Brenna stared at him as if she needed to memorize every line of his face. She had seen it often enough in her dreams. Without warning, a chain of memories of long ago flooded her head. They had had wonderful times together. They both enjoyed sports and spent fun times at ball games, but her favorite times had always been the quiet moments she'd spent in his arms. Enough of this silly thinking. “My underarms hurt. I hate to ask . . . but will you carry me?”
He took the crutches and placed them by the end of the couch, then lifted her into his arms, brushing her lips gently. Brenna thought she'd faint as she swung an arm around his neck.
“You know I like it when you're tired. You're more like a kitten than a tiger,” he said.
Brenna managed a smile. “But I still have claws.”
Taylor chuckled as he walked to the landing, stopping only a moment to flip on the light switch. “I've developed some good arm muscles over the last week carrying you up these stairs,” he teased her.
“I'll be just as glad to get this thing off my foot as you will.” She rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly feeling melancholy. “I guess you'll be going home before long?”
“I guess so,” Taylor said quietly. He entered her bedroom and closed the door with his foot. “Probably in a few weeks.”
Once inside the room, he let go of her legs, and she slid down his body, but she didn't move away from him as she usually did. Instead Brenna shut her eyes and cursed herself for letting Taylor back into her life. A few weeks. How was she ever going to say goodbye?
This definitely wasn't the way, Brenna convinced herself. She prepared to step away from him. That's when she felt his arms tighten around her. She jerked back. Her eyes opened. And her gaze immediately focused on Taylor's face, and for a fraction of a second, she stopped breathing, “Taylor, I--”
“Shh,” he hissed and pulled her head under his chin, enfolding her within his arms. “Just let me hold you for a little while.” His words were sweeter than any caress. “If nothing else, I can have this,” he whispered more to himself than to anyone.
A little of Brenna died at his softly spoken words. She slid her arms around Taylor's waist and snuggled next to him contentedly listening to his heart thumping beneath her ear. His tortured voice had touched her deeply, and she knew he struggled within himself. If life hadn't interfered, they would have been married, and he'd be holding her like this forever.
Taylor began massaging her back with his fingertips, letting them glide leisurely over the curves of her body. Brenna felt so safe, knowing he'd never let anything hurt her. He'd proven himself over and over again. Yet, she'd hurt him by never divulging the truth. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to bare her soul, but she couldn't tell him everything. There was always the threat over her head.
“Taylor, there was never anyone else,” she whispered, desiring to give him something to ease his hurt.
Taylor kissed the top of her head then laid his cheek on her silky hair. Was she telling the truth? At the moment, he didn't care. She smelled so fresh and clean and wonderful. How was he going to leave her? There were so many things they needed to settle between them, but Taylor knew at this very moment he loved Brenna. He had never stopped loving her. He wasn't sure what the future held, but she was as much a part of him as were his arms, his hands, his fingers. Slipping his palms lower, he drew her closer and molded her body into his, which he realized wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. His mind exploded at the intimate contact, taking all logical reasoning with it.
“Brenna,” Taylor whispered into her hair and waited for her to look up at him. Those beautiful, emerald eyes stared at him with such passion that his thumb shook as he traced a line just under her bottom lip.
She shivered but she didn't glance down, nor did she pull away as his hand moved to the back of her head where his fingers tangled in her hair. But this time his need for her increased and intensified until the outside world ceased to exist. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her, softly at first.
Brenna had felt ugly with this cast on her foot, but her whispered name had curled her toes and overwhelmed her with tenderness. Every logical fiber of Brenna's body said she should move away from him.
This was dangerous.
He would leave her soon, and if she put a stop to everything now, at least she could salvage her pride.
And just when she decided that it was the best action for her to take, Taylor's kiss became different from the last time. He kissed her softly, flicking his tongue over her mouth. She tried to ignore the aching tenderness that grew deep within her. His lips grew seductive, demanding, and with the slightest pressure from his mouth, she willingly parted her lips for him.
She felt the firmness of his desire pressed intimately against her stomach while his lips moved on hers, robbing her of the ability to think.
She couldn't breathe.
She wanted more.
Her hand crept between them and began to unbutton his shirt. She had to feel his rough skin. When the last button come loose, she slipped open Taylor's shirt and glided her arms around his waist all the while taking in his sandalwood scent.
Brenna felt like a drug addict in need of a fix. Her hungry mouth became more insistent each time his tongue thrust inside. Her willpower crumbled until nothing was left but shreds. Hidden emotions that lay rusty like an old hinged door sprang to life, and when she thought she would suffocate, Taylor raised his head and whispered huskily, “Look at me, Brenna.”
She gasped for air. Her body burned. And she longed for the closeness they once knew. His hands slid to her throat and rubbed the tender flesh there, finding every sensitive spot she had. Her body ached and she didn't want him to stop. He couldn't stop! Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
“I want you, Brenna. I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.” Taylor's heavy breathing surprised her, and she knew he fought for some measure of control. “If you don't want this tell me now.”
This was her chance to get out gracefully ... to be honorable. But as she stared into Taylor's stormy, blue eyes she knew a part of him loved her or, at least, wanted her. All these years she'd deprived herself of the one man she had truly loved. But this time she would have a part of him. If only for tonight. “Love me, Taylor,” she whispered, her voice thick.
He clasped her to him as if he was afraid he hadn't heard her correctly. Trailing kisses down her neck, his right hand pulled her shirttail from her slacks. He fumbled with its buttons and when they wouldn't cooperate, he jerked the garment open, sending buttons flying in every direction. Just as quickly, he removed her blouse, and with a flick of his wrist, it fluttered to the floor.
“M--my foot,” Brenna finally managed to whimper. “I'd better get off it. Will you help me?”
“I like that invitation.” He grinned and lifted her, taking her over to the high, four-poster bed. But as he placed her on the bed she managed to hit him in the jaw with her cast.
“I'm so sorry,” she gasped. And seeing his stunned expression she smiled. “How is that for a left foot to the face?” she teased. “Are you hurt?”
Taylor rubbed his jaw. “You throw a mean punch, lady.”
Brenna couldn't help her light laugh. “Maybe I can't do this, after all.”
“Lady, you're not discouraging me that quickly. I can take a few more punches.” He grinned as he began removing his clothing.
“Does your foot hurt much?”
Brenna propped up on her elbow and watched as Taylor disrobed in front of the fireplace, slinging his clothes impatiently across the chair. Her foot wasn't the thing that ached, but she ignored his question as she feasted her eyes on him. The orange glow bathed his chiseled features and his raw sex appeal sent chills running over her body. She didn't miss anything. Those broad shoulders and firm muscles tapering down to slim hips that led to the very spot that made her cheeks burn hot.
There was a husky tone in his voice. “Do you like what you see?”
She'd
been caught, she realized and half-smiled. “Come closer,” she teased, motioning with her index finger. “I can't see you all that well.”
Taylor chuckled and obeyed her command. He stood there staring down at her with a look of appreciation, and she responded the only way she could by holding up her arms and extending an invention. She loved him and he knew it.
His deft fingers helped remove the rest of her clothing, and he joined her in bed, sliding his scalding flesh next to hers. Her dormant body sprang to life and her moans mixed with the sleet pelting against the glass windows. His hand stroked her back. Lower and lower his kisses trailed down her throat, across her chest and finally to a pale pink nipple, which he took into his mouth. His tongue teased her breasts.
She had forgotten. God, she'd forgotten how wonderful their lovemaking had been. His fingers teased her legs until she opened them, and he found her soft wet flesh.
Taylor felt her jerk and writher under him, and he knew by her actions and tightness that she'd been with no one else. The thought was like an erupting volcano and shook him with desire. She was wet and warm and ready. He braced his weight on his elbows and shifted on top of her.
Her mouth parted and he took the invitation, kissing her with long, demanding kisses while his body rubbed intimately against her pelvis, teasing, yet promising things to come. He wanted to be a part of her so badly his arms shook.
She clung to his shoulders and Taylor found he couldn't quit kissing her, and he couldn't get close enough. And when she arched her body, his tortured frame throbbed all over.
Taylor wasn't sure if he was in heaven or hell.
She trembled. He had to have her now. He tore his mouth from Brenna's and waited for her to look into his eyes. Only then did he position himself. And when he drove into her slick, pulsing flesh, he had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes grow wide as he filled her completely. He wanted to go slow. He wanted to remember every minute detail, but desire urged him on. What if he woke up and found she was just a figment of his imagination?
He began slowly moving. God, she was wonderful. Her flushed body mingled with the heat from his. Together they moved in a wild rhythm that peaked with a burst of white light and continued with spasms of delight until nothing was left but two drenched bodies, clinging to each other for support.
With what little strength he had left, Taylor rolled to his side and pulled the covers over them.
Neither said a word. The roar of the fire and the pinging of sleet hitting the window panes lulled them both to sleep in each other’s arms.
The buzzing alarm clock intruded on their blissful slumber. Brenna reached over Taylor and slapped the button. “That's better,” she mumbled sleepily before snuggling next to his warm body.
“Don't you ever get a day off?” Taylor asked.
“Not when we have guests.” She rolled over and prepared to sit up. “I guess I'd better get dressed.”
“Wait a minute.” He snatched her back into his arms. “I know I've probably complicated things after last night.”
Oh, God. He has regrets! Brenna cringed. Her muscles tightened, but she didn't say anything.
He rubbed her arm, slowly as if he were contemplating his exact words before speaking. “I have some thinking to do. You have some thinking to do.”
Brenna cast her gaze down unable to look at him. “I guess this was a mistake.” She didn't want to see the regret in his eyes.
What a fool she must look like to him.
Chapter Ten
“That's not what I'm saying,” Taylor sighed, then leaned back. “I don't know what I'm trying to say.” His puzzled expression didn't provide Brenna with a clue as to what he really thought. “We have some talking to do, but first I'd like to get to know you all over again.”
Brenna's heartbeat fluttered at the base of her neck. Had Taylor really thought about what he was saying? And was there just a glimmer of hope for them in the future? Tears gathered in her eyes, but she knew now wasn't the time to get emotional. She raised her eyes to his, trying to look into his soul for the truth. “Let's take one day at a time. No questions. No answers.”
“Agreed. That is for now,” he said. “Nothing heavy. Just touching and feeling. And, my dear, you do feel wonderful.” Taylor turned her in his arms toward him and gently kissed her eyes, her nose and, ever so tenderly her mouth.
She smiled at him, wishing he would remain here forever, but knowing it was impossible. It was so easy to forget they both had other lives that didn't include each other. “It's time to go to work, and time for you to go to your room.”
“But I like yours better,” he joked while rubbing his thumb across her chin. “It's much bigger than mine.”
“It's one of the perks of being the owner. But if Lisa finds you in here there will be some tall explaining to do.”
“Good point,” Taylor acknowledged, releasing her. He rolled over and slid out of bed, then headed for her bathroom while she admired his athletic-like movements.
Taylor shrugged into his sweater and jeans. When he finished, he turned to Brenna and smiled before returning to her bedside. She reached up and smoothed a stray strand of blonde hair off his forehead. He placed a quick kiss on her nose, then slipped out of her room.
She smiled at the closed door. It wasn't much, but it was a fragile beginning.
A week later, Brenna was straightening her desk while humming a tune she'd heard on the radio the night before. The last two weeks had been wonderful. The inn had run smoothly and Taylor seemed to enjoy doing odd jobs around the place. He'd definitely been a big help over the last week. At night when the work was done, she and Taylor had spent time just sitting in front of the fire talking and roasting marshmallows. At other times they would spend quiet minutes, content to be with each other.
Brenna felt Taylor had become her friend again--if nothing else. She had avoided asking him about Carol. A part of her felt guilty, but the other part was selfish and wanted--no needed--this time for herself.
They had not made love again after coming to the agreement that they needed time and space to sort out their feelings. Not that she didn't want to. She had been puttering along in first gear these past three years, living a celibate life, but after the other night all her hormones had sprung to life. She had missed second gear completely, and gone straight to third. Her body ached for the loving she had so sorely missed.
However, when the logical side of her brain took over, Brenna knew Taylor was right. They needed to go slow and see what developed. If anything did. There were many problems to be solved even though she tried to keep them in the back of her mind.
The phone rang and Brenna glanced sideways to the object on her desk. Its persistent jingle brought her out of her musings as she leaned over and picked up the receiver only to hear a dial tone. Yet, a phone still rang elsewhere. Searching the room, she spotted Taylor's bag in a chair. His portable phone was just visible, its head sticking out of the top of his open briefcase. She frowned. Should she answer it? Or, just let the thing ring since Taylor wasn't in the room? She bit the side of her mouth. But what if it were important?
Evidently, someone wasn't giving up, she thought as she walked around the desk to the irritating noise. She picked up the Blackberry and said, “Hello.”
“Who is this?”
Brenna cringed at the cold, crisp voice from her past. Her stomach immediately tied itself in knots, and she was transported back to May 18, l990. Back to the worst day of her life. Brenna could remember every word said as if it were only a few days ago.
“Sign here.”
Brenna flinched at the sharp command. She slid the papers in front of her and scanned the formal, legal words. They sounded cold and harsh now that she saw them in print. Much like the law office she found herself sitting in.
She was being bought off. The bitter hard facts made her feel dirty ... no better than a gold-digger. But the choice was hers. She could refuse to sign and marry Taylor Rothschild, knowing her past w
ould destroy his promising future ... or take the money that her sister desperately needed for surgery.
“Everything is in order, just as we discussed,” Vivian Rothschild said, her snobbish voice grating on Brenna's nerves.
“Could you get me a glass of water, Mrs. Rothschild? I--I'm feeling a little faint.” Brenna said as she looked up at Taylor's mother.
“That's just what I need. You getting sick.” Vivian shoved her chair away from the solid cherry wood table. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”
Brenna shut her eyes. So much had happened in such a short time, she grew dizzy thinking about it. The murder was on the tip of everyone's tongue. How could her father have done such a thing?
The man she'd looked up to all her life had killed her mother, shot her kid sister, and taken his own life. If Brenna had been home, he'd probably have killed her, too. Quickly, she dashed away the tears that slipped from beneath her lashes.
Everywhere she went, she could see the questions in the eyes of the townsfolk ... is she crazy, too? Brenna's eyelids flew up. Mrs. Rothschild was right. How could Taylor have any kind of career in this town with her by his side?
Besides, she was now responsible for Lisa. Brenna couldn't bear to see her sister limp through life and know she'd been selfish, choosing her own happiness over the child's.
“I guess the choice has been made.” She sighed. It had been made the day her father pulled the trigger. She reached for the pen and laid the legal document on the table. The squiggly lines that flowed from the pen's gold-tip barely resembled her signature, but it was the best she could do.
“I see you finally came to your senses,” Mrs. Rothschild said as she moved back into the room. “You do understand you're never to step foot in River Run again?” She shoved the glass of water at Brenna.
Brenna sipped the cool liquid and waited several moments before answering. “I understand,” she replied dully, her voice hoarse with emotion.
Stormy Passion Page 32
