Suzanne Brockmann - Team Ten 10 - Taylor's Temptation

by Suzanne Brockmann

  What? Colleen took another step into the room. "Ashley-"

  "I'm going to go to bartending school and get a job dancing in some exotic bar like the women in that video we rented before I left for New York."

  Colleen laughed in surprise. She quickly stopped when Ashley shot her a dark look.

  "You don't think I'd be any good at it?"

  "No," Colleen protested. "No, I think you'd be great. It's just... Isn't it a little late in your childhood to start sporting the career equivalent of—" she thought of Clark, "—of blue hair?"

  "It's never too late," Ashley said. "And my father deserves all the blue hair—symbolic or other—that he gets." She closed her suitcase, locked it. "Look, I'm going to send for the rest of my things. And I'll pay my share of the rent until you find a new roommate."

  "I don't want a new roommate!" Colleen followed her into the living room. "You're my best friend. I can't believe you're so mad at me that you're leaving!"

  Ashley set her suitcase down. "I'm not leaving because I'm mad at you," she said. "I'm not really mad at you at all. I just...I did a lot of thinking, and... Colleen, I have

  to get out of here. Boston's too close to my father in New York. And you know, maybe Clark's right. Maybe I should go to one of those survival training schools. Learn to swim with sharks. See if I can grow a backbone—although I suspect it's a little late for that."

  "You have a great backbone."

  "No, you have a great backbone. I'm really good at borrowing yours when I need it," Ashley countered. She pushed her hair back from her face, attempting to put several escaped tendrils neatly back into place. "I have to do this, Colleen. I've got a cab waiting...."

  Colleen hugged her friend. "Call me," she said, pulling back to look into Ashley's face. Her friend's normally perfect complexion was sallow, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes. This Brad thing had truly damaged her. "Whenever you get where you're going, when you've had a little more time to think about this—call me, Ash. You can always change your mind and come back. But if you don't—well, I'll come out to visit and cheer while you dance on the bar."

  Ashley smiled even though her eyes filled with tears. "See, everything's okay with you. Why couldn't you be my father?"

  Colleen had teared up, too, but she still had to laugh. "Aside from the obvious biological problems, I'm not ready to be anyone's parent. I'm having a tough enough time right now keeping my own life straightened out."

  And yet, she could well be pregnant. Right now. Right this moment, a baby could be sparking to life inside her. In nine months she could be someone's mother. Someone very small who looked an awful lot like Bobby Taylor.

  And somehow that thought wasn't quite so terrifying as she'd expected it to be.

  She heard an echo of Bobby's deep voice, soft and rum-

  bly, close to her ear. There are some things you just have to do, you know? So you do it, and it all works out.

  If she were pregnant, despite what she'd just told Ashley, she would make it work out. Somehow.

  She gave her friend one more hug. "You liked law school," she told Ashley. "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face."

  "Maybe I'll go back some day—anonymously."

  "That'll look good on your diploma—Anonymous DeWitt."

  "The lawyer with blue hair." Ashley smiled back at Colleen, wiping her eyes again before dragging her suitcase to the door.

  The door buzzer rang.

  "That's probably the cab driver," Ashley said, "wondering if I sneaked out the back door."

  Colleen pushed the button for the intercom. "She'll be right down."

  "Actually, I was hoping to come up." The voice over the ancient speaker was crackly but unmistakable, and Colleen's heart leaped.

  Bobby.

  "I thought you were the cab driver," she told him, leaning close to the microphone.

  "You're not going anywhere, are you?" Did he sound worried? She hoped so.

  "No," she said. "The cab's Ashley's."

  She buzzed him into the lobby as Ashley opened the apartment door. From the sound of his footsteps, he took the stairs two at a time, and then there he was. Carrying flowers?

  He was. He had what looked like a garden in his arms— an outrageous mix of lilies and daisies and big, bold, crazy-looking flowers for which she didn't know the names. He

  thrust them toward her as he quickly took the suitcase from Ashley's hands. "Let me get that for you."

  "No, you don't need to—" But he was already down the stairs. Ashley looked helplessly at Colleen. "See? No backbone."

  "Call me," Colleen said, and then Ashley was gone.

  Leaving Colleen face-to-face with the flowers that Bobby had brought. For her.

  She had to smile. It was silly and sweet and a complete surprise. She left the door ajar and went into the kitchen to find a vase. She was filling it with water when Bobby returned.

  He looked nice, as if he'd taken special care with his appearance. He was wearing Dockers instead of his usual jeans, a polo shirt with a collar in a muted shade of green. His hair was neatly braided. Someone had helped him with that.

  "Sorry I didn't call you last night. The meeting didn't end until well after midnight. And then I was up early, catching a flight back here."

  He was nervous. She could see it in his eyes, in the tension in his shoulders—but only because she knew him so very well. Anyone else would see a completely relaxed, easygoing man, standing in her kitchen, dwarfing the refrigerator.

  "Thanks for the flowers," she said. "I love them."

  He smiled. "Good. I didn't think you were the roses type, and they, well, they reminded me of you."

  "What?" she said. "Big and flashy?"

  His smile widened. "Yeah."

  Colleen laughed as she turned to give him a disbelieving look. Their eyes met and held, and just like that the heat was back, full force.

  "I missed you," she whispered.

  "I missed you, too."

  "Kinda hard for you to take off my clothes when you're way over there."

  He yanked his gaze away, cleared his throat. "Yeah, well. Hmmm. I think we need to talk before..." He cleared his throat. "You want to go out, take a walk? Get some coffee?"

  She put the flowers into the water. "You're afraid if we stay here, we won't be able to keep from getting naked."

  "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."

  Colleen laughed, opening the refrigerator. "How about we take a glass of iced tea to the roof?"

  "Am I going to get the urge to jump you there?"

  "Absolutely," she said as she poured the tea. "But unless you're an exhibitionist, you won't. There's a taller building right behind this one. There are about three floors of apartments that have a bird's-eye view of this roof."

  She gave him one of the glasses and a kiss.

  His mouth was soft and warm and wonderful, his body so solid and strong, and she felt herself melt against him.

  She looked up at him. "You sure you don't want to...?"

  "Roof," he said. "Please?"

  Colleen led the way, up the main staircase, through the exit door and out into the bright sunshine. A long-departed former tenant had built a sundeck, complete with large pots of dirt in which she and Ashley had planted flowers last May. It wasn't luxurious, but it was a far cry from the peeling tar paper on the neighboring buildings' roofs.

  There was even a bench, placed strategically in the shade provided by the larger building next door.

  Colleen sat down. Bobby sat, too—about as far away from her as he could manage.

  "So I guess I should ask about my brother," she said. "Is he in intensive care?"

  "No." Bobby looked down into his iced tea. "We did fight, though."

  She knew. She could see the shadows of bruises on his face. "It must've been awful," she said quietly.

  He turned to gaze at her, and her heart moved up into her throat. He had such a way of looking at her, as if he could see inside her head, inside her very
heart and soul, as if he saw her completely, as a whole, unique, special person.

  "Marry me."

  Colleen nearly dropped her glass. What?

  But she'd heard him correctly. He reached into his pocket and took out a jeweler's box. A ring box. He opened it and handed it to her—it was a diamond in a gorgeously simple setting, perfect for accenting the size of the stone. Which was enormous. It had to have cost him three months' pay.

  She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Bobby Taylor wanted to marry her.

  "Please," he said quietly. "I should have said, please marry me."

  The sky was remarkably blue, and the air was fresh and sweet. On the street below, a woman shouted for someone named Lenny. A car horn honked. A bus roared past.

  Bobby Taylor wanted to marry her.

  And yes, yes, she wanted to marry him, too. Marry him! The thought was dizzying, terrifying, but it came with a burst of happiness that was so strong, she laughed aloud.

  Colleen looked up at him then, into the almost palpable warmth of his eyes. He was waiting for her answer.

  But she was waiting, too, she realized. This was where he would tell her that he loved her.

  Except he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just sat there, watching her, slightly nervous, slightly...detached? As if he were waiting for her to say no.

  Colleen looked hard into his eyes. He was sitting there, waiting, as if he expected her to turn him down.

  As if he didn't really want her to marry him.

  As if...

  Her happiness fizzled, and she handed him the ring box. "Wes put you up to this, didn't he?" She saw the truth in his eyes. Oh, no, she was right. "Oh, Bobby."

  "I'm not going to lie to you," he said quietly. "It was Wes's idea. But I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to do it."

  "Yeah," Colleen said, standing up and walking away so that her back was to him. She couldn't bear to let him see her disappointment. "Right. You look really enthusiastic. Grim is more like it. 'I'm here to be sentenced to life in prison, your honor.'"

  "I'm scared. Can you blame me for that?" he countered. She heard the ice tinkling in his glass as he set it down, as he stood up and moved directly behind her. But he didn't touch her. He just stood there, impossible to ignore.

  "This is a big step," he said quietly. "A major life decision for both of us. And I'm not sure marrying me is the right thing for you to do. I don't make a lot of money, Colleen, and my job takes me all over the world. Being a Navy wife sucks—I'm not sure I want to do that to you. I don't know if I could make you happy enough to ignore all the negatives of being married to me. And, yes, that scares me."

  He took a deep breath. "But the fact is, you could be pregnant. With my child. That's not something I can ignore."

  "I know," she whispered.

  "If you are pregnant, you will marry me," he told her, his quiet voice leaving no room for argument. "Even if it's only just for a year or two, if that's how you want to play it."

  Colleen nodded. "If I'm pregnant. But I'm probably not, so I'm not going to marry you." She shook her head. "I

  can't believe you would marry me, just because Wes told you to." She laughed, but her throat ached, and she knew she was dangerously close to crying. "I can't decide if that makes you a really good friend or a total chump."

  She headed for the door to the stairs, praying she would make it into her apartment before her tears escaped. "I should get back to work."

  God, she was a fool. If he'd been just a little more disingenuous, if he'd lied and told her he loved her, she would have given herself away. She would have thrown her arms around his neck and told him yes. Yes, she'd marry him, yes, she loved him, too.

  She loved him so much...but there was no too.

  "Colleen, wait."

  Oh, damn, he was chasing her down the stairs. He caught her at her apartment door as she fumbled her key in the lock, as her vision blurred from her tears.

  She pushed open the door, and he followed. She tried to turn away, but it was too late.

  "I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely, engulfing her in his arms. "Please believe me—the last thing I wanted to do was upset you like this."

  He was so solid, so huge, and his arms gave her the illusion of safety. Of being home.

  He swore softly. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Colleen."

  She just held him tightly, wanting them both just to pretend this hadn't happened. He hadn't asked her to marry him, she hadn't discovered just how much she truly loved him. Yeah, that would be easy to forget. He could return the ring to the jeweler's, but she didn't have a clue what she was going to do with her heart.

  She did, however, know exactly what to do with her body. Yes, she was going to take advantage of every second she had with this man.

  She pushed the door closed behind them and, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulled his head down for a kiss.

  He hesitated—for about one-tenth of a second. Then, with a groan, he kissed her, too.

  And Colleen stopped crying.

  How the hell had this happened?

  As Bobby awoke, he knew exactly where he was before he even opened his eyes.

  He could smell the sweet scent of Colleen, feel her softness nestled against him.

  Her windows were open, and a soft breeze from this perfect summer day caressed his naked behind. Colleen caressed him, too. She was running her fingers lightly up and down the arm he'd draped around her after she'd succeeded in completely wearing him out. Had they made love twice or three times?

  How had that happened—even once? It didn't quite line up with him asking to marry her, and her getting angry because she saw clear through him, saw it had been Wesley's idea in the first place.

  Except she hadn't been so much angry as hurt, and...

  He lifted his face from her pillow to find her watching him. She smiled. "Hi."

  He wanted her again. Just from one smile. Except it wasn't so much his body that reacted this time. It was his heart that expanded. He wanted to wake up to her smile every day. He wanted...

  "You need to go," she said to him. "I have to pack for Tulgeria, and you're distracting me."

  “I’ll help you."

  "Yeah, right." She laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. "Ten minutes of your help, you'll have me back in bed."

  "Seriously, Colleen, I know exactly what you need to

  take. No bright colors, no white, either, otherwise you're setting yourself up as a potential sniper target. Think drabs—browns, greens, beiges. I also don't want you to bring anything clingy—wear loose overshirts, okay? Long sleeves, long skirts—and you know this already. Right." Bobby laughed, disgusted with himself. "Sorry."

  She kissed him again. "I love that you care."

  "I do," he said, holding her gaze, wishing there was some way to convey just how much.

  But the door buzzer rang, and Colleen gently extracted herself from his arms. She slipped on her robe. Man, he loved that robe. He sat up. "Maybe you should let me get the door."

  But she was already out of the room. "I've got it."

  Whoever had buzzed had gotten past the building's security entrance and was now knocking directly on the door to Colleen's apartment.

  Where were his shorts?

  "Oh, my God," he heard Colleen say. "What are you doing here?"

  "What, I can't visit my own sister?" Oh, damn! It was Wes. "Sleeping in today, huh? Late night last night?"

  "No," she said flatly. "What do you want, Wes? I'm mad at you."

  "I'm looking for Taylor. But he better not be here, with you dressed like that."

  The hell with his shorts. Bobby grabbed his pants, pulling them on, tripping over his own feet in his haste and just barely keeping himself from doing a nosedive onto the floor. His recovery made an incriminating thump.

  Wes swore—a steady stream of epithets that grew louder as he moved down the hall toward Colleen's bedroom.

  Bobby was searching for his shirt
among the sheets and blankets that spilled from the bed and onto the floor as Wes pushed the door open. He slowly straightened up, his hair

  wild around his shoulder, his feet bare and his shirt nowhere to be found.

  Damn, there it was—over near Colleen's closet, near where he'd tossed his socks and shoes.

  "Well, this is just beautiful," Wes said. His eyes were cold and hard—they were someone else's eyes. The Wes Skelly who'd been closer to him than a brother for years was gone. As Bobby watched, Wes turned to Colleen. "You're marrying this son of a bitch over my dead body."

  Bobby knew Wes honestly thought that would make Colleen determined to marry him. "Wes—"

  "You don't want me to marry him?" she asked innocently.

  Wes crossed his arms. "Absolutely not."

  "Okay," Colleen said blithely. "Sorry, Bobby, I can't marry you. Wes won't let me." She turned and went into the kitchen.

  "What?" Wes followed, sputtering. "But you have to marry him. Especially now."

  Bobby pulled on his shirt and grabbed his socks and shoes.

  "I'm not marrying Bobby," Colleen repeated. "I don't have to marry Bobby. And there's nothing you can do to make me, thank you very much. I'm a grown woman, Wesley, who happens to be in a completely mutual, intimate relationship with a very attractive man. You either need to deal with that or get your negative opinions out of my apartment."

  Wes was still sputtering. "But—"

  She moved grandly from the kitchen to the door, opening it wide for him. "Leave."

  Wes looked at Bobby. "No way am I leaving with him still here!"

  "Then take him with you," Colleen said. "I have work to do." She pointed the way. "Go. Both of you."

  Bobby moved, and Wes followed. But at the door Colleen stopped Bobby, kissed him. "Sorry about my brother the grouch. I had a lovely afternoon, thank you. I'll see you tonight."

  If her intention was to infuriate her brother, she'd succeeded.