Stormy Passion

by Brenda Jernigan

  Taylor's muscles felt like they were tied in knots after the game. “Look, girls, I'm not as young as I used to be,” he admitted. “Why don't we roast marshmallows and tell stories.” He rolled over to a sitting position and motioned for Brenna to join the party.

  She looked especially pretty tonight dressed in an aquamarine wind suit. She had her hair pulled up on the sides with silver combs making her cheekbones more defined. As she drew near him, her face appeared radiant and her emerald eyes glistened with happiness. Somehow, he hoped he'd caused that glimmer.

  “I'd like you better over here beside me,” he told Brenna as he patted the spot where she should sit down next to him.

  She smiled while spearing a couple of marshmallows with a coat hanger. “You just want to steal my marshmallows,” she said as she held them over the flames.

  “Well, that too.”

  Brenna pulled back the toasted treats and blew on them until they cooled. She pulled one off and offered it to Taylor who merely opened his mouth. His expression was smug with male superiority. She laughed and stuffed the treat into his mouth, but before she drew her hand back Taylor reached up and grabbed it, letting his tongue travel over her fingers.

  The sexy way his mouth caressed her fingertips made Brenna tingle in all the right places. Her cheeks burned at his intimate suggestion, and no matter how wrong it was, she longed to reach over and kiss him, but Lisa yelled, “I'll turn out the lights,” reminding Brenna they were in the midst of fifteen little girls.

  Lisa jumped up, ran over, and switched off the lights, leaving the room bathed in an orange and eerie blue glow. Several candles scattered around the room flickered, adding to the spooky atmosphere.

  After the girls finished roasting marshmallows, everyone stretched out in their favorite spots so the storytelling could begin.

  Lisa started, “Once upon a time on a dark and dreary night--.” Her softly spoken voice had the girls hanging on every word until the next young lady picked up the story line.

  When Brenna looked around the room, she caught a glimpse of shining eyes. She could see the top of Lisa's head, but the rest of them were bathed in black as the fire crackled in the hearth and the wind howled outside.

  Brenna, too, had become completely engrossed in the story, so she wasn't prepared when a hand touched her waist. Startled, she jumped but, thank goodness, didn't scream. Swinging around she realized Taylor was pulling her back toward him.

  “Afraid of ghosts?” he whispered next to her ear as he stroked a hand down her hair. His breath was a warm caress on her neck as he wrapped his arms around her. Why am I so helpless when he touches me?

  She leaned against his chest and turned her head slightly. “Not when you're around,” she whispered back. Seeing the whites of his teeth, she knew he was smiling at her, but he didn't say another word. He merely pulled her tighter to him. So she returned her attention to the girls. But her mind wasn't on their ghoulish stories. Her mind was on the man who held her protectively within his arms.

  She probably had no right to love this man, but love him she did. He was everything to her. He made the sun brighter, and the flowers smell just that much sweeter, and everyday things so much fun. How was she going to say goodbye?

  Then again maybe Taylor would change his mind and stay with them always. Yeah, sure, Brenna. Her inner-voice laughed at her naive notions and said, Wake up and smell the roses. What would a man like Taylor Rothschild do in a one-horse town? He was used to handling big accounts and making million dollar deals; running a bed and breakfast paled in comparison.

  Taylor's lips brushed her ear, and Brenna melted against him. She longed to turn around and touch him, to taste him, to become lost in the stormy sea of desire he seemed to stir up in her.

  “Why don't we leave and go upstairs?” he suggested and she automatically stiffened when his lips pressed against her neck, sending chills cascading over her body.

  “We can't. We're the chaperons,” she gently reminded him.

  “Right. I'd forgotten.”

  As if on cue, the story ended and the girls squealed at the surprise ending. Then they shouted, “Let's do it again!”

  Taylor whispered in her ear, “I can't wait.” He stood and extended a hand to Brenna, pulling her up with him. “We're going to call it a night, ladies. It's time for everyone to get some sleep,” he said in a much too sexy voice.

  Lord, I hope not. Brenna thought to herself. She hoped it was going to be a long night. She shook herself and looked at her sister, trying to remember she was the adult in charge. “Blow out all the candles before you go to sleep, and we'll make sure the doors are locked.”

  Lisa came running over to them, throwing her arms around her sister's waist. “Thanks for everything. You're the best.”

  “You're welcome,” Brenna said as she gave her sister a squeeze. “There's some more goodies out in the kitchen. Have a nice birthday, but clean up your mess.”

  “Oh, Brenna.” Lisa rolled her eyes before turning to Taylor. “Thanks for coming to my birthday party.”

  “It was my pleasure, muffin.” He reached out and ruffled her curly, dark brown hair.

  Lisa wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, Taylor.”

  “I love you, too,” he said then leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

  She stood back and looked up at him. “Does this mean you're going to marry us?”

  “Lisa!” Brenna gasped, but she was too stunned to say or do anything else as she waited for Taylor's reply, knowing his answer would have to be no.

  “I'd marry you in a minute, muffin. It's your sister who presents the problem.” He smiled and told Lisa good night.

  Handing the crutches to Brenna he walked with her to the stairs, but she didn't dare look at him. She could just die of embarrassment. What was Taylor supposed to say? Yes, I'm going to marry your sister and forget all the other plans I've made for my life.

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Taylor broke into her thoughts.

  “No. The doctor said to start using my foot,” she said as she took the first step, clutching the rail. She looked over to her right at the girls snuggled in their sleeping bags for the night.

  Taylor didn't argue with her. Instead he supported her left elbow as she slowly climbed the stairs. The heat from his fingers penetrated her sleeve and made her aware of his masculine presence. Brenna finally summoned the courage to speak. “I'm sorry Lisa embarrassed you in there.”

  “She didn't embarrass me. Lisa is an astute young lady, and she just brought up the very subject that you and I have been avoiding the last few weeks.”

  Every muscle in Brenna's body tensed. “I guess we have.”

  They entered her bedroom, and before Brenna thought about how she was going to broach the touchy subject, she turned on him and placed a finger over his lips. Suddenly, she didn't want to talk. She wanted to feel. She wanted to forget. She wanted Taylor.

  Life wasn't fair.

  Again as if he read her thoughts, he turned away for just a minute and twisted the lock on the door.

  “But the girls,” she feebly protested.

  “They'll be fine. There are bathrooms downstairs, so I doubt we'll hear a peep out of them.”

  He caught her shoulders and pulled her up against him, and the warmth of his body surrounded her. She felt his lips beguiling and pressing on hers. When his tongue lightly touched her bottom lip, she shivered, wanting so very much to make this man love her enough to forget the past.

  His mouth covered hers possessively moving with an urgent hunger, and she was more than ready to meet his demands. His hands moved with infinite slowness over her, bringing each nerve ending to life.

  Her lips parted and she whimpered when his tongue darted into her softness just as he tightened his arms around her. A nagging voice in the back of her mind told her something was different. They were both acting as if they knew this would be their last time together, and they wanted--no--needed the strength only the
other could provide.

  There would be no yesterdays. No tomorrows. Just now.

  Taylor's mouth never left hers as he lifted her up and they moved to the bed. “I need you, Brenna Fox,” he told her while pulling her sweater over her head. Shoving up her bra, he lowered his head until his tongue traced the outlines of her nipples. He savored the tight little buds as a warmth uncoiled inside him. It took a real effort to control every muscle in his body as it screamed out with an almost violent need for Brenna. She was exquisite. He couldn't get enough of touching her and protecting her. She meant everything to him, and he had to bury himself inside her warm flesh. The answers could come later.

  Quickly they disposed of their clothes, and Taylor feasted on the lovely curves of Brenna's body. “Perfection,” he breathed. That was the only word that came to his mind. She brought something special to him, a peace he hadn't known in a long, long time.

  She leaned over him and placed her fingers on his chest, letting them trail down in tantalizing strokes lower and lower until his breath caught in his throat. She closed her hand around him.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispered. She was driving him crazy, and he couldn't take much more. Taylor pulled her up on top of his body. Her cast bumped his chin, but he barely felt it when he laced his fingers in her hair, and pulled her head down to his.

  Brenna felt his warm flat stomach between her thighs as she straddled him. His soft chest hair tortured her already-tender breasts and her hair fanned around them. Their passionate kisses grew bolder and wildly erotic. She drew his tongue into her mouth.

  Moving her hand between them, she grasped his rigid manhood and positioned it at the edge of her warm, wet flesh, teasing, taunting him. She raised her hips and he thrust deep inside her. Somewhere deep in the back of his throat, Taylor groaned.

  “Sweet Lord, I ache with wanting you.” He grasped her hips and began to propel her up and down on him. But that wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted it now. His hands traveled up to her breasts and began teasing her nipples until they stood stiff and hard.

  Brenna shifted against him, twisting until he lightly pinched her nipples, and she shuddered with her own release. Stars danced before her eyes.

  Her wetness surrounded him completely. His hands dropped to her waist urging her to move faster and faster, pounding into her flesh until they both let out pleasurable cries on the crest of a tidal wave.

  Brenna cried out and collapsed on his sweat-drenched chest, wondering if she'd just died.

  They lay there a long while holding each other until their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled. After awhile when their breathing returned to normal, Taylor moved her over, keeping her tucked tightly against him.

  Somehow the cold hard facts returned to haunt both of them. There were some unsettled issues. There was another woman. Taylor ran his hands through Brenna's hair wondering why life couldn't be simple. But he reasoned that if life were simple no one would ever achieve a goal. As much as he wanted to remain here ignoring the rest of the world, it was time to face the truth. The truth is all he wanted.

  “Brenna do you know what it felt like when you left me? I felt like someone had ripped my heart out, and I had no answers. I was left in the dark . . . cold . . . empty.

  “For a while I convinced myself you left with another man. Now I'm not so sure. So, I've asked myself if not another man, then the only reason could be because you stopped loving me.”

  “No! That wasn't it at all.”

  “Then what was it?”

  Brenna looked at him beseechingly. She started to open her mouth but his next words stopped her.

  “A relationship must be based on trust. And we don't seem to have that. Besides, I have Carol to consider and some decisions to make. I do know one thing for sure, if we are to have any kind of a future the past will have to be cleared up first.”

  His words were like throwing cold water in her face. He hadn't said one word about loving her. So this was it--a roll in the hay for old time sake. “Why are you here, Taylor?”

  She saw his eyes harden. “Because.” He waited a minute before answering. “Because we're friends.”

  That wasn't what she wanted to hear, and it wasn't exactly how she wanted to ask him if he loved her. The only thing she seemed to have done was make him angry. “Oh,” she uttered.

  “Wait.” His voice snapped as she sat on the bed. She looked at him. “That's not exactly what I wanted to say,” Taylor admitted.

  Brenna was dying inside. Why couldn't he love her? Why couldn't he say the words? She knew the answer. Because he didn't love her.

  “I--I'm confused.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Don't ask more of me than I can give, Brenna.”

  She stiffened. “I don't remember asking anything of you.”

  “That's right, Brenna. I forgot,” he said with cold sarcasm. “You don't need anybody.” He turned away. “Why can't you trust me?”

  “I trusted my father.”

  Taylor felt like she'd slugged him. How could he have forgotten her past so easily? The bitterness was there in her eyes. When she'd left, he wondered if she had ever let her true feelings surface about the tragedy. He remembered at the funeral, her blank stare . . . her stiffness. There had been no tears. She'd held it all in then and evidently she still did over the years.

  “There wasn't anything you could have done.” He took her by the shoulders, his eyes never leaving hers. “If I could erase the past I would. Your father was a sick man, and unfortunately, I can't give you the answers you need.

  Brenna fell into his arms weeping. She held him so tight, he got the impression she was afraid he would disappear. “I'm not going to leave you,” he rubbed her back and whispered into her hair. “Let it all out, sweetheart. Let me help you.”

  Her heart was bursting with a love she couldn't express, but he was here now. Yet she couldn't trust him completely because in the end he'd leave and go back home.

  And she'd be alone.

  Alone and in love with a man she couldn't have.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sometime in the wee hours of morning Taylor slipped from Brenna's bed. Slowly, he straightened and stared down at the lovely woman. Her thick black lashes rested like butterflies on her cheeks, and he had to admit she made him feel wonderful. Smiling, he watched the rise and fall of her chest while she slept. Taylor thought she loved him. But for some unexplained reason she couldn't open up, and that fact bothered him. Somehow ... some way, they were meant to be together. It might take a little persuading to make Brenna let down that barrier of hers, but he would persuade her. She was much too cautious.

  He left and headed to his room to indulge in a hot shower to shake the cobwebs from his brain.

  He disrobed quickly and stepped under the soothing water. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the back of his neck. He and Brenna had gotten little sleep, and he felt it in his tight muscles. However, the steam and hot water worked their magical fingers on him.

  As he stepped out of the shower, Taylor decided to let Brenna sleep, but just as soon as she had breakfast they were going to make some serious decisions about their future.

  Taylor had finished dressing when the cell phone rang. He couldn't imagine who'd be calling him at four a.m. For that matter, he still wasn't sure why he was wide awake at this ungodly hour. It couldn't be the bank this early. He grabbed his Blackberry. “Hello.”

  “Thank, God! I got you,” Carol said.

  “What's wrong? You sound upset.”

  “It's your mother.”

  The hairs started to stand on the back of Taylor's neck. “What's wrong?” There was silence so loud that he could hear his heart beat.

  “I'm sorry, Taylor, but your mother has had a serious heart attack. The doctor said it doesn't look good,” she took a deep breath, then rushed on, “You'd better hurry.”

  “But ...” He felt as if someone had slugged him in the stomach. This couldn't be happening. Maybe he was still sleeping and all
the rest was a very bad dream. “She hasn't been sick.”

  “It's a heart attack, Taylor. You don't have to be sick. It happens. Hurry!”

  Stunned, Taylor stumbled to the closet and pulled out his black leather luggage. He started packing his clothes, throwing them any way he could just to get them in the suitcases. He left the bedroom, pausing only briefly at Brenna's door. He wanted to tell her he was leaving, but he couldn't get into another emotional scene.

  No, there wasn't time, he thought as he went on by and hurried down the stairs. Again, he felt as if he were dreaming and surely someone would wake him up at any moment. His mother was never sick. She was hell on two wheels, but she was never sick.

  He reached for the front door and out of the corner of his eye he spotted Lisa's sleeping bag, so he moved over to her. Guilt washed over him. There was no time to wake Brenna and explain, but perhaps he could tell somebody he was leaving instead of sneaking out into the night.

  Reaching down, he shook Lisa gently, “Muffin.”

  “Huh,” she answered sleepily.

  “Carol phoned, and I have to leave. Mother is sick.”

  “Are you coming back?” Lisa mumbled with her eyes still closed.

  “Yes, I'll be back.” He squeezed her arm and pulled the covers over her shoulders. “Tell Brenna I'll call her.”

  “Okay,” Lisa mumbled then rolled over.

  He hoped the child had gotten everything because he didn't have time to go over it again. He was wasting precious time. He shut the front door and made sure it was locked before heading for his car.

  Turning the key in the ignition, he waited impatiently for the engine to warm before pulling out of the driveway. He drove down the wet streets covered with black-ice and noticed, gratefully that the snowplow had been through and piled the snow on the roadsides. Turning by Joe's service station, Taylor couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. He left the little town behind him--the town he had never intended to go to in the first place. If it hadn't been for Joe's sorry inventory, Taylor would never have stayed and he never would have found Brenna again.