by Peggy Bird
Isabella, on the other hand, had just revealed her heart to a virtual stranger when she talked about her father. What would it be like to be the object of the affection and attention of a woman like her? Someone so present, so open, so warm and loving?
Oh, yeah. He was in a world of hurt with Isabella Rodriquez.
• • •
“Thanks for the coffee and treat. I’m ready now.” She swiped at her mouth with the napkin but missed a pastry crumb. He almost reached across the table to brush it off her lip. Her plump, pink, lower lip. The one she was now licking to get at the errant crumb. The same one she caught between her teeth when she was trying not to laugh or when she was thinking about what she wanted to say.
“Taylor? Are we ready for whatever’s next?” She looked concerned when he hadn’t responded right away, too caught up in fantasies about her mouth.
“Absolutely ready. We’re going for a ride.” He picked up their coffee cups and the plates now empty of the apple hand pies they’d had and returned them to the counter.
“My car or yours?” she asked when he returned.
“Neither. We’re walking down the steps behind the Market then along the waterfront to the ferry terminal. It’s not too far, about fifteen or twenty minutes. You okay with walking? I don’t want you to end up with blisters from those boots. ”
“Are you kidding? I was born to walk in boots like this.” She looked back over her shoulder as they headed to the door and asked, “What’re we going to do when we get to the ferry terminal? As if I can’t guess.”
“Unless you want to confine yourself to reading the timetables for the Washington State Ferry System, I thought we could take a ride. We’ll be ‘walk-ons’ for the next ferry to Bainbridge Island. I think you’ll like seeing the city from the water.”
“I don’t know where Bainbridge Island is.”
“It’s about forty-five minutes west of here, across Elliot Bay. We’ll get there, have another cup of coffee, or a glass of wine if you’d rather, then come back. Should get us here in plenty of time for our dinner reservations.”
• • •
They lucked out and got to the ferry terminal twenty minutes before a Bainbridge Island ferry was due to depart. They boarded and grabbed a seat near a window, but Isabella didn’t stay in it very long. Her curiosity sent her exploring all over the passenger deck. She returned from one foray with a stack of tourist pamphlets, which she excitedly showed him, explaining they gave her ideas for the weekends she didn’t have a tour guide. He stopped himself just before he volunteered as a permanent tour guide. He’d waded into hip-deep treacherous waters already with this woman. Planning too far out with her would get him in over his head.
As soon as the ferry got underway, Isabella headed for the door and the outside rail. She was as excited as anyone he’d ever seen about watching the skyline of Seattle recede into the distance.
“Look at all those buildings,” she said. “When I’m in the middle of the city, it doesn’t register how tall they are.”
“I think it’s the hills the city is built on. You can’t get an idea of the relative heights until you’re out on the water.”
“What’s that one, over there?” she asked, pointing to a huge, black building.
“The Columbia Center. It’s the tallest building in the state. Sometimes when the weather socks in during the winter, the top of the building is above the clouds. It’s freaky.”
“What else can we see?”
“Couple of bank buildings—Wells Fargo and Bank of America.” He pointed out the relevant structures. “There’s the Federal Building named for our late, great Senator ‘Scoop’ Jackson. Then there’s that one,” he said, pointing to Seattle’s most famous landmark. “I assume you know ...”
“The Space Needle. Of course I do. And I know another one, too. Isn’t that Smith Tower?” She pointed at the correct building.
“Yes, but don’t look so smug. I’m pretty sure you’re required to identify those two buildings along with Safeco Field on the test they give you before you’re allowed to move into the city.”
She looked at him with a surprised expression. “Why, Taylor Jordan, you have a sense of humor under all those wicked smarts and serious ambitions, don’t you?”
He could feel himself blush, for the second time in two days. How did she do this to him? “I try to keep it to a minimum, but sometimes it leaks out.”
She laughed. “You are the sweetest man.” He saw her shudder.
“I can’t imagine my ranking on a sugar scale is what’s making you shiver. You must be cold.”
“I am, a little. The wind, I guess. I thought this coat would keep me warm but, so far, not so much.”
“Then let’s go back inside.”
“No, I’m not ready yet. I like it out here too much regardless of the temperature.” She pulled the collar of her puffy coat up around her ears and faced the water again. “I mean, how can I go inside when I’ll miss all this if I do?” The sweep of her hand took in the skyline of the city, the water of Elliot Bay, and the gulls and terns flying overhead.
Knowing what he was about to do pushed him further out into bottomless waters, but wanting to do it anyway, Taylor opened his coat and wrapped it around her, pulling her so her back was snug against his front. “Maybe this will help,” he said. He felt her relax against him and sigh.
“Thank you. That’s wonderful. You’re like a heater, aren’t you?”
He rested his cheek on the top of her head, smelled the flowery scent of her shampoo, the sugar cookie smell of her perfume or, who knows, maybe her body. She might think he was sweet, but he was sure he didn’t smell like she did.
She slid her hands under his, to get them warm, maybe. Whatever the reason, he was glad she was doing it. Her hands felt so small in his, so delicate.
So cold.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go inside? Your hands are like ice.”
“A few more minutes, please? I love it out here.”
So did he. And with much more of this, she’d see exactly how much he loved having her plastered against his body, regardless of how cold it was. He tried to move so his beginning arousal wasn’t quite so obvious.
“Are you cold, too?” she asked. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to go inside.”
“I’m fine. But I don’t want you to get so frozen you won’t defrost before we have to get back on the ferry and do this all over again.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “I could never get too cold with you around.”
He pulled her closer, knowing what he was about to do had been inevitable since the first time he saw her. He was going to kiss her, and he already knew he was going to love every single second of it.
Tilting his head so he had the angle he wanted, he brushed her mouth with his. He felt her breath against his lips and the need to taste her welled up in him. Her mouth was warm and soft, as luscious as he’d imagined it would be. Before he even asked with his tongue, her lips parted, allowing him to explore her mouth as she sighed, her breath becoming the air filling his lungs.
He sucked at the plump center of her lower lip, and she moaned. The shivers he felt race through her weren’t from cold this time, he was sure. When he broke the kiss, her whimper of disappointment stoked his arousal and he had to fight his urge to press his hips against her.
With light, careful kisses, he traced a path from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and jaw to the soft place behind her ear where he nibbled. But she apparently wanted something else. She took his face in her hands and returned his mouth to hers for another long, hot, open-mouthed kiss with tangling tongues and a soundtrack of her moans and sighs.
It wasn’t until someone said, “Get a room, you two,” that Taylor came to his senses and broke from the kiss.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he said, looking directly at her to see how she was reacting.
“Nothing to apologize for, believe me. I’m about as
warm now as I can bear.” He was relieved to see she was amused and maybe a bit aroused. “But I do think we should go back inside, don’t you? We’ve been the entertainment for long enough.”
Chapter Twelve
It could have been awkward between them after the scene outside. Bella was worried it would be. But it wasn’t. The occasional tension that appeared between them when they were together seemed to have relaxed with their outdoor make-out session. And since she’d wanted him to kiss her the minute she saw him at Pike Place Market, even having him apologize for doing what she’d hoped for didn’t dent her pleasure.
Disembarking from the ferry, they wandered around Bainbridge Island for an hour, peeking into art galleries and small shops and sipping wine in a cozy bar, before reboarding the ferry for the trip back to the city. This time, they stayed inside the whole way. She even dozed off for a few minutes, her head resting on Taylor’s shoulder.
He teased her when he had to wake her as the ferry docked. “I had no idea I could wear you out so quickly.”
“It’s the sea air,” she said struggling to sit up and smooth out her hair. “It always makes me sleepy.”
“Maybe a break would be a good idea before we go to dinner. What do you think?”
“I would appreciate a chance to see if I can do something to get my hair to behave.” She tugged at a handful of windblown curls, which had gotten kinkier and tighter in the damp air.
He pulled her hand away. “Don’t do anything drastic with your curls. I like them the way they are.”
“I never do anything drastic. It’s too time consuming to keep it ironed or conditioned or straightened. But I do like it out of my face, and right now that requires a mirror and a couple clips.”
“If you have the clips, I can provide you with a mirror. My condo isn’t too far away from here if that would be acceptable to you. I can warm you up, too.” Before she could ask exactly how he planned to do that, he added, “Your friend Marius taught me how to make good coffee. Our dinner reservation isn’t until seven.”
“Perfect. But I have to retrieve my car. Do you want to give me directions, or shall I follow you?”
“I walked to the Market. You can give me a ride.”
• • •
She wasn’t sure what she expected Taylor’s condo to look like. But when he opened the door, she realized how right the space looked. Neat, carefully planned, and organized. A chocolate-brown leather couch. Side chairs covered in a beige linen-like fabric. Hardwood floors with not a nick, dent, or scratch in sight. The only bright colors were in the design of the oval rug in front of the couch and in the large abstract painting above the obligatory gas fireplace.
She was quite sure that if someone came into her place without warning, there would be newspapers or books flung on tables and chairs, perhaps an empty coffee mug on a kitchen counter, maybe even dirty dishes in the sink. Not in Taylor’s home. Everything was in its place. Of course, he could have planned in advance to invite her in, but she was willing to bet his home looked this tidy all the time.
“Your condo is beautiful. Have you lived here long?”
“About six months. But it’s not much bigger than the place I had rented before, so things came together easily. I’m glad you like it.” He led her to a small but well-appointed kitchen. “Coffee or wine? Or I could probably dig up a beer or a can of pop if you’d rather.”
“Something hot, I think. So, coffee, thanks.” While he was grinding beans and getting the coffeemaker set up to brew, she went into the bathroom to try to tame her wayward hair. After success of a sort—it was at least not tangled and hanging in her face—she wandered into the small dining area off the kitchen, looking at a display of pictures on the sideboard. She was surprised to see all except one were landscapes. “Is this your family?” she asked, picking up the one photograph of people.
“Yeah, I’m the skinny little one on the right.”
“So, you’re the younger?”
“By five years.” He handed her a mug of coffee. “Sugar or milk?”
“No, this is fine, thanks.”
Before she could ask any more about his family, he changed the subject. “Do you have siblings?”
She snorted. “Boy, do I. Four brothers. All older.”
“And I bet all very protective of their baby sister.”
“I might as well have been in a convent in high school. Didn’t date much until I went to college, and even then, they demanded background information on everyone I so much as thought about going out with.”
“How’d you handle that?”
“I learned to be creative. Either I omitted telling them what I was doing, or I embroidered it so they were comfortable. To this day, they think the guy I dated the longest in college was headed for the priesthood. Which would have been interesting since he was Jewish.”
Taylor laughed. “Are any of your brothers around here, and do they still track down your dates and cross-examine them? I’m getting a little worried here about who might call on me in the next day or two.”
“No worries. They all live in California. They do call me every week to make sure I’ve not been kidnapped. And Javier, the youngest, sometimes shows up in Seattle. He’s done business here in the past. I think he dated Sandra Daniels for a while, actually.”
“Is he bigger than me?”
She pretended to consider the question. “I think he might be a couple inches shorter. But he could be younger than you are. He’s only eighteen months older than I am, which makes him almost twenty-nine.”
“Damn. He is younger.”
“But it shouldn’t be a problem, should it? We’re not dating, remember? You don’t date clients.”
“Saved by unofficial company policy.” He gestured to her to follow him into the living room. When they were settled on the couch, he said, “Tell me more about your family. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to grow up in a big family.”
So Bella regaled him with stories of her childhood, hitting the highlights and relating only good memories. It surprised her to realize how much of the anger she’d felt about her brothers forcing her to move out of the house in Portland had faded. In fact, the longer she talked, the more she realized that although she hadn’t gotten to grateful yet, she was pleased to discover she was past furious.
She was also surprised Taylor didn’t reciprocate. No matter how subtly she made inquiries, he didn’t respond with any information about his family.
• • •
As he listened to her talk about her siblings with such warmth, it occurred to Taylor he should have planned the day better. He’d left too much time for talking. Which presented too much temptation to spill his guts, which he never, ever did. She made it seem so easy to talk about family. Even when she was complaining about them, it was with love. And she made it perfectly obvious she wanted him to talk about his background. After all, isn’t that basic getting-to-know-you conversation?
But how the hell do you talk about the miserable excuse for parents and a sibling he had right after she babbled on about her storybook childhood? In what fairy tale is your brother a drunk starting in high school? Your father so irresponsible and careless with money, they lived in a McMansion one year and the back of a secondhand SUV the next? How did he explain how guilty he felt he hadn’t been able to rescue his beaten down, pale ghost of a mother who had slipped quietly out of life in her forties, too tired of the vagaries of life with his father to keep breathing?
He hadn’t seen his brother in a decade or so, didn’t know where he was but was pretty sure it was in the bottom of a bottle someplace. He knew where his father was—in the small house Taylor had bought for him in Spokane. Far enough away that he didn’t have to see him often but close enough if he needed to get to him. He hadn’t needed to in quite some time.
No, talking about his pathetic excuse for a family, after she’d talked so glowingly about hers, would only make her pity him. Although he hadn’t yet decided what h
e wanted her to feel for him, he knew without a doubt, it wasn’t pity.
He wished he hadn’t left the damn picture on the sideboard. He’d put it away as soon as he got home from dinner.
• • •
Something had made Taylor grow quiet, and once again, Bella couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t think she’d said or done anything stupid, although given how little she knew about him, it was always possible. She didn’t feel confident enough to ask him directly so she merely said, “You’re the one who seems tired now. Do you want to skip dinner? We’ve had a full day and I ...”
“Absolutely not. I’ve been looking forward to showing you this place all day. It’s practically a Seattle institution.” He glanced at the clock on the bookcase shelf. “And we’re about due there, if you’re ready.” He took their coffee mugs into the kitchen and retrieved her puffy coat from the coat rack in the hall. “We’re walking, if that’s okay with you.”
The Pink Door was as Taylor had advertised. The food was amazing. Bella ordered risotto with crab, saffron, and leeks. Taylor didn’t even look at the menu. He said he always had the lasagna because it was so good he couldn’t bring himself to try anything else. As the entertainment for the evening began, they shared an antipasto plate and wine.
First up was a troop of gymnasts above them on silk drapes and huge hoops, twirling, twisting, and dropping to the ground with grace. By the time their entrees arrived, the scene had changed. A pair of musicians played while a man sang opera arias.
The walk back to her car after dinner was slow and, on her part, reluctant. “I’ve had the most wonderful day. I can’t even begin to thank you enough.”
“You paid for dinner behind my back, which was a pretty big thank you already.”
“You paid for everything else today and provided guide services. I had to do something for what I owed you.”
“No, I owe you for today.” They were standing beside her car, and he’d turned her toward him, his hands on her shoulders. “And I always pay my debts.”