by E C Sheedy
"We were just, uh,... oh, nothing," she blurted, glancing guiltily at Taylor.
Taylor crossed his arms behind his head and grinned. He made no move to get off the bed.
Willy turned her attention to him and tilted her head. "Well, what about you? Breakfast or no breakfast? It doesn't matter to me."
"I guess I'd better eat." He got up slowly and walked toward her. "I need to keep my strength up now that a green-eyed monster is loose around here." He chucked her under the chin as he passed through the door.
* * *
Somehow they got through the next three days. Willow expended so much energy denying what she felt for Taylor, she was exhausted. She practically pushed Elena and him together in an effort to prove she wasn't jealous, that she didn't care. Green-eyed monster, indeed! She'd just been afraid to ruin her eggs; that was all. She didn't even know what jealousy was. She plopped into one of Dan's rickety deck chairs on his equally rickety deck, and put her head back.
The only problem with all this togetherness was she hadn't had the time she needed to think up a plan, or to come up with the right words to end this thing with Taylor before it got out of hand. If she hadn't promised to wait for Dan, she'd leave.
At that idea, her conscience gave her a nudge. She'd made a promise not to run and she'd keep it. Besides, if she were honest, whatever it was between her and Taylor was already out of hand. Still, it rankled her he seemed to find these past few days so damned amusing. Squiring her and Elena around as if he were thoroughly enjoying their company and hadn't a care in the world, he was driving her crazy.
For one thing, why did he have to look so good? She couldn't believe how many times she'd wanted to reach for him, touch him, stroke him—just connect physically. That's all it is, of course, a powerful physical attraction, she told herself for the thousandth time. It will pass. She would make it pass. She groaned and closed her eyes.
"Why couldn't you have just been a regular guy, Taylor Stanley Monroe? It would have been so much easier."
She sat up straight and shook her head in astonishment. "And now you've got me talking to myself. Well, no more. I have things to do."
Annoyed with herself, she shielded her eyes with one hand and glanced up at the sun. It was already past noon. When Taylor suggested he and Elena go to the market, she'd quickly agreed, anxious for some time to herself. She wasn't about to waste it. She expected Dan to arrive today and she planned to be ready. Without wasting any more time, she opened the bulging file resting across her knees and set to work. Her freshly sharpened pencil skated over the clean page. Spain's golden triumph. Paella. Olive oil, rice, saffron, and your own creativity form the basis for this most Spanish of dishes...
"More recipes?" Taylor's words and breath tickled her ear.
With a start, she clapped the notebook closed and pulled away from him. "You're back." She peered behind him.
"Elena's shopping. I think it had something to do with Dan coming today."
"Oh."
Taylor crossed his arms and leaned on the black wrought-iron railing. When she looked up at him, she swallowed to dislodge the catch in her throat. Wearing white shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, he was no longer New York pale, his skin now glazed and golden from the Spanish sun. Sunglasses dangled from his left hand. He was... guapo, muy guapo.
When his green eyes swept her and turned hungry, she looked away.
"It's not going to work, you know. You can't avoid me forever. And even if you do, it's not going to change anything."
"I'm not avoiding you." She lifted her eyes to his. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Here but not here. I've missed you."
"Don't be ridiculous." She began stuffing paper into her file.
"You've been miles away and you know it." He stopped. "How do we look anyway?"
"Look?" she echoed without a shred of comprehension.
"You and me. Under your tried and true microscope?" He was casually twirling the sunglasses, but his gaze never left her.
She didn't answer.
"We need to talk, Willow. We're running out of time."
She bristled. "Is that some kind of ultimatum?"
"No. It's a fact. Danny will be here today—he damned well better be—and I have to get back to work." He gave her a long, searching look. "I've made plane reservations for Saturday."
"I see." Those two nondescript words were all she could manage as her stomach lurched and jumped. Saturday. Day after tomorrow. She knew it would happen, planned on it happening, yet the idea of his going momentarily paralyzed her. She couldn't speak, didn't know what to say. Don't go, she wanted to plead. Stay with me. Stay. Stay. She felt instant disgust with herself. You don't beg, Willow. You don't need anyone—including Taylor Monroe. And if you ever wondered about love, here's a demo: this searing disappointment is only a precursor. The soul-mutilating pain would come later—if you allow the relationship to deepen. It was good he was going. It was time she got her life back to normal. She shuddered at the thought.
"I don't think you do see. Not at all. Come here."
At his last words, Willy's head shot up. She glared at him.
"I said, come here."
"Are you serious? You're actually giving me an order?"
"Call it what you like. But if you don't come here, I'll come over there. Take your pick."
Willy's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "I don't know what you have in mind, but whatever it is I suggest you forget it."
Taylor didn't answer. Instead he straightened away from the railing and carefully put down his sunglasses. He started toward her. There couldn't be more than three steps between them.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Willy jumped to her feet and moved back to the wall. She didn't want to fight with him.
"Do what?" he asked taking another step.
"Don't back me into a corner."
"You're already in one, and it isn't me who put you there."
He wasn't more than a foot away. One more step. She slanted a threatening gaze at him. "Taylor, I'm warning you. Don't make me embarrass you."
His face was inches from hers but he didn't touch her. "Embarrass me? You can throw me on my face, you can break my arm, you can kick me where... well, I think you know where. I'd say being embarrassed is the least of my worries." He ran a finger along her tense jawline. "Kiss me, Willow. It's been a long three days. Very long." His voice lowered an octave, and he rested one hand on the wall over her shoulder. He bent his head to brush his lips lightly, seductively over hers. Once. Twice. "Kiss me." He gave her a crooked grin. "Then you can toss me off the balcony."
Her eyes fell to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him. Oh, how she wanted to. The man was a sorcerer. She pressed her hands palm flat against the wall and turned her head. He brought it back with one soft urging from his thumb. He gave her a steady, thoughtful gaze, and cocked an eyebrow. "Or maybe you'd like me to jump on my own?"
Willy pursed her mouth to stop a smile. "It would save me a lot of trouble," she said.
"Now why would I want to do that?"
His nearness, the intoxicating scent of him was reaching her, pulling, tugging, weakening. He lowered his head to her throat and feathered kisses down the tense cords in her neck, then up again to a warm spot hidden under her ear. She closed her eyes and nearly choked on her laughter when he spoke again. "Kiss me, woman, I'm running out of moves."
Willy rested her hands on his chest before moving them to tangle in his dark hair. She gave a sharp tug and Taylor's head came up. He winced. It was Willow's turn to tease. She held her grip and gazed into his eyes. "You're playing with fire here, good lookin'. Don't you know I'm a wild woman?" She loosened her grip on his hair and combed through it with gentle fingers.
"I'm counting on it."
She lowered her eyes to his mouth, her chest full, her heart hungry for him. "But I'll try to restrain myself. I wouldn't want to do any damage."
When her mouth touched his, he groaned softly. "You
already have, love. You already have." He crushed her to him and the kiss, gentle at the start, ended by bruising them both.
Willy was breathless when she tried to speak. She loved him. No feeling more sure, more certain, more irrevocable had ever claimed her. He was in her, deep and forever. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. The pain of it was not to be borne. And it changed nothing. She felt Taylor's breath on her neck and rolled her head to give him better access. He was saying something, but she was too rapt in her own thoughts to hear him. He nibbled on her earlobe and she let out a long-held breath.
"Taylor?"
"Uh-huh?"
"How long do you figure Elena will be shopping?"
His head shot up and he smiled into her eyes. "Long enough. Why? Do you want to ravish this poor aching body?"
She ran her hand caressingly over his well-muscled forearm. "It's a tough job but—"
"Somebody's got to do it." Taylor's grin widened as he raised his hands palm up. "Then take me away, you wanton woman, and have your way with me."
Willy grabbed a fistful of his T-shirt, dragged him toward the bedroom, and proceeded to do just that.
Chapter 10
"We still have to talk." Taylor stuffed another pillow behind his head and propped himself against the headboard. He watched as Willy donned her shorts and top.
"We can talk later. For now, I think we've pushed our luck as far as possible. Elena will be back any minute. Not to mention Dan."
Taylor knew exactly when Elena would be back—their agreed upon time. "Does it matter?"
She gave him an impatient look. "What do you think?"
"I think I love you, and I don't care who knows it."
She drew in a sharp breath, stood very still a moment, then said, "So? That's supposed to make everything all right?"
He leaped from the bed, stark naked and not giving a damn. He grabbed her by the upper arms, unsure if he wanted to throttle her or kiss her senseless. But decided the main thing was to concentrate on not losing his temper. "Don't pull your tough cookie routine on me, Willow. I know better."
"I don't have a routine." She shrugged out of his arms. "And knock off the he-man stuff or I'll—" She tried to glare him down. It didn't work.
"You'll what? Break both my arms?"
She shook her head and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Her hands, until then balled into tight fists, opened as she nervously rubbed her upper thighs. "Taylor, I... can't deal with this. You. Me. Any of it. I'm not sure I even want to. It's already turning me inside out and I don't like it."
Taylor pulled on his shorts and reached for his T-shirt. He yanked it over his head and ran an impatient hand through his thick hair. "What is it you don't like? The fact you lose your precious control there." He nodded angrily toward the bed, now a riot of spilled sheets and mashed pillows.
"It has nothing to do with having sex with you. That's…all good."
"Having sex!" Taylor knew he looked astonished. Is that how she saw it? He couldn't credit it and shook his head. "That wasn't having sex. That was making love and you damn well know it." Even as he spoke, he remembered her lack of experience. Maybe she didn't know the difference. Or maybe it wasn't the same for her as it was for him.
"Whatever name you want to call it," she said. "It's incredible. Sometimes I think I could stay in bed with you forever. You touch me and I go..." She seemed to search for the right word, then shook her head, unable to find it.
Taylor stopped cold, taken by surprise, pleasure, and a major twinge of fear. Something told him there was more to come and he wouldn't like it.
"That's the problem. I could easily become addicted to you, Taylor, and that's something I don't want to do. Like today… I had no intention of going to bed with you. But I did because—"
"Because you wanted to. I wanted you to. What's wrong with that?"
She gave him an irritated look and stood up. "If you'd let me finish a sentence, I'd tell you." She walked toward the tiny window near the dresser and looked out into the afternoon sun. "Yes. I wanted to," she said, "but it was more than that. More like a…compulsion. Like being pulled out of myself and into you. I needed you so much I just went along—went to bed with you—even though things aren't clear in my own mind. And that's not the way I am, not the way I do things. It's the way my mother—my aunts—would do things." She turned to face him. "I'm starting to care about you, really care, and it scares me. I may even be falling—" She stopped.
In two quick strides, he was facing her, his heart a pounding drum. "In love with me?"
"Maybe," she mumbled.
Taylor lifted her chin and brushed a light kiss over her lips. "You're the only woman I know who could say those words as though she was announcing the onset of terminal illness." He brushed a stray hair off her face. "Go with those feelings, Willow. Trust them. Please. See where they take you, take us? If only for the next couple of days."
Willow looked at him uncertainly. "I don't think—"
He put a finger to her mouth. "Exactly."
Her smile was cheerless when she turned her eyes to his. "This lovin' business is awfully complicated, good lookin'."
"Only if you make it that way, but I don't doubt you can handle it." He ran his knuckles over her cheek, then pulled her close, and nuzzled her hair. "You can handle anything."
Willy wasn't so sure about that, but with Taylor's arms around her the idea of trying was disturbingly appealing.
* * *
"I guess he's not going to make it. Not tonight, at least." Elena sighed, making no effort to hide her disappointment.
"It's only eleven-thirty. He might be here yet," Willy said.
"Yeah, right. Him and the tooth fairy." Elena stood up, stretched, and looked down at Taylor and Willy sitting on the sofa. "I'm going to bed—and tomorrow? Tomorrow, I'm out of here. I think I've wasted enough time waiting for Danny Monroe."
When the bedroom door closed, Taylor snaked a hand across the back of the sofa he and Willy were sharing, began playing with her long blond hair. He sensed her tension. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm just annoyed that's all."
"I haven't done anything—yet." He made a coil of her hair. "Of course, I make no promises."
She smiled. "This time it's not you who's annoying—for the moment you're off the hook."
"Then it's got to be Dan. You're finally irritated at my irrespons—" He stopped when he caught her warning stare, then carried on with, "—wonderfully considerate brother. Too bad he doesn't know Elena's here. He'd have come back sooner."
"Maybe. Maybe not. The thing is he could have at least called again if he wasn't going to make it tonight. I wasn't planning on waiting half my life for him."
"I didn't know you were waiting for him. I thought you were just—what was it you said?—hanging out here for a while."
"Not exactly." Willy looked uncomfortable. "Dan wanted to tell you himself, so I promised I wouldn't say anything."
"Tell me what."
She had his full attention now.
"I should leave it to him. Like I said, I promised." She let out a long, frustrated breath. "Not that it matters, I guess, because it looks like he's a total no-show."
At that the door swung open. A short, harried, fair-haired dynamo named Danny Monroe swirled into the room and dropped a ton of luggage and camera equipment.
The two brothers smiled simultaneously, their grins wide with genuine delight.
"Hey, Stanley. Good to see you." Danny said.
Taylor stood, took Dan's outstretched hand, and pulled him into a rough embrace. "You, too, little brother. You, too."
Willy smiled as they patted each other's backs. There was a lot of love here. Oddly, even after hearing each man complain about the other, she wasn't surprised. She only hoped Taylor wouldn't spoil it.
Dan spied Willy and winked. "Willy. I'm glad you're still here. I've got great news." He stepped away from Taylor and caught her in an exuberant e
mbrace. She returned it with fervor. Dan was one of her favorite people.
"It'd better be good. Almost two weeks late. That's got to be a record even for you."
He had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah. Hey, I'm sorry. Honest." He turned his attention back to Taylor, who was watching them curiously. "But you did have reliable old Stanley here to look out for you. You were good to the lady, weren't you?"
"I did my best." Taylor gave Willow a sidelong glance.
"So the prodigal photographer returns. How are you, Dan?" Elena stood in the bedroom doorway. Her dark gaze fixed on Dan and held. She was wearing a brightly colored silk robe, very short. Her long tan legs were crossed at the ankles. Dan registered shock and barely held onto his smile. If Taylor was asked to describe his brother's expression, he would call it shock and longing. Frustrated longing, he added to himself.
Elena, tall and regally slender, stood a head taller than Danny. Physically, she was a stark contrast to Dan's short, muscular build.
He watched as Dan first hesitated, then stepped toward Elena. Taylor could see he was working to be casual. "Hi, sweets." He kissed her lightly. "I didn't expect to see you here. How's it going?"
"Good. It's going good," she answered. "Better now you're here."
He moved away and Elena's eyes followed him. The woman has it bad. Taylor thought. Real bad. Just like me, he added.
For a moment, a silent tension pervaded the small room. No one spoke. Taylor glanced at Willow at the same time her eyes turned to Elena. He saw Elena nod slightly, as if a signal had been given and received. When Willy's eyes caught his, she looked away. "Elena's visiting with me for a couple of days, Dan. I hope you don't mind," she said.
"No. Of course not. Why would I mind?" Dan answered. Again the room turned quiet.
Taylor watched a worried frown ripple over his forehead, and his own lips crooked in amused sympathy. His brother had been ambushed, pure and simple, and now he was trapped. Definitely some kind of female conspiracy going on here. Maybe there was some justice in the world after all. Dan was going to have a hard time extricating himself from this. Taylor looked around the tiny apartment. Nope, he thought, there was definitely no place to run. Or sleep, he thought with a jolt.