her hair, and doing her best to look innocent.

“What happened to your date?” Chloe asked Tara.

“I got a headache.”

Chloe’s brows went up. She started to say something but Maddie covered her mouth. “Pay no attention to us,” Maddie said, dragging Chloe to the door.

“If only that was possible,” Tara muttered. “And what happened to going out with Jax? And the yoga class?”

Chloe shoved free from Maddie’s hand. “Still happening.” She looked at her watch. “We have some time yet. We just didn’t realize you’d be having casting calls for Pimp My Chef… or was that Ride My Chef?”

“Internal editor,” Maddie murmured to her, which meant nothing to Ford.

Chloe smiled.

“We were just having a little trouble with the flour,” Tara said, still brushing at her dress.

“Yes, I can see that,” Chloe said. “I especially like the handprints you left on Ford’s butt. Nice job there.”

Ford couldn’t see the handprints himself but he’d sure enjoyed getting them.

“This is all your fault,” Tara said. Ford assumed she was talking to him, but she was actually looking at Chloe. Good. He was off the hook.

Chloe tossed up her hands. “How is it always my fault?”

Tara turned to Ford for backup. So much for off the hook. Probably he’d have been safer in a gunfight. Chloe was looking at him, too. He shrugged vaguely and took over wiping down the countertops to avoid opening his mouth and making everything worse.

“You got Ford to unpack the kitchen?” Tara asked. “Without telling me?”

“Sort of the definition of ‘surprise,’ ” Chloe said.

“Honey, you’re looking at this all wrong,” Maddie said. “This was about you. About how you’re there for us, always. We wanted to be there for you for a change.”

“Well, I voted to get you a stripper,” Chloe said with a reproachful look at Maddie. “But I was vetoed.”

Tara let out a short laugh. “Good call,” she said to Maddie.

“We really were just trying to help.”

“I know,” Tara said with a sigh. “And thank you. It was sweet. I’m sorry if I overreacted.”

Chloe pulled out her iPhone and hit a few keys.

“What are you doing?” Maddie asked her.

“Marking the event of Tara’s apology on my calendar.”

Maddie snatched the iPhone, then turned to Tara. “We’re sorry, too. We should have thought that you’d want a hand in the unpacking.”

“No, it was a lovely gesture and saved me from obsessing over it.”

Ford did his best not to smile at that, because he knew that nothing short of the apocalypse could stop Tara from obsessing.

“And you made a good choice with Ford,” Tara admitted.

Wow. But when all three women looked at him, he remained quiet, deciding that silence was the best course of action here. They were actually communicating and trying to get somewhere.

Sort of.

In any case, his purpose seemed to be as mediator of some sort, so he tried to look wise.

“Ford,” Maddie said, “I have a large ficus in the back of my car. Would you mind unloading it to the deck?”

He recognized a ploy to get rid of him when he heard one, but he was game. “Sure.” As he brushed past Tara, taking the time to shift closer than necessary, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “We’re not finished.”

When the back door shut behind him, Tara sagged against the counter, scrubbing her hands over her face. “Good Lord.” She dropped her hands to her sides and found both sisters staring at her with twin expressions of amusement and avid curiosity.

Maddie cracked first with a grin.

Chloe followed.

“Fuck all y’alls,” Tara said without much heat. She did like to see their smiles; she just wished it wasn’t at her expense.

“Hey, we’re not judging,” Chloe said. “If I had that fine a man sniffing after me, I’d grab his butt, too. In fact, I’d grab a lot more than that.” She rustled through her purse and pulled out a string of condoms, which she slapped on the countertop with great ceremony. “Consider this an early birthday present.”

Tara’s jaw dropped. “I don’t need those.”

“You sure about that?”

“There’s no sex happening here!”

“Really? So you were just what… playing doctor, checking his tonsils, that sort of thing?”

“We are so not talking about this,” Tara said.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Chloe said. “Join me in the shallow end of the pool, why don’t you. The water’s warm. Give us the details. Is he as good a kisser as he looks?”

Ignoring her, Tara shifted her gaze to the window to watch Ford unload the ficus plant from Maddie’s car. He moved with economical grace and ease, lifting the heavy potted plant like it weighed nothing.

“He’s ever so dreamy,” Chloe said, coming up next to Tara and mimicking her southern accent.

Tara slid her a look. “Thin ice, Chloe.”

Chloe snorted. “Sorry. But I can’t take you seriously with flour all over your face.”

Dammit. Tara swiped at her cheeks.

“Are you going to tell her or what?” Chloe asked Maddie.

“Tell me what?” Tara asked.

“The reason for the ficus,” Chloe said. “It was supposed to be a bouquet of balloons, but I’m trying to go green.”