by Aimee Laine
“Thanks.” Taylor clung to the footboard rail. “Thanks for everything, Lexi. I’m not sure what I’d have done without you guys. I promise not to overstay, though. I’ll get with Riley—”
“Not without Tripp’s permission, right?” Lexi gave Taylor a light squeeze. “He told me about the whole conflict of interest thing.” With another pat to Taylor’s arm, Lexi said, “Make yourself at home,” and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“Okay, mom.” Even as she said it in a whisper, Taylor’s lips curved. Emma had once said, during the renovation, that if anyone were on the straight and narrow path, it would be Lexi. Taylor could see that, but the package came with an innate kindness, too, and for that, she’d be grateful—for the friendship, and especially for not having to call her parents.
Taylor stripped off her three-day-old clothes and pulled on the soft underwear, T-shirt and sweat pants Lexi provided. A waft of Ian’s scent passed over her. She closed her eyes, drawing it in, not wanting to let it go. It reminded her of being outside, on a farm, where horses and cattle roamed free, and she’d stand at a fence and watch as farmers plowed their fields, their oxen and horses dragging equipment up and down rows of green and dirt.
At a knock, she broke from her mental musings and slipped toward the mirror. “Who is it?” She retied her ponytail.
“It’s Ian. I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Taylor froze for a second. She steeled herself, and with a deep breath said, “Come in.”
• • •
Never had a woman brought up so much tangled emotion in Ian, and he’d dealt with all kinds in his thirty-five years. Hand on the door knob, he gripped and turned. He had to know more. Couldn’t wait for her to primp or nap or do whatever she wanted while he paced like an angry dog waiting for his next meal.
Once opened, all anger vanished.
Taylor stood by the closet, backlit by the large window, the sun highlighting her in a way that made him want to grab her and hold her tight and prevent all evil from touching her.
She motioned for him to join her. “You can come in-in if you want.”
He stepped inside and closed the door with a thunk of old latch hardware.
Taylor lifted a hand, finger extended. “I’ll need to update that before—” She stopped. “No, no. Never mind.”
“The old stuff gives this place character,” Ian finished.
“It does. Yes. That’s what I was going to say.” She ran her hand along the closet’s woodwork. “Do you believe in fate, Ian?”
“Yes and no. Why?”
Taylor gave him a small shrug. “Just seemed like the right question to ask.”
“I think fate exists, but it’s what we do with it that leads us to our ultimate destiny.” Ian repeated the line his grandmother had used throughout his childhood. “That kiss we shared …”
“Comfortable,” she said.
“Familiar,” Ian said, realizing she understood where he’d planned to go with his question.
Taylor nodded. “Real.”
Ian quirked a finger in her direction.
She approached until she stood right in front of him. “You asked me if I felt something. And I did … Have. Do.”
His gaze stayed fixed on hers. Her head tilted as she touched the tips of his shoes with hers. Fingers tracing up his shirt ignited miniature flames along his pectorals.
His thoughts froze as her lips slipped to his. “Don’t start this train if you intend to stop it.” Ian’s hands found the small of her back. “Because the momentum will keep it going.”
Hers draped around his shoulders.
Together they drew each other closer.
“I’m a man of my word, but—you play with power tools.”
Taylor’s laugh burst out, illuminating her face with happiness. “What’s so special about that?”
“It’s hot. That makes you hot. That makes me hot. And an on-off switch, I don’t have.”
Her lips caressed his as their hands played across each other, their clothes the only separation. She led; he followed. He pushed; she accepted. Back and forth they moved, a dance as old as time itself.
Taylor tugged him toward the bed.
Ian hesitated.
“What?” Her fingers ran up his chest again.
“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
Taylor gripped the front of his shirt and tugged. “Yes, it is.” She crushed her lips against his.
• • •
His touch made Taylor melt into him. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations of his lips against her—lips she’d desired for ages without a true understanding of why—other than his own excuse. He’s hot.
Taylor lifted her lids, blinking at the not quite Ian view in front of her.
“I love you,” he said.
She flinched, blinking again until Ian came into focus. “What?”
He drew back. “What, what?”
“I asked you first.”
Ian raised an eyebrow. “You asked me first what?”
She dropped her arms from his shoulders and tilted her head. “Did you say something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I said ‘what, what?’ And ‘you asked me first, what?’.”
She squigged up her nose. “That’s it?”
His eyes tracked around the room. “I’m pretty sure, seeing as until you said ‘what?’ I had my lips against you.”
“Sorry. Must have heard something else, then.”
With his arms still around Taylor, she slid hers back up his chest. “Can I … can I try again?”
“Like I said, no on-off switch, no matter what you think the male anatomy looks like.”
With her lips curved, she touched them to his again. The sweet aroma—one she’d identified as Ian before he’d walked in—greeted her senses. Eyes shut, they pushed their kiss, deepening it. The sounds of a rooster’s caw hit her, along with the brightening of the sun through the open window, the breeze picking up and sending humid air through.
Only as Ian broke their contact did Taylor open her eyes again.
• • •
“Hang on,” Ian said, pulling back, every muscle in his body telling him to stop yet not to all the same. “This isn’t right. You just got out of jail. You’re vulnerable. I’m taking ad—”
“Damn you to high heaven if you say you’re taking advantage of me.” A nudge to his hips suggested Taylor meant what she said.
“Months of waiting and wondering, ignoring and pushing off my baser instinct, and you pick now to come on to me?” Ian couldn’t contain the grin.
“I’ve been wanting to do this to you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” She pulled him the rest of the way to the bed. “What if this is my only day out of jail? You think I want to miss out on a second of pure ecstasy?”
Her body remained pliable under his touch, a mold that fit against him like dough. Their shapes merged, blended and adjusted as he laid her on the quilt. Ian draped himself over her. Her legs spread open to accept him, offering an intimacy he craved, yet the timing tore at him. How he’d stopped himself, why he’d stopped them—the logic fit—but in any other circumstance, he’d have pursued.
Ian halted before he just took everything he wanted.
“Now what?” Her eyes sparkled with a mischief Ian recognized.
“Nothing.” I’m going to hell for doing this now. He brought his lips down upon hers.
Moving to her neck, he laid a line of kisses along the ridge of muscle, the tension of tendons, as another brush with familiarity coursed through him.
His hands slid to her waistband.
Hers yanked at the material tucked into his.
She arched, giving him access. “You haunt me, Ian, like no one else ever has.”
“Same to ya, and I gotta know why. Just not right now.” He pressed his lips to hers, stopping any further commentary. His hand snaked back up her shirt to the smooth sk
in of her abdomen. Hers tangled with his zipper as frantic met desire, and the two raced toward a finish.
The door handle jiggled a moment before it opened.
Ian flipped himself from Taylor, missed the edge of the bed, and fell to the floor with a crash.
Emma stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, as Taylor laughed on the bed.
“Why the hell don’t you knock, Emma?” Ian asked.
A snide smirk graced her features. “Payback. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Sorry, Taylor. I actually thought you were sleeping since it was so silent. Was going to wake you in case you were hungry.” Emma shrugged.
Ian’s gaze tracked to Taylor’s. “No. No.” His hands waved. “Not her. No.” He paddled them between himself and Emma. “She’s a thorn in my side. Sister material. Lexi’s sister, not mine, but close enough.”
Emma pushed out her bottom lip. “I’m crushed, Ian. After all the time we spent together—weeks, no months, just you and I … You’d think we’d have come farther. But, hey.” She turned as if to leave, but spun back. “Oh, Taylor? Since you were going there … he likes to sleep in the nude. Watch out.” Emma shot him a figurative bullet and disappeared.
Heat seeped into Ian’s face.
“Snacks are on in five!” Her voice carried back to the room.
Taylor leaned over the side, her face a picture of mirth. “Rain check?”
Maybe he did have a switch after all.
9
Taylor munched on chips and cheese, popping a small one or two into her mouth after dipping it in the creamy sauce. Ian sat as far across from her as possible as if, for some reason, he didn’t want anyone else to know about their exploit in the bedroom. She’d take the moment of privacy, but itched to be outside, to soak up the sun’s rays and get her hands in the dirt.
Leaving her appetizer aside, she moved to the window, imaging herself gazing upon her own lawn. The rose bushes she’d planted would need fertilizer. The mulch needed compacting. Weeds should have been pruned.
She arced her way from the kitchen doorway back into the living room, from the couch to window and around again.
A glance to her left and Lexi walked in, her hand on her stomach. “Sorry, I think I ate too much.”
Taylor dropped back onto the couch and stared out at the bright sun.
“Did you get any more details from the DA?” Emma grabbed some vegetables and dip from the coffee table.
Tripp had joined them, too, and taken a plate of finger food. “Unfortunately not. I highly doubt we’ll get anywhere with them for a few more days.”
“‘Scuse me a sec, gotta pee. Keep going. I’ll catch up.” Lexi stood and disappeared through the back of the house.
“They didn’t really question me much,” Taylor said. “That kind of surprised me.”
“You lawyered up,” Ian said.
“Yeah, but I was there for three days. Wouldn’t they have at least tried?”
Munching on a carrot, Tripp said, “That’s another thing I’m looking into.”
“You have a vibe?” Ian asked.
Tripp nodded, a celery stalk in hand. “I do. Unconfirmed, though. Give me a bit to figure it out before I try to explain.”
“Okay,” Lexi said at her return. “I have a confession … of sorts.”
Ian shifted forward as Taylor did the same, her gaze falling on Lexi.
Lexi closed one eye as if whatever she would say might hurt. “I think you two are meant to be together.”
“Say what?” Ian and Taylor burst out. Ian continued, “You said you found a picture that looked like us, but where does that come from?”
Tripp chuckled. Emma belted out a laugh.
Confusion muddled Taylor’s thoughts. “Not that I mind the presumption, but why would you think that, Lexi?”
A session of glances went between Lexi, Tripp and Emma. “Let’s just say,” Lexi said, turning back to Taylor, “I have a gift to … uh … find things.”
“Like a psychic?” Taylor asked.
Lexi’s head bobbled right and left. “Close enough. See … I found a photo of two people who are the spitting image of you and Ian. And while, at first, I thought they were ancestors, I … think a little diff … er … ently now. I think you were lovers in another life, and I think you’re supposed to be together now.”
Ian sat up straight, narrowing his eyes. Lexi’s tone, the way she spoke and Tripp’s vibe made him believe they knew more than they shared.
“How would a-a picture tell you that?” Taylor wanted to see for herself. “Can I see this picture?”
Lexi, Tripp and Emma all did the head swivel activity again.
“Oh, cut it out,” Ian snapped. “If you aren’t going to tell her what you can do, then stop telling her stuff that isn’t going to make sense unless she knows what you can do.” He held up a hand. “And … tell me because I still don’t get how the two connect and where you’ve come to your conclusion.”
The knock at the door kept anyone from learning more.
• • •
Lexi waved as she went through the living area toward the kitchen.
“Who is it?” Emma jumped up as the outer screen door opened. “Oh!”
“I’m Riley Dale.”
Taylor raced into the kitchen as soon as he spoke.
He stood in the frame of the door, dressed in jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. “I heard you all had a guest. I was hoping I could get a word with her.” He inclined his head.
Lexi leaned forward, motioning him into the kitchen with its wide, copper pots and pans and the old-style, yet brand new, appliances Taylor had installed.
She reached Riley in a few steps, wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his warmth.
His hands fell to her lower back. “You okay?”
She nodded into his shoulder, the shuffle of feet suggesting everyone disappeared, but Taylor didn’t turn around to look.
Riley held her at arm’s length. “I’m sorry, Tay. I should have fought them more.” He took her cheeks in his hands and kissed her forehead. “I should have stopped it and gotten more information.” He leaned his forehead against her. “I should have done all those things for you. I didn’t—”
“You had to do your job.” She hoped her tone would convey her seriousness.
“But I love you, Tay. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
Taylor shook her head against his. “You had a job, Riley.”
“I’m not doing that again. You’re too important to me. I’m going to take a leave of—”
“No!” Her nails dug into his shoulder. “You can’t.” Never in her life would she take Riley away from what he loved or his sole income, especially given he’d posted so much money for her. “You’ve done so much for me, Riley. I’m going to pay you back every little cent. Everythi—”
“What?” He pulled her away again. “What are you talking about?”
She cocked her head as a cell phone rang in the other room. Floorboards creaked as Ian said, “Hello”. Taylor recognized the noise from the fifth and sixth steps—a squeak Tripp specifically asked her to keep—as Ian must have moved upstairs.
“Did you—did you talk to Mama or Daddy about this?”
He shook his head. “You know I wouldn’t do that. You haven’t called them, have you?”
Taylor lifted a hand and rubbed her thumb and finger against her eyelids as confusion reigned. “I didn’t want to bother them or you more. You need your job.”
“I have a little savings. A leave is temporary.”
She patted his chest. “No. Please. I can handle this. Just … if this goes south, someone has to talk to Mama and Daddy and convince them what they read in the papers about me isn’t true. You’re the only one who’ll be able to do that. They trust you.”
He closed his eyes as if he needed to think about it. “I want to help in other ways, Tay.”
“Please, Riley.”
“It�
��s unethical for me to play both sides. I gotta take leave to—”
Taylor spun away, wishing for a punching bag to go a few rounds with. She’d dealt with the strip search and the humiliation of the mental attacks, of being stuck in yet another situation that didn’t make sense. To have the closest family-like member around be forced to choose pulled at her heartstrings.
“Tell me what you want, Taylor.” Riley’s arms hung loose at his sides.
She braced herself with her elbows on the butcher block counter and dropped her head into her hands. Footsteps on the ceramic tile floor had her zipping up.
Ian stood in the doorway. “Sorry to intrude.” He walked farther in until he stood at Taylor’s side. “Ian Sands.” He held out his hand.
“Sergeant Riley Dale.” Their palms met in a quick, up-down shake.
Why’d he emphasize his title?
“I’m guessing this is one of those ethical line things.” Ian pointed between the two of them. “And, though her attorney can’t say this out loud, while it’s not my place, I can.” Ian stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “I think you should go back to work—”
Riley clenched his fingers into fists.
“—because there might be some information waiting for the investigating officers in a few days.”
Riley’s eyes opened wide. “And they’ll need to look into it?”
“If they haven’t already figured it out themselves.” Ian’s voice stayed flat as if he recited details he’d been told.
“And will this have any weight to her case?” A smile played across Riley’s lips.
“It might,” Ian said.
Taylor stepped between the two men. “This cryptic mess has got to go. Just say it already and be done with it.”
“I can’t.” Ian ran a hand down Taylor’s arm. “Not to an active member of law enforcement.”
“But he’s …” Riley. Taylor fixed her gaze on him. He’d come to offer his support. She’d told him to keep his job, and yet she needed him in both ways.
“We’ll take care of her,” Ian said.
Riley tipped an invisible baseball cap in her direction and, without another word, let himself out.
The door slammed shut.
“Riley! Wait!” Taylor turned to race after him. The grip on her arm brought her back around to face Ian. “Let me go.”