A New Foundation

by Rochelle Alers

  “Now you’re being facetious, Taylor.”

  “Am I? Aren’t you all of those adjectives?”

  A beat passed. “I am.”

  “If you are, then own it, sweetheart.”

  Sonja met his eyes. “Do you realize this is the second time you’ve called me sweetheart.”

  “Really?” Taylor hadn’t realized the endearment had just slipped out. And he had to ask himself if he wanted Sonja to be his sweetheart and the answer was a resounding yes. She was everything he liked in a woman. Her beauty aside, he was drawn to her intelligence and confidence.

  “Yes, really, Taylor. Do you call all your women sweetheart?”

  “No, because I don’t have any women. I’m sorry, it was just a slip of the tongue.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  He couldn’t tell Sonja that his father had always called his mother sweetheart and she probably would’ve thought it creepy that he was doing the same thing to her. As a young boy Taylor had been confused because he’d thought her name Elise, and when he’d asked Conrad why he’d called her that he said it was because she was the sweetest woman he’d ever known and he’d given her his heart.

  Taylor recalled the time when he’d first come to live with Conrad and Elise Williamson and found their behavior strange. He’d watched Conrad stare at his wife with what he would interpret once he entered adolescence as longing and lustful stares. Conrad would rest a hand at the small of her back, and when he suspected no one was looking, his hand would slip lower to cradle her hips. Blushing, Elise would whisper in his ear and he would remove his hand. He’d known his parents loved each other unconditionally and that love was transferred to the children they’d fostered and then legally adopted. Elise had always professed she would fight like a lioness protecting her cubs if anyone attempted to harm her children, and it was apparent her attitude was the same when she professed her displeasure toward Patrick’s fiancée.

  “Tell me about your parents,” Sonja said after a comfortable silence.

  Taylor wondered if Sonja could read his mind. “They were insanely in love,” he said quietly after a moment. “I never heard my father raise his voice to my mother even when he was angry. He would walk away, leaving her talking to empty air. Then they would be lovey-dovey, acting as if nothing happened.”

  “Is that why you don’t yell?”

  “Yes, Sonja. Yelling and screaming never solves anything. What it does is make a bad situation worse and can only lead to unwarranted hostility.”

  Sonja locked eyes with him when he came to a stop at a red light. “Are you talking about me and my uncle?”

  “Yes. I think you misinterpreted what he’d said to me. What if I were a psychopath masquerading as an engineer to lure young women to a place where I’d torture and kill them?”

  Sonja laughed. “It’s apparent you watch shows depicting kidnapping, murder and mayhem.”

  “Don’t laugh, Sonja, because it happens every day in every large and small city around the world.”

  “The difference is you’re not a psychopath, and if you were then my former NYPD uncle and my active duty Special Forces brother would bypass the legal system and take you out.”

  “You wouldn’t know that if you were dead. And maybe it was because your uncle was a cop and had taken the pledge to protect and serve that he felt the need to say what he did to me.”

  Sonja wanted to tell Taylor that he was being an alarmist, that she had nothing to fear from him. But when she thought about what her uncle had said to Taylor, she realized it was the first time Nelson had seen her with a man since she’d moved in with him and his wife. She hadn’t revealed the intimate details of her failed marriage to anyone except Viola. She had trusted her friend to be neutral, unlike her father and brother, who probably would’ve confronted Hugh and made a bad situation worse. She’d told her parents that her marriage wasn’t working because she’d felt like more of a daughter than a wife to her much older husband, and decided to file for divorce.

  “You’re probably right about my uncle.”

  “I know I’m right.”

  “I suppose I should call him and apologize.”

  “I agree.”

  “There’s no need for you to act so smug, Taylor,” she countered. “I’ll have to call him later because I put my cell phone in the carry-on bag.”

  Taylor tapped the navigation screen. “My number is synced to Bluetooth. You can call him from here.”

  She tapped in Nelson’s number. It rang twice before he picked up. “What’s the matter?”

  Sonja registered fear in her uncle’s strident query. “Nothing is the matter, tío. I’m using Taylor’s cell because mine is in one of the bags. I’m calling to apologize for screaming at you. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

  “There’s no need to apologize, muñeca. I’ve forgotten about it.”

  “Well, if you have, then it is the same with me. Te quiero.”

  “Yo también te quiero.”

  “What does muñeca mean?” Taylor asked after she’d ended the call.

  “Doll. My uncle has always called me that.”

  “Would it bother you if I called you muñeca?”

  “What happened to sweetheart?” she teased, smiling.

  “What if I use them interchangeably?”

  Sonja sobered because she felt they were about to embark on something neither needed nor possibly wanted. Especially not her. She couldn’t afford to become involved with someone she had to see and work with every day. Taylor Williamson was too potent a man for her to completely ignore. There were times when he looked at her and she felt as if he could see beyond the wall she’d erected to keep men out of her life; that her lips professed one thing while her celibate body screamed for her to sleep with a man, if only to assuage the frustration she’d denied for far too long. She’d filled her spare time with work, reading romance novels and watching television programming dedicated to love and romance. And she’d been successful until coming face-to-face with her best friend’s brother.

  Even if she was able to dismiss his gorgeous face and body, it was his soothing and calming voice, intelligence and down-to-earth personality that drew her in and refused to let her go. And his wealth never factored into the equation that he was a certified trifecta.

  At that moment Sonja realized she was tired. Tired of pretending that she did not need a man, when she wanted a relationship where she was treated as an equal and not an ornament or trophy taken out and put on display whenever it suited her partner. Taylor had offered to be her friend, and not seeing him for many weeks made her aware that she wanted more than friendship. And she knew she had to be the first to thrown down the gauntlet to ascertain whether he would be receptive.

  “It wouldn’t bother me if you called me doll or sweetheart.” She knew she’d shocked him when his foot suddenly hit the brake, the SUV coming to a complete stop in the middle of the street, followed by a cacophony of blaring horns. Her heart was pumping a runaway rhythm when she realized they could’ve been rear-ended by the car behind them. “Taylor, you’re holding up traffic.”

  He eased off the brake and resumed driving. He took his right hand off the wheel and covered her left, resting on her thigh, brought it to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “I believe we’re going to have a lot of fun working together.”

  Sonja had fought the dynamic vitality he’d exuded effortlessly and failed. “You think?”

  Taylor winked at her. “I know.”

  He’d said the two words with such confidence that it buoyed hers. They had time, at least a year, to discover where their friendship would take them.

  Chapter Seven

  With wide eyes, Sonja stared at the gatehouse. “Isn’t this where your mother lives?” she asked Taylor. He’d told her his mother owned a condo in a gated community.

  “No. Her
condo is in Sparta. It’s about thirteen miles south of here.”

  Taylor decelerated and then came to a complete stop at the gatehouse. He lowered the driver’s-side window and spoke to the man inside the enclosure. She couldn’t hear what they were saying. The attendant leaned down and peered in at Sonja. Smiling, he waved to her, and she returned his wave with one of her own.

  The gate rose smoothly, and Taylor drove through, following a paved road to an enclave of two-story farmhouse structures with broad porches, second-floor balconies and attached garages. There were signposts along the road indicating the direction to shops, the recreation center, movie theater and restaurant.

  “How did you find this place?” Sonja asked.

  “I contacted a Realtor, who told me the developer was having a problem selling units, and rather than leave them vacant he’d opted to lease a few. From what I’ve seen of the development I think you’ll enjoy living here.”

  “I like what I see. It appears I won’t have to leave to shop for food or eat out.” She paused. “Do you know why it has been difficult to sell all the units?”

  “Personally, I believe even with the number of on-site amenities they’re overpriced. Folks could buy a four-or five-bedroom home in the Poconos built on half an acre for a lot less than these two-and three-bedrooms.”

  “How much does a three-bedroom go for?”

  “Why? Are you thinking of buying one?”

  Sonja shook her head. “Not hardly. If I was going to purchase property, it wouldn’t be in the middle of nowhere even with on-site amenities. However, if I were looking to downsize later in life, then maybe I would consider it.”

  “Are you saying you couldn’t see yourself living at Bainbridge House?”

  “I could if I was a docent.”

  Taylor pulled into the driveway to a house at the end of a street and shut off the engine. “Bainbridge House is not going to be a museum.”

  Shifting on her seat, Sonja turned and gave Taylor a long, penetrating stare. “It could be a hotel and a museum. I told you before that I have some ideas about the property, so if you want we can talk about it after I settle in.”

  Taylor unsnapped his belt. “Okay. Why don’t you take a few days to get used to your surroundings before you begin working.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve scheduled interviews for several days this week.”

  She nodded. “I’d like to ask a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to go through the trunks during my downtime.”

  “You want me to bring them here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure, Sonja?”

  “Yes, I am sure.” She had carefully enunciated each word. “After spending hours attempting to identify the period and style of a particular plate, fork or candlestick, examining the contents of the trunks will be like a breath of fresh air.” Sonja didn’t tell Taylor that she was curious to uncover additional information about the original owners of the historic house. Old letters, journals, bills of sale were helpful when authenticating items.

  “I’ll bring them over later tonight.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you, sir.”

  Taylor smiled. “You’re welcome, ma’am. Let’s go inside so you can check out your new digs.”

  Sonja stared, tongue-tied, as she surveyed the open floor plan of the house that was to become a place she could call home. White walls, with creamy upholstered furniture, heightened the illusion of openness in the living, dining, and family rooms, which made the space appear even larger. White cabinets, yellow and cornflower blue tiles, and cobalt blue countertops and colorful accessories created a cheerful mood in the contemporary kitchen. The classic combination of blue and white was timeless and was repeated in throw pillows, area rugs and the dining area chair seat cushions.

  Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at Taylor. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” And for Sonja it was perfect. Move-in ready with a large wall-mounted television and audio components in the family room and under-cabinet radio in the kitchen.

  He moved closer and put an arm around her waist. “I was hoping you would like it.”

  “Of course, I like it.”

  “It’s one of two two-bedroom model units.”

  Moving into the condo would signal a significant change in Sonja’s life. It would be the first time in twenty years she would live independently of others. First, she’d lived on base with her parents; then she’d shared an off-campus apartment with a roommate before marrying Hugh and moving into his house. During their separation she’d gone from her husband’s house to her parents’ retirement home in the Adirondack Mountains to heal and plan the next phase of what had been her tumultuous life. And once she decided to return to college, it wasn’t in Boston, but in New York City, where she’d moved in with her aunt and uncle.

  Taylor kissed her hair. “I’m going back to the car to bring your bags in.”

  “And I’m going upstairs to see the rest of the place.”

  Sonja felt as if she was walking on air as she climbed the staircase to the second story. The condo contained two bedrooms: one master and another smaller one she could use as an office. The master had a sitting area and an en suite bath. She thought of the bedroom as a romantic retreat with voluminous pale silk drapes covering floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding doors with built-in blinds that opened out to the balcony. She focused her attention on a king-size four-poster mahogany bed. The bed linens, with layers of pillows in differing patterns, repeated the first floor’s blue-and-white palette. A creamy-white armchair with a matching footstool, close to a small round mahogany table in the seating area, was the perfect place for her to kick back and relax before retiring for bed.

  Sonja left the master suite and walked into the bedroom across the hall, wondering if Taylor had chosen this unit because he’d believed she would like the colors and furnishings. Suddenly she recalled his preference for blues and grays while she preferred earth tones. Had he, she mused, selected this unit because of his affinity for blue? She recalled the exquisitely tailored royal blue suit he’d worn during their initial meeting at The Cellar.

  The decorating style in the smaller bedroom was Swedish country with wood furniture painted in tones of white. The decorator differed from the classic approach by including French provincial and country influences. Duvets in a toile de Jouy pattern covered twin beds with off-white headboards, and white linens and a crocheted bed skirt beneath the duvets artfully corroborated the Swedish theme of elegant white. A table and chair next to a blue-and-white-checkered upholstered chair and ottoman would do double duty as her desk. Sonja had walked out of the bedroom when she spied Taylor coming up the staircase carrying her Pullman.

  He had removed a sweatshirt to reveal a tee stamped with a college logo; it hugged his muscular upper body like second skin, and her mouth went dry when Sonja realized she was lusting after a man with whom she would have to work closely over the next year. And she didn’t need anyone to tell her that she was being a hypocrite. Taylor was her boss and he’d offered friendship, but for Sonja that wasn’t enough. She wanted more and the more translated into what had been missing in her life even before she’d considered ending her marriage: intimacy. The very notion of her wanting to sleep with Taylor shook her to the core.

  “Where do you want me to put this?” Taylor asked her.

  She blinked slowly as if coming out of a trance. “You can put it in the master. I’ll go and get the other bags.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll bring them up.”

  She wasn’t about to argue with him. “I’m going downstairs to get my cell and bag from the carry-on. Then you can put it in the other bedroom.” Sonja knew she had to put some space between them for a few minutes if only to regain control of her fragile emotions.

  Smiling, Taylor
executed a snappy salute. “Okay, boss lady.”

  “Yeah, right,” she drawled, trying not to smile. Sonja discovered the two bags at the foot of the staircase and removed her cell phone and cross-body from the carry-on.

  Taylor returned and hoisted the two bags, his biceps bulging from the exertion. “After I come down I’ll give you a key card for the house, fob for your car and the corporate credit card. I’ll hang onto the extra key card and fob in case you either lose or misplace them. There’s a remote device under the visor that will allow you access at the gatehouse.”

  Sonja nodded. She wanted to tell Taylor she’d never lost or misplaced her keys, but if it made him feel more secure then she wasn’t going to argue with him. Walking into the kitchen, she opened the French-door refrigerator. It was empty except for a box of baking soda. Sonja opened the cabinets, finding them empty, and then a door in a far corner of the kitchen and discovered a pantry and half bathroom. A stackable washer and dryer were set up behind café doors.

  She detected movement behind her and turned to find Taylor standing only feet away. Her heartbeat kicked into a higher gear.

  “You can’t do that,” she said in a breathless whisper.

  “Do what?”

  “Sneak up on me.”

  Crossing muscular arms over his chest, Taylor smiled at her. “Sorry about that. Next time I’ll make some noise.”

  Sonja blew out a breath. “Thanks. I need to go food shopping to stock the fridge and the pantry, and also buy plates, cups, glasses and flatware.”

  Taylor held out his hand. “Come with me. I have to pull my car out the driveway before you can get yours out of the garage.”

  “What did you get me?”

  He winked at her. “You’ll see.”

  Sonja doubled over laughing hysterically when Taylor tapped the button on the automatic garage opener and she saw the vehicle he’d leased for her. It was an Infiniti QX50—the smallest model of the QX SUVs.

  “I can’t believe you got the same style and color as yours.”