“Life,” Taylor said simply. She was not going into that now. Maybe not ever. “Look, I’ve tried love. It hurts, all right?”
“Not always,” Nicole and Suzanne said at the same time.
But Taylor wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t ever be interested.
ON MONDAY MORNING Mac made sure the framing and window replacement was going smoothly, then sought out Taylor.
He found her sitting on her bed, and was utterly unprepared for how just the sight of her felt like a punch in the gut, and for how much he wanted to haul her up and back into his arms.
He’d figured he’d gotten her out of his system Friday night. Way out.
Apparently, he’d figured wrong.
She was looking more put together than anyone had any business looking at seven o’clock in the morning. Her shiny blond hair fell loose to her shoulders, perfectly combed. She wore pale yellow trousers with a matching sleeveless top that screamed class. The top dipped down in front and back, just enough to give him a peek of creamy skin and curves, and make him need a drink of water for his suddenly parched throat. Her long, long legs were crossed, a sandal dangling off her big toe as she lightly swung her foot while she talked into her cell phone with those perfectly glossed lips.
She saw him immediately, and though she didn’t so much as smile at him, the awareness in the room bounced off the walls.
She was talking to someone about the sale of an antique wine rack, her voice even and firm as she discussed money with a single-mindedness he figured he understood a lot better today than he had last week.
The woman could drive a hard bargain, and in spite of himself, he watched in awe as she wheedled what sounded like a mind-boggling price for her piece.
When she hung up the phone, her eyes were sparkling with triumph and…relief.
Which brought him to the reason he stood there. “Good morning,” he said.
“Morning.” She was all business-and avoiding his gaze. “You’ve got a crew here already, I can hear them. I’ll just get out of your hair.” She slipped her foot back into her sandal.
“I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’m…uh…” She looked around, probably for a handy excuse.
“Save it, Princess. You want to ignore me on a personal level after one kiss, fine.”
He had to give her credit, she didn’t so much as sputter. “I’d already forgotten about that ‘one kiss,”’ she said evenly.
“Really?”
She let out a long breath. “No.”
Just like that, his heart tweaked, good and hard. “If it’s any consolation, you’ve pretty much kept me up all night for the past two nights running,” he admitted.
She lifted a shoulder as if she didn’t care, but her eyes warmed a little. “It’s some consolation, I suppose.”
“Look, Taylor…”
“I don’t think talking about it is the right thing to do. Under the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“That we’re not going to let it happen again,” she said.
“Right.” But it bugged him that he knew why
“Well, why don’t you just spell it out,” she said with a mirthless little laugh.
“This isn’t about your pride, Taylor. Bottom line, you’re putting every cent into this building and don’t want to waste it on paying for a place to live.”
She lifted her hands. “Caught me.”
Stepping closer, he watched her pupils dilate a little.
Because of their closeness? It was affecting him, too, he could smell her, some exotic combination of sweet and sexy, and he could see the pulse at the base of her neck beating wildly, a dead giveaway that she was not as calm as she wanted to be. “I’m trying to tell you we’ll work around you,” he said. “We’ll do this room last.”
“But you said you wanted to hit it all at once, so that you didn’t have to get your subcontractors back through here again. You said that it was hard enough to-”
“I know what I said. I’m telling you I’ll make the adjustments.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“To me, yes.”
“Because as my client, I want you to be happy with the job.”
“As your client,” she repeated, sounding a little…hurt?
“I’m just trying to do the right thing here,” he said.
“Because you feel sorry for me?”
“Hell, no. You’re too ornery to feel sorry for.”
For a long moment she just stared at him, then a ghost of a smile curved those lush lips. “Okay, then. As long as it’s not that. Oh, and Mac?” She climbed off the bed with the smooth grace of a sleek cat, no longer looking plastic. She would never look plastic to him again, and as she came close, he actually had to fist his hands to keep them off her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He didn’t want to contemplate what just that smile of hers did to his insides. Did she know? Probably not, or she wouldn’t still be looking at him like that. They’d both agreed-nothing could, or would, happen. But he had to make sure. “Now, about the personal stuff.”
Her face closed up again and he had to laugh. “After all you’re going through, I’d think a little kiss would be the least of your problems.”
“If it had been just one ‘little kiss,”’ she said, shocking him with her boldness, “then it
Hell. At her sides, her own hands were fisted. Because she couldn’t keep her hands off him either, or because she wanted to slug him? “Tell me why you don’t want this,” he asked quietly.
“Truth?”
“Truth.”
She lifted her head, so close to him now that they could have leaned in just a fraction and had their mouths meet. “I do casual,” she whispered. “I do casual real well. But not more than that, not ever more. And this…” She sighed, closed her eyes. “This feels like more to me, Mac, and it scares me to death.”
“Yeah. Look, I-”
“Mac.” One of his laborers stood in the doorway. “You’re needed downstairs.”
Taylor turned away.
“We’ll finish this later,” he told her slim back.
She lifted a shoulder.
“Taylor-”
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Oh, it’s necessary,” he said, watching her stiffen. He was sorry for that, but they worked together, would have to continue to do so.
They had to finish talking about this, they had to.
Then maybe he could stop thinking about it.
7
