Okay, he thought, she’d probably been raped. And she’d been in Paris in April nine years ago. He could check that out—French newspapers, magazines—to see if what had happened to her had happened there. He had a war to win and he couldn’t afford to have niggling scruples, not anymore. “Are you remembering how I slept with you for two nights? Are you remembering how you woke up in my arms?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t try anything, did I?”
“Maybe you were afraid I’d vomit on you.”
He grinned at that. “Could be, but I don’t think so. I was hard as a rock all night. I’m talking about my penis, in case you don’t know. But, Eden, it didn’t matter and it won’t matter. I would never do anything to hurt you, and that includes forcing any kind of sex on you that you don’t want.”
“Stop, Taylor, just stop! It’s not that. It’s just that I can’t—I know what you—that all men want sex and they want it often, but I can’t, I just can’t—”
“Not now,” he said easily. “No problem. I’m not blind or stupid, Eden. I have known for a good while that you don’t want to have anything to do with me, woman to man. No, don’t look so surprised. I won’t lie to you. In fact, it would be stupid for me to try to lie to you because when I kiss you, I know you can feel how hard I am, especially when you’re wearing your high heels. And we’re not just nose to nose. We’re everything to everything. It drives me crazy. I want you so bad I hurt with it. But I’m not a raving hormonal teenage boy, nor am I a macho fool. I want you the woman, not just your body. Can you possibly understand that?”
No, he saw, quickly enough, she didn’t understand that.
“No matter. We’ll work on it.”
She made a move to thrust the ring box toward him; then, just as quickly, she drew it back again. He was greatly pleased with the show of indecision.
“The ring is yours, Eden, just as I am also yours. You toss the ring away and I’m tossed away with it. You keep it, you also keep me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Listen to me, I’ve got an offer.” He sat back against the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked very big, very strong, very much a man, and she found herself, having focused on that, pulling back.
“You can go in the other room if it makes you feel any safer,” Taylor said mildly. “Is this position frightening you? No, okay, then. Ah, you’re looking surprised again. I know you, at least I’m coming to know you more every day. I have to walk on egg shells around you. Well, it’s tough and I’m getting tired of it, so I propose that we come to grips with things.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still here? You’ve decided to show some courage? You’re sure I won’t jump on you?”
“Stop it, damn you!” She picked up the box that had held his portable phone and threw it at him. It hit him square on the chin.
“Good shot. Thank God you didn’t break it. Here’s my offer: I want to move in with you tomorrow. We’ll be roommates, not lovers. We’ll be as close as any two people can be without having sex. No sex, Eden, no sex until you’re ready. That’s a promise.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“With you. Just like we did those two nights.”
Her brow furrowed and she was chewing on her lower lip. Good, he thought, just maybe I’ve got her.
“That would mean you’d discover all my bad habits,” she said.
“I’ve got bunches myself. We’d be in this together. Do you floss every morning or every night?”
“Night.”
“I’m morning. Do you snore like a pig?”
“I don’t know,” she said with perfect seriousness. “I’ve never heard myself. Do you?”
“Only when I’m stressed out or dog-tired. I run three mornings a week and work out at Mueller’s Gym up on Sixty-sixth another two days. I won’t get fat on you. I’m also a pretty good cook.”
“I won’t get fat either,” she said.
“Yeah, but is that through personal commitment or because you have to starve yourself to make a living? Will you get fat when you stop modeling?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve never had a problem before.”
He smiled at her. “Good. I think we’ve got all the bases covered.”
“I don’t cook very well.”
“No problem. Since you don’t eat, why bother learning? I do great things with lettuce and tofu and pork chops.”
“All right.”
“Give me the ring.” He held out his hand.
She handed him the box.
He pulled the exquisite ring from its bed. “Give me your left hand.”
She hesitated, and he just waited, his hand still out, palm up.
She thrust her left hand at him. He held the beautiful ring out, staring down at it as he slid it on her finger. It was a tight fit, a very tight fit, and she had to help him, wincing as she forced it over her knuckle. He’d rather thought a size five would do the trick.
“Good, it’ll be a real pain to get the thing off. If you’re ever really pissed at me and want to throw it in my face, you’ll have trouble doing it immediately, in the heat of passion, so to speak. That, sweetheart, will give you time to cool down and me to talk you out of your snit.”
“You’re miraculous, Taylor. You’re also a devious smart-ass.”
“Tell me more. Come here now, I want to hug you.”
She came between his legs, stretched out, and leaned back against his chest, and his arms came around her waist. He kissed the top of her head. “You are now my fiancee. It’s official. How does that sound?”
“Miraculous.”
He laughed, pulled her hair back, and bit her earlobe.
“Taylor? Why don’t you stay tonight?”
He wondered if she was pressed close to him to feel how hard he was. “All right,” he said. “We’ve got our Christmas stocking for tomorrow morning. It’ll be nice not to have to come trudging over here in the cold and snow at seven o’clock in the morning. This way, we can sit in bed, drink cocoa, and attack the stockings whenever we feel like it.”
“I can’t imagine it,” she said, her voice low and just slightly bewildered and disbelieving.
“I can,” he said, and kissed her earlobe. “Now I can imagine it very easily.”
“The last time I had a Christmas stocking, I was eleven years old.”
“Oh, yeah? You want a real sob story? The last time anyone gave me a Christmas stocking, I was in the police academy and it was my instructor. Mean bugger, my instructor. Lots of wrapped goodies—things like hand grenades, tear-gas canisters, a toy gun, bullets, handcuffs, you wouldn’t believe those handcuffs, all fur-lined—Lord, she was something else, my instructor, especially with those handcuffs. Her name was Marlene ‘Ball Buster’ Jakoby and she was—”
Lindsay turned and hit him as hard as she could in the stomach. “Handcuffs!”
“Yes, ma’am, I was a slave for a day. It wasn’t bad though—the handcuffs were lined with this really soft material.”
She looked thoughtful and Taylor groaned.
15
They saw in Christmas Day, but only just. At ten minutes after midnight, Taylor looked at her and gave a big yawn. Tomorrow morning, early, was Christmas stockings. They needed their sleep. He held out his hand to her as he rose.
She tentatively placed her hand in his, stood up, pulled down her loose wine-colored sweater, and said, trying
