by Amy Knupp
And then it all blew to pieces as the door opened and Vienna looked past her.
“Dearest Alexander,” she said, and Taylor stiffened.
Sure enough, Alex took the stool on Taylor’s right.
“How’s our favorite high-flyer today?” Patty asked.
“Not flying too high. Physical therapy’s kicking my ass.”
Taylor angled toward him in greeting. “Alexander, huh?” It didn’t fit him.
“Only in Vee’s mind. She knows it annoys me.”
“Which is a hobby of mine,” Vienna said.
Patty took Alex’s order for fried cheese curds, a burger and a beer. She drew the beer from the tap and slid it three feet down the counter to him, then disappeared again.
“What are you two doing together?” Alex asked, not bothering to hide his bafflement.
That was all it took for Taylor’s insecurity to rage once again. She, too, wondered at Vienna’s motives for hanging out with her. “I think your sister’s trying to thank me for subjecting her to my company picnic to meet marketing types.”
“Nah, we just both needed girl time.”
“So you met marketing types? Did you meet any ‘list’ types?” He leaned his elbows on the bar and stared pointedly at Taylor.
She studied the counter in front of her, thankful the lighting in here was too poor for anyone to tell whether she blushed. She prayed Vienna had missed what he’d said or would ignore it.
“What’s a list type?” Vienna asked after sipping her drink.
Alex’s gaze rested on Taylor—the top of her head, to be precise, because she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Couldn’t think of what to say.
“You didn’t tell her?” he asked gently. “I figured that was fodder for girl talk.
“You have to tell me now,” Vienna said. “What’s a list type?”
Before Alex could twist it around or say something else that embarrassed her, Taylor jumped into the explanation. “I made a list of the traits I want in any man I go out with.”
Vienna nodded slowly. “I can get behind that. Kind of the ideal-man thing.”
“Exactly. If a guy doesn’t meet one of my requirements, why should I go out with him?”
“Amen, sister. So what’s on the list? What are we looking for?”
Taylor pulled her phone out of her purse and opened the list. She could probably recite it from memory but not with Alex sitting so close and judging her.
Patty came out and set a plastic basket of steaming bar food in front of Alex.
“Thanks, Patty,” he said. He picked it and his beer up and stood, hovering behind Taylor and his sister. “You girls make it sound like you’re looking for a stud at an auction or the perfect job applicant.”
“Taylor definitely needs a stud,” Vienna said with a wicked laugh.
Taylor smiled, Vienna’s enthusiasm bolstering her confidence. “And it is a job position when you get right down to it.”
He shook his head gravely. “Enjoy your girl time. If the beer goggles make an appearance, refer to the almighty list.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I COULD’VE GOTTEN HOME by myself,” Taylor insisted as she climbed out the passenger side of her own car. Her boldness, the very fact she’d found the courage to argue with him, proved to Alex he’d been right to insist on driving her.
“Ever been drunk before?” he asked as they emerged from her garage.
“Not really. I’m not drunk now.”
“Have you seen the public service announcements that explain your blood alcohol level can be above the legal limit even when you don’t feel loopy?”
She went up the two steps to the deck and opened her screen door.
“You had how many martinis?” he continued, holding the screen while she dug in her purse for her keys.
“Two.”
“And you weigh about eighty-seven pounds.”
Taylor laughed freely, no hesitation or inhibition. Alex wasn’t sure he’d heard that from her before.
“The more you argue with me, the more you prove I’m right, Scarlet,” he said when she was about to speak.
Still grinning, she shook her head, then finally located her keys. Several seconds passed and they stood there, Alex behind her, holding the door.
“You pass out already?” He looked over her shoulder and watched her repeated attempts to get the key in the hole.
“It’s dark,” she said, determined. Stubborn. “Didn’t plan on going out so I didn’t turn on my light.”
“So I see.” He gently took the keys from her and unlocked the door.
“Hey!” Taylor burst into the kitchen ahead of him. “I’m not drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but I could do constant coefficient linear differential equations right now if I wanted.”
“You could do differential equations in your sleep.”
She stared up at him and opened her mouth as if she was about to argue. Then she laughed. “You got me there. Now if I can just find a guy who isn’t scared by that. That is my ideal date.”
“Better add that to your list.”
That damnable list.
She actually swatted him on the arm. Alex caught her hand briefly before easing a step back. He liked this relaxed side of her.
“Why are you here?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she peered at him.
“Originally it was to be a gentleman, but now that I’m here, I’m going to measure for the kitchen trim. We’re still on for the hardware store tomorrow morning, right?”
“Bright and early, like you said.”
“If you’re up for it.”
“The secret,” she said as she took a glass down from the cabinet, “is hydrating to get the poison out before you go to bed.” She filled the glass with water and gulped it down.
“Excellent advice from an obvious authority on the subject.”
“It’s science.” She filled the glass again. “I can do science.” Once more, she chugged all the water. “The other thing is to stand under a stream of hot water to rinse it all off.”
“Just wash off your drunk, huh?” He could no longer hide a grin.
“Not drunk. Going to take my shower and go to bed. Just lock the door when you leave. Good night.”
Either she was more intoxicated than she seemed—she didn’t slur her words or have trouble walking—or she trusted him. Whether she should or not.
Alex opened the one drawer in the McCabe kitchen that had always been less than militarily neat, the one that held an assortment of random, non-kitchen items, like a tape measure. He searched for a piece of paper so he could write the measurements down. Typically, Taylor hadn’t left much lying around. He’d grown used to Spartan surroundings overseas, but there was a difference between a neatness inspired by lack of belongings and space and that dictated by a compulsion to keep all things in their places. That was Taylor, he thought, chuckling to himself.
There was nothing to write on in the kitchen, which surprised him until he remembered she pecked everything into that phone of hers. Surely in her office… He walked into the living room and spotted, in the dim wash of light from the kitchen, a notebook on one of the end tables. He grabbed it and returned to the kitchen.
As the shower turned on, Alex fought to block out the sound. He didn’t want to consider what she was doing on the other side of the wall. Stripping her conservative clothes off and…
Longing for his ear buds, he whistled, loudly and tunelessly, as he measured the first stretch of wall that required new trim.
The shower stopped, snapping his attention back to the task at hand. He turned to the first blank page and jotted down the measurement. The kitchen was small and it didn’t take him long to finish. He added all the numbers to get an idea of how much trim they’d need to buy in the morning.
He took the project list Taylor had written for him out of his wallet and skimmed it to make sure there wasn’t any other information he needed to collect. Replace kitchen light fixtures,
repair deck, replace trim in kitchen, new shower and countertop in bathroom, closet doors, basement ceiling, paint interior…
Alex was in the living room jotting down estimates of how much paint they needed when Taylor emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing light green pajamas. A camisole and shorts. He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to her face. Eventually.
She startled when she saw him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you were leaving.”
Her uneasiness was back but he barely noticed. He noticed all the wrong stuff instead—wet strands of her auburn hair curling around her face, nearly perfect circles of pink on her cheeks from the hot water, the moist shine of her lips…
“I am. As soon as I figure out how much paint we need. Every room, correct?”
She nodded. “I hadn’t thought about colors yet…?.”
“If you’re still thinking about selling, you need to keep it neutral.”
“You’re right.” She studied the walls thoughtfully. “Do you know a lot about selling a house?”
“My mom’s addicted to the home channel. I got sucked in the other night.”
“A neutral cream color would look nice, don’t you think?” She stood next to him now, surveying the room, squinting slightly as she imagined something other than the light green currently on the walls.
“Cream, white, whatever.”
As he breathed, he caught her scent. Apples and sugar. Sweet, pure. More alluring than he would have guessed. He watched her, intrigued. She was so consumed by her plans for the walls that he could just about see the gears in her head turning. He’d always admired her intelligence. Never been intimidated by it, even when she’d passed him and Quinn in math and been doing science projects that were over his head.
Not scared off by her brain.
Go figure. That was the single qualification on her list that Alex met, and she hadn’t even bothered to write it down.
Her eyes shot to his as if he’d said the words out loud, and their gazes held. Gold flecks sparkled in the emerald as seconds ticked by with neither of them moving.
Alex closed the space between them with a single step, paying no heed to the voice in the far corner of his mind that was screaming to slam on the brakes.
Faint freckles dusted skin so creamy he longed to run his fingers over it. Her lips were partway open, and the subtle sexiness of that contradicted the simple purity that was Taylor. He followed the curve of her mouth with his eyes, entranced by the dip at the top, the natural coral-pink tint, the hint of moisture…?.
He leaned down and brushed his lips to hers, unable to resist the urge to touch them, to sample the soft warmth. A jolt went through him, jump-started his pulse at the whisper of contact. He pulled back just enough to gauge the look in her eyes, expecting to see confusion or blame but finding…hunger. Need tangled with a hint of vulnerability. The combination did him in.
He cupped the back of her neck and pressed their lips together, breathing her in. He trailed his hands down her sides, tantalized by the curves he’d previously only guessed were hiding beneath her modest clothes. He rested his hands at her tiny waist and caressed her ribs with his thumbs.
Her hand was suddenly on his chest, gripping his shirt, drawing him nearer. She wound both hands around his neck, into his hair.
Urgency pounded through him to taste her, know her. He parted her lips with his tongue and Taylor was there with him, responding, her tongue tangling with his, twisting him into a blindsiding lust.
He never would have suspected Taylor had this kind of response in her. Shy, unassuming Taylor. His best friend’s little sister.
Alex abruptly broke their contact and moved back a step, reeling. He closed his eyes as regret flooded him. He was damn lucky Quinn wasn’t around.
What the living hell had he done? He’d made protecting Taylor from the bad guys his job, in a sense…and he was the one who’d moved in on her.
That didn’t fly with him. At all.
She stared at him hard, searching for an explanation.
“That…” He was straddling a thin line here and struggled for the right words.
“What?” Heat still emanated from her eyes.
“That…compatibility.” He refused to use the word chemistry. That took things down a road he wasn’t able to travel. He paced away from her. “I meet very few, if any, of the criteria on your list.”
She frowned, lost in thought. “You’re intelligent…”
“Not in a Taylor McCabe way.”
“You seem to be driven to get back to the army.”
“Scarlet. You’re missing the point.”
He saw the exact moment he hurt her—her eyes fluttered shut for a fraction of a second and her shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. That wasn’t his intent, dammit.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” Her voice was soft but tightly controlled.
“All I’m trying to say is that your list is not the answer to finding what you’re looking for. You’re trying to make it black and white but relationships are…gray. There’s a lot of factors besides traits on a checklist. We both know there can’t be anything between you and me but…” How much more could he fumble over this? “My point is that you might be attracted to someone who doesn’t meet your qualifications, and that’s okay.”
She nodded once. Dismissed what he said. Didn’t even consider it.
Hell. He’d screwed up twenty times over tonight. Instinct had him wanting to touch her, to make her understand, but he’d already done too much touching. “I’m sorry, Taylor. I’ll let you get some sleep.”
Her eyes had done a one-eighty from heat to hurt, and that told him more than anything why he wasn’t the right man for her.
“That’s…for the best.” She walked to the door and opened it, no hesitation whatsoever.
That was Taylor…always the smartest girl in the room.
HOT TEARS BURNED TAYLOR’S eyes as soon as she closed the door behind Alex.
Wasn’t she just the dumbest girl alive? Maybe pathetic was a more appropriate word, but nuances of vocabulary failed her right now.
She sagged against the door, eyes closed, then slid down it until she landed hard on the wood floor.
Why would a man like Alex Worth, with all his muscles and bravery and, lord, those eyes, ever kiss her? More important, why would she ever fall for it and let herself be kissed by him?
And then to get into it like she had? The first instant of contact had sparked through her, turned her into a quivery mass of neediness. Instead of acting shocked and backing away as she should have, she’d let herself lean into him. Kiss him back. Be affected by his touch like…
She hit the door with the back of her head, forcibly and intentionally. Three minutes of Alex’s lips and hands on her had affected her the way no other man ever had.
She’d been with men before—okay, one man, really, but she’d been kissed by several—and she’d never gone from zero to all over them in three-point-five seconds.
And with a man who just wanted to prove a point to naive “Scarlet,” to save his army buddy’s little sister from her inexperienced, misled self.
She couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. The slight tipsiness that had necessitated the ride home had been washed away completely by the time she’d emerged from the shower. She’d been tired but clearheaded as they’d discussed paint colors.
Now it was obvious that teaching her a lesson about the foolishness of her checklist had been his reason for sticking around and taking measurements. She should’ve guessed something was up when he didn’t immediately leave after getting her and her car safely home.
Lorien and Elanor strutted into the living room.
“Beasts, I suppose you think you need food even though I’m dying a slow death of humiliation, huh?” The seal point sat, pear-shaped, in the doorway to the kitchen while Lorien climbed up on Taylor’s lap, full of self-entitlement. She scratched behind the cat’s ears and stood, picking her up and carrying
her to the kitchen. “Everyone should be so pampered.” Both felines wove around her legs as she opened a can of smelly seafood delight and divided it between two bowls.
As she absently set the bowls down, she could see Alex in her mind, the way he’d been looking at her just before he kissed her. She’d thought she’d discerned something in his eyes, some kind of emotion. Hunger. Obviously she’d thought wrong.
The whole debacle proved two things. One, she had an overactive imagination. Two, she was way out of her element with someone like Alex Worth. He’d been set on proving her list was “wrong,” but he’d done the opposite. She was convinced now more than ever that she’d be more comfortable and have a more successful relationship with a man who met each of her carefully thought-out qualifications.
CHAPTER NINE
ALEX HATED HIMSELF more than usual when he woke up the next morning.
The first thing he discerned, before he even cracked his eyes open, was the pain in his lower body from yesterday’s PT session. Which veered his thoughts directly to Quinn, who was never far from his consciousness anyway. And that… He bit out a crude curse.
Taylor.
He rolled onto his stomach and pounded the pillow. His head throbbed and all the shit that’d gone down last night filtered through his brain as if he’d been drunk and only half-conscious. Talk about irony. Only thing he’d drunk was the one beer with his dinner. He’d made a point of staying sober, maybe as an attempt to counteract all the liquor Marshall was sucking down lately. Seemed like one of the Worth siblings ought to be able to walk a straight line. As soon as he’d finished his burger at Patty’s, he’d gone home. Wasted several hours in front of the idiot box until Vienna had called and asked him to drive Taylor to her house.
He should never have walked through her front door last night.
Alex dragged his wrist near his face to check his watch. Nice. Who’d be surprised that he’d overslept and was two hours late for the hardware-store date with Taylor? He groaned. Date was entirely the wrong word.
He kicked the sheet off as he turned over the other way, digging deep, trying to find a reason to get his ass out of the sack. For Taylor? Yeah, that was a plan. Because he’d done so much for Taylor already.
