He's the One

by Jane Beckenham

  "You ready?” Whoever Edward was, the guy had barely acknowledged him.

  Cade intended to remedy that. He held out his hand. “Hi, I'm Cade Harper, and you?"

  "Not now, Cade. I've got to go.” A flustered Taylor interrupted and grabbed Edward by the elbow as if she intended to hurry away. But she was out of luck, and knew it as she gave Cade a warning frown.

  "Edward Sullivan. Taylor's brother."

  "Oh.” Cade eyed Taylor and gave her a quirky half smile, and then back at her brother. “Nice to meet you. I'm her ... boyfriend."

  Taylor choked off a gurgling fit of words. “He's not. He's in fantasy land."

  But already Cade and Edward Sullivan were quietly summing each other up.

  "Hmm, Taylor's sure good at fantasy. Very inventive,” Cade offered, knowing he'd sent the conversation instantly to overdrive."

  "Cade...” Taylor warned again and squeezed her eyes shut. Her brother's bulged.

  Cade was having fun. And besides, the surprise on Edward Sullivan's face was too good to miss.

  "The folks are waiting for us,” Edward reminded his sister and glanced down at his watch. “Weekly dinner, you know,” he said as if it explained everything. Edward turned to him. “Hey, why don't you come, too? A friend of Taylor's and all that,” he said covering up the awkward silence.

  Taylor's grip on her brother's arm clearly tightened. “No, he can't."

  "Sure, I can."

  She shifted her narrowed gaze to him, daring him.

  Oh, he dared, and he gave her his best, beaming smile. He held out a hand to Edward. “Love to come and meet the family. Taylor's told me so much about you, haven't you, honey."

  "Hon—” Her coughing fit revisited, mouth opening and closing several times.

  "Fly catching?” He winked at her.

  She slammed her lips closed.

  "Oops, think I'm in trouble,” he mouthed to her out of her brother's earshot.

  "You can count on it.” She linked her arm with her brother's and promptly dragged him almost running, leaving Cade in her wake to watch her cute little butt sashay. “Great view,” he chorused just loud enough so she could hear.

  "Oh, you...” Blue-black eyes speared him as she gave him a withering glance over her shoulder.

  He gave her a relaxed wave, winked and grinned at the same time. Her lips pursed, and she snapped her head back as a belly roll of laughter rumbled from his throat. “Yep, the day sure has improved—substantially."

  Chapter Twelve

  Oh, God. What was wrong with her? Everything Cade said was true. She would have fallen into bed with him. All it would have taken was just one of those sexy smiles of his aimed in her direction.

  Unadulterated and oh-so-very hot lust jettisoned right through Taylor in one swift strike. Her body craved his touch. But she couldn't.

  It all came down to that one moment, a slice of history that hung forever between her and life, kept there by those that cared for her, yet who didn't realize the memory was entwined with guilt and remorse.

  A memory that wouldn't release her.

  "Blast it.” Edward kicked at one of the rear tires. “It's shot."

  Taylor eyed the flat tire. “Change it."

  "Can't. The spare's not exactly spare. This is the second flat I've had in a couple of days. The guys at the garage were getting in a specialist tire for me."

  "You mean to say we've got to walk?"

  "Course not,” Cade chimed in. “There's always the pickup.” He thumbed towards his vehicle parked across the road.

  Taylor vision jack-knifed toward the parked vehicle. “No. No way. I'm not getting in your car. Not again."

  One dark brow rose, and his mouth quirked to one side. Taylor wanted to slap that smile right off his face. Erase it, because it did far too many things to her, things she didn't want.

  Liar!

  "You didn't seem to mind it last time, if I remember rightly."

  Oh, he remembered all right. Because she did, too.

  "First and last time,” she reiterated. She tucked her bag under her arm and twisted back to her brother. “We'll walk."

  "I can't. Old Achilles injury,” her brother offered.

  "Edward Sullivan, I'll get you for this. I don't need this right now."

  "What she means, Edward, is she doesn't want to ride with me."

  "I don't want to be ‘with’ you anywhere, Cade."

  "Could have fooled me."

  "Mother's a stickler for punctuality, Taylor,” her brother added as fuel for the fire, tapping his watch.

  "Ooh,” she stamped her foot. “What is it about you men? You always stick together."

  "Predisposed survival instinct,” Cade offered.

  "More like pigheadedness,” she shot back, adding the worst glare she could manifest to boot. Taylor glanced at her watch. There was no way out of it. She was due at her parents’ for dinner ten minutes ago, and Edwards was right, being late for their mother wasn't a good start to what she knew would be an awkward evening.

  Sandwiched between her brother and Cade, Taylor did her best to keep well clear of Mr. Cade Harper. But every time he took a right corner, she was forced ever closer to him, suffering his hard, virile body rubbing against hers.

  While her brother and Cade held a chatty banter over her head, she remained silent, doing her best to ignore the hunk. When she caught his easy smile, she jerked her head away and turned. She wouldn't look.

  Damn him. And all men in general. Cade, however, was obviously enjoying every single moment of this.

  Of course he would. He got his own way—again.

  "Here we are. Home sweet home,” Edward announced as he directed Cade up the drive to the family home.

  Cade brought the pickup to a halt, and Taylor uttered a grunt as she shoved passed him, stumbling over his long legs in the process. She had to get out, get some distance between them. She needed to breathe.

  "Nice place."

  "Yeah, they've lived here since they married,” Edward answered. “Gotta run, the folks are inside.” He nodded toward the house.

  "You're not staying?” A fresh wave of panic reared its ugly head. She didn't want to go inside. Not alone. And certainly not with Cade in tow. This was worsening by the second.

  But her brother ignored her pleas, wheeled his racing bike from the garage and left without a backward glance. Left her—with Cade—and her mother.

  "You don't have to come in, you can go,” she said to Cade. Please go.

  "Make an excuse you mean?"

  "Yeah, Edward was just being friendly."

  "Nice guy."

  She shrugged.

  Just then, the screen door opened and a tall pokerfaced, gray haired woman came out to the porch.

  "Taylor?"

  She didn't say it was lovely to see you, how are you, simply Taylor's name. A question, with so many words and demands tied into that one word.

  Taylor's mouth down turned, and she blinked away the sudden threat of tears. “Hi, Mum. Edward suggested I bring Cade."

  "I see.” Again, not hello. Welcome. Nothing. Instead her mother linked her fingers, turned on her heel and walked back inside.

  Embarrassed by her relation's brutal rudeness, Taylor didn't know what to say.

  "She doesn't seem pleased to see me."

  "She's like that with everyone."

  "Even you, it seems?"

  Taylor sighed. “Usually."

  "And I thought having a drunk for a father and a mother who didn't bother was hard work."

  "Don't, Cade. Please, don't. Family is, well, family.” She shrugged battling weary resignation. “You get used to it."

  With legs heavy as lead, Taylor took the steps with Cade at her side. She couldn't see any way out of this meeting and was determined to get it over with as quick as possible.

  Her parents loved Rob. Remembered Rob. Made sure Rob, even in death, was in her life, always. They made her feel guilty for wanting something else. For being diffe
rent.

  The distinctive villa in one of Auckland's lushest suburbs bespoke money, but inside, was ... well, just plain weird.

  "Your parents sure are into antiques,” Cade said, eyeballing with incredulity the overstuffed room. Taylor followed his gaze with the eye of someone who'd never seen it. Every nook and cranny had been stuffed to bursting with furniture, plate collections, stuffed animals and Victoriana.

  "Try living with it."

  "Nightmares?” Cade surmised

  "Frequently,” she returned and gave him a lopsided grin.

  "Sherry, ah ... Mr. Harper.” Her mother looked at Cade as if there was something not quite acceptable, and internally, Taylor cringed. Here it goes again. Same old, same old.

  "Call me Cade."

  "Oh, right.” She handed Cade the small crystal glass of sherry. Seeing the tiny stem in Cade's large hand, delicate versus strong brought a sudden flurry of tears to Taylor's eyes. She quickly turned and brushed them away. Everything was so up and down. And now this. She knew the outcome. It was always the same.

  Cade wasn't Rob.

  Just then a woman of about forty walked in. Dressed in black with a crisp white apron tied around her waist, hair tied in a severe bun, she announced dinner. “Mr. Sullivan is running late, but dinner is ready, ma'am."

  Cade's hand jerked, droplets of the sherry spilling over the tip of his glass. Taylor caught him staring at her. “A maid?” he mouthed.

  "Your father knows how much I like us to eat together, especially on this occasion."

  "Occasion? Is it a birthday?” Cade's question caught Taylor unawares and a sharp gasp set her nerves on high alert. She should have warned Cade. She eyed her mother, her stark face softening a fraction. The only time it seemed to soften. Here it comes.

  "It's Rob's anniversary; Taylor's fiancée,” her mother explained.

  "Ex fiancée,” Cade corrected.

  One gray brow on her mother's face arched and in slow motion; she placed her starched white linen napkin on her lap, smoothing out the invisible creases, ignoring Cade's correction.

  "Rob was such a beautiful and talented young man. He was way ahead of his time, you know."

  "With what?"

  Taylor cringed. She willed Cade to shut up, to just say, sorry, he had to go. Once her mother started...

  "Mathematics, of course."

  Cade's gaze swiveled in her direction, brows arching in an unspoken question.

  "My parents lecture at universities all round the world."

  "In mathematics?"

  Her mother straightened, a flicker of a smile tilting the corners of her mouth into an imitation of a smile. “Of course. And Rob would have followed in our footsteps. He was on his way."

  "Sounds perfect."

  "It was. He was absolutely just the man for our Taylor. A bit older and wouldn't have minded her ... ah ... creative tangents."

  "Mother.” Dear God. Nothing had changed. Rob was perfect. She was to be perfected.

  "Tangents?"

  Taylor watched the play of lines on Cade's face crease, his brows knotting. The pulse in the side of his neck throbbed erratically, its beat hypnotizing. She remembered licking it, tasting his skin.

  "This ‘business’ of hers. We've always told Taylor she needs to take things seriously, then she'll find her place."

  "Place?” Cade's pulse was slamming up and down now, the muscles in his neck corded. There was such a disappointed set to Cade's mouth, Taylor's nerves coiled ever tighter. This conversation didn't bode well.

  "You know her brother has been awarded a fellowship at a prestigious university, and Kiera, her sister, is head surgeon now."

  "Impressive."

  "Yes.” Her mother sighed, her gray eyes flickering briefly in her direction.

  Cade stood up and placed his glass down on the mahogany side table. He turned to her mother. “Actually, I think Taylor's business is a great success."

  "Perhaps."

  "Perhaps, nothing, Mrs. Sullivan. Taylor is creative, dedicated and very successful. She gives couples the chance to start life with their dream wedding. Isn't that what it's all about? Dreams of the future?"

  For a few tense, silent moments, it was as if there was a stand off between Cade and her mother. Taylor's head swiveled back and forth, unsure who would be victorious.

  In this house no one balked at her mother. But then, her mother had never battled Cade.

  Go, Cade, she wished silently.

  "What do you do, Mr. Harper?” her mother asked, her imperious gaze never wavering.

  "I own a bar."

  "Several, actually, mother,” Taylor interrupted. “Plus Cade is opening a new line of boutique bars."

  "Really. How interesting.” She may have said it, but Taylor knew her mother was looking down her very long nose right now. Cade, in her opinion, wasn't of any interest and more than likely the bottom of the pecking order.

  "It is, Mrs. Sullivan. The cash flow is great. I own all the buildings. I'm a real successful guy. I didn't go to university, but then, unlike you, I don't judge people by a piece of paper that says whether they studied or not. And, then, of course, I'm not Rob."

  "Cade."

  Cade silenced her with a flick of his hand. “Rob, Mrs. Sullivan, is dead. Long gone. You can still love a dead man, but they're not much use. Only to you, that is."

  "What are you talking about? Where did you find this...?"

  "Boor? Is that the word you're trying to find, to pigeonhole me with, Mrs. Sullivan? Sorry. I might not have fancy manners or come from the right side of the tracks, but what I have is mine. I've worked damned hard for every piece of brick and mortar and I'm proud of it."

  "I ... never,” her mother stumbled over her words, something Taylor had never, ever seen.

  Go Cade. Go!

  "No, that's right,” Cade interrupted her. “You've not lived. You've set yourself up here in your ivory tower, with your overstuffed antiques and dead animals hanging on the walls. You judge everyone by your own limiting standards. Even your daughter."

  "Cade, don't."

  He turned to her, and she saw the fire in his eyes burning bright. “It's okay, sweetheart. Your mother needs to hear this. It's about time."

  Taylor agreed silently. Trouble was, she'd never had the guts.

  "You judge Taylor by some odd-ball idea that she needs to be the same as you and your over qualified high-falluting brain boxes. Well, she might not have a Mensa IQ, but she's bright, she's funny, she's creative, and she's making her own way in the world. But you can't let go, can you? You want her to fit into that precise preconceived world of yours. You want her so-called perfect."

  "That's enough.” Finally, her mother found her voice. Her face white with fury, gray eyes narrowed. “Taylor needs..."

  "To be Taylor, Mrs. Sullivan. Let her do her own thing."

  "That sounds like some psycho babble."

  "No. She's just different. From you. From me. She is simply herself, Mrs. Sullivan. Taylor is herself. And that is more than enough."

  Her mother pulled herself out of her chair, stiff and unyielding. Taylor could see by her steely expression that none of what Cade had said in her favor had sunk in. Florence Sullivan was too set in her ways, too rigid to understand.

  "Rob was a dear family friend."

  "I'm not doubting that. He was your great white hope, so to speak. You hoped to use him to ‘whip’ Taylor into shape. But he's dead. You can't keep using him every year to control your daughter."

  "I think, Mr. Harper,” her mother spoke through thinned lips, “you had better go."

  Taylor's gaze shifted downwards. Her mother had balled the napkin in one fist.

  "Come on.” Cade grabbed her hand and tugged. “We're out of here."

  "Taylor, dinner is served,” her mother cut in.

  Dark, stormy eyes stared down into her face. Eyes that had burned brightly as he'd taught her, loved her, and now released her. Why did she feel she was in a tug of war, with
her being the so-called piggy in the middle. Taylor stood and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. There was a stab of pain behind her eyes. “Another night, Mother. I think I had better go to."

  "But Rob's anniversary."

  "Cade's right. He's dead. I've got to go.” Turning on her heels she ran from the room, bypassed the row of deer heads that as a child had scared the living daylights out of her. She yanked open the front door and rushed outside, doubling over, hands resting on her thighs as her chest heaved and she struggled for oxygen.

  "Get in."

  Taylor lifted her head and peered through strands of hair that had fallen free.

  "Taylor. Get in. Now."

  Hauling herself upright, she reacted on auto-pilot and slid into the pickup. Before she'd even closed the door, Cade fired the engine and they were down the drive and around the first corner.

  "Cade?"

  "Don't say a word, Taylor. Not right now."

  They came to a steep curve in the road, the narrowed entrance to Mt. Victoria.

  "Why here?"

  "I need to calm down. Think. Because believe me, I've never been so furious."

  "I'm sorry."

  "You should be, because it's you I'm angry with."

  "Me?"

  "Yeah. Why'd you let her do it, Taylor? Why'd you let her stifle you?"

  "You didn't have to stick up for me,” Taylor rounded with indignation. She grabbed her bag, hugging it to her chest. It had become her talisman of protection where he was concerned.

  "I know that, but how long were you prepared to play second fiddle to a dead man?"

  "I..."

  Cade brought the car to a halt at the edge of the lookout. It was dark, yet the night sky shone with the reflection of a million city lights bouncing against the inky darkness.

  Enveloped by a numbing sadness, Taylor sucked in a steadying breath. “Sometimes, it was simply easier. When you've a Mensa IQ brother and sister, as well as your parents, and you're the odd one out, it's easier to think it doesn't matter and not rock the boat."

  "But you did rock it. You started your business. That surely wasn't in their plans for you."

  "No, it wasn't. After Rob died, they thought I'd just fall back into place again, But his death lit something else in me, a need to do what I wanted to do."