True Colors

by Yolanda Wallace

  She pulled back before she went too far. She wanted to tell Candy off in no uncertain terms, but she couldn’t afford to give her a complete tongue-lashing. Not yet, anyway. For now, she would have to make do with the line she had just drawn in the sand.

  Candy didn’t respond. Robby’s heart beat wildly as the silence dragged on. If Candy called her bluff, how did she plan to respond? It would help if she actually had a plan, but she hadn’t made it that far yet.

  “Fine,” Candy said at last. “Have it your way. But don’t think you can make a habit out of going against my wishes. Next time, I won’t be nearly as lenient.”

  Robby felt a sense of triumph after Candy abruptly ended the call. She couldn’t stop smiling as she uploaded the original version of her blog. She had taken a small step toward reclaiming her life. Did she have it in her to take an even bigger one? Did she have the courage to look Taylor in the eye and tell her the truth before she heard it from someone else?

  She ordered a vanilla latte before she left the coffeehouse. She tried to call Taylor as she walked the ten blocks to her apartment, but the call went straight to voicemail. She waited a few minutes and tried again. Same result. Was Taylor legitimately out of reach, or was she screening her calls? Robby wanted a chance to explain even if she had no idea what she wanted to say. She dropped her cell phone into her purse and continued down the street.

  A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows as she neared her apartment. She slowed her approach, her fingers tightening on the bottle of pepper spray attached to her key chain.

  The figure moved closer. Robby spun the safety lever with her thumb, arming her weapon. When the figure moved toward her, Robby dropped her latte, wrapped both hands around the canister of pepper spray, and pressed the trigger, releasing a thick cloud of eye-irritating chemicals.

  The figure raised an arm as if warding off a blow. “No!” Too late. The spray found its mark.

  The figure pitched forward, coughing and gasping for breath.

  “Ha. That’ll teach you to—”

  The figure’s hood slipped, revealing a familiar shock of light brown hair.

  “Taylor?”

  Steven slammed his shoulder into Robby’s ribs, sending her sprawling. “Where did he come from?” Robby thought as she flew through the air. She landed hard on the sidewalk, her hands scraping across the salt that had been strewn on the ground to prevent ice from forming. Pain bloomed in her tailbone and radiated throughout her body. Her hands stung as salt seeped into the scratches on her palms.

  Miles helped her to her feet. “Who do you think you are, one of Charlie’s Angels?”

  “I thought she was—” Mr. Crazy Eyes coming to give her an even sterner warning than the first one. She took a step toward Taylor, who was having trouble breathing. Each inhalation was immediately followed by a lengthy coughing fit. “Are you—” Steven backed her off with a glare.

  “Let’s get off the street,” Miles said, stepping between them.

  Steven ushered Taylor inside the shop. Miles and Robby followed. While Steven read the list of ingredients printed on the canister of pepper spray, Taylor waved her hands in front of her streaming eyes.

  “This stuff’s pretty run-of-the-mill,” Steven said. “Your breathing should return to normal in fifteen minutes or so. The burning should stop thirty minutes after that.”

  “Thirty minutes?” Taylor croaked.

  “There’s some bottled water in the supply room,” Robby said as Miles rubbed disinfectant on her hands.

  Steven glared at her again. “That won’t help. Water reactivates the capsaicin oil in the spray, which would make her condition worse instead of better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that looked like the pre-packaged towelettes waiters placed on the table after an especially messy seafood meal. Taylor groaned in relief when he rubbed the towelette over her reddened face.

  “What’s that?” Robby asked.

  “A Sudecon wipe. If you’re going to carry pepper spray, you should carry the antidote as well. In case of accidental discharges or false alarms.”

  Steven spoke with maddening condescension, making Robby feel even worse than she already did. Miles squeezed her shoulder in a show of support.

  “How’s the patient, doc?” he asked, his lighthearted tone doing little to ease the obvious tension.

  “She’ll live,” Steven said. “No thanks to—”

  “I’m fine,” Taylor said firmly. “It’s my fault.” She turned toward Robby. “I should have said something before I approached you.”

  “What were you thinking? I thought you were…someone else.” She had been so frightened when Taylor approached her out of the darkness, certain Taylor was the man she had run into a few days ago. The man who had confronted her and threatened Taylor. She still didn’t know if the threat was real, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Not after tonight. She was done playing games with Taylor’s mind, her heart, and her life. “I’m sorry, too,” she said contritely. She carefully touched Taylor’s pepper spray-drenched sweatshirt. “Let me wash this for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I don’t care about the clothes.” Taylor gently took Robby’s hands in hers. “We need to talk.”

  No four words had ever scared Robby more.

  * * *

  “I realized something tonight,” Taylor said after they reached Robby’s apartment. Orson pirouetted between them, rubbing against both their legs. “Actually, I realized it before tonight, but it hit home when I saw you at Virginia’s.”

  “About that. I wanted to tell you I worked there, but—”

  “Don’t.” Taylor placed a finger on Robby’s lips. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said, holding Robby’s face in her hands. “You don’t have to explain who you are or justify yourself to me. I loved watching you perform. I loved watching all those women drooling over you and wishing they could be with you. It gave me a thrill knowing they can’t have you, but I can.”

  “Then why did you look so upset?”

  “I didn’t like being taken by surprise. How would you have felt if you were in my shoes?”

  Robby lowered her eyes. “Betrayed.”

  “Exactly.” Taylor lifted Robby’s chin until Robby met her gaze. “I wish you had told me you worked at Virginia’s before I walked in there tonight. When the show started, I wasn’t expecting my girlfriend to be the main attraction.”

  “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. No, that’s not true. I was afraid you’d leave me if you knew. So I didn’t say anything and you left anyway.”

  “I’m sorry I bailed on you tonight, but I needed time to wrap my head around what I was feeling.”

  “So you’re here to break up with me in person instead of over the phone?”

  “No, I’m here to tell you I love you, Robby. I know what you’ve been hiding and I don’t care. I will love you no matter what you do for a living or how much money you owe. I will love you no matter what.”

  Robby swallowed hard, unable to believe what she had just heard. Steven had discovered she was behind The pH Factor and Taylor didn’t care? “You know?”

  “Yes,” Taylor said fervently. “But none of that matters to me. I love you, Robby. I want to be with you. I don’t care what’s in our pasts because I want to make a future with you. Promise me that from this day forward, there’ll be no more secrets between us.”

  Taylor’s words were like music to Robby’s ears. She had longed for acceptance for so long, and Taylor was giving it to her with no questions asked. “I promise.”

  Taylor took a step back, her expression a mixture of confusion and elation. “So does this mean—”

  Robby kissed her hard. “It means if you don’t take me now, I’m going to blast you with pepper spray again.”

  Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, Taylor took Robby’s hand and led her out of the room.

  “Where are we going?” Robby asked. “The bedroom’s that
way.”

  “But the shower’s this way.”

  Taylor pulled Robby toward the bathroom. Orson curled up on top of the toilet tank and watched them undress.

  Robby opened the shower door, turned on the water, and dialed up the heat. The small bathroom quickly filled with steam.

  They stepped into the shower and closed the door. Taylor tilted her head back, letting the water soak her hair. She ran her fingers through it, rinsing out the rest of the pepper spray.

  “Let me.”

  Robby reached for the bottle of raspberry-scented shampoo resting in the shower caddy. She squeezed a generous dollop into her hand and rubbed her palms together until a thick lather formed. Then she worked the shampoo through Taylor’s hair, thoroughly soaping every lock.

  Taylor leaned against her as fragrant suds slowly slid across their skin. Robby moved closer, her breasts pressing against Taylor’s back.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered as she rinsed the shampoo from Taylor’s hair.

  “That’s good to know.” Taylor turned to face her. “I would hate to think I was in this alone.”

  “I promise you’ll never have to feel alone again.”

  “Does it hurt?” Taylor gently rubbed her fingers over the bruises that had already begun to form on Robby’s ribs where Steven had plowed into her.

  “No,” Robby said. The truth was her ribs hurt like hell and the rest of her body wasn’t feeling too good either, but she didn’t want to do or say anything to detract from the moment. Whining about her aches and pains would take the focus away from where it belonged: on her and Taylor.

  Taylor cupped Robby’s ass in the palm of her left hand. Then she slowly slid her hand down Robby’s leg and pulled it toward her, hooking the back of Robby’s knee around her waist. Her left hand returned to Robby’s hip, offering her support. She slipped her right hand between their bodies. Her fingers moved across Robby’s clit as soft as a whisper. As gentle as a stolen kiss. She slowly increased the pressure until Robby begged for more, more, more.

  Robby bit Taylor’s shoulder to keep from crying out. She had to be quiet because she had seen more than enough of Steven for one day.

  Taylor’s fingers continued to dance against her clit. Up the hood, down to the bundle of nerves at the tip.

  “I need you inside me,” Robby said. “Now.”

  Taylor thrust three fingers inside.

  The shock of the intrusion, the joy of being both filled and fulfilled pushed Robby over the edge. She threw her head back, howling in release.

  “So much for keeping quiet,” she thought as she and Taylor stood wordlessly holding each other under the shower spray.

  “What are you doing next Friday?” Taylor asked a few minutes later as Robby tossed her clothes in the washer.

  “I don’t know.” Robby replaced the box of detergent on the shelf and closed the laundry room door. “What do you have in mind?”

  “My father is having his first official state dinner next week. Would you like to come?”

  “I think I just did,” Robby said with a lascivious smile. “Repeatedly, in fact.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Taylor’s cheeks turned crimson. God, she was adorable.

  “Who’s the guest of honor?” Robby put her arms around Taylor’s neck as Taylor’s arms circled her waist.

  “Patricia Ogilvie, the prime minister of Australia. I can’t wait to pick her brain about what it’s like to be the second female and the first openly gay prime minister in her country’s history. It can’t be easy for her. Especially in a country that was originally founded to serve as a penal colony for Britain’s most notorious criminals.”

  “If you’re going to be conducting research all night, I might as well stay home. Why don’t you invite your brunch date instead?”

  Taylor grabbed Robby’s arm, preventing her from walking away. “Sheridan’s already on the guest list. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised. Your mother thinks she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

  “And I feel the same way about you, so that makes us even.” Standing behind Robby, Taylor wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “If you go, I promise to make it worth your while.”

  Robby rested her hands on Taylor’s forearms. “Before or after?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Robby had never been so happy—or so scared—in her life. She felt like a cliché. Every time she saw Taylor, her heart beat faster. One kiss, one touch was enough to make her pulse race even more. She had thought her feelings for Sheridan were all-encompassing. In retrospect, they seemed more like a schoolgirl crush. Was this what truly being in love felt like?

  She wanted to explore her feelings and see how deep they could go, but she had to keep Taylor safe. The only way she knew how to do that was to keep her at a distance.

  Stay away from Taylor Crenshaw or she dies. And you get to watch.

  Robby got a chill every time she thought about the ominous message. So far, it was the only such missive she had received. If she and Taylor became an official couple, however, she felt certain she would hear from the man again in some form or fashion.

  She tried to tell herself everything would be fine as long as she and Taylor never went out in public together. As long as they never left her apartment. Taylor would be safe as long as they stayed behind closed doors. But how could she do to Taylor what Sheridan had done to her?

  “How would you like to spend a night with me and two hundred of your closest friends?” Taylor asked, prompting Robby to respond to her invitation.

  Normally, Robby would have leaped at the opportunity to get the inside scoop on a roomful of movers and shakers, but her life had stopped being normal the day Taylor sauntered into it.

  She rubbed her back against Taylor’s nipples, which hardened at her touch. “I’d rather spend my night with you.”

  “We have all the time in the world for that. How often do you get to break bread with heads of state?”

  Robby gave in, Taylor’s enthusiasm winning her over. “Count me in.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Taylor felt her heart fill with love when Robby agreed to accompany her to next week’s state dinner. “Our first date as an official couple.”

  “What are your parents going to say?”

  “Who cares?”

  Robby grinned. “I like that answer.”

  Taylor gave her a quick kiss. “Do you have some sweats I can borrow?”

  “Check the bottom drawer in my bedroom. They might not suit your fashion sensibilities, but they should be about your size.”

  Taylor cinched Robby’s robe around her waist, and padded barefoot to the living room. Steven and Miles were sitting on the couch, Miles’s legs draped across Steven’s lap. Orson lay next to them.

  “We’ve got another post from our blogger,” Steven said, staring at the display on his phone. “You’re not going to like this one.”

  “I haven’t liked any of them. Why should this one be any different?”

  “Because—”

  “Don’t tell me what it says.” Taylor continued to the bedroom. “Tell me where it came from.”

  “The Coffee Pot.”

  Taylor reached into the bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of bright pink sweatpants with Hot Stuff written on the seat. “Robby was right. Definitely not my style.” She slipped the sweats on nevertheless, along with a Victoria’s Secret T-shirt. She joined Steven and Miles in the living room. “The Coffee Pot. Where have I heard that name before?”

  “It’s just a few blocks from here.”

  “I know, but—”

  Then it hit her. She hadn’t heard the name before. She had seen it. Seen it written on the side of a cup. The cup Robby had been holding when they saw each other on the street a few hours earlier.

  She bolted for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Robby asked, sticking her head out of
the closet that doubled as a laundry room.

  Taylor paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I left something downstairs.”

  “Baby, you can’t go out dressed like that. At least put on some shoes.”

  “No time. I won’t be long.”

  Steven scrambled off the couch. “Wait for me.” He caught up to her at the bottom of the stairs. “Hold on,” he said, dragging her back inside the foyer before she could walk out into the cold. “Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll get it.”

  “The cup Robby dropped just before she Maced me. I need it.”

  “Are you afraid she’ll be fined for littering?”

  She ignored his attempt at levity. “Just find the fucking cup.”

  Steven’s smile vanished. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Shivering from the blast of cold air, she held the door open while he searched the street. “Find anything?”

  “It’s not here,” he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of helplessness.

  “It has to be.”

  He moved farther up the street and peered into the gutter. Then he bent and picked up a discarded paper cup. “Is this the one?” he asked, bringing it over to her.

  Taylor caught a whiff of vanilla latte as she held the cup aloft with two fingers. She examined the lipstick stain on the lid. Robby’s shade. The outline of Robby’s lips. She turned the cup toward Steven so he could see the label. His jaw went slack.

  “The Coffee Pot. You don’t think—There’s nothing in the file I created on her that would lead anyone to that conclusion. I’ve spent most of the past three days scouring every facet of her life. I uncovered several things, including her job at Virginia’s, but I didn’t find anything linking her to the blogs.”

  “You just did.”

  “But—”

  Looking into his eyes, Taylor could see he felt the same sense of betrayal she did. If she was wrong about Robby, was he wrong about Miles?