One Taste

by Cari Quinn

  “Call security,” he suggested. “Yell your head off. I’m not moving until you explain what happened between when you fell asleep in my arms, and when I woke up to you trying to kill me.”

  “Your father happened.” She elbowed him out of the way so she could step into her panties. “I suppose I should take back last night’s assertion that I’m not your whore since apparently, you want us to get married like, tomorrow so I can start heaving out your rug rats.”

  Shawn sank onto the mattress. “So you keep saying. Would be nice if I knew those were my plans, because seriously? Had no clue.”

  “How stupid do you think I am?”

  “Right now? You don’t want me to answer that question.” Because he knew her penchant for histrionics, he didn’t immediately pick up the phone, but he had to fist his hands to stifle the impulse. “My father said I wanted to get married and start having children with you. In those words exactly.”

  “More or less.” Rachel shimmied into her dress and tied those detested straps with a few flicks of her fingers. “It’s our destiny after all.” On went her strappy heels. “We’re matched perfectly.”

  “Well, yeah, but…” Too late, her sarcasm registered. His heart gave one nasty knock against his ribs as she narrowed her eyes until mere slits of velvet brown remained. He dug deep for his patience. “You’ve never wondered what it would be like? We’re great together. We knew that before, but now that we’re lovers --”

  “We were lovers. Past tense. And no, I haven’t wondered. Unlike you, I don’t spend my time thinking about destinies and heirs.” She snatched her purse off the nightstand where she’d dropped it the night before and strode to the door, moving so fast her hair swung out like a dark cape.

  He rose and charged after her, then slammed a palm above her head on the door she’d just opened. “We aren’t through yet. Face me like a goddamned man instead of running away like a coward.”

  “If I were a man, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” But she turned, raising her eyes defiantly to his.

  She was so freaking beautiful when she was mad, even with puffy eyelids and lips she’d bitten raw. For a long moment, he fumbled for something to say, but she never suffered from that problem.

  “You’re not denying it. You went to your father for advice on how to get me to slip into my designated role within the family. Mrs. Rachel Griffin.” Her voice sounded flat now, as if all the fight had simply drained out of her. “It’s got a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  Fuck it. Just fuck it. She already believed the worst of him, so why not just lay the truth on the line once and for all?

  “I always thought so.” He didn’t flinch under the scalding weight of her gaze. “You heard me. I’ve thought about us getting married. I suppose if I’m being honest, I’ve even entertained the idea of you having our child. A couple of children, preferably. Not now. Hell, not even next year. But…yeah.”

  Because he knew he’d shocked her speechless, he scrubbed his hands over his morning stubble, suddenly aware he was having this conversation without benefit of pants. Or underwear. Apt, actually, that he’d stripped himself bare when he truly was. “Whatever destiny crap my father laid on you, that’s his spiel, not mine. I’m not looking to broker a business transaction.”

  “What are you looking for then?”

  “What I’ve already found.” He took a breath. Let it out again. “I love you, Rachel.”

  When her expression didn’t change, he let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Capital L, Rach. The big kahuna. Not best-pal love, but the I-want-to-eat-tropical-fruit-drizzled-with-honey-off-your-breasts-and-make-love-to-you-all-night kind. Get my drift?”

  She said nothing. But her eyes welled with tears again, which wasn’t a positive sign from his side of no-man’s-land.

  “I’m not asking you to feel the same way.” Liar. “Okay, maybe I am. But that’s my problem. I’ve dealt with it this long, I’ll keep right on dealing.”

  She pressed her face into her hands. And he knew, just knew, that she was crying for him. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not capable of --”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Dammit, Shawn.”

  “You can tell me you don’t feel the same way. That I can handle. But saying ‘you’re not capable’ is one step up from ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ and that I won’t accept. You’re one of the most loving people I know.” He picked up his pajama bottoms, slid them on. “You loved Halston. So don’t feed me some line to get me out of your face.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? If you really feel this way, why’d you wait until I said I was coming here to see Ryan?”

  He kicked his shoes under the bed then walked over to the nightstand to slide on his watch. “Think about it. See what you come up with.”

  She sniffled. “You’re not jealous of him?”

  “Oh yeah, I am. I just told you I’m in love with you. Connect the damn dots.”

  When she stepped forward to lay a hand on his back, he stiffened as if she’d branded him with a hot poker. Funny how the worm turned. “I’m fine.” He shifted to look at her, annoyed that even now he yearned to hold her more than he wanted to do the smart, safe thing and steer clear. “We’re not tied to each other. You’ve still got your freedom.”

  She wet her lips. “What are you going to do now?”

  He didn’t know if she meant at that moment or in life, but he chose to answer the former. Thirty minutes into the future was about as far as he dared go. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

  And plot ways to strangle my father.

  “Okay.” Rachel rubbed her cheeks, creating blotches on both cheekbones he knew she’d screech at when she looked into a mirror. “Then I’ll just…”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Maybe later, we can… Oh, God, I don’t know.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation never happened. It’s tabled. Permanently. If you’re worried I’ll go to pieces --”

  “No.” She laughed thinly as she strode to the door. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

  “Figures.”

  She rested her head against the door frame. “There’s this Chinese restaurant, lower East side.”

  So he’d gotten his wish. Conversation tabled. Ridiculous crush-slash-puppy love dashed. “Come back around six. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

  “Okay.” She exhaled. “I’m sorry.” She closed the door.

  Shawn sat on the edge of the bed, gathering the sheets in his hands. They reeked of her summery scent, invoking the dreams he’d just watched crumble around her.

  “So much for home,” he murmured.

  She didn’t go right back to her hotel. Even though she still wore her wrinkled dress and her hair probably looked as if she’d gotten caught in a Santa Ana, Rachel spent a while wandering around Times Square. She imagined she resembled a puppy dragging its leash and felt just about as pathetic.

  “I love you, Rachel.” Over and over she heard those words in her head, followed by her own. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not capable --”

  Several blocks from Shawn’s hotel, she paused, holding a hand to her aching skull as she tried to decide which way to go. She’d gotten turned around somehow and didn’t remember if her hotel was left or right.

  “Lost, little girl?”

  At the familiar voice, she brightened. “Yeah. Actually, I am.” She let out a short laugh as she used the flat of her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Seeing Ryan was both a relief and another reason to feel guilty, even though she’d done nothing wrong. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just came from your hotel.” He grinned, jerking a thumb to the right. “It’s down the block.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” Rachel flashed a wan smile. “I bet you were wondering where I disappeared to last night.”

  “I had some idea.” He fell into step beside her and tossed her a sidelong glance. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy? Are you kid
ding me?”

  He shrugged. “After I saw the sparks flying off you and Shawn at the costume place, I figured something was up. When you went MIA last night, it wasn’t too hard to piece together.”

  “Sparks? Off us?” She laughed the notion away. “He’s my best friend.”

  “What I saw didn’t look all that friendly to me.”

  “You saw wrong, Ryan.” Considering the matter closed, she glanced up at her hotel, then down at the heels pinching her toes into submission. “I’m starving.”

  “Me too. As much as I like that dress, wanna change first?”

  His crooked grin prompted one of her own but didn’t set off any butterflies in her belly. Not, say, like the smile of the man whose heart she’d just splintered into shards.

  Maybe splintered, if his confession of love could be believed. Probably he’d just gotten twisted up in what his family had pushed upon him. Maybe, probably, could be.

  Dammit.

  “Rachel?”

  “Uh-huh.” She let out a windy sigh. “A change is definitely in order. I’ll be right back.”

  If he thought it odd that she didn’t invite him into her hotel, never mind her room, he didn’t comment. “Where do you feel like going?” he asked as she ascended the stairs.

  “Anywhere’s fine.”

  “How about the Pancake Hut? They have the best pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

  Pancakes. Didn’t it just figure. Nodding weakly, she pushed through the revolving door.

  He was sitting on the curb when she returned, idly paging through a brochure similar to one she’d seen on Shawn’s nightstand. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Ryan smiled as he rose, dusting off his snug, frayed jeans as casually as if he hadn’t been the guest of honor at an elite publishing soiree the night before. His sly blue gaze skimmed over her yellow sundress, lingering on her legs a shade longer than she liked.

  Why, she didn’t know. She was single. Totally free and unencumbered. And yeah, Ryan might not have been the most reliable of men, but sometimes passing time with Mr. Right Now was a dozen times more preferable than waiting for Mr. Right.

  “Feel like taking a spin?”

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  He gestured to a hulking chrome and black Harley parked a few slots away. “That one’s mine. I remember you used to like to ride.” His grin didn’t end with a wink, but the implication hung between them regardless.

  “You can’t stand that I’d stick by you, that I’d want our child? That I wouldn’t ride my motorcycle off to the next woman while you cried yourself to sleep?”

  “God, stop it.” She pressed her hands against both sides of her head and squeezed. Anything to obliterate the sound of Shawn’s voice ringing in her ears. “Build the wall.”

  She dropped her hands as she realized Ryan was staring at her but tried to cover her moment of lunacy with a breezy laugh. “I hear voices. They usually go away if I tell them to.”

  His face relaxed into a smile, as if he were relieved she wasn’t totally nutty. “I’m a writer, Rachel.” He handed her a helmet, then helped her fasten the chin strap. “I know all about voices, believe me.”

  She climbed on and linked her arms around Ryan’s lean torso, waiting expectantly for the gush of excitement she’d once felt at being this close to him. God knew being on a bike with a scrumptious guy in a beat-up leather jacket and tight jeans was a recipe for a little heat. But while he still took corners too fast and made her shriek with laughter, as far as anything else…nada. She had a sinking suspicion he could’ve been buck-ass naked and she wouldn’t have felt a glimmer more.

  By the time they reached the Pancake Hut, her spirits had marginally improved. It was damned hard to feel miserable on a fabulously sunny New York day, especially after a motorcycle ride. Or so she thought until she rediscovered Ryan wasn’t only about as dependable as a broken watch, he still had an unsurpassed ability to listen.

  “It’s just too damn complicated,” she said through bites of cherry-flecked waffle. “If we get together, there’s no changing our minds. There’re no do-overs. Our families will never let us forget. Can you imagine how they’d react if we split? I can’t handle the possibility our friendship will suffer either. Maybe I’m just not the type to settle down. What if I break his heart?”

  Her waffle lodged in her throat as she heard herself. Didn’t you do that already?

  “Shouldn’t you let him worry about that?”

  “I can’t. I won’t risk what we have for something that’s just so preposterous, so insanely wild that I can’t even talk about it.”

  Ryan smiled. “You are talking about it, Rach.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, guess I am.”

  Somehow it didn’t feel strange to be discussing her love life with her ex. Then again, she’d just had killer sex three times with her best friend. Obviously her boundaries needed some work.

  “I hear you,” he said after a moment as he dumped syrup on his second stack of pancakes. How had she managed to hook up with two guys with a fetish for blueberry pancakes? “Do I ever. Relationships are messy.”

  “I’m not even thirty. I don’t want my life all sketched out, so I can color within the lines my parents -- and Shawn’s -- have drawn. You know?”

  “You forget I had a few run-ins with your family myself back in the day.” Ryan gave her a wry grin as he shook back his shaggy walnut brown hair. “Lee and Alexis just adored me.”

  “They sure did.” Hadn’t that been a big part of his appeal? “But you did pretty damn well for yourself, Mr. Big Shot Author.”

  “I did. But that’s only because I didn’t let anything veer me off course.” He set down his fork and angled his jaw. “I’ll admit I’ve thought about us. What might have been different if I’d hung around. Or if you’d come with me.”

  Rachel gazed at her plate and the waffles she’d barely touched. “Yeah,” she agreed quietly, but her thoughts weren’t of them.

  They were for her baby, the one she’d lost on a hot summer night mere weeks after she’d learned she was pregnant. She’d never felt more alone than in the hours she’d lain in that sterile white hospital room, helpless to do anything while her baby’s chance at life slipped away.

  Even then, Shawn had been with her. She remembered his tight grip on her hand and the way he’d pressed his forehead against her cheek. She could still hear his hoarse voice as he told her how much he loved her, how strong she was, that she could handle anything.

  “It was a long time ago,” she whispered, willing the image back into the compartment of her mind she stored it in.

  “Feels longer by the second.” Smiling ruefully, Ryan danced his fingertips over the back of her hand. “You didn’t mention the most important thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “You told me Shawn has feelings for you, that your families would be tickled at the idea of you two doing the whole bumping-and-babies deal. But you never said how you feel about him.”

  If only all questions could be so simple. “I love him.”

  “Like a brother? Or like a lover?”

  She opened her mouth to speak, then fell silent as the bell over the Pancake Hut’s glass door tinkled. And in walked Shawn’s Little Bo Beep.

  Rachel sat back in her booth, frowning in spite of herself. Wonder if her panties have a crotch today?

  Shawn’s friend’s guileless blue eyes swept the crowd as she waited to be seated, then she did a little hair flip and wave as she sashayed toward Rachel and Ryan’s table. “Do you know that woman?” Rachel asked under her breath.

  Turning his head to admire her hip sway in her short electric blue skirt, Ryan grinned. “Sure. That’s Chrissy.”

  “Yay.” Doing her damnedest not to sound as surly as she felt, Rachel plastered on a smile as Chrissy reached them. “Small world.”

  “Totally.” She glanced at Rachel for less than half a second, then turned a coy smile on Ryan. “Some shindig last night.”

  His
grin broadened. “Zenith knows how to have a party, all right.”

  “You guys having breakfast?”

  No, we’re playing pool. “Seems that way.”

  “Why don’t you join us?” Ryan added. “If you’re not with someone…”

  “Nope.” Chrissy’s smile lit up her eyes like Christmas as she crawled into Ryan’s side of the booth. “Thanks.”

  Rachel smiled again, beginning to feel like Pavlov’s dog. Get jealous? Smile. Get annoyed? Smile. “Not a problem. So what brings you here?”

  “I work up the block actually. After that late dinner last night, I figured I wouldn’t be able to eat anything till lunch, but wouldn’t you know it?” She punched Ryan’s arm, but he didn’t seem to mind her playful gesture. “Stomach’s growling again.”

  Rachel heard only four words. “Late dinner last night?”

  “Uh-huh.” Chrissy snatched a strip of bacon from Ryan’s plate and crunched it lustily. “We went to Hard Rock. Their burgers are amazing. Then we stopped by my favorite ice cream place, up in Brooklyn. The Tastee Slurp’s got ninety-two flavors --”

  “We?” Rachel interjected, squeezing her water glass until her knuckles cracked.

  “Sure. Me and Shawn. My date.” Chrissy cocked her head, blinking innocently. “You know, the guy you did somewhere on the grounds. Or was it in the men’s room?”

  Chapter Ten

  Rachel made herself loosen her hold on her glass. Things that splashed and jealousy-borne fits of temper didn’t mix well. “He told you?”

  Chrissy glanced at Ryan. “Sounds like an admission of guilt to me.”

  “Hey, she’s free. She can do what she likes.”

  “If one more person tells me how free I am today --” But no one was listening to her, because her two companions were too busy smiling at each other.

  “How about you?” Chrissy punched Ryan’s arm again, jabbing him with her robin’s egg-sized jade ring. Not that he minded, judging from his shift toward her in the booth. “Are you free?”