by Rachel Hanna
She gave him a great big sunny smile. "Great!" And then, even though they'd both been going down (and why had he been on the elevator already when they'd started at the same floor? But she wasn't going to wonder that, just be happy about it) she got out on the 10th floor.
Even though she didn't need to be there. And he'd been the one to push the button. If she stayed, she had to ride all the way down with him and she'd spontaneously combust from a lethal combination of lust and embarrassment.
"Great!" she said again and waved. Again.
The door started to slide shut.
"Wait!" she said, and jammed her hand between the doors.
"Wait!" he said from his side, and jammed his fist between the doors.
They stared at each other from either side of the elevator.
"I don't have any way to contact you," he said.
"You don't have my number," she said.
He reached a hand toward her, like he meant to entreaty the contact information or stop the door again or something, she didn't know what, and she took it.
This time she was thinking.
She wrapped her fingers around his and held on.
He used her hand to pull her back into the elevator. The doors closed and the elevator didn't move.
Still holding her hand with his left, he reached up his right hand and cupped her cheek, brushed some of her hair away from her face and leaned down, his eyes watching hers until he was so close she shut her eyes instinctively.
His mouth on hers was hot, tasted of cinnamon and mint, and just the littlest touch of beard stubble grazed her lower lip as he kissed her, soft as a caress at first, then harder until he took her mouth, covered it with his own, and she reached her arms up, around his neck, holding on like he was still rescuing her, pulling her from the wildfire that now burned inside her. The elevator started working again and he stumbled back a step, pulling her with him so her body pressed up against his, Taylor feeling the rock hard abs, the thick muscle of his chest, the warmth of the hand against her face, the heat of his mouth as he parted her lips, just a little, his tongue seeking hers.
She molded herself to him, not caring where they were or who could see them or why the elevator had just gone back down to what felt like the first floor. She kissed him hard, no doubt this time she was kissing him back, she felt his mouth in her toes, throughout all the nerves that made her back muscles feel electric, made her fingers curl into each other where her hands linked behind his neck.
A distant voice said, "I'll take the next one," sounding as if the speaker were laughing.
The doors closed. One of Tanner's hands went away from her back where it had been holding her, leaving her feeling cold and bereft, and she felt the elevator jerk in compliance with his order, ascending again, and she laughed into the kiss, feeling warm and happy, sexy and definitely rescued.
The doors opened on the 10th floor. They both turned, Tanner leaning against the wall of the lift, Taylor leaning into him, and looked into the empty medical building hallway.
"Doesn't this thing go any higher?" Tanner asked.
Taylor said, "The building doesn't, so probably best."
"No need to be logical," he said, and kissed her again, this time softly, with a finality that said he was planning to be well behaved for the trip back down.
Taylor didn't approve, but she stepped back and adjusted her shirt, which had ridden up. There wasn't much she could do for her curls and she could feel they were out of control. She ran her hands through her hair and hoped for the best.
The elevator touched down. All Tanner had to do with that nearly buzz-cut black hair and t-shirt and jeans was tug the t-shirt a little smoother. The doors slid open. There was an impatient, harried looking woman standing with two boys. When she saw them, she grinned, winked at Taylor, and stepped into the car. Taylor and Tanner stepped out and watched as the doors closed and the elevator ascended.
"There's more than one elevator in this place," Tanner said, looking around. There were three in the alcove they'd been deposited in.
Taylor blushed again. Damned Nordic coloring. "I believe she was waiting to see what happened when the elevator came back again."
He nodded thoughtfully. "She had children younger than eighteen with her. R rating. Kind of a risk."
Taylor sputtered laughter. "Let me give you my cell number. You can text me." Did that sound too pushy? Oh, fuck it, nothing had been normal about this yet.
He nodded, entered her info, gave her his, then said, "In light of how bad I am at this, would it be out of line to just ask you out for tonight?"
"You're better at it than you think," she said, and licked her lips. She could still taste him. "It's Monday."
He nodded. "And the significance of that is?"
"Non traditional day for dates?" she suggested. Because she didn't want to go out with him? What was wrong with her? Other than wanting to seem cool and kind of whatever blasé.
"And so far our contacts have been so traditional," he said deadpan, echoing her thoughts. "I could text you."
"From right here?" Because that sounded like what he was suggesting.
Tanner pulled his phone out as they walked toward the shining glass doors leading to the parking lot. Sun glared blindingly into the building where the polished floors on the first floor were mirror smooth. "Sure. That's traditional."
"I could make you dinner," she said. She'd been planning to make dinner for Jessie, and had some beautiful halibut that shouldn't sit for too long. In her experience, even refrigerated it took very little time before halibut became something Monster would like to roll in.
"Not traditional." And just as she thought he might be carrying that too far he said, "So let me take you out. You might find after one date you'd rather feed me to something than feed me. Besides, I rescued you. That means I'm responsible for you." He opened the doors for her and she stepped out into the warmth of the summer's day.
Just his words, teasing and silly, made her flush with pleasure. Warding off more incoherence, she said, "And you're responsible for the Monster." When he tilted his head, narrowing those beautiful blue eyes, she added, "My lab? Big black nose, tail that destroys things?" And then felt stupider than ever. She needed to get out of there. Head off to work. She'd told them she had a doctor's appointment and since Boring World cared more about billable client hours than strict 9 to 5, that should be OK. But work was preferable to continuing to make a fool of herself.
Because by tonight you'll be all suave and stuff.
That was the hope.
"Gotta run," she said. "It was nice running into you." She gave "running into" a little emphasis and got a smile in return. He held up his phone, presumably meaning he'd text her, and Taylor threw herself into her car and escaped.
She stopped two buildings over, hopefully hidden in the crowded parking lot so Tanner wouldn't drive by and see her being all seventh grade about things, and from there she called Jessie, who was already at work at her own version of Boring World.
"You have got to help me, I have to be suave and sane by tonight, and I can't cook you dinner after all," she said. Pretty much all one word.
"Good morning to you, too, and sure, who doesn't want to help the friend who is no longer feeding one?"
"You don't even like halibut."
"That's what you were making? Cool. I'll help. Where are you going and what help do you need and by 'sane' and 'by tonight,' are you kidding?"
"No. Not kidding. Search and rescue guy from Saturday. In elevator. In medical building. I ended up talking like I'm completely crazy. Date tonight. Have to chill. I have got to chill. Help me!"
They'd been friends since high school. Jessie dissected the incoherent request and started asking questions like someone doing a threat assessment. "The pilot? Hon, there is no way to chill if you're going out with him, he is rock god status. OK, and what do you mean, tonight? It's Monday."
"Check. He knows that. Doesn't care."
"Wh
ere are you going tonight?"
"Don't know."
"Good, I can see we're starting with top notch information. So you don't know what to wear."
Taylor made a sound of abject despair.
"Sorry," Jessie said. "Clearly I'm not helping. What do you mean, medical building? Why were you in a medical building? What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing's wrong with me. I was volunteering."
Jessie's silence meant she was deciding whether to pursue that or leave it for another time. What she came up with was, "With him?"
"What?"
"Were you volunteering with him? Meaning you're going to be search and rescue now?"
"Why would I go to a medical building to do that?"
"Just searching for a thread. OK, you were in a medical building because?"
So Taylor told her, climbing out of her car midway through to stand in the sun. Monday morning drive time had ended. She'd have an easy drive to work. Jessie talked her through possible dates, warned her not to talk about the dog all night, suggested outfits and that Taylor might want to at least ask where they were going before he arrived, partly because that was a logical sane person thing to do and would give her direction on how to dress. And partly because no matter how hot he was, single girls asked where they were going and left word with the friend they were no longer cooking halibut for. And finally she said she had to get off the phone, because her boss was going to wonder if she didn't come out of the bathroom soon, so good luck and try not to talk much.
"Grr," Taylor said.
"You're welcome," Jessie laughed.
And Taylor, her stomach full of butterflies and anticipation, headed finally to work.
Chapter Ten
In the end, she didn't have to worry about what she was going to wear. Tanner texted her and asked if she wanted to go for a walk on the beach or a run, and then share a picnic of cold chicken, grapes, wine – or was she more the pizza kind of girl?
And Taylor, thinking of her abs compared to his, decided to forego her favorite meal said the chicken route sounded great and what could she bring?
"You," he said, calling her a minute later when her heart had begun to pound because he wasn't texting her back fast enough.
They sat on towels by the water, watching the sun pancake itself into the Pacific. The wind off the water was just turning cool as the summer day drained away. The beach wasn't deserted but they didn't have a lot of company.
Taylor, drinking white wine, and sparingly, wore a long tan skirt, a pink shell top, and, currently, his big burly gray sweatshirt because Tanner said he wasn't cold.
"So is your family military?" she asked. Living in San Diego, there were sailors and SEALs all over the place but she'd never thought much about it. Her family had been solidly white collar, she and her sister still were, and Taylor herself wasn't completely pro armed forces. It seemed like a lifestyle she didn't understand.
"None of them, actually," Tanner said, leaning back with his arms braced, his legs out in front of him. His triceps looked like they could cut glass. His hair was getting longer. If he let it grow, would it be soft? "My dad's a professor of economics. My brother Tucker works in advertising."
"Are you close to your brother?" Idly she licked the spoon she'd been using on the yogurt he'd brought for dessert. Now she realized his attention was fixed on her mouth. She pretended not to notice and watched him over the bowl of the spoon.
Tanner cleared his throat, seeming to force himself back to the question. "Kind of. We're twins."
For a delirious second Taylor wondered what it would be like to be pressed between two Tanners. Next instant she knew it would never happen. There was something sweet about this guy, this huge Navy SEAL, all buff and military, polite in bearing but with something underneath that made her think in an emergency, like the wildfire? There was no one better to have on her side. It was an undercurrent of not arrogance but self assurance. He knew who he was and she thought he knew what he wanted. Straight forward and probably capable of lightning fast decisions and violence when necessary.
At the same time, he'd been wrong footed in the elevator. Not like Taylor herself, but he'd been uncertain, like he really did think he was bad at the social interaction and the asking out of girls he was already kissing in elevators. There was something about him that made her think he'd be secretly hurt by any glib reference to twins and sex, not that she was ready to make quips about sex, but she thought there would never be a time he wasn't hurt by something like that, no matter how innocent the quip or long the relationship.
She liked that. She hoped she wasn't wrong about it.
She still couldn't help asking, because damn, he was fine and the prospect of two of them? Nature wasn't usually that generous.
"There's two of you?"
He smirked. "Yes. He's actually a clone. My parents thought I was a terribly clumsy child and commissioned an extra – oof!" he exclaimed when she bowled him over, perching on top of him, pretending to threaten.
"As if I could hurt you!" Or pin him down. But she held his hands over his head once he'd pretended her launching herself at him had had sent him flying over backwards, and then didn't know what to do with him.
Tanner knew. He surged up beneath her and rolled her easily so he cradled her in his arms, looking down into her eyes, his full of laughter. They turned serious as he brushed her hair back from her face, kissed her forehead, kissed her mouth briefly, then lay back on the beach towel, pulling her with him so her head rested on his shoulder. With his free hand he pointed up. "See that cluster of stars? That's the constellation of star-crossed lovers."
Taylor looked, even knowing the sky was still light, the sun hadn't completely set. "There are no stars, Tanner."
"I see them," he said, rising to look down at her again. This time the kiss was anything but brief. His lips pressed into hers, his mouth insistent, until she was kissing one lip, their mouths intertwined, her lips capturing his plump lower lip, his teeth grazing hers, their tongues just touching, hot and tasting of wine and salt air. He ran one hand into her hair, traced the thumb down her face, forehead and cheekbone to jawline, up her chin to stroke along her lower lip as his mouth pulled away, then brushing into her mouth even as his mouth found her jawline, her throat, the hollow in her collarbone. Her head tilted back, lengthening her throat, her hands stroked his face, thumbs outlining, fingertips finding purchase behind his neck to pull him closer to her.
Against her closed lids, the first strike of lightning was blue fire. Taylor gasped, her eyes flying open, met Tanner's gaze as he laughed, delighted, his voice raised over the thunder as he said, "We're going to have to make a run for it!"
"And here I thought it was the kiss!"
They bundled the remains of everything into the beach sheet, tumbling it all, making sure of keys and shoes and running even as the first cold drops of rain hit them. They were laughing by the time they got to his Jeep, the rain now torrential, a cannonade on the hardtop of the Jeep. They clambered inside, laughing the minute they slapped the doors on the storm, hovering together to stare out the rain-streaked windshield at the ocean as the silvery rain caught the last of the light.
"How's your dog like thunderstorms?" he asked, keys in hand.
She didn't want the night to end. "He hates them." Because it was true. And because she still owed Monster comfort in the storm, silly as it sounded.
"Want to go make him feel better?"
She grinned, nodded and when they got to her house, asked him up.
Monster sat on the couch between them.
"What made you choose to go into IT?" Tanner asked around the trembling Labrador. Taylor was toweling rain water out of her wild blond curls. She looked adorable. He could still taste her mouth, feel the smooth silkiness of her skin under his fingers.
The dog had to go.
"Come on, boy," he said, snapping his fingers at the floor.
"Won't work," Taylor said. "If I sit in the middle, you can si
t on the other side of me. He's a big baby, terrified of the weather, and trying to pretend that he isn't? Doesn't work."
Tanner considered, got up, helped her up, took her place and pulled her down into his lap. Monster watched, sighed, let out a sharp bark as thunder roared again, and leaned against both of them. "What do you feed him? Whole cows?"
"Twice a day," she said, and turned in his arms to kiss him. "What did you ask me?"
"I can't remember."
Cold, wet summer air came through the windows. When she shivered he pulled her closer. Somewhere he thought there was a movie playing, something they'd meant to watch, but he couldn't remember what it was. The Lab slid off the couch as the thunder waned and Tanner slid them both full length on it, Taylor lying close against his chest, arms around his neck. His hands pressed down her back, stroking, feeling the soft of the sweater she'd replaced her wet clothes with.
She sat up, making him reach for her like she was going away, and tugged at his t-shirt. "That can't be comfortable. It's still wet."
He shivered when her fingers came back to him, stroking the lines of his shoulders, his biceps, back to his chest and down the ribbed muscles of his abdomen. Her eyes glazed, lips parted, she moved her hands smoothly back up his chest, her fingers reaching up to his mouth, gently stroking his lips before she brought her mouth to his and kissed him, tongue hot in his mouth.
He pressed against her, harder than he could remember being in so long. Men he'd served with had married, or had long-term relationships, or a girl in every port, so to speak, because they weren't deployed all that often but they still managed, but Tanner? He'd told her the truth – no one in his family was military. He'd joined because he thought he wanted to go into medicine and there was a chance that way, because he was athletic and strong and had the mental and physical stamina, could push himself harder than anyone else could push him and could withstand anyone who tried to push him harder. But he didn't grow up in a military family and what he didn't tell Taylor was that he didn't know what to do when a girl clung to him and begged him not to go, as if by the time a mission was formed he had a choice.
