A Chance Encounter (4 page)

Taylor looked into her puzzled face. How was it that she had grown lovelier in twelve hours’ time? he wondered. When he saw the shadows of fatigue skirting her lovely blue eyes, he experienced a twinge of conscience. “Yeah. I wanted to confess. A syndicate picked up the story, and now it’s being printed in every major newspaper on the West Coast.”

Katie made a frustrated sound. “Oh, no!”

“Don’t be so glum. It’s not going to hurt your career.”

He studied a couple of the bills and then handed them to her. Their fingers met briefly, and he was conscious of the warmth and softness of her hand. He wondered if the rest of her was as warm and responsive, quickly realizing that she was. “That’s no longer important to me. You are.”

A thrill raced through Katie’s heart at these words. She pulled over the battered old cigar box, dropped the bills into it unceremoniously and forced the chipped lid closed. There was an undeniable magnetism about this man, and suddenly Katie had the wild urge to reach out, throw her arms around his neck and bury herself against that massive chest. There was a protectiveness about him radiating toward her.
He’s probably feeling guilty,
she thought, trying to dismiss the heated awareness of her body.

“I don’t understand.”

Taylor managed a smile and rested his arms on his well-muscled thighs. “Something told me to talk to you once more before I released that story, but I didn’t do it.”

“You didn’t listen to your intuition.”

“No, I didn’t.” He sighed heavily. As he stood, Taylor offered her his hand.

Katie lifted her chin. Her lips parted as she stared up at him. He was so tall and masculine. Without even thinking, she placed her hand in his and watched as it was swallowed up. Taylor pulled her to her feet and reluctantly released her fingers. Momentarily dizzy, she took a few steps backward and bumped into the desk.

“You had dinner yet?” he asked.

Katie shook her head. “No, I usually make something in my apartment after I close the bookstore.”

“Let me buy you dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

Katie’s heart wrenched as she heard the fatigue in his deep, mellow voice and saw it in the planes of his face. There was something boyishly vulnerable about him in those fleeting seconds, and Katie responded to what she felt. “All right,” she murmured, setting the bill box back on the desk.

Taylor managed another smile. “Thanks.”

She retrieved her shoulder bag and walked toward the entrance. Taylor followed her, halting as she began to search through the purse.

“I think you left the keys on the desk.”

“Oh? Oh, yes. Dumb of me!” She whirled to retrieve the keys. Smiling, she joined him outside. “I do this all the time. Maud swears she’s going to put a ball and chain on my leg to slow me down, so that I don’t get ahead of myself.”

Taylor tested the locked door. Satisfied, he slipped his hand beneath her elbow and led Katie around the brick building to the parking lot in back. “A ball and chain?” he murmured dryly. “Somehow I don’t think that would work. How can you stop a butterfly from flitting about?” He gazed down at her, aware of the blue highlights in her hair brought out by the soft light of sulfur lamps that stood like sentinels in the parking lot.

Katie felt heat rush into her cheeks. So there was some sensitivity to him after all! “I’ve been called distracted, terminally forgetful and several other less flattering things, but never a butterfly.”

“You’re a butterfly, Katie Riordan,” Taylor assured her, opening the door of the door to the Camry for her. “You’re a willful free spirit in a day and age that doesn’t encourage such individuality. And that,” he said, his voice a low growl, “is what has gotten you into trouble.”

Katie snapped the seat belt across her lap and waited for him to get in the car. “What are you talking about, Mr. Grant?”

“Call me Taylor.” The shadows played across his strong features as he turned to look at her. “I’ve thought a lot about you today,” he began, “and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re one of those special people who exist for themselves, regardless of what society may think.” His gray eyes grew tender. “And I just clipped your wings by putting that article to press. I should have come back and gotten your side of the story.”

The tension between then increased. Katie held her breath as he reached over, lightly brushing her flushed cheek. It was as if he were stroking a priceless gift, and a string of explosions occurred along her nerve endings, sending pleasure coursing through her body.

“You don’t clip a butterfly’s wings,” he muttered, his brows dipping. “They’re too fragile.”

Her eyes grew merry with mischief. “I’m hardly fragile, Mr.—I mean—Taylor. Just because I’m only five feet two doesn’t mean I can’t stand up on my own.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest as he turned the key. The car purred to life. “I know that, Katie. Remember, I was on the receiving end of your anger.” He drove out of the lot and made a right turn onto the main street of Rio Conchos.

“I wasn’t angry, Taylor. I was upset by the injustice of that story. You didn’t give me a fair shake.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “You’re right. And for some reason, I want to atone for my mistake.”

“Just having you admit it makes me feel better,” Katie said. “You don’t have to buy me dinner, too.”

His smile reminded her of a cat who had cornered its next meal. “This is the first time in my reporting career that I’ve allowed myself the luxury of admitting I made a mistake. Before, I would just rationalize it away and shrug it off.” His gray eyes held that same tender spark as he glanced over at her rapt features. “But a certain fey Irish princess brought this tendency to my attention, and I decided it was time to examine myself with the same ruthless objectivity I used to limit to the practice of my profession.”

Katie shivered. “Everyone’s allowed to make mistakes, Taylor. That’s how we all learn. I know you didn’t print that story to deliberately hurt me. I don’t sense that you’re cruel by nature.”

His mouth drew tight. “I’ve been accused of being very ruthless, Katie. And I’ve heard it from all corners, so don’t be so quick to let me off the hook.”

She folded her hands in her lap and gave a shake of her head. “You’re opinionated, stubborn and single-minded. But you’re not deliberately cruel,” she repeated doggedly.

He gave her a wry smile. “Do you always go to bat for the poor, maimed and unfortunate, Katie Riordan?”

Her answering smile tore at his senses. “I believe that each human being is special and individual, Taylor. I try not to categorize people, but to treat each as a unique entity.”

Parking the Camry, he shook his head. “How do you manage to stay alive in this world with views like that?”

Laughing, Katie shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s wrong with treating each person as a rare and beautiful flower unfolding in your presence?”

Drawn to her clear, effortless laughter, Taylor reached over, his eyes suddenly hooded and probing. “You’re wrong,” he said thickly, caressing her cheek, “you’re the rare flower, Katie. So delicate, so fragile…I find myself wanting to protect you from this ugly world we live in. I’m afraid that someday soon your pristine spirit will be crushed by reality….”

Black lashes fanned out across her cheeks, and she trembled beneath his touch. Despite his powerfully masculine aura, his touch was gentle, making coals of yearning brightly burn to life, deep within her responsive body. Opening her eyes, Katie offered him a tender, tremulous smile. “I’ll be all right, Taylor. I’ve managed to survive for twenty-six years. Life’s been good to me.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’ve been good to life and I’m merely reaping the benefits….”

Taylor wanted to continue his exploration of the jade-smooth skin beneath his hand. He wanted to follow that stubborn jawline down to her slender neck and plant small kisses on her throat. He wanted to feel Katie respond to him. He noticed the hardening of her nipples through the soft muslin of her dress as he caressed her cheek. And her eyes were wide and languorous, telling him just how much he was affecting her. Her response made Taylor feel good about himself and he hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from her face. She was indeed a butterfly: fragile, beautiful and free.

“Come on, I owe you a dinner,” he said more gruffly than he intended, as he slid out of the car. Katie’s world was fantasy. Nothing more. His world was the real one, the one where pain, suffering and harshness resided day in and day out. But still he longed to be part of her magical environment if only for a few hours. Taylor felt as if he were coming out a long, dark tunnel through which Katie represented the light of day….

“You didn’t have to take me to the most expensive restaurant in town,” Katie protested, as she opened the menu.

“Why not? You’re worth it.”

She eyed the menu speculatively, trying to ignore the overtures her body was making, toward Taylor Grant. He took her breath away, simply by daring to be honest—and thereby, vulnerable. Peeking at him over the edge of the menu, Katie wondered what it had cost him to admit he was wrong in publishing the article without getting her side of the story.

“Tell me about yourself,” she urged, setting the menu aside and folding her hands beneath her chin.

A smile tugged his sensual mouth. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Why should it be? I asked because I’m interested.”

“I’m not used to baring my soul.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief again. “When were you born?”

Taylor gauged her in the silence, enjoying her inquisitiveness. Her black hair curled behind the bright red ribbon, emphasizing the clean lines and planes of her face. “Now, why would you want to know that?”

She laughed, clapping her hands delightedly. “You’re so wary! You must be a Scorpio. They’re always so secretive.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, the tension flowing from his body. Time alone with her was what he needed. Time to hear that clear, bell-like laughter bubbling up from her slender throat to caress him like a lover’s hand. A grudging smile twinkled in gray eyes as he returned her gaze. “What else makes you think that?”

“You’ve got to be a Scorpio! You haven’t even bothered to tell me whether I’m right or wrong! But I’ve piqued your curiosity, haven’t I?”

The waiter returned, and they ordered dinner. After he left, Taylor leaned forward questioningly.

“A salad and water? I can afford to buy you a steak, Katie, if that’s what you want. You didn’t have to order rabbit food.”

“I don’t eat heavy foods like meat this late at night, Taylor. Bad for your digestion. Your poor stomach will be up all night trying to digest the steak you just ordered.”

“Is that the latest word on health foods?”

She unfolded the napkin, grinning. “You saw my bookstore. I devote a whole section to health foods.”

“You’re a health-food nut.”

“I am not. I listen to my body, and it tells me what it wants to eat. Today has been so stressful that I haven’t wanted—” She chewed on her lip, avoiding his sharp gaze.

“You haven’t eaten all day?”

“Don’t get angry! When I’m upset I get nauseated if I eat, that’s all. So I don’t eat.”

Taylor felt another twinge of genuine concern. “You can’t weigh over a hundred pounds soaking wet. You should have eaten, Katie.”

She stared at him, lips petulant. “Just like a Scorpio—trying to control other people’s lives.”

“You can’t tell me it’s healthy not to eat all day,” he drawled.

“Everyone is different, Taylor. What do you do when you’re upset? Raid the refrigerator?”

He rubbed his jaw in thought. “Yeah, usually. Eating helps calm me down.”

“Well,” she said, “you must have eaten your way through house and home last night.”

He laughed. “You’re pretty feisty aren’t you?”

Katie couldn’t resist a smile. “That was a cheap shot on my part. I’m sorry. So tell me, were you born in November?”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed to slits. “How could you know that?”

“Scorpio lasts from October 20 through November 21. My intuition says you were born in November.” She gave him a stern look. “Really, Taylor, I’m not clairvoyant, so quit looking at me like that! There are twelve signs in the Zodiac, and you’re displaying all the symptoms of being a Scorpio. I have a one-in-twelve chance of being right. And those aren’t high odds. It’s simple logic, not psychic ability.”

“I was born on November 6. Happy?”

She scribbled the information on a piece of paper and placed it in her purse. “Very. Thank you.”

“Well?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to tell me all about myself?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“This isn’t fair, you know. Using your knowledge of voodoo to find out about me.”

“Voodoo! Taylor, good grief!”

“Then why do I feel as if I handed you the keys to my personality when I gave you my birthdate?”

Her fine eyebrows dipped dramatically. “For someone who doesn’t believe in the metaphysical sciences, you’re awfully upset about giving me some meaningless bit of information.”

The waiter brought Taylor’s drink, and he took a sip of the scotch on the rocks, studying her in the silence. “Are you always this impertinent?” he asked.

Katie’s chagrin melted beneath his roughened tone. “Only with people like you who go around trying to prove that my world doesn’t exist and only yours does.”

“Then tell me about your world,” he coaxed.

“Is this on or off the record?”

He lost his smile as he realized she hadn’t forgotten for a moment that he was a reporter, that he had already damaged her reputation in his eagerness to get a story out. “Tonight is special. It’s not business. I owe you an apology, Katie.” ‘

She sobered, running her slender finger around the pattern on the pale pink tablecloth. “All right,” she whispered, looking at him through half-closed eyes, “I’ll trust you, Taylor.”

For some reason this made him angry. “Look, can’t you just conduct polite dinner conversation—instead of baring your whole soul to me? It’s dangerous, Katie. You could get taken advantage of.”

“I don’t indulge in small talk,” she returned tightly, her eyes flashing. “Is that what you want from me? Is that what you’re used to? Women who fill the air with shallow chatter?”

He clenched his teeth, glaring across the table at her. “And I thought I didn’t know how to make light conversation,” he said, his voice low. “You’re worse than I am. In case no one has told you before, there is such a thing as pleasant social banter.”

Her nostrils flared and she sat back, chin at an arrogant angle. “Don’t tell me about social banter, Taylor Grant! If my honesty bothers you, let’s part right now and call it a night. I can’t get to know a man who runs away from intimacy.”

Taylor stared at her with an icy chill. Intimacy. She had struck a raw nerve. “Intimacy means vulnerability,” he said slowly. “And that spells
disaster.
”

She snorted. “Baloney! I’m not afraid to allow people to get close to me. How can you expect any real human exchange if you don’t open up to another person?” She was breathing unevenly, her breasts rising and falling beneath the muslin of the dress.

He shook his head disbelievingly. “Haven’t you ever been hurt?”

Katie shoved her hands together beneath the table and gripped them tightly in her lap. “Sure I’ve been hurt. There isn’t a human being alive who hasn’t been. We’re all hurting to some degree or another, Taylor. How we deal with our wounds is our choice. If you choose to hide behind walls, that’s fine. But I choose to deal with my hurt differently. I won’t put up walls to keep people away. I love life. I like waking up in the morning to see the dawn. And I love to walk in the hills of Rio Conchos at dusk to watch the sunset.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And I like people. Why not look for the good in life instead of the bad?”

Taylor placed a rein on his anger. He picked up the fork, turning it slowly, mulling over her fervently spoken words. The silence thickened between them. Finally, he raised his head. His heart contracted with an unknown emotion as he drank in her peaceful face. Lord, how he longed for that serenity that seemed to emanate from Katie Riordan like a beacon. “Tell me about yourself. I want to know how you’ve managed to survive for twenty-six years with this crazy philosophy of yours.”

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear about me and my lifestyle.”

“Why don’t you let me decide that?”

Katie chewed on her lower lip. “You and I are as different as night and day, Taylor. You’re a realistic man who’s been terribly wounded by someone or something…. I sense your anguish. Why do you want to know about me? So you can tear me apart and feel assured that your way is best? Because if that’s your motive, I don’t want to tell you about myself.”

Taylor reached out to claim her hand. He studied it—fingernails short and clean. He felt the small calluses on her palm.
Working hands
, he thought. Katie wasn’t a hothouse flower in need of cosseting. No, clearly she worked hard. But her slender, graceful hands knew beauty, too. Was she an artist? A musician? He longed to feel those fingers on his body, touching him, making the pain go away. In her arms, Taylor knew he could find peace. And love…His eyes narrowed.
Love?
Where the hell did that word come from? Long ago he had concluded that there was no such thing as love. But Katie Riordan almost made him believe in it again. Eventually he allowed her to reclaim her hand, and he met her grave expression. Such a young face—yet there was an ageless wisdom in her deep blue eyes. They took his breath away….

“As foolish as this may sound, I want to know something about you because I’m searching for the missing parts and pieces of myself,” Taylor admitted quietly. “Does that make sense?”

Katie nodded. “Yes. We all serve as mirrors for one another—in some way, in some form. What are you seeking, Taylor?”

“Peace of mind, maybe. I don’t know.”

“That comes from going inside yourself and confronting who and what you are. Or are not.”

He scowled. “I’m not a very nice person on the inside, Katie.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Ask my ex-wife. She’ll tell you what a coldhearted bastard I’ve been. I ruined our marriage. Pushed her into the arms of another man—”

“It takes two people to ruin a marriage, Taylor.”

He shook his head, staring doggedly down at the fork in his hand. “Not in this case.”

Katie blinked back sudden tears. If he saw her crying for him, Taylor would shut her out. The anguish she felt surrounding him made her want to reach out and take him in her arms—simply to hold him. To allow him that moment’s reprieve from the guilt he was carrying around inside. And Katie sensed that he had allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, something he rarely did with anyone. Swallowing the tears, she leaned forward.

‘Tell me about it,” she urged gently.

Taylor took an unsteady breath. “Not much to tell. I was one of the hottest journalists in New York City when I met Mary Ann. I had it all—fame, success, respect. I’d earned every shred of it. Most of it came from my reportage on the drug dealings in Manhattan. I did a piece on runaway kids who were being peddled on the streets, and it won me damn near every award in the field.”

Katie bit down hard on her lower lip to stop from crying out. Taylor’s voice had dropped to a roughened whisper when he spoke of these children. He was far more deeply affected than he would possibly admit. “The children?”

He nodded. “Yeah. The innocent kids whose biggest crime was to run away from home. The kids were picked up by pimps, shot up with heroin and turned into mindless junkies.”

“You must care for children a great deal.”

He finally raised his head, his gray eyes dark. “I wanted a family and Mary Ann didn’t. She was a fashion model, and she felt it would ruin her looks. And her career. She has the face and bone structure to keep modeling until she’s in her forties. I guess I can’t blame her for refusing. It’s her body and she had a right to make the decision.”

“And after you realized she didn’t want children?”

Taylor stared down at me table. “Things fell apart over the next couple of years. Mary Ann took more modeling assignments, and I dug my own grave in the back streets of the city, covering the crime beat. I’d come home in the morning, sleep all day and get up in the evening to work all night. Mary Ann said I never talked to her. And maybe I didn’t. I found it hard to confide my deepest fears and wishes to someone whose deepest concern was a new wrinkle on her face.”

Their meals came, interrupting the flow of intimacy that had built effortlessly between them. Taylor gave her a rueful look of apology.

“I didn’t mean to bend your ear—tell you all my troubles. Tonight was supposed to be for you.”

Katie smiled, picking at the salad, unable to force herself to eat much of it. She was still upset over the pain in Taylor’s carefully modulated voice. “I consider it an honor to hear your troubles. I don’t think you confide in many people.”

He studied her in the dim light of the restaurant, entranced by her unique beauty. One moment she was a child. The next, a grave adult who looked as if she could not only carry the weight of the world on those small shoulders, but understand it fully as well. “You’re magical, Katie.”

She smiled warmly. “There’s nothing magical about me, Taylor Grant. I’m simply human. Very human.”

“And a very desirable woman,” he murmured.

Heat flowed up into her face, and Katie demurely lowered her lashes, her heart beating wildly in her breast. “Thank you.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you going to eat? You’ve hardly touched that salad.”

She gave a helpless shrug. “I’ll be all right.” And when she saw he didn’t believe her she added, “Really.”

“I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”

Her blue eyes glimmered with tender regard. “No. If you stick around for any length of time, you’ll soon learn that I’m easily touched by others. Maud calls me a cosmic barometer.”

“Well,” Taylor muttered, placing his fork on his plate, “I can’t say knowing you has been boring. Not for one second.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “And being a Scorpio, you’re fascinated by people who make life stimulating.”

Taylor grinned, as he placed his credit card on the table alongside the check. “That’s true. I’m fascinated with the unusual. I enjoy digging until I get all the facts. I like to figure out why people run the way they do. And I intend to find out more about you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Taylor smiled, rising after he had signed for the meal. “Take it any way you want,” he murmured close to her ear as he helped her up from the chair.

A delicious shiver rippled down her back as Katie felt his warm breath against her cheek. His fingers were firm on her elbow as he escorted her from the restaurant into the darkness. It was a mild California night, and Katie looked up at the star-bright blanket of the night sky above them. “Look,” she said softly, “isn’t that beautiful?” She pointed upward with a slender hand.