barrier; it was a lie.
She forced herself to calm. “I’m all right, Taylor. I’m going to take a shower and clean up. I’ll be out in ten minutes. Don’t worry about me.”
He retreated and she breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment. As she showered and washed her hair, she thought of the intimacy again. Looking at them, a stranger would have believed them intimate, would have believed them lovers or even husband and wife. But they weren’t any of those things. She was a sham.
She felt so weak she could barely stand when she came out of the bathroom wearing her terry-cloth robe. She went to the dresser and pulled out a clean flannel nightgown, one she had bought the previous winter that covered every centimeter of her, and returned to the bathroom. She heard Taylor moving around in the kitchen.
She made her way slowly to the kitchen, her hair thick and wet around her face, her skin white and pasty, and she tried for a smile.
He was completely dressed, thank God. He was whistling and looked right at home.
“Good morning,” he said, looking up from the coffeepot. He studied her, then motioned to the chair. “Sit down before you collapse. I don’t know if I could pick you up. I’m pretty weak before I’ve had my morning injection of caffeine.”
She sat down and almost immediately listed to the left.
Taylor said, very slowly, very calmly, “You wore yourself out in the shower. I’m going to help you back to bed, all right?”
“The bed’s a mess and—”
“No, I changed the sheets while you were in the bathroom. I hope you don’t mind me poking around, but I had to find your linen closet. Everything’s pristine again.”
She looked up at him, the weakness, the fear, the pain of what she was all on her face. Oh, Jesus, he couldn’t bear it. It took everything in him not to pull her into his arms and hold her. But she’d probably freak. Not yet, not yet.
Once in bed, he said, “I don’t like you having wet hair. Where’s your blow drier?”
She fell deeply asleep with the warmth of the hot air in her ear.
When the phone rang ten minutes later, she didn’t stir. Taylor caught it on the second ring.
It was Demos, demanding to know where the hell Eden was and who the hell this was.
“This is Taylor and she’s in bed, sick with a stomach flu. Cancel whatever it is she’s supposed to do, and call back tomorrow for a progress check.”
There was silence. “Taylor? You’re really there with her? She let you stay? In her apartment?”
How truthful should he be? Demos evidently knew something. Hell, he had to know what her real name was. Maybe that was all he knew.
“Yeah, I’m really here. I’ll be here until she can take care of herself.”
“That’s a surprise,” Demos said, and Taylor could picture the incredulity on the man’s face. “It really is. So you and Eden got along, huh? I’ll tell Glen, he’ll be furious with her. He fancies you himself.”
“Give Glen my apologies.”
Demos rang off after a few more comments about how light her schedule was, so no problem.
“She told me it was because models were people too and there was simply too much tempting food around during the holidays.”
“True. Well, good luck, Taylor. Ah, listen. You take good care of her, all right? No moves on her, you got that? I’ll call tomorrow.”
“No moves, Demos.”
He looked over at her as he lowered the phone. Who are you? he wondered silently.
On Sunday she still tired easily, but felt pretty much back to normal. He’d spent both Friday and Saturday nights with her. When she awoke Sunday morning lying against him, she didn’t leap away. She stayed where she was, warm and content, because she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.
They were on the point of going out because the Sunday afternoon was bright and clear and not too cold when the phone rang. Taylor motioned for her to sit down and answered it.
“Who is this?”
“My name is Taylor and I’m a friend of Eden’s.”
“Er, Eden. Oh, I see. This is her grandmother. May I speak with her?”
He handed over the phone. Eden said nothing of consequence and he knew she didn’t because he was there and she didn’t want him to know anything about her grandmother. It angered him.
When she hung up, he said, “She sounds very nice.”
“She is.”
“Where does she live?”
She hesitated; then, “In San Francisco.”
“Is she old?”
“Very.”
“Let’s go Christmas shopping.” They went to FAO Schwarz on Fifth Avenue because Eden said she had a niece.
“What’s her name?”
“Melissa. She’s three. She lives in Italy.”
“Your sister or your brother?”
“Half-sister.”
He accepted the withdrawal. They remained in the astonishing toy store to purchase presents for his two nephews and niece in Phoenix. When he picked up a kite with a dragon tail, she laughed. “It’s wonderful. I had one just like it when I was about six years old.”
“Oh,” he said. “I thought I’d get it for myself.”
She laughed some more and he grinned like a besotted fool. They were examining teddy bears when Taylor said, “Do you want to have children?”
“Oh, yes.” Then she jerked back, striking a display. At least twenty teddy bears went flying. FAO Schwarz salespeople were known for being unflappable; this accident was nothing to them. The bears were quickly rearranged. Lindsay felt like an idiot. She saw Taylor looking at her, a clear question in his eyes, and heard herself say, “Children are wonderful, really, but all of us can’t, that is, it’s impossible, and I almost accept it, but sometimes, just sometimes it makes me sad and—”
Taylor said easily, as he carefully checked over a set of outdoor darts, “I want kids too. I didn’t realize it until recently. Men must have a biological clock as well as women, because all of a sudden I could see myself washing a station wagon, a flea-bitten dog rushing around shaking off dirty water, and three kids all hollering and climbing over me.”
“It sounds nice.”
“I guess a wife would have to be lurking about in that picture somewhere.”
“Unless you’re a biological wonder. Maybe she’s the one hosing you down.”
He set the dart set back onto the shelf and moved to the toy army tanks. “You’re still a young woman, Eden. What are you, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six.” She thought he knew that and frowned at him, wondering what he was thinking about now. He was fast and slippery as a snake, getting things out of her so effortlessly that it was terrifying.
“You’ve got lots of time. Come to think of it, I’m a young sprout myself, a mere thirty-two. Why don’t we both wait two or three more years?”
And she said, staring at the 1885 A. E. Mecklin antique train set just to her right, “All right.”
He lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her lightly, in the middle of FAO Schwarz. “Good,” he said.
She was exhausted. He was content. Together they’d spent two hundred dollars on the children’s toys, and both were delighted. On their way back to her apartment, Lindsay nearly in a stupor, Taylor, without too much difficulty got her to volunteer that she also had parents who lived in San Francisco. Progress, he thought, pleased, feeling not a bit guilty at taking advantage of her while she was still down.
She fell asleep during the Redskins–San Francisco 49ers game, once it was obvious that the Redskins would
