From This Day

by Nora Roberts

  ***

  Before lifting her case and beginning to unpack, B.J. thought of at least a half a dozen withering remarks she should have made. However, she soon regained her sense of proportion.

  After all, it wasn’t every day that she had the opportunity to indulge in such luxury. She might as well enjoy it. Besides, the suite was certainly large enough for both of them.

  Slipping into brief tan shorts and a lime green halter, B.J. decided to finish her unpacking later and head for the beach.

  ***

  Taylor had certainly made the most of nature’s gift, offering a luxury playground with an ocean and sky backdrop. B.J. had seen the huge mosaic tiled pool for those who preferred its filtered water to the sea. On her way to the beach, she glimpsed at the expanse of tennis courts with palms and flowering shrubs skirting about the entrance gate. She had seen enough of the hotel’s interior to be certain that Taylor left his guests wanting for nothing.

  From the beach B.J. shaded her eyes and studied again the perfection of the imposing resort. It was, she admitted with a sigh, elegantly appealing. As far out of her realm as its owner. Egg noodles and caviar, she thought ruefully, reflecting both on the comparison between inn and resort and Taylor and herself. They simply don’t belong on the same plate.

  “Hello.”

  Startled, B.J. turned, blinked against the brilliant sun and stared at an even white smile in a bronzed face.

  “Hello.” Returning the smile with a bit more caution, B.J. studied the attractive face surrounded by thick masses of light, sun bleached hair.

  “Aren’t you going to give the ocean a try?”

  “Not today.”

  “That’s very unusual.” He fell into step beside her as she began to cross the sand. “Usually everyone spends their first day roasting and splashing.”

  “How did you know it was my first day?” B.J. asked.

  “Because I haven’t noticed you here before, and I would have.” He gave her an encompassing and intensely male survey. “And because you’re still peaches and cream instead of parboiled.”

  “Hardly the time of year,” B.J. commented, admiring the deep, even tan as he shrugged on his shirt. “I’d say you’ve been here for some time.”

  “Two years,” he returned, with an appealing grin. “I’m the tennis pro, Chad Hardy.”

  “B.J. Clark.” She paused on the tiled walkway which led to the hotel’s beach entrance. “How come you’re on the beach instead of the courts?”

  “My day off,” he explained and surprised her by winding the tips of her hair around his finger. “But if you’d like a private lesson, it could be arranged.”

  “No, thanks,” she declined lightly and turned again toward the door.

  “How about dinner?” Chad captured her hand, gently but insistently bringing her back to face him.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “A drink?”

  She smiled at his persistence. “No, sorry, it’s a bit early.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  Laughing, she shook her head and disengaged her hand. “No, but I appreciate the offer. Goodbye, Mr. Hardy.”

  “Chad.” He moved with her through the archway into the hotel’s coolness. “What about tomorrow? Breakfast, lunch, a weekend in Vegas?”

  B.J. laughed; such ingenuous charm was hard to resist. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding a companion.”

  “I’m having a great deal of trouble securing the one I want,” he countered. “If you had any compassion, you’d take pity on me.”

  With a rueful smile, B.J. surrendered. “All right, I wouldn’t mind an orange juice.”

  In short order, B.J. found herself seated at an umbrella table beside the pool.

  “It’s not really that early,” Chad objected when she adhered to her choice of fruit juice. “Most of the crowd is straggling in to wash off the sand and change for dinner.”

  “This hits the spot.” She sipped from the frosted glass. Then, gesturing with one slender hand, she glanced around at green fan palms and scarlet blooms. “You must find it easy to work here.”

  “It suits me,” Chad agreed, swirling his own drink. “I like the work, the sun.” He lifted his glass and smiled with the half toast. “And the benefits.” His smile widened. Before she had the opportunity to draw them away, his hand captured her fingers. “How long will you be here?”

  “A couple of days.” She let her hand lie limp, feeling a struggle would make her appear foolish. “This was actually a spur-of-the-moment trip rather than a vacation.”

  “Then I’ll drink to spur-of-the-moment trip,” said Chad.

  The friendly, polished charm was potent, and B.J. could not resist beaming him a smile. “Is that your best serve?”

  “Just a warm-up.” Returning the smile, his grip on her hand tightened slightly. “Watch out for my ace.”

  “B.J.”

  Twisting her head, she stared up at Taylor, frowning above her. “Hello, Taylor. Are you finished with Mr. Bailey?”

  “For the moment.” His glance shifted to Chad, drifted over their joined hands and returned to her face. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Oh?” Feeling unaccountably guilty, B.J. nibbled her lip in a tell-tale sign of agitation. “I’m sorry, this is Chad Hardy,” she began.

  “Yes, I know. Hello, Hardy.”

  “Mr. Reynolds,” Chad returned with a polite nod. “I didn’t know you were in the hotel.”

  “For a day or two. When you’ve finished,” he continued, giving B.J. the full benefit of a cold disapproving stare, “I suggest you come up and change for dinner. I don’t think that outfit’s suitable for the dining room.” With a curt nod, he turned on his heel and stalked away.

  “Well, well.” Releasing her hand, Chad leaned back in his chair and studied B.J. with new interest. “You might have told me you were the big man’s lady. I’m rather fond of my job here.”

  Her mouth opened and closed twice. “I am not Taylor’s lady,” B.J. spurted on her third try.

  Chad’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “You’d better tell him that. A pity.” He sighed with exaggerated regret. “I was working on some interesting fantasies, but I steer clear of treading on dangerous ground.”

  Standing, he lifted her chin and gave her a rather wistful smile. “If you find yourself down here again without complications, look me up.”

  Chapter 10

  The emphatic slamming of the suite’s door gave B.J. small satisfaction. Advancing with purpose on Taylor’s bedroom, she pounded on his door.

  “Looking for me?” The voice was dry.

  She whirled around. For a moment, she could only gape at the sight of Taylor leaning against the bathroom door, clad only in a dark green towel tied low over lean hips. His hair fell in tendrils over the lean planes of his face.

  “Yes, I . . .” She faltered and swallowed. “Yes,” she repeated with more firmness as she recalled Chad’s comments. “That was an uncalled for exhibition out there. You deliberately left Chad with the impression that I was your . . .” She hesitated, eyes darkening with outraged impotence, as she searched for the right word.

  “Mistress?” Taylor suggested amiably.

  B.J.’s pupils dilated with fury. “He at least used the term lady.” Forgetting the corded arms and dark mat of hair covering his chest, she stalked forward until she stood toe to toe. “You did it on purpose, and I won’t tolerate it.”

  “Oh, really?” Had she not been so involved venting her own anger, B.J. might have recognized the dangerous pitch of his voice. “It appears by the speed with which Hardy lured you into his corner, you’re remarkably easy prey. I feel it’s my obligation to look out for you.”

  “Find someone else to protect,” she retorted. “I’m not putting up with it.”

  “Just what do you intend to do about it?” The simple arrogance of the question was accompanied by a like smile which robbed B.J. of all coherency. “If giving Hardy and others of his ty
pe the impression that you’re my property keeps you from making a fool of yourself, that’s precisely what I’ll do. Actually,” he continued, “you should be grateful.”

  “Grateful?” B.J. repeated, her voice rising. “Your property? A fool of myself? Of all the arrogant, unspeakable gall!”

  Her arm pulled back with the intention of connecting her fist with his midsection, but she found it twisted behind her back with astonishing speed. Her body was crushed against the hard undraped lines of his.

  “I wouldn’t try that again.” The warning was soft. “You wouldn’t like the consequences.” His free hand lowered to her hip, bringing her closer as she tried to back away. “Don’t do that,” he ordered, holding her still and trapped against him. “You’ll just hurt yourself. It seems we’ve broken our truce.” His words were light, though she saw the signs of lingering temper in his eyes.

  “You started it.” Her declaration was half-defiant, half-defensive. She kept her eyes level with sheer determination.

  “Did I?” he murmured before he took her mouth.

  She was washed by the familiar flood of need. Offering no struggle, she went willingly into the uncharted world where only the senses ruled. His hand released her arm in order to roam over the bareness of her back, and she circled his neck, wanting only to remain in the drifting heat and velvet darkness.

  Abruptly, he set her free. She stumbled back against the wall, thrown off balance by the swiftness of her liberation.

  “Go change.” He turned and gripped the knob of his door.

  B.J. reached out to touch his arm.

  “Taylor . . .”

  “Go change!” he shouted. She stumbled back again, eyes round and wide at the swift flare of violence. He slammed the door behind him.

  B.J. retreated to her room to sort out her feelings. Was it injured pride? Or was it rage? She could not for the life of her tell.

  ***

  The early sky lightened slowly from black to misty blue. The stars faded, then died as the sun still lay hidden beneath the horizon. B.J. rose, grateful the restless night was behind her.

  She had shared an uncomfortably polite dinner with Taylor, the elegance of the dining room only adding to the sensation that she had stood aside and watched two strangers go through the motions of dining. Taylor’s solicitous and unfamiliar formality had disturbed her more than his sudden seething fury. Her own responses had been stilted and cool. Immediately after dinner she pleaded fatigue and crept off unescorted to pass the evening hours alone and miserably awake in her room.

  It had been late when she had heard Taylor’s key in the lock, his footsteps striding down the hall to pause outside her room. She had held her breath as if he might sense her wakefulness through the panel. Not until she had heard the muffled sound of his door closing had she let it out again.

  ***

  B.J. felt no better the next morning. The events of the day before had left her with a lingering sense of loss and sorrow. Though she knew that there was little hope, she had finally acknowledged to herself that she was in love with Taylor. But there was no point thinking about it.

  She slipped on her bikini, grabbed a terry robe, and tiptoed from her room.

  The view from the wide window in the living room drew her. With a sigh of pleasure, she moved closer to watch the birth of day. The sun had tinted the edge of sea and sky with rose-gold streaks. Pinks and mauves shot through the dawning sky.

  “Quite a view.”

  With a gasp, B.J. spun around, nearly colliding with Taylor whose footsteps had been hidden by the thickness of carpet. “Yes,” she returned as their hands lifted simultaneously to brush back the fall of her hair which tumbled to her cheek. “There’s nothing so beautiful as a sunrise.” Disturbed by his closeness, she found her own words silly.

  He was clad only in short denim cut-offs, frayed at the cuffs.

  “How did you sleep?” His voice was politely concerned.

  She shrugged off his question, evading a direct lie. “I thought I’d take an early swim before the beach gets crowded.”

  Deliberately, he turned her to face him, while he searched her face with habitual thoroughness. “Your eyes are shadowed.” His finger traced the mauve smudges as a frown deepened the angles of his face. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you look tired before. You seem to have some inner vitality that continually feeds itself. You look pale and fragile, quite unlike the pigtailed brat I watched sliding into home plate.”

  His touch was radiating the weakness through her so she stepped back in defense. “I . . . It’s just the first night in a strange bed.”

  “Is it?” His brow lifted. “You’re a generous creature, B.J. You don’t even expect an apology, do you?”

  Charmed by his smile, her weariness evaporated. “Taylor, I want . . . I’d like it if we could be friends.” She finished in an impulsive rush.

  “Friends?” he repeated as the sudden boyish grin split his face. “Oh, B.J., you’re sweet, if a bit slow.” Taking both hands in his, he lifted them to his lips before speaking again. “All right, friend, let’s go for a swim.”

  ***

  But for gulls, the beach was deserted, a stretch of white pure and welcoming. The air already glowed with the promise of heat and light. B.J. stopped and gazed around, pleased with the quiet and the solitude.

  “It’s like everyone went away.”

  “You’re not much for crowds, are you, B.J.?”

  “No, I suppose not.” She turned to him with a lift of bare shoulders. “I enjoy people, but more on a one to one level. When I’m around people, I like to know who they are, what they need. I’m good with small problems. I can shore up a brick here, hammer a nail there. I don’t think I’m equipped to construct an entire building the way you are.”

  “One can’t keep a building standing without someone shoring up bricks and hammering nails.”

  She smiled, so obviously pleased and surprised by his observation that he laughed and tousled her hair. “I’ll race you to the water.”

  Giving him a considering look, B.J. shook her head in reluctance. “You’re a lot taller than I am. You have an advantage.”

  “You forget, I’ve seen you run. And—” His eyes dropped to the length of shapely legs. “For a small woman, you have amazingly long legs.”

  “Well.” She drew the word out, lips pursed. “O.K.” Without waiting for his assent, she streaked across the sand and plunged into the sea, striking out with long strokes.

  She was brought up short by hands on her waist. Laughing, she struggled away, only to be caught and submerged in the ensuing tussle.

  “Taylor, you’re going to drown me,” she protested as her legs tangled with his.

  “That is not my intention,” he informed her as he drew her closer. “Hold still a minute or you’ll take yourself under again.”

  Relaxing in his hold, B.J. allowed him to keep them both afloat. She permitted herself a few moments of ecstasy cradled in his arms as the water pooled around them like a cool satin blanket. The change began like a gradual drizzle as she became more aware of his shoulder beneath her cheek, the possessive hold of the arm which banded her bare waist. Powerless to resist, she floated with him as his lips descended to the sleek cap of her hair, then wandered to tease the lobe of her ear with tongue and