The Gift of Love (13 page)

“Are you cold, too?” she asked. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to go inside.”

“I’m fine. But I don’t want you to get so frozen you won’t defrost before we have to get back on the ferry and do this all over again.”

She turned in his arms and looked up at him. “I could never get too cold with you around.”

He pulled her closer, knowing what he was about to do had been inevitable since the first time he saw her. He was going to kiss her, and he already knew he was going to love every single second of it.

Tilting his head so he had the angle he wanted, he brushed her mouth with his. He felt her breath against his lips and the need to taste her welled up in him. Her mouth was warm and soft, as luscious as he’d imagined it would be. Before he even asked with his tongue, her lips parted, allowing him to explore her mouth as she sighed, her breath becoming the air filling his lungs.

He sucked at the plump center of her lower lip, and she moaned. The shivers he felt race through her weren’t from cold this time, he was sure. When he broke the kiss, her whimper of disappointment stoked his arousal and he had to fight his urge to press his hips against her.

With light, careful kisses, he traced a path from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and jaw to the soft place behind her ear where he nibbled. But she apparently wanted something else. She took his face in her hands and returned his mouth to hers for another long, hot, open-mouthed kiss with tangling tongues and a soundtrack of her moans and sighs.

It wasn’t until someone said, “Get a room, you two,” that Taylor came to his senses and broke from the kiss.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he said, looking directly at her to see how she was reacting.

“Nothing to apologize for, believe me. I’m about as warm now as I can bear.” He was relieved to see she was amused and maybe a bit aroused. “But I do think we should go back inside, don’t you? We’ve been the entertainment for long enough.”

It could have been awkward between them after the scene outside. Bella was worried it would be. But it wasn’t. The occasional tension that appeared between them when they were together seemed to have relaxed with their outdoor make-out session. And since she’d wanted him to kiss her the minute she saw him at Pike Place Market, even having him apologize for doing what she’d hoped for didn’t dent her pleasure.

Disembarking from the ferry, they wandered around Bainbridge Island for an hour, peeking into art galleries and small shops and sipping wine in a cozy bar, before reboarding the ferry for the trip back to the city. This time, they stayed inside the whole way. She even dozed off for a few minutes, her head resting on Taylor’s shoulder.

He teased her when he had to wake her as the ferry docked. “I had no idea I could wear you out so quickly.”

“It’s the sea air,” she said struggling to sit up and smooth out her hair. “It always makes me sleepy.”

“Maybe a break would be a good idea before we go to dinner. What do you think?”

“I would appreciate a chance to see if I can do something to get my hair to behave.” She tugged at a handful of windblown curls, which had gotten kinkier and tighter in the damp air.

He pulled her hand away. “Don’t do anything drastic with your curls. I like them the way they are.”

“I never do anything drastic. It’s too time consuming to keep it ironed or conditioned or straightened. But I do like it out of my face, and right now that requires a mirror and a couple clips.”

“If you have the clips, I can provide you with a mirror. My condo isn’t too far away from here if that would be acceptable to you. I can warm you up, too.” Before she could ask exactly how he planned to do that, he added, “Your friend Marius taught me how to make good coffee. Our dinner reservation isn’t until seven.”

“Perfect. But I have to retrieve my car. Do you want to give me directions, or shall I follow you?”

“I walked to the Market. You can give me a ride.”

• • •

She wasn’t sure what she expected Taylor’s condo to look like. But when he opened the door, she realized how right the space looked. Neat, carefully planned, and organized. A chocolate-brown leather couch. Side chairs covered in a beige linen-like fabric. Hardwood floors with not a nick, dent, or scratch in sight. The only bright colors were in the design of the oval rug in front of the couch and in the large abstract painting above the obligatory gas fireplace.

She was quite sure that if someone came into her place without warning, there would be newspapers or books flung on tables and chairs, perhaps an empty coffee mug on a kitchen counter, maybe even dirty dishes in the sink. Not in Taylor’s home. Everything was in its place. Of course, he could have planned in advance to invite her in, but she was willing to bet his home looked this tidy all the time.

“Your condo is beautiful. Have you lived here long?”

“About six months. But it’s not much bigger than the place I had rented before, so things came together easily. I’m glad you like it.” He led her to a small but well-appointed kitchen. “Coffee or wine? Or I could probably dig up a beer or a can of pop if you’d rather.”

“Something hot, I think. So, coffee, thanks.” While he was grinding beans and getting the coffeemaker set up to brew, she went into the bathroom to try to tame her wayward hair. After success of a sort—it was at least not tangled and hanging in her face—she wandered into the small dining area off the kitchen, looking at a display of pictures on the sideboard. She was surprised to see all except one were landscapes. “Is this your family?” she asked, picking up the one photograph of people.

“Yeah, I’m the skinny little one on the right.”

“So, you’re the younger?”

“By five years.” He handed her a mug of coffee. “Sugar or milk?”

“No, this is fine, thanks.”

Before she could ask any more about his family, he changed the subject. “Do you have siblings?”

She snorted. “Boy, do I. Four brothers. All older.”

“And I bet all very protective of their baby sister.”

“I might as well have been in a convent in high school. Didn’t date much until I went to college, and even then, they demanded background information on everyone I so much as thought about going out with.”

“How’d you handle that?”

“I learned to be creative. Either I omitted telling them what I was doing, or I embroidered it so they were comfortable. To this day, they think the guy I dated the longest in college was headed for the priesthood. Which would have been interesting since he was Jewish.”

Taylor laughed. “Are any of your brothers around here, and do they still track down your dates and cross-examine them? I’m getting a little worried here about who might call on me in the next day or two.”

“No worries. They all live in California. They do call me every week to make sure I’ve not been kidnapped. And Javier, the youngest, sometimes shows up in Seattle. He’s done business here in the past. I think he dated Sandra Daniels for a while, actually.”

“Is he bigger than me?”

She pretended to consider the question. “I think he might be a couple inches shorter. But he could be younger than you are. He’s only eighteen months older than I am, which makes him almost twenty-nine.”

“Damn. He
is
younger.”

“But it shouldn’t be a problem, should it? We’re not dating, remember? You don’t date clients.”

“Saved by unofficial company policy.” He gestured to her to follow him into the living room. When they were settled on the couch, he said, “Tell me more about your family. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to grow up in a big family.”

So Bella regaled him with stories of her childhood, hitting the highlights and relating only good memories. It surprised her to realize how much of the anger she’d felt about her brothers forcing her to move out of the house in Portland had faded. In fact, the longer she talked, the more she realized that although she hadn’t gotten to grateful yet, she was pleased to discover she was past furious.

She was also surprised Taylor didn’t reciprocate. No matter how subtly she made inquiries, he didn’t respond with any information about his family.

• • •

As he listened to her talk about her siblings with such warmth, it occurred to Taylor he should have planned the day better. He’d left too much time for talking. Which presented too much temptation to spill his guts, which he never, ever did. She made it seem so easy to talk about family. Even when she was complaining about them, it was with love. And she made it perfectly obvious she wanted him to talk about his background. After all, isn’t that basic getting-to-know-you conversation?

But how the hell do you talk about the miserable excuse for parents and a sibling he had right after she babbled on about her storybook childhood? In what fairy tale is your brother a drunk starting in high school? Your father so irresponsible and careless with money, they lived in a McMansion one year and the back of a secondhand SUV the next? How did he explain how guilty he felt he hadn’t been able to rescue his beaten down, pale ghost of a mother who had slipped quietly out of life in her forties, too tired of the vagaries of life with his father to keep breathing?

He hadn’t seen his brother in a decade or so, didn’t know where he was but was pretty sure it was in the bottom of a bottle someplace. He knew where his father was—in the small house Taylor had bought for him in Spokane. Far enough away that he didn’t have to see him often but close enough if he needed to get to him. He hadn’t needed to in quite some time.

No, talking about his pathetic excuse for a family, after she’d talked so glowingly about hers, would only make her pity him. Although he hadn’t yet decided what he wanted her to feel for him, he knew without a doubt, it wasn’t pity.

He wished he hadn’t left the damn picture on the sideboard. He’d put it away as soon as he got home from dinner.

• • •

Something had made Taylor grow quiet, and once again, Bella couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t think she’d said or done anything stupid, although given how little she knew about him, it was always possible. She didn’t feel confident enough to ask him directly so she merely said, “You’re the one who seems tired now. Do you want to skip dinner? We’ve had a full day and I ...”

“Absolutely not. I’ve been looking forward to showing you this place all day. It’s practically a Seattle institution.” He glanced at the clock on the bookcase shelf. “And we’re about due there, if you’re ready.” He took their coffee mugs into the kitchen and retrieved her puffy coat from the coat rack in the hall. “We’re walking, if that’s okay with you.”

The Pink Door was as Taylor had advertised. The food was amazing. Bella ordered risotto with crab, saffron, and leeks. Taylor didn’t even look at the menu. He said he always had the lasagna because it was so good he couldn’t bring himself to try anything else. As the entertainment for the evening began, they shared an antipasto plate and wine.

First up was a troop of gymnasts above them on silk drapes and huge hoops, twirling, twisting, and dropping to the ground with grace. By the time their entrees arrived, the scene had changed. A pair of musicians played while a man sang opera arias.

The walk back to her car after dinner was slow and, on her part, reluctant. “I’ve had the most wonderful day. I can’t even begin to thank you enough.”

“You paid for dinner behind my back, which was a pretty big thank you already.”

“You paid for everything else today and provided guide services. I had to do something for what I owed you.”

“No, I owe you for today.” They were standing beside her car, and he’d turned her toward him, his hands on her shoulders. “And I always pay my debts.”

She started to ask what he could possibly owe her, but then she looked into his eyes. The summer blue-sky color she’d seen there all day was now dark and hot. Hotter than any summer sky she’d ever known.

Her breath caught in her throat as his hands moved up from her shoulders, caressing her neck on their way to cupping her face. He was going to kiss her again. She knew it. She wanted it. She licked her lips in anticipation.

But instead of kissing her, he said, “I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever met. Today, seeing the city, the water, even the fish tossing, through your eyes was amazing. You were the guide today. The guide to being happy and content with life. That’s what I owe you.”

She circled his neck with her arms and took a step closer to him. “And how do you propose to pay your debt, Mr. Jordan?”

He showed her by pressing her against her car then moving his hands to her hips and pulling her close so she could feel exactly how he might pay off what he said he owed her. Slanting her head to meet his mouth in the right place, he brushed his lips against hers then used the tip of his tongue to explore from one corner of her mouth to the other. He teased her mouth open, stroked her tongue, asking her to join him in the dance.

She tasted the wine they’d had for dinner, heard the groan from the back of his throat as his tongue made love to her mouth, smelled the citrus aftershave he wore, felt the warmth of his hands on her body.

The kiss was even steamier than the one on the ferry. His hands roamed up and over her hips to her waist and then the sides of her breasts. She knew any second he would discover how tight and hard her nipples were, wanted him to find out what his kiss did to her.

Instead, he drew back, touched her forehead with his, moved his hands down to her waist. “This isn’t the time or the place for this, is it?”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “But it was nice.”

He smiled. “Nice? Yes, it was nice.” He gave her one more kiss on the forehead before stepping back. “We’ll have to do this again, won’t we?”

“Yes, I’d like to.” She opened the driver’s side door and slid in.

“Will you text me to let me know you got home okay?”

“I don’t have your phone number.”

“Give me your cellphone, please.” When she retrieved it from the bottom of her purse, he punched in his number. “Now you do.”

• • •

“You’re in a remarkably good mood for a Monday morning,” Nate said as he passed Taylor in the hall. “You’re humming. I’ve never heard you hum before. It must have been a hell of a weekend.” He stopped and waited for an explanation.