“Well, he wasn’t a very nice guy. So that fits.”
“So the wit confirms that he took two at once?” Baldwin asked.
“Looks that way.”
“Anything else new?” Memphis asked.
“No, that’s it. I wish I had more.”
“But it’s progress, my dear. Progress. I’ll be back in a minute. You and Memphis play nice.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Why did it feel like everyone was ganging up on her today?
Baldwin slid out of the booth. Memphis immediately shifted to the left so he could look Taylor straight on.
“So. Come here often?” he asked.
“Highsmythe-”
“Oh, do call me Memphis. Please. I’m just kidding. I like to needle.”
“I noticed.” She relaxed fractionally. She knew Sam was wrong, she hadn’t been flirting. If she had been, there’d be no mistaking it. She smiled at him again, this time without worrying about who might think what.
“Fine. Memphis. I hope you’re finding Nashville to your liking. I’m sorry it’s been so crazy, but with any luck, today’s murder will bring us all a step closer to catching this man.”
“That’s a lovely speech. Maybe we should get you in one of Shakespeare’s creations. Let’s see…we’d need a strong woman, one who doesn’t like to be pushed around or told what to do. Viola, maybe. No, I have it. Portia. Without a doubt.”
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of the wine. It was perfect, spicy and bold.
He leaned closer. “Tell me, why did you become a copper? Did you lose your baby brother? A little abuse in your background?” He smiled a wicked, lazy grin at her and she bit her lip trying not to smile back. “You can tell me. I can keep a secret.” He licked his lips, slow and suggestive. Jesus, if Baldwin saw that he’d be off his head.
“Highsmythe, you’ve got to knock this off.”
“What?” he asked, all kinds of innocent. Baldwin came back to the table, and Taylor swore she felt a hand on her knee before Memphis slid back into the seat, crossing his arms on his chest.
“All set,” Baldwin said. “What’s happening here? Did you guys go over the names?”
“No. Memphis would like to know why I became a cop.”
“Oh. That’s easy. Her dad.”
“Baldwin.”
He looked at her in surprise. “What? It is, isn’t it?” He leaned over toward Memphis conspiratorially. “Taylor’s dad isn’t the most upright character, if you know what I mean.”
“Baldwin!”
“Is that where you got the scar?” Memphis asked.
Taylor’s hand went to her throat. “My God, no. My father may be a crook, but he never laid a hand on me. This was courtesy of a suspect. Baldwin saved my life. It was our first case together.”
Memphis leaned back in his chair. “Isn’t that romantic? Well, then, you shouldn’t be so fussed about it. My father used to say, ‘The average man bristles if you say his father was dishonest, but he brags a little if his great- grandfather was a pirate.’ Time will remember your father fondly, I’m sure.”
Taylor shot him a look. “Is this some sort of British quote, like the upper-class secret handshake?”
“There’s a secret handshake? I didn’t know. Must be why I’m in the Met instead of loafing around the family estates.” He grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling with delight. He enjoyed annoying her, she could see that as plain as day. Sam was wrong, so very, very wrong. She wasn’t flirting with Memphis, but he was most definitely and without reservation flirting with her. But all the fun had gone out of it since Baldwin had brought up her father; sharing her personal embarrassment with a total stranger snapped her back to the real world.
Memphis toyed with his fork. “I don’t know who said it, I just remember the quote. Surely not my father, it was something he read somewhere, I suppose. But it’s fitting, don’t you think?”
“What, now you’re giving me advice?”
“Memphis’s father is an earl, Taylor. You’re getting advice on the family dynamic from the Viscount Dulsie, so I’d listen if I were you.” Baldwin gave her a quirky, teasing smile. She sniffed.
“I see. Somewhere down the road, one of my invisible offspring will look back and think what Win has done is romantic, somehow? That stealing and lying and cheating and cavorting with serial killers is a good thing? I hardly think that will be the case. You don’t know my father, Memphis. He is not a good man.”
“There must be something good about him. He produced a child who knows right from wrong.”
She looked down at her wineglass. It was something she’d always wondered-was her moral code, her ability to shut down her feelings of family and remorse for the way things could have been a direct cause of Win’s actions? How could a man who had no regard for the law produce a child who lived by it?
She finished her wine. “Oh, look at the time. You boys are going to miss your plane if we don’t hop to it. Detective Highsmythe, do you need to stop off before we go?”
“Back to proper names already, are we? As you like, Miss Jackson. Yes, I need to grab my bag from the concierge.”
He stood and gave her a mocking little bow. Without saying goodbye, he strode out of the restaurant into the darkened lobby of the hotel.
Baldwin peeled off some cash and left it on the table. They followed Memphis, then turned and exited onto the street. When Baldwin reached for her hand, she pulled it away.
“What’s wrong?” Baldwin asked.
She stopped and stared him in the eye, vaguely noticing that the ambient light from the downtown illumination made them smolder. She was too upset to care about that right now. She spoke low, so no one would overhear.
“What are you guys, best friends now? Why did you tell him about my dad? You know how I feel about that. It’s…personal. Private. Our private business.”
Baldwin recognized how distressed she was at last, apologized profusely. “I didn’t think you’d care. You’ve never taken issue with it before.”
“This is different. He’s a stranger. There’s no reason to go telling him sordid details about my personal life.” Her family life was an embarrassment to her, no doubt, but most of Nashville was familiar with the more torrid stories. She knew she was overreacting, and didn’t know why.
“Taylor, don’t get huffy. I said I was sorry. No one holds you accountable for your dad’s actions. Besides, Memphis is one of the good guys.” He stepped to the valet desk, handed over the ticket.
She pulled her hair up into a ponytail. That’s what you think. Memphis was starting to get to her. She had no idea why she cared about him seeing her in the best possible light. Maybe Sam was right, maybe she was showing off for him. Add in that look of longing tucked deep into the recesses of his eyes…She sighed. Just when things were going so well, she suddenly had to contend with the advances of this posh boy.
And posh was just the word for him. Floppy blond hair, falling into his cornflower-blue eyes. Strong jaw, straight nose, decent teeth. That ridiculous accent, every word strung out from his tongue, pronounced. Good thing she didn’t go for light-haired men-for the briefest of moments, she’d felt a ridiculous pull of attraction to his clean good looks. Baldwin had the Black Irish in him, that deep silky hair the color of night and those clear green eyes. Cat eyes. Baldwin was the better looking of the two, bigger and taller as well. Memphis looked more like a very well- kept greyhound.
What in the name of hell are you doing, Taylor?
Baldwin came back to her. He looked at her strangely, like he could read her mind. He could, sometimes. She prayed he hadn’t glimpsed too deeply in that thought process.
“Where’s Memphis?” he asked.
“I’m not his babysitter. How should I know?” Taylor said.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He was watching her curiously, and she felt like she’d been caught doing something wrong. That was crazy. She took a deep breath and blew it out, hard.
“Seriously, I’m fine. I’m just not all that hip to discussing my personal life with him. He’s…it’s nothing. I just don’t like thinking about Win, that’s all.”
