A Perilous Pursuit

by Diane Gilmore

  So he lives in a fashionable part of London, Taylor thought, and not far from the hotel at that. “You have a striking contrast of lifestyles, then,” she commented.

  “Yes,” he replied, “but I like it that way. Playing Bach and Haydn has a nice calming effect on me after loud guitars and boisterous crowds. Without such a balance, I’d probably go barmy.”

  Taylor began to see this man in a new and unexpected light—that of a highly intelligent musician and composer rather than the self-indulgent charmer she initially perceived him to be.

  “Let’s talk about you now,” he said, changing the subject. “What brings a nice American girl like you to London?”

  “A vacation,” Taylor replied, “with a little work on the side if I happen to stumble upon it.”

  “Ah, a career woman,” he teased. “Do you have a family where you come from? A husband or little ones?”

  “No,” Taylor smiled. “I’m not married.”

  “I see.”

  After an awkward pause, Taylor said, “How about you? You seem to be surrounded by women.”

  “Yeah, but we usually attract nothing but aggressive, dimwitted nymphos who are about as interesting as a cold sausage.”

  “You’re excluding me, I hope.”

  Craig paused, then put his hand to his head, flustered. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean you!”

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. When their laughter finally died, Taylor asked, “Have you lived in London all your life?”

  “No, but a good many of my 29 years have been spent right here,” Craig replied. “I know the city like the back of my hand.”

  “And what about the band?”

  “Steve and I started the band five years ago,” Craig said. “My kid brother, Shaun, plays the bass, and Andrew Townsend’s our traps man. We’ve known him for quite a while, so we’ve all been together for a fair time. We’ve worked hard to make the band the best it can be.”

  Well, then, Taylor decided, no better time to talk business than the present. “I told you earlier I came back to discuss some business with you,” she began. “You have a great sound. Do you have a demo made of your music?”

  He looked at her blankly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “A demo. Do you have one?”

  Craig smiled broadly. “So, the lady’s really interested in us for her company! And I thought you came back for more personal reasons.”

  Taylor smiled. His ego bordered on the incredible, she mused. Still, he had a devastating charismatic charm about him that she found increasingly attractive.

  “My father owns a company back home that promotes and manages musical acts,” she continued. “I work there, managing their careers.”

  “Fancy that,” Craig said, capturing his eyes with hers. “Lucky us meeting then, wasn’t it?” His eyes continued to sweep over her face in between watching the road.

  “So, when can we get some songs made to send back to the States?” she asked, staying on task. “That is, if you’re interested in doing business with us.”

  “I’d be a fool if I weren’t interested.”

  “Good,” Taylor concluded. “We can work out all the details as soon as I contact my father.”

  Craig laughed. “Anxious, are you? You’re supposed to be on holiday. You’ll miss out on all the London tourist traps if you spend all your time with us.”

  “I’m sure I’ll find plenty to see while I’m here,” Taylor replied with a suggestive smile that surprised even herself. After an awkward pause, she added, “Well, I mean, I’ll be here for, you know, a few weeks.”

  “I see.”

  Craig finally stopped the car in front of her hotel.

  “How about dinner tomorrow afternoon?” he asked while they walked down the long, carpeted hallway to her room. “We can make a day of it, take a drive to Bath, then stop in at a little restaurant outside the city that I often go to.”

  “I’d like that,” Taylor said, then added, “I mean, it will give us time to discuss the demo.”

  “Business. Of course,” Craig said, but Taylor could see a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  Presently they reached the door to her room. “How about if I pick you up around nine?” Craig asked.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “Until tomorrow, then.”

  They paused for a moment. Craig held her eyes in his. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Ms. Fairchild.”

  He reached down and softly caressed her cheek, sending a chill racing through her body. His hand then slowly left her face and encircled her neck. He brought her face to his. Taylor felt a jolt of electricity shoot through to her toes as his lips touched hers, warm and soft and unbelievably tender. His tongue gently parted her lips. His woodsy cologne wafted into her nostrils, and without thinking, she pressed against him, wanting to feel him more. Then as soon as it started, it was over. With a polite English nod and a grin, he turned and walked around the corner of the hallway and disappeared out of sight.

  Once inside, Taylor quickly closed the door and fastened the polished brass lock, her hands trembling. Everything’s fine, she told herself. It was only a kiss. Albeit one that held promises to be fulfilled. What was she getting so unsettled about?

  After pulling her composure together, she sat down on the bed to call her father.

  It was early morning now in Los Angeles, and she had no trouble finding him at the office.

  “Taylor!” Bruce Fairchild’s voice boomed as if he were sitting in the next room. “Having a nice time?”

  “Just fine, Dad,” she answered. Her words then spilled out, telling him of having met Fury and the audio files she would be sending to him. “They sound different, they sound promising, and I think we can do something with them.”

  “Taylor, I sent you to England to relax,” her father said with a vague hint of disapproval, “not to scout the local talent.”

  “I’m not working,” Taylor countered, “but this was simply an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’ll spend the next few days with the band while they make a demo. Then I’ll go ahead and send the sound files to you right away, rather than waiting until I get home.”

  “I’ll look for it,” Bruce said. After a pause he said, “Are you all right, kid? You sound a little strange.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered lightly, masking the floating sensation that filled her head. “It must be the connection, or maybe I’m just excited about this band. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  After hanging up the phone, she climbed into bed. She lay awake, her mind surging once again with both the idea of finding some dynamic new talent and, more importantly, the conflicting emotions about a man she hardly knew; a man she didn’t even like, at least not at first. Now she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Were these heady feelings racing through her body a result of meeting a promising revenue maker for Fairchild Management Group, or meeting Craig Phillips? Deep down she knew the answer.

  She caught herself. What on earth was she thinking? This is a business deal, she reminded herself. There was no room for romance in her life, especially with another flighty rock musician.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how a man like Craig Phillips, who possessed an ego the size of Montana, could cause such a stir in her. That’s easy, she decided. The man was maddeningly attractive and could be even downright charming when he wanted to be with his silky British accent. He probably had women falling all over him.

  Yet she also saw a serious side to him—a meaningful side that she favored and couldn’t get out of her mind. Like an English gentleman, he was courteous and polite, driving her back to the hotel and walking her upstairs without asking for more. She recalled how the auburn highlights in his hair danced in the pub’s dim light, and how enchanting his wit could be.<
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  She tried to force her emotions into some kind of order. Was he a fling? She could have a fling, couldn’t she? She snickered at the thought. No, flings are for wild girls. A lover, then? That sent a delicious tingle wafting down her spine. No, she reminded herself. No more lovers. Taylor Fairchild wasn’t going to be caught in the tangled web of any lovers for a while. Diesel Barnes had taught her that lesson all too well.

  She only knew that there was something different about Craig Phillips, something very special her body would not let her ignore. With her mind still spinning with questions which had no answers, she fell asleep.

  Chapter 3

  Taylor awoke with a start and looked at the bedside clock. It was only 7:00 a.m., the sun still hidden behind the night’s haze. With renewed energy, she pulled back the covers and got out of bed. Even though she was unable to take her customary morning run like she did at home, Taylor’s mind was alert and her steps light as she showered and dried off in the spacious bathroom. After wrapping herself in a thick bath towel, she walked into the alcove where her clothes hung and slowly examined each garment. She touched the fabrics, considered the different colors, trying to choose just the perfect outfit to wear on her outing with Craig. Finally, she decided on a bright pullover sweater to wear with a pair of designer jeans.

  She had just finished brushing her hair when her room telephone rang. It was Susan.

  “Good, you’re up,” she said. “I’ll be right over.”

  The line went dead before Taylor could utter a protest. She shrugged. That was Susan, like a racehorse straight out of the starting gate.

  A few minutes later, there was a tap at the door, and Susan breezed in with another teapot and set of cups.

  “Look what I found,” she said proudly, pouring the hot brew into the cups. “Good old American coffee. It’s instant, but I’ve already had enough English tea to last a lifetime. Wish I could smoke a cigarette in here.”

  “It’s a nonsmoking room,” Taylor reminded her.

  “Yeah, I know. Which is why my room is across the country from yours.” She seized a cup of the dark liquid and collapsed into a chair. “So,” she began, “let’s hear the details. Where did you and the reigning prince of Soho go last night after leaving me to the wolves?”

  Taylor laughed while she poured herself a cup of coffee. “You loved every minute of it. Actually, Craig drove me right back here.”

  Susan’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? There must be something I’m missing.” She took a sip from her cup, then grimaced. “Strong stuff. Oh well, better than nothing. Okay, let’s hear it. Tell me the rest.”

  Taylor sat on the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. “What else is there?”

  “What else is there?” She began counting off on her fingers. “First, the guy isn’t exactly the introverted type. He was making moves all over you last night. And second, I thought you were so ticked off about what happened the first time you approached them, that we were supposed to go back and talk to them together. Then I turn around to find that not only have you already discussed doing business with him, but you let him take you home.”

  “It didn’t exactly happen that way,” Taylor defended herself. “He’s a good prospect for the company. When he approached me last night, I couldn’t wait for you to show up or I might have lost him for good. We’re going to Bath today to discuss the demo over lunch.”

  “A trip to Bath, to discuss business? This so-called ‘business’ strikes me as a little more than that,” Susan said smugly. “Come off it, Taylor. It’s written all over your face. You have a thing for Craig Phillips.”

  “And you’re imagining things,” Taylor said firmly, then stared at the brown liquid in her cup. “I know what this needs. Sugar.”

  “If you ask me, I think it needs an American who knows how to make it, but don’t change the subject. Yesterday you were irritated to death with that band, and today you are taking off to the English countryside with their ringleader. What changed your mind about him?”

  “A good sound. I told you that.”

  “Yeah, right,” Susan chided. “I can smell the pheromones from here.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Whatever, Taylor. The way I see it, the guy has chiseled right through that ice barricade of yours. And in record time, I might add.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Taylor said darkly, taking a sip of hot liquid. “He holds great potential for us, and I’m not letting go of that.”

  “Will you get real?” Susan persisted. “You’ve been hibernating for months. I was getting ready to pack you off to a convent in Italy.”

  “You’re getting melodramatic again.”

  “Suit yourself. Frankly, though, I think Craig Phillips looks pretty tasty.”

  Taylor sighed and put down her cup. “Well, I have to admit he’s nice,” she said, “but I’m being careful just the same.”

  “Just don’t be too careful, all right?”

  “And you, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Oh, all right,” Susan said ruefully.

  An hour later, Taylor put the finishing touches on her hair, which she had pulled into a French braid. A slow, self-satisfied smile shone in her mirror’s reflection. Her makeup was flawlessly applied and accented her face. Her clothes followed each curve and hollow of her slender body. She looked good.

  Craig arrived on time. She answered his knock to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his hands thrust boyishly into the pockets of his blazer. His eyes roamed over her, absorbing the details of her face, then traveled down to take in her body’s smooth curves.

  “You look much too lovely for a business meeting,” he said in his smooth, cultured accent.

  “Thank you.” Taylor smiled and scooped up her purse that was slung over the back of a chair. “I’m all ready to go.”

  He held out his arm to her. “Shall we, then?”

  He helped Taylor into the passenger seat of his car before going around and sliding in beside her. They drove through London’s morning traffic, then got onto the highway. The car whisked along, and the city buildings and noise soon gave way to a spread of suburban housing. Eventually the scene turned into broad countryside that was as smooth as fine velvet.

  “It’s almost too beautiful to drive into,” Taylor said softly, as she gazed at the gentle green slopes in front of her.

  He glanced at her, then took one hand off the steering wheel and grasped hers. “You know, I never realized how much better a long drive is when I can share it with someone.”

  Taylor blushed. “Well, let’s hope I live up to your expectations.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Soon Craig exited the highway and traveled west along the smaller, less populated roads. He pointed out quaint English towns as they passed, which looked like clustered splashes of color etched into the green countryside. Wooded greens and rolling meadows spread lazily to the horizon.

  “Do you travel out of London often?” Taylor asked. “You seem to know so much about England in general.”

  “Yeah, well, I read a lot of books when I was a kid,” Craig said. “Besides music, nothing else interested me.”

  “Is that why you want to break into the business so badly?”

  “It’s the only business for me,” Craig replied. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was write songs and play music, and I would do it whether the songs came out great or terrible.”

  “Where did the band’s name come from?” Taylor asked.

  “Old Royal Air Force bomber aircraft. I figured if we ever broke into the business, we could find cheap props to represent the group—old airplane parts! Pretty practical, wouldn’t you say?”

  “With such a lively younger brother like Shaun, I’m surprised you weren’t rough-housing it
outdoors every day when you were younger.”

  “Me? No,” Craig replied. “Shaun was the athletic type, always kicking a ball around in the mud. I always just watched. After our parents died, we went to live with our aunty over in the East End. I spent my days alone in my room, playing my guitar and thinking up lyrics to the melodies I created. Over time I incorporated keyboards and winds and created some musical scores using a lot of different instruments. Even so, the old lady thought I was a bit of a wimp for not playing sports like Shaun did.”

  “I know what you mean,” Taylor nodded. “I spent most of my college years at the computer while everyone else partied on the beach.”

  “And you lived with your parents?”

  “Father,” Taylor corrected him. “My mother died when I was very young.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t remember her,” Taylor continued idly. “My father doesn’t talk about that time of his life.”

  “Well, it was a long time ago.”

  “He was a lawyer back in New York when I was born, and after my mother died, we moved to L.A. He never remarried. As soon as we relocated, he started Fairchild Management Group. So I kind of grew up in the company.”

  “Losing a wife was probably a painful time for him.”

  “I suppose,” she said. “He doesn’t talk about my mother very much. But he’s been a good parent. All I’ve ever needed, really. Best to let the past go, I suppose.”

  They drove on, passing more villages and towns, until they finally came to Bath. The city was nestled in a valley surrounded by rolling hills. Craig parked the car near the center of the city, and they began their exploration on foot.

  “Bath is known as a health resort,” Craig said, entwining his fingers with hers as they walked along the city’s colonnaded, winding streets. “Legend has it that the hot springs the city is named after were discovered by King Lear’s father. Actually, the town originated from the Romans back in the first century, who built the city around the springs themselves. It wasn’t until the Middle Ages that King George III developed it into an elegant spa city.”