by Jaycee Clark
Damned bastard. “As I said, I don’t care for your ex.”
“That makes two of us, honey.”
Honey? She called him honey? Gavin smiled, caught the slight pause of her movements as she mixed the pot after what she said must have hit home. He wouldn’t mention it, let it slide. Honey. He liked that.
Gavin took a drink of his tea. What else had she been about to say? What man would want a wife who? Who what? What man wouldn’t want a woman like her?
Where in hell had that thought come from?
Didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was thinking of Taylor as his woman. Just someone’s wife. Anyone’s woman. Though, he didn’t really like that thought either. Damn.
“Hope you reamed the son of a bitch really good in the settlement.”
She shook her head and it caught the lights in the kitchen, reflecting red and gold.
He wanted to feel those strands, wanted to run his hands through those locks. They had to be as soft and silky as they looked. Had to.
Gavin grinned to himself, glancing back at the table, and saw the letter. “Poor kid. At least he has you.” With a silent curse at people who would hurt their own children, he folded the notebook page and stuffed it back in the envelope.
“Thank you,” she said, turning back to the counter.
Feet pounded down the hallway and sneakers squeaked near the doorway. Taylor whirled, probably to grab the letter, but Gavin stuffed it into his pocket just as Ryan came bursting through the doorway. Her eyes reflected her relief.
“Is dinner ready yet?” Ryan asked from the doorway. “Oh.” Ryan stopped and stared. “Hi, Gavin. What are you doing here?”
“Hi,” Gavin answered him. Taylor’s face told him she’d seen him get the letter and the stark fear he’d seen there for a split second bothered the hell out of him.
Ryan shuffled into the kitchen and Gavin stood, offering his hand to the boy. Ryan stared at it for several moments before he finally grasped it. He caught the slight hesitation. However, now that he understood some of Ryan’s past, the distance between them wasn’t that surprising either, even if they had talked several times on the phone.
The table remained between them.
“Hmm.” Ryan looked at the table, then at Gavin. “I take it you’re staying for dinner.”
Was that a question or a statement? The flat words held no emotion, so there was no way for Gavin to tell if Ryan was happy about the addition or not. “Yeah, your mom invited me. I hope that is okay. I stopped by to ask her to dinner, or rather both of you to dinner since it was last-minute, but she said dinner was in the oven.”
Ryan studied him for a minute, obviously weighing something. “I think you wanted to take Taylor out by yourself. Otherwise you wouldn’t have called so much lately.”
Smart kid. Gavin gave him a smile. “Okay, you’ve got me. I was going to see if I could take your mom out, but now looking back, that wouldn’t have been exactly right. Maybe I should’ve called and seen if you wanted to have a guys’ night out. Catch a movie, or go to the arcade or something.” What in the hell was he thinking? Arcade? He’d taken Tori, his niece, and one of her friends to an arcade once and vowed to never, ever do that again. It was exhausting keeping up with kids.
Ryan’s smile lit his entire face, the blue eyes dancing with delight. “I bet that would be lots of fun. Can Taylor come?”
Looking at Taylor, he saw a soft smile playing on her face as she studied both him and Ryan.
“All right. I suppose we can have a girl tag along. But one day it will just be us guys. Pizza, burgers, fries. Lots of root beer and junk food.”
“Cool.” Ryan plopped down in the chair beside Gavin’s. “That sounds great.”
Taylor laughed again as she removed pans from the stove, drained the contents and put them in bowls before setting the dishes on the table. She opened the fridge and grabbed a salad and dressing. Gavin, red-blooded male that he was, could do nothing but admire the way her jeans molded to her cute little derrière. With a booted foot, she kicked it closed.
Watch her all day indeed. Maybe all night too. There was a thought. More like a fantasy, one that had plagued him night and day since one Saturday evening when the waters of fate delivered her into his hands. Time to think other thoughts.
“What are the two of you doing tomorrow afternoon? Say three thirty or four?” Gavin asked, mentally calculating his last appointment, which was the one thirty. Then he had to check a couple of patients at a couple of hospitals before he was going to head up to his parents’ place this weekend. Spend some time with everyone. But he could leave later for Seneca, spend some time with Taylor and Ryan. Maybe visit a museum or something, grab a quick dinner.
Taylor looked at Ryan as she sat down. Gavin didn’t miss Ryan’s small nod.
Smiling at Ryan and then at Gavin, Taylor said, “Well, I’m off tomorrow afternoon. And after two, we’re free. We could meet you somewhere around three forty-five. I think we’re planning on a stop at the bookstore. That ought to give us plenty of time.”
Topics moved and shifted, flowed and danced through dinner. Smiles and laughter mixed with the sounds of dinner, clinks and chinks, brass and bluesy tunes from the stereo graced the meal. Gavin watched these two, wondered at their past, what he knew and what he didn’t. And while he wondered about their past, he steered himself away from their future. Or tried to.
Dinner was great. He had more fun than he could remember having in a long time. Dinners for him were more frequently alone, unless they were with his family. Though dinners used to be either business or pleasure. The latter of which had been his usual forte, getting acquainted with the sole purpose of seducing the woman with whom he dined. Of course, the women he went after and chased usually knew the rules of his game, for the most part. They recognized the signs and went mutually along.
Most, being the women they were, had to at least try to make the relationship between them more serious. After all, his name was Kinncaid, wasn’t it? Of Kinncaid Enterprises? Didn’t matter he only invested his earnings, and had little to do with his part of the family hotel business. That was more his brothers’ area. Gavin was the healer.
With Taylor, things were shifting. He just wanted to spend time with her, just . . . Well, he wasn’t exactly sure why, just because. And half the time she acted like she didn’t like him and he knew she couldn’t care less what his last name was.
Ryan started up a conversation about places to see in D.C., things he’d read about. Which, from what Gavin was learning about the boy, didn’t surprise him in the least. With Ryan it was music and books and any knowledge he could gain with the two. The kid knew more about music than he did, and Gavin always thought himself rather fairly knowledgeable in that area.
Taylor was . . . Taylor.
She captivated him. Gavin hardly tasted the food he put in his mouth, though he did know it was good. Her voice, her smile, her laughter all waltzed around him, and it wasn’t just him. He saw how Ryan held on to Taylor’s every word.
After dinner, Ryan excused himself and headed upstairs. He offered to help clean the kitchen, but Taylor told him to go on and practice his reel.
• • •
Journal Entry, June 29
Sometimes I don’t like to sleep. Sometimes I have nightmares, really bad nightmares about that night in Austin. I don’t remember all of it, and I don’t think I want to. When I wake up, I can’t quit shaking. I don’t sleep over at Jeremy’s, he’d probably think I was a baby because I like to sleep with a light on. Just in case. Just in case I have a bad dream about HER, and when I wake up, I want to see that I’m not with her anymore.
Sometimes I forget. Right when I wake up, it’s like I’m still in that dirty little apartment and I can feel my arm hurting where it broke. I do remember that. My arm felt like it was on fire. And sometimes when I wake up, my scar on my face will hurt. Just for a minute I expect Nina to be screaming at me. But then, I see my room with the posters Taylor and
I have put up and I know where I am.
I had a nightmare last night, and even after I woke up and knew where I was, I still shook and cried. I wanted to go get in bed with Taylor, and she wouldn’t have cared, or I don’t think she would have, but I didn’t.
I’m not a baby, even though sometimes I feel like one. Last night, I pulled the covers up tight around me—like that would help. Why do we do that? Grab blankets to us or over our heads? Like the material is magic or something. Like a shield that will keep the monsters away?
It doesn’t work. I know. Monsters just rip the blanket away or shred through the puny shield.
But back to last night, I had the bad dream and then stared at the model planes and space shuttle we hung from my ceiling, and the poster of the galaxies and nebulas.
The posters on my wall show places I want to see. There’s Stonehenge in England, rhinos and lions in the Kalahari, this old temple on the Isle of Crete—that’s like in that story Taylor told me about and that we read a little of about Troy and Mycenae. The last poster is one of the Great Pyramids of Egypt. There are lots of places I want to see. The pictures take my mind off my nightmares.
The light helps, but the shadows seem to whisper words from that time, that place. Things I don’t want to hear or see. So I look at my posters instead. I try to pretend I’m in those places. Sorta like a game. What’s the weather like, what the smells are, what sounds I hear. Most of the time it works, but sometimes it doesn’t. Last night it took a long time to work.
I don’t like talking about my dreams because then I have to talk about her and all that stuff that happened. Dr. Petropolis thinks that maybe I should start talking about it a bit more. Nothing big, just a little here and there.
Then, when I have bad dreams I can talk about them and just the words won’t scare me or hurt me. It all sounds really good, but I’m not ready. Not yet.
At least, I’m writing about it. That’s good, right? Like you can answer me. Sometimes this journaling thing seems dumb, but I still like it.
Taylor knew this morning that something was wrong. She just took one look at me and asked if it was a bad night and why didn’t I come wake her up?
I love it when she talks to me like that, but it confuses me too. Taylor is worried about me and work. Taylor worries a lot, about a lot of things. Work, her cases, life.
Gavin called last night and they talked for a while. I answered the phone and got to talk to him for just a bit. I like Gavin and I think he likes Taylor—well he seems to, and he called. Isn’t that what guys do? I don’t know if Taylor likes him or not. I think she probably does, but after Charles, she probably won’t admit she likes Gavin unless you point it out. I really don’t like Charles, but that’s another story. I do like Gavin. He’s funny and nice. Yeah, I like Gavin.
He came for dinner tonight. It was fun. We’re supposed to go with him tomorrow after I see Dr. Petropolis and we go to the bookstore. Gavin seemed to know lots of cool and neat places to see and visit. I want to go to the Holocaust Museum, and the Mint. Taylor wants to see some of the country. I don’t know about that, but we’ll see.
Today after Taylor got home, we just messed around the house and fixed stuff up in the yard. I wish it were a bigger yard so we could get a puppy. I’ve always wanted a puppy, but I know we can’t here. Maybe one day.
Oh, and I finished A Wrinkle in Time. That was a great book. Taylor said there are others, that it’s kinda like a series. So, if nothing else, maybe I can get another one when we can go to the bookstore tomorrow
Okay, I’m gonna practice my new Irish reel that Ms. Johnson found for me. I just got it today, but I’ve finally got the tempo down. I just miss a few notes, but I’ll get it.
• • •
Gavin and Taylor cleaned the kitchen, talking, joking, laughing. Having her this close, it was damn hard not to kiss her. With most women he wouldn’t have cared, but Taylor was different. She was as likely to bite or shove him as kiss him.
With Taylor, Gavin just wanted to know things about her, what she was thinking or doing. There was also Ryan. Gavin kept thinking about how the boy had stated he was going up to practice before taking a shower.
Very self-sufficient kid, but then he would have needed to be, wouldn’t he? Gavin remembered he, and probably all of his brothers, balking at the thought of bedtime, let alone a shower. But then again, he and his brothers never had a mother who scarred them either.
Gavin leaned against the doorway watching as Taylor rifled through a cabinet. That same familiar reel from earlier danced down the stairs.
“Is he always like that?” he asked her.
Taylor lit a candle set in a tin can, vanilla from the scent of it. “Yes. Very helpful. Never arguing. Something I want to talk to Dr. Petropolis about. I never really noticed it before. What I wouldn’t give for a good ‘I don’t want to,’ or a simple ‘no.’ But Ryan never does that.”
“You have yourself a little adult.” Gavin held his hand out to her as she made her way to him.
She took it, and just like before, like all the other times their skin had met, lightning seemed to jump-start his system. Blood raced and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Just one quick kiss to see how she tasted—or how she reacted.
God knew she smelled like honeysuckle, and Gavin wondered if she tasted as sweet as he remembered the nectar of those flowers tasting. Probably. Instead of pulling her to him as he badly wanted to do, he simply held her hand, studying the paleness of hers fingers held snugly in his tanned palm. A gentle hand. Taylor was grace, a slow sort of grace that seemed absent from other women he dated. It was in the way she moved, as easy as water over stones. It simply was. But the steel was there too. That driven determination to make things better.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I should probably go. I’ve got an early morning.” Though, right now he couldn’t have cared less if he had a dawn surgery scheduled. “Thanks for dinner. I had a great time.”
Their footfalls echoed down the hallway, past the stairwell to the door. He’d noticed the comforting feel of her place before, but it hit him again standing here in her entry, looking into her living room. The walls were a warm red, not bright or overbearing, but muted and dusted so that the whitewashed woodwork stood out against the walls. Pictures hung on the walls. In the living room, the walls were the same. The furniture there wasn’t for show or pretenses, but for use. Deep denim couches, their cushions plush, sat facing each other. Red pillows were tossed haphazardly in the corners. He liked her taste in things.
“Great place, too, by the way.”
“Thank you,” she answered. “I’m glad you could stay. I’m sorry you have to go so early. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of coffee or something?”
Her tea was strong enough he wouldn’t need any coffee any time soon. He only smiled. “No, thank you. I really should get going. I had a wonderful time.”
The sultry night air was alive with sounds only noticed when darkness settled. Electrical lines hummed with a slight buzz. Dogs barked somewhere down the street and a cat hissed and howled as Gavin stepped out onto the porch, humidity lapping against him. He heard Taylor flip the light switch but nothing happened.
“Sorry, I guess it’s out.”
“You have a bulb?” He could change it before he left.
Taylor shook her head, her dimples causing his blood to almost boil. Her hand was still in his. “No. I need to get some.”
The darkness surrounded them, the only light from the entry window and what spilled through the door.
He circled the back of her hand with his thumb and felt her shiver. What the hell.
“Just as well,” he whispered, pulling her slowly to him. In the dim light her eyes looked darker. “You’re contrary and sometimes I don’t think you like me very much. For some masochistic reason, I like that about you. I like you, Taylor. Have I mentioned that?”
“Uh . . . No.” Her voice, when she whispered, reminded him of silk stockings being
removed in the dark—sexy as hell, almost dangerous.
“No? Well, that’s something I need to clear up then.” Just one taste. One simple taste.
He leaned in and set his lips to hers. Her lips were warm and smooth beneath his. Soft as satin. Honeysuckle, there it was again.
A simple taste would not suffice. She was shorter than he, considerably, but then most women were. She must have stood on tiptoe but he could feel all of her against him. She tightened her hold on his hand, and wound her other arm around his neck, a sigh from her mingled on the edge of his mouth, moist and heated.
Gavin licked the corner of her mouth with his tongue even as his other arm wound around her back and he lost his hand in all that long silky hair.
She sighed again and he angled his head to deepen the kiss. He had to taste more of her. Honey and salt, fire and ice. Taylor was a delicious dessert made with contrasting flavors. Their tongues danced and mingled as they both held the other on her darkened porch to the music of a practicing fiddle.
Something . . . some unidentifiable feeling swirled in his gut. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced and nothing he wanted to forget.
Finally, he pulled away, rested his forehead against hers. “I should go.”
“Hmm . . .”
Her response had him smiling. She seemed so in control all the time that when she wasn’t, he found it cute and wonderful. “Are we still on for tomorrow?” he asked her.
“Tomorrow?”
This time his grin allowed a chuckle out. Definitely not in control now, was she.
“Tomorrow afternoon. Ryan. You.” He glanced at her lips. “Me.”
