by Nora Roberts
remembered Dot talking about this man named Fletcher making sketches of the inn.” She gave the group a small smile in self-reward for her memory. “Anyway, they talked awhile, technical sort of things about dimensions and timber. Then Mr. Reynolds said how he appreciated the Fletcher person not letting on he was an architect until he had everything settled.”
“B.J.,” Eddie began urgently, grabbing her arm. “Do you think he’s going to remodel the inn after all? Do you think he’s going to let us all go?”
“No.” Feeling her head increase its throbbing, B.J. repeated more emphatically, “No, it’s just some mix up, I’ll see about it. Now, you all go back to work and don’t spread this around anymore.”
“It’s no mix up.” Darla glided over to the group.
“I told you three to go back to work,” B.J. ordered in a voice which they recognized as indisputable. They dispersed, waiting until a safe distance before murmuring among themselves. “If you’ll pardon me, Miss Trainor, I’m busy.”
“Yes, Taylor’s quite anxious to see you.”
Cursing herself, B.J. nibbled at the bait. “Is he?”
“Oh, yes. He’s ready to tell you about his plans for this little place. It’s quite a challenge.” She surveyed the lobby with the air of one planning a siege.
“What exactly do you know of his plans?” B.J. demanded.
“You didn’t really think he intended to leave this place in this condition simply because you want him to?” With a light laugh, Darla brushed away a fictional speck of dust from her vivid blue blouse. “Taylor is much too practical for grand gestures. Though, he might keep you on in some minor capacity once the alterations are complete. You’re hardly qualified to manage one of his resorts, but he does seem to think you have some ability. Of course, if I were you, I’d pack up and bow out now to spare myself the humiliation.”
“Are you saying,” B.J. began, spacing words with great care, “that Taylor has made definite plans to convert the inn into a resort?”
“Well, of course.” Darla smiled indulgently. “He’d hardly need me and an architect otherwise, would he? I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure he’ll keep the bulk of your staff on, at least temporarily.”
With a final smile, Darla turned and left B.J. staring at her retreating back.
After the first flow of despair, fury bubbled. She took the steps two at a time and slammed into her room. Minutes later, she sped out again, taking stairs in a headlong flight and stomping into the office unannounced.
“B.J.” Rising from the desk, Taylor studied her furious face. “What are you doing out of bed?”
For an answer, she slammed the paper on his desk. He lifted it, scanning her resignation. “It seems we’ve been through this before.”
“You gave me your word.” Her voice trembled at the breach of trust but she lifted her chin. “You can tear that one up too, but it won’t change anything. Find yourself a new patsy, Mr. Reynolds. I quit!”
Streaking from the room, she collided bodily with Eddie, brushed him aside and rushed up the stairs. In her room, she pulled out her cases and began to toss articles in them at random. Clothing, cosmetics, knick-knacks, whatever was close at hand was dumped, until the first case overflowed.
She stopped her frantic activities to whirl around at the metallic click of the lock. The door opened to admit Taylor.
“Get out!” she commanded, wishing fleetingly she was big enough to toss him out. “This is my room until I leave.”
“You’re making one beautiful mess,” he observed calmly. “You might as well stop that, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, I am.” She caught herself before she tossed her asparagus fern among her lingerie. “I’m leaving just as fast as I can pack. Not only is working for you intolerable, but being under the same roof is more than I can stand. You promised!” She spun to face him, cursing the mist which clouded her eyes. “I believed you. I trusted you. How could I have been so stupid! There’s no way I could have prevented you once you’d made your decision, and I would have adjusted somehow. You could have been honest with me.”
Tears were spilling over with more speed than she could blink them away, and impatiently she brushed at them with the back of her hand. “Oh!” She spun away to pull pictures from the wall. “I wish I were a man!”
“If you were a man, we’d have had no problem to begin with. If you don’t stop tearing up the room, I’ll have to stop you. I think you’ve been battered enough for one day.”
She heard it in his voice, the calm control, the half-amused exasperation. Despair for her abiding love merged with fury at his betrayal.
“Just leave me alone!”
“Lie down, B.J., and we’ll talk later.”
“No, don’t you touch me,” she ordered as he made to take her arm. “I mean it, Taylor, don’t touch me!”
At the desperation in her voice, he dropped his hand to his side. “All right then.” The first warning signals of anger touched his face. In the cool precision of his voice, she could hear the danger. “Suppose you tell me what exactly it is I’ve done?”
“You know very well.”
“Spell it out for me,” he interrupted, moving away and lighting a cigarette.
“That architect you brought here while we were in Florida.”
“Fletcher?” Taylor cut her off again, but this time he gave her his full attention. “What about him?”
“What about him?” B.J. repeated incredulously. “You brought him here behind my back, making all his little drawings and plans. You probably took me to Florida just to get me out of the way while he was here.”
“That was a consideration.”
His easy admission left her speechless. A wave of pain washed over her, reflecting in her eyes.
“B.J.” Taylor’s expression became more curious than angry. “Suppose you tell me precisely what you know.”
“Darla was only too happy to enlighten me.” Turning away, she assuaged the hurt with more furious packing. “Go talk to her.”
“She’s gone by now. I told her to leave, B.J., did you think I’d let her stay after she hit you?” The soft texture of his voice caused her hands to falter a moment. Quickly, she forced them to move again. “What did she say to you?”
“She told me everything. How you’d brought in the architect to draw up plans for turning the inn into a resort. That you’re going to bring in someone to manage it, how . . .” Her voice broke. “It’s bad enough you’ve been lying to me, Taylor, bad enough you broke your word, but that’s personal. What is more important is that you’re going to change the whole structure of this community, alter dozens of lives for a few more dollars you don’t even need. Your resort in Palm Beach is beautiful and perfect for where and what it is, but the inn . . .”
“Be quiet, B.J.” He crushed out his cigarette then thrust his hands in his pockets. “I told you before, I make my own decisions. I called Fletcher in for two reasons.” A swift gesture of his hand haltered her furious retort. “One, to design a house for a piece of property my agent picked up for me last week. It’s about ten miles outside of town, five acres on a hill overlooking the lake. You probably know it.”
“Why do you need . . .”
“The second purpose,” he continued, ignoring her, “was to design an addition to the inn, adhering to its present architecture. The office space is just too limited. Since I plan to move my base from New York to the inn after we’re married, I require larger accommodations.”
“I don’t see . . .” Her words stumbled to a halt, as she stared into calm brown eyes. A medley of emotions played through her, eradicating the ache in her head. “I never agreed to marry you,” she managed at length.
“But you will,” he countered and leaned against her desk. “In the meantime, you can ease the various minds downstairs that the inn will remain as is, and you’ll remain in the position of manager with some adjustments.”
“Adjustments?” She could only parrot his last w
ord and sink into a chair.
“I have no problem basing my business in Vermont, but I won’t base my marriage in a hotel. Therefore, we’ll live in the house when it’s completed, and Eddie can take over some of your duties. You’ll also have to be free to travel from time to time. We leave for Rome in three weeks.”
“Rome?” she echoed him again, dimly remembering his speaking of Rome and passports.
“Yes, your mother’s sending your birth certificate so you can see to getting a passport.”
“My mother?” Unable to sit, B.J. rose and paced to the window, trying to clear the fog which covered her brain. “You seem to have everything worked out very neatly.” She struggled for control. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to ask my feelings on the matter?”
“I know your feelings.” His hands descended to her shoulders, and she stiffened. “I told you once, you can’t keep secrets with those eyes.”
“I guess it’s very convenient for you that I happen to be in love with you.” She swallowed, focusing on the gleam of the sun as it filtered through the pines on the hillside.
“It makes things less complicated.” His fingers worked at the tension in her shoulders but she held herself rigid.
“Why do you want to marry me, Taylor?”
“Why do you think?” She felt his lips in her hair and squeezed her eyes shut.
“You don’t have to marry me for that, and we both know it.” Taking a deep breath, she gripped the windowsill tighter. “That first night you came to my room, you’d already won.”
“It wasn’t enough.” His arms circled her waist and brought her back against him. She struggled to keep her mind clear. “The minute you swaggered into the office with invisible six guns at your hips, I made up my mind to marry you. I knew I could make you want me, I’d felt that the first time I held you, but the night in your room, you looked up at me, and I knew making you want me wasn’t enough. I wanted you to love me.”
“So—” she moved her shoulders as if it was of little consequence “—you comforted yourself with Darla in the meantime.”
She was spun around so quickly, her hair flew out to fall over her face, obscuring vision. “I never touched Darla or anyone from the first minute I saw you. That little charade in the nightgown was strictly for your benefit, and you were stupid enough to fall for it. Do you think I could touch another woman when I had you on my mind?”
Without giving her time to answer, his mouth closed over hers, commanding and possessive. His arms banded her waist, dragging her against him. “You’ve been driving me crazy for nearly two weeks.” Allowing her time to draw a quick breath, his mouth crushed hers again. Slowly, the kiss altered in texture, softening, sweetening, his hand moving with a tender lightness which drugged her reason.
“B.J.,” he murmured, resting his chin on her hair. “It would be less intimidating if you owned a few more pounds and inches. I’ve had a devil of a time fighting my natural instincts. I don’t want to hurt you, and you’re too small and much too innocent.” Lifting her chin, he framed her face with his hands. “Have I told you yet that I love you?”
Her eyes grew wide, her mouth opening, but powerless to form sound. She shook her head briskly and swallowed the obstruction in her throat.
“I didn’t think I had. Actually, I think I was hit the minute you stood up from home plate, turned those eyes on me and claimed you were absolutely safe.” He bent down and brushed her lips.
She threw her arms around his neck as though he might vanish in a puff of smoke. “Taylor, why have you waited so long?”
Drawing her away, he lifted a brow in amusement, reminding her of the brevity of their relationship.
“It’s been years,” she claimed, burying her face in his shoulder as joy washed over her. “Decades, centuries.”
“And during the millennium,” he replied, stroking fingers through her hair, “you’ve been more exasperating than receptive. The day I came into the lounge and found you ticking off bourbon bottles, I had hoped to start things along a smooth road, but you turned on the ice very effectively. The next day in your room, when you switched to fire, it was very illuminating. The things you said made a great deal of sense, so I decided a change of setting and attitude were in order. Providentially, Bailey called from Florida.”
“You said you had to go to Palm Beach to help him with a problem.”
“I lied,” he said simply, then laughed with great enjoyment at her astonishment. “I had planned,” he began, dropping into a chair and pulling her into his lap, “to get you away from the inn for a couple of days. More important to have you to myself. I wanted you relaxed and perhaps a bit off guard.” He laughed again and nuzzled her ear. “Of course, then I had to see you sitting with Hardy and looking like a fresh peach ripe for picking.”
“You were jealous.” Indescribably pleased, she sighed and burrowed closer.
“That’s a mild word for it.”
They spent the next few minutes in mutually agreeable silence. Taylor lingered over the taste of her mouth, his hand sliding beneath the barrier of her shirt. “I was quite determined to do things properly, hence the dinner and wine and soft music. I had fully intended to tell you I loved you and ask you to marry me that last night in Florida.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“You distracted me.” His lips trailed along her cheek, reminding her of the power of their last night together. “I had no intention of allowing things to progress the way they did, but you have a habit of stretching my willpower. That night it snapped. Then, I felt you trembling, and your eyes were so young.” He sighed and rested his cheek on her hair. “I was furious with myself for losing control of the situation.”
“I thought you were furious with me.”
“It was better that you did. If I had told you then how I felt about you, nothing would have stopped me from taking you. I was in no frame of mind to introduce you gently to the ways of love. I’ve never needed anyone so much in my life as I needed you that night.”
Round and liquid with love, her eyes lifted to his. “Do you need me, Taylor?”
His hand lifted to brush back her hair. The arm cradling her shifted her closer. “You look like a child,” he murmured, tracing her lips with his finger. “A child’s mouth, and I can’t seem to do without the taste of it. Yes, B.J., I need you.”
His mouth lowered, featherlight, but her arm circled his neck and demanded more. The pressure increased, and the door opened to the world of heat and passion. She felt his hand on her breast, never aware that the buttons of her shirt had been loosened. Her fingers tightened in his hair, willing him to prolong the ecstasy.
His mouth moved to her brow, then rested on her hair, his fingers tracing lightly over her bare skin. “You can see why I’ve been keeping away from you the last day or so.”
With a soft sound of agreement, she buried her face against his shoulder.
“I wanted to get everything set up before I got near you again. I could have done with one more day; we still need a marriage license.”
“I’ll talk to Judge Walker,” she murmured, “if you want one quickly. He’s Eddie’s uncle.”
“Small towns are the backbone of America,” Taylor decided. He pulled her close to cover her mouth again when a frantic knock sounded on the door.
“B.J.” Eddie’s voice drifted through the panel. “Mrs. Frank wants to feed Julius, and I can’t find his dinner. And the Bodwin sisters are out of sunflower seeds for Horatio.”
“Who’s Horatio?” Taylor demanded.
“The Bodwins’ parakeet.”
“Tell him to feed Horatio to Julius,” he suggested, giving the door a scowl.
“It’s a thought.” Lingering on it briefly, B.J. cast it aside. “Julius’s dinner is on the third shelf right hand side of the fridge,” she called out. “Send someone into town for a package of sunflower seeds. Now, go away, Eddie, I’m very busy. Mr. Reynolds and I are in conference.” With a smile, she circled Taylor�
�s neck again. “Now, Mr. Reynolds, perhaps you’d like my views on the construction of this house you’re planning as well as my educated opinion on the structure of your office space.”
“Be quiet, B.J.”
“You’re the boss,” she agreed the moment before their lips met.
Keep reading for a special excerpt from the newest novel by Nora Roberts
WHISKEY BEACH
Available April 2013 in hardcover from G.P. Putnam’s Sons
