A New Foundation

by Rochelle Alers

  “Taylor, you’re going to have to let me help with something because as much as I enjoy looking at you I feel so helpless.”

  A slow smile parted his lips. “I got you beat there, because there are times when I can’t take my eyes off you. Viola never told me what you looked like, so the first time I saw you approach my table at The Cellar I couldn’t believe you were real. And when I saw men at other tables sneaking glances at you I wanted to tell them they could look, but I was the lucky dude that night. Then when I met you the next day I was shocked by your transformation. That’s when I realized that you’re a chameleon and I’d never know what to expect because you manage to look different each time we get together. It could be your hair or makeup or even what you choose to wear.”

  “Are you saying I keep you off balance?”

  “Totally.”

  “Good.”

  His smile faded. “Why good?”

  “That way you won’t take me for granted.”

  “Is that what you think, Sonja?”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “I don’t know, but I’m hoping you won’t.”

  Taylor dried his hands on a towel, took a step and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I am not your ex-husband or any of the other men in your life, sweetheart. I’m not perfect, but I’ve never been accused of taking advantage of a woman, and what I don’t want is a relationship with you that will become a power struggle. Yes, I have the power to keep you on the project or let you go, but I hope and pray it will never come to that.”

  “Are you saying we make a good team?”

  Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “We make an incredible team.”

  “In and out of bed?”

  Taylor froze. He’d admitted Sonja kept him off balance, and she had done it again. “Before we go any further, you need to tell me what you want from me.”

  Easing back, Sonja met his eyes. “Whatever you propose I will let you know without question whether I’m willing to accept or reject it.”

  “You have to know I’m attracted to you.”

  “It’s the same with me,” Sonja admitted. “But how attracted are you? Enough to want to sleep with me?”

  Taylor knew it was useless to lie. He had known he was physically attracted to Sonja the instant she’d introduced herself. He’d had no idea whether she was married or engaged, despite not wearing any rings. She could’ve been in a relationship, but that hadn’t stopped him fantasizing about her as an incredibly beautiful and intelligent woman.

  “Yes. Enough to sleep with you, Sonja Rios-Martin.”

  “Wow! You must be serious to mention my entire government name.”

  Taylor laughed despite the seriousness of their conversation. “That’s because I am serious.” He sobered quickly. “I need to know if you feel the same about me, however, I don’t want to put any pressure on—”

  “Not to worry,” Sonja interrupted. “I will not succumb to pressure from you or any man to sleep with him. You know that I like you, Taylor—a lot. But I must figure out if history is going to repeat itself if I decide to sleep with you. What I didn’t tell you was that my ex had been one of my professors. Something told me it was wrong to get involved with him, yet I refused to listen to my inner voice.”

  Taylor brushed a light kiss over her parted lips. “This time I want you to listen to your inner voice. If it tells you not to sleep with me, then don’t do it. And if we do share a bed, then that decision will have to be yours and yours alone.”

  Sonja wondered why she hadn’t met Taylor earlier in her life, when she could’ve had a relationship with him rather than a man that treated her more like an object than his wife. “You know if I’d met you when I was twenty, my life would’ve turned out drastically different.”

  Attractive lines fanned out around Taylor’s large dark eyes when he smiled. “I doubt we would’ve crossed paths because my life revolved around modeling and I had little time to devote to a girlfriend or even have a lasting relationship. And marriage wasn’t even on my radar.”

  “Has it ever been on your radar, Taylor?”

  “Only when my mother tells me I’m going to wind up an angry, lonely old man because I’m too selfish to share my life with a woman.”

  “Do you agree with her?”

  ‘No. I try and tell her that when the right woman comes along, I’m certain she will be the one I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “So, you are open to marriage.”

  “Of course I am,” Taylor said adamantly. “What gave you the impression I wasn’t?”

  “I don’t know. You’re thirty-five, unencumbered, and I just thought you were quite satisfied with your status and lifestyle.”

  “I am unencumbered and comfortable with, as you say, my status and lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change it whenever I choose. What about you, Sonja? Do you think you’ll ever remarry?”

  It took several seconds for her to say, “I don’t know. There were times when I told myself once burned, twice shy, and never again. However, lately things in my life have changed.”

  “How so?”

  “This is the first time since leaving home to attend college that I’ve felt like an independent adult. I had a college roommate, then I married Hugh, and after leaving him I stayed with my parents until my divorce was finalized. Then when I reenrolled in college to get my degree I lived with my aunt and uncle. And I was still living with them until two days ago when I moved here.”

  “Why did you continue to live with them after you graduated?”

  “I was staying with them rent-free because I was saving money to buy a house or condo. But that wasn’t happening, because most of my jobs were either as a substitute teacher or part-time.”

  Taylor smiled again. “Until now.”

  She returned his smile with a bright one of her own. “Yes. Until now.”

  “You could buy this condo if you want.”

  Sonja stared at Taylor as if he had taken leave of his senses. First he told her the units were overpriced, and now he was saying she could buy it. “I suppose I could if I rob a bank,” she quipped.

  “Even though you look incredible in the color, I don’t want to see you wearing an orange jumpsuit.”

  Sonja landed a soft punch on his chest. “I was just joking.”

  “And I wasn’t joking about you buying this condo. That’s something we can discuss once the lease expires.”

  Sonja was aware that the lease on the condo, her SUV and the credit card Taylor had given her, were all charged to Bainbridge House Trust, Inc., and at the end of her two-year contract she would not only have a history of steady employment, she also would’ve saved enough money to put down on a house or condo.

  “I’m going to get that pitcher for you.”

  Taylor released her. “If you want you can cut up the fruit for the sangria while I make the dressing for the salad.”

  “Do you need an apron?” she asked him. “After all, you are wearing white.”

  He glanced down at his shirt. “I’ll take one as long as it doesn’t have ruffles.”

  Sonja made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “Sexist.” Turning on her heel she went to the pantry to get one of several aprons she’d bought. She wore an apron when cooking because it was something her mother said every woman in her family always did whenever they cooked.

  “This one is a little large for me, so I double it up and tie it twice around my waist.”

  Taylor unfolded the apron and smiled when he saw what was printed on the bib. “Kiss the Cook?”

  Sonja rolled her eyes upward. “Yeah. It was the only one left, so I was forced to buy it.”

  He slipped it over his head, secured the ties and beckoned to her. “Come here, babe, and kiss the cook.”

  She took a step back. “Stop
it!”

  “Not until you kiss the cook,” he crooned.

  Sonja rested her hands at her waist. “And if I don’t?”

  Taylor stalked her like a large cat. “You don’t want to know.”

  Then with a motion too quick for her to follow, she found herself in his arms, her feet several inches above the floor and her mouth covered in a kiss that stole the very breath from her lungs. Her arms went around Taylor’s neck to keep her balance, and she found herself kissing him back, her tongue as busy as his as she tried to get even closer. It had been so long, much too long since the passion that lay dormant had flared to life. She heard a deep moan, not realizing it had come from her. She was on fire—everywhere, and Sonja knew Taylor was the only one to extinguish it.

  It did not matter that she worked for his family and that her career and the next two years of her life depended on the man with whom she had fallen inexorably in love. Sonja had known Taylor was someone she never should have become involved with once she recognized him as T.E. Willis. Although he had left the world of modeling where he’d become an icon, she’d had second thoughts about working for Taylor Williamson, the engineer.

  At first she thought her attraction was because of his gorgeous face and perfect masculine body, and then she chided herself for acting like an adolescent obsessing over her favorite actor or performer. After all, she was a woman in her midthirties who had been married and now was mature enough not to go, as her mother said, gaga over a man who had made a name for himself in his chosen field.

  The more time she spent with Taylor the more she liked what he presented. He hadn’t come on to her like some men she’d worked with or who had come into the gallery. He was the perfect gentleman that she was certain her mother would approve of. And she’d never had a man ask permission to kiss her. Hugh thought it was his right to kiss her when she wasn’t expecting or even ready for the gesture the first time they were alone together at his house. He’d believed because she’d agreed to come to his home that she would agree to anything. She had come close to punching his lights out when he saw her expression and apologized profusely. His apology had been enough for her to agree to see him again, unknowingly to her detriment.

  But it was so different with the man holding her to his heart. He respected and treated her as an equal, for which she was grateful. Sonja had lost count of the times she’d told herself that she liked Taylor as a friend, but that inner voice told her she was a liar, that there was nothing friendly about her thoughts. In fact, they bordered on erotic fantasies, and that when she’d told herself she was sex-starved it was because it had been almost ten years since she’d slept with a man.

  Taylor had been forthcoming when he admitted he wanted to sleep with her and had given her the option of acting or not acting on it. What he hadn’t known was the second time she saw him she’d wanted to jump his bones.

  “Taylor.”

  “What is it?” he whispered against her mouth.

  Sonja felt the runaway pumping of his heart against her breasts and knew if he didn’t let her go she would shame herself when begging him to take her upstairs and make love to her. “You have to let me go.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” He’d released her mouth and pressed his mouth against the column of her neck.

  “You have to, because I’m not ready for this.” Her statement must have gotten through to him. He loosened his hold on her body and lowered her until her feet touched the floor.

  His eyes appeared abnormally large under the recessed lights as his chest rose and fell heavily as if he’d run a grueling race.

  “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”

  Sonja knew it was time for honesty if she hoped to have an open and uncomplicated relationship with him. “Yes. Please give me time to get my head and heart together.”

  Taylor stared at her from under lowered lids. “Take all of the time you need, sweetheart. After all, we have two years to get it right.”

  “You’re right.” He was giving her more time than she needed.

  “I don’t know about you, muñeca, but I’m hungry as a horse, so let’s get to cooking.”

  Sonja couldn’t believe she had eaten so much. The stuffed clams were the best she’d ever had, and there had been more than a few in her life when there were more bread crumbs than chopped clams. Taylor had cooked bacon until crisp and then crumbled it and set it aside while he sautéed onion, pepper and garlic until tender. He had then combined bread crumbs, oregano, grated parmesan cheese and the sautéed vegetables with the fresh chopped clams he’d gotten from the supermarket’s fish department. He filled the shells with the mixture, sprinkled them with parsley and paprika and, after drizzling them with virgin olive oil, placed them in the hot oven until the tops were browned and the mixture bubbly. The Caesar salad with homemade dressing, warm buttered Italian bread and the delicious penne with ground sausage rounded out an incredible dinner, comparable to those served in restaurants.

  She dabbed the corners of her mouth after swallowing a mouthful of sangria. “Who in the world taught you how to cook like this?”

  “My mama.”

  Sonja slumped back in her chair. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. My mother made breakfast, lunch and dinner for us Monday through Friday. On the weekends it was either brunch and a light dinner or we went out to restaurants. Brunch was always a family affair with everyone cooking what they wanted to eat. The menu included omelets, waffles, pancakes, bacon, sausage, ham and cheese grits. We had live-in help that cleaned and did laundry, but Mom insisted on cooking for her children. We accused her of being paranoid, afraid someone would poison her kids.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She completely ignored us. Mom had dozens of cookbooks and she planned her meals the same as she did her lesson plans. Each of us was assigned a week to watch and assist her preparing dinner. She was harder on her boys because she claimed she didn’t want us hooking up with the wrong woman just because she could cook, and we couldn’t.”

  “I have to assume her cooking lessons were successful because you are an incredible cook.”

  “Tariq and Patrick are even better than I am. They’ve mastered Asian and Middle Eastern cuisine. Joaquin and I are about equal, but it’s our baby sister who surprised and surpassed everyone. That’s why she’s a professional chef.”

  “What about your father?”

  “Dad was completely clueless in the kitchen. During the week, he usually got home too late to eat with the family, and that’s why he devoted the entire weekend to us. His office was in Manhattan and he was up and out of the house to take the early train into Penn Station. There were nights when he didn’t leave the office until late and had a car service on call to bring him home because a few times he’d overslept on the train and missed his stop. His edict to his employees was never to call him at home on weekends. That was his time for his family, and he couldn’t be bothered with what he called minutiae that could wait for Monday morning. He’d called it minutiae, but there were a few times he substituted an expletive when he thought we were out of earshot. My parents were very free thinkers and proud to be labeled liberals, and although not ultrareligious, we did attend church services. They would not allow cursing in their home. It wasn’t until I went to college that I was given a crash course in cuss words.”

  Sonja laughed. “I forget you were homeschooled until you left for college. Did you have to wait until then to date?”

  “No. Once I got my driver’s license, I hung out at the spots where many of the local high school kids gathered. Although many viewed me as an outsider I did manage to make a few friends.”

  “If you had children, would you consider having them homeschooled?” Sonja asked.

  “That would all depend on their mother. My mother was certified to teach grades K through twelve and was also a reading specialist. She’d con
verted the library into a one-room schoolhouse, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were packed with books she’d inherited from her mother and grandmother. During the school year, we rarely watched television or played video games because we spent most of our free time reading or hanging out in the game room putting together thousand-piece puzzles, competing with one another playing pool, Ping-Pong or teaming up for board games. Summers were spent outdoors playing tennis and basketball, and swimming.”

  Sonja neatly folded her napkin and placed it next to her plate. Again, she envied Taylor and his siblings for their closeness. As the eldest, Taylor was seven years older than his youngest sibling, while her brother was ten years her senior. It wasn’t that she and her brother did not love each other. However, it was the difference in their ages that had made it difficult for them to share a lot of the same activities.

  “Oh! I forgot to tell you that I went online to look up companies in Italy that manufacture the windows you need to replace the ones in the château. I’ve also compiled a listing of Vermont quarries for the roof tiles. I’ll send both to your email.”

  “I need to order two hundred forty-two windows. If we’re not able to get them from Italy in time to install them before the winter, then they will be replaced with custom-made duplicates. What I will need from you is the name or names of faux bois specialists to restore the walls and moldings.”

  Sonja nodded and made a mental note to call someone she knew who owned an art restoration service. “I’ll try and get that information for you. I’m going to spend one more day going through the trunks before heading over to the house to start with the crates.”

  “I’ll have the caretaker give you a remote device to operate the front gates, and that way you won’t have to call him in advance. My Thursday schedule is filled with back-to-back interviews, so I doubt whether I’ll get to see you. I’ll also make certain some of the crates are brought up from the cellar and into in the library.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand to smother a yawn. “Sorry about that. Red wine always makes me sleepy.” Even when traveling through Europe she’d made certain not to drink red wine if she’d planned to stay up for any appreciable amount of time.