Deadly Ties (9 page)

Taylor looked at Ryan as she set down. Gavin didn’t miss Ryan’s small nod.

Smiling at Ryan and then at Gavin, Taylor said, “Well, I’m off tomorrow afternoon. And after two, we’re free. We could meet you somewhere around three-forty five. I think we’re planning on a stop at the bookstore. That ought to give us plenty of time.”

Topics moved and shifted, flowed and danced through dinner. Smiles and laughter mixed with the sounds of dinner, clinks and chinks, brass and bluesy tunes from the stereo graced the meal. Gavin watched these two, wondered at their past, what he knew and what he didn’t. And while he wondered about their past, he steered himself away from their future. Or tried to.

Dinner was great. He had more fun than he could remember having in a long time. Dinners for him, were more frequently, alone, unless they were with his family. Though dinners used to be either business or pleasure. The latter of which had been his usual forte of getting acquainted with the sole purpose of seducing the woman with whom he dined. Of course, the women he went after and chased usually knew the rules of his game, for the most part. They recognized the signs and went mutually along.

Most, being the women they were, had to at least try to make the relationship between them more serious. After all, his name was Kinncaid wasn’t it? Of Kinncaid Enterprises? Didn’t matter he only invested his earnings, and had little to do with his part of the family hotel business. That was more his brothers’ area. Gavin was the healer.

With Taylor, things were shifting. He just wanted to spend time with her, just…. Well, he

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wasn’t exactly sure why, just because. And half the time she acted like she didn’t like him and he knew she could careless what his last name was.

Ryan started up a conversation about places to see in D.C., things he’d read about. Which, from what Gavin was learning about the boy, didn’t surprise him in the least. With Ryan it was music and books and any knowledge he could gain with the two. The kid knew more about music than he did, and Gavin always thought himself rather fairly knowledgeable in that area.

Taylor was … Taylor.

She captivated him. Gavin hardly tasted the food he put in his mouth, though he did know it was good. Her voice, her smile, her laughter all waltzed around him, and it wasn’t just him. He saw how Ryan held onto Taylor’s every word.

After dinner, Ryan excused himself and headed upstairs. He offered to help clean the kitchen, but Taylor told him to go on and practice his reel.

* * * *

Journal Entry June 29,
Sometimes I don’t like to sleep. Sometimes I have nightmares, really bad nightmares about
that night in Austin. I don’t remember all of it, and I don’t think I want to. When I wake up, I
can’t quit shaking. I don’t sleep over at Jeremy’s, he’d probably think I was a baby because I
like to sleep with a light on. Just in case. Just in case I have a bad dream about HER, and when I
wake up, I want to see that I’m not with her anymore.

Sometimes I forget. Right when I wake up, it’s like I’m still in that dirty little apartment
and I can feel my arm hurting where it broke. I do remember that. My arm felt like it was on fire.

And sometimes when I wake up, my scar on my face will hurt. Just for a minute I expect Nina to
come screaming at me. But then, I see my room with the posters Taylor and I have put up and I
know where I am.

I had a nightmare last night, and even after I woke up and knew where I was, I still shook
and cried. I wanted to go get in bed with Taylor, and she wouldn’t have cared, or I don’t think
she would have, but I didn’t.

I’m not a baby, even though sometimes I feel like one. Last night, I pulled the covers up
tight around me--like that would help. Why do we do that? Grab blankets to us or over our
heads? Like the material is magic or something. Like a shield that will keep the monsters away?

It doesn’t work. I know. Monsters just rip the blanket away or shred through the puny
shield.But back to last night, I had the bad dream and then stared at the model planes and space
shuttle we hung from my ceiling, and the poster of the galaxies and nebulas.

The posters on my wall show places I want to see. There’s Stonehenge in England, rhinos
and lions in the Kalahari, this old temple on the Isle of Crete--that’s like in that story Taylor told
me about and that we read a little of about Troy and Mycenae. The last poster is one of the Great
Pyramids of Egypt. There are lots of places I want to see. The pictures take my mind off my
nightmares.

The light helps, but the shadows seem to whisper words from that time, that place. Things I
don’t want to hear or see. So, I look at my posters instead. I try to pretend I’m in those places.

Sorta like a game. What’s the weather like, what the smells are, what sounds I hear. Most of the

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time it works, but sometimes it doesn’t. Last night it took a long time to work.

I don’t like talking about my dreams because then I have to talk about
her
and all that stuff
that happened. Dr. Petropolis thinks that maybe I should start talking about it a bit more.

Nothing big, just a little here and there.

Then, when I have bad dreams I can talk about them and just the words won’t scare me or
hurt me. It all sounds really good, but I’m not ready. Not yet.

At least, I’m writing about it. That’s good, right? Like you can answer me. Sometimes this
journalling thing seems dumb, but I still like it.

Taylor knew this morning that something was wrong. She just took one look at me and
asked if it was a bad night and why didn’t I come wake her up?

I love it when she talks to me like that, but it confuses me too. Taylor is worried about me
and work. Taylor worries a lot, about a lot of things. Work, her cases, life.

Gavin called last night and they talked for a while. I answered the phone and got to talk to
him for just a bit. I like Gavin and I think he likes Taylor--well he seems to, and he called. Isn’t
that what guys do? I don’t know if Taylor likes him or not. I think she probably does, but after
Charles, she probably won’t admit she likes Gavin unless you point it out. I really don’t like
Charles, but that’s another story. I do like Gavin. He’s funny and nice. Yeah, I like Gavin.

He came for dinner tonight. It was fun. We’re supposed to go with him tomorrow after I
see Dr. Petropolis and we go to the bookstore. Gavin seemed to know lots of cool and neat
places to see and visit. I want to go to the Holocaust Museum, and the Mint. Taylor wants to see
some of the country. I don’t know about that, but we’ll see.

Today after Taylor got home, we just messed around the house and fixed stuff up in the
yard. I wish it were a bigger yard so we could get a puppy. I’ve always wanted a puppy, but I
know we can’t here. Maybe one day.

Oh, and I finished
A Wrinkle In Time.
That was a great book. Taylor said there are others,
that it’s kinda like a series. So, if nothing else, maybe I can get another one when we can go to
the bookstore tomorrow

Okay, I’m gonna practice my new Irish reel that Ms. Johnson found for me. I just got it
today, but I’ve finally got the tempo down. I just miss a few notes, but I’ll get it.

* * * *

Gavin and Taylor cleaned the kitchen, talking, joking, laughing. Having her this close, it was damn hard not to kiss her. With most women he wouldn’t have cared, but Taylor was different. She was as likely to bite or shove him as kiss him. With Taylor, Gavin just wanted to know things about her, what she was thinking or doing.

There was also Ryan. Gavin kept thinking about how the boy had stated he was going up to practice before taking a shower.

Very self-sufficient kid, but then he would have needed to be, wouldn’t he? Gavin remembered he, and probably all of his brothers, balking at the thought of bedtime, let alone a shower. But then again, he and his brothers never had a mother who scarred them either.

Gavin leaned against the doorway watching as Taylor rifled through a cabinet. That same familiar reel from earlier danced down the stairs.

“Is he always like that?” he asked her.

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Taylor lit a candle set in a tin can, vanilla from the scent of it. “Yes. Very helpful. Never arguing. Something I want to talk to Dr. Petropolis about. I never really noticed it before. What I wouldn’t give for a good ‘I don’t want to,’ or a simple, ‘no’. But, Ryan never does that.”

“You have yourself a little adult.” Gavin held his hand out to her as she made her way to him. She took it, and just like before, like all the other times their skin had met, lightning seemed to jump-start his system. Blood raced and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Just one quick kiss to see how she tasted--or how she reacted.

God knew she smelled like honeysuckle, and Gavin wondered if she tasted as sweet as he remembered the nectar of those flowers tasting. Probably. Instead of pulling her to him as he badly wanted to do, he simply held her hand, studying the paleness of hers fingers held snugly in his tanned palm. A gentle hand. Taylor was grace, a slow sort of grace that seemed absent from other women he dated. It was in the way she moved, as easy as water over stones. It simply was.

But the steel was there too. That driven determination to make things better.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I should probably go. I’ve got an early morning.” Though, right now he couldn’t have cared less if he had a dawn surgery scheduled. “Thanks for dinner. I had a great time.”

Their footfalls echoed down the hallway, past the stairwell to the door. He noticed the comforting feel of her place before, but it hit him again standing here in her entry, looking into her living room. The walls were a warm red, not bright, or over-bearing, but muted and dusted so that the whitewashed woodwork stood out against the walls. Pictures hung on the walls. In the living room, the walls were the same. The furniture there wasn’t for show or pretenses, but for use. Deep denim couches, their cushions plush, sat facing each other. Red pillows were tossed haphazardly in the corners. He liked her taste in things.

“Great place, too, by the way.”

“Thank you,” she answered. “I’m glad you could stay. I’m sorry you have to go so early.

Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of coffee or something?”

Her tea was strong enough he wouldn’t need any coffee any time soon. He only smiled.

“No, thank you. I really should get going. I had a wonderful time.”

The sultry night air was alive with sounds only noticed when darkness settled. Electrical lines hummed with a slight buzz. Dogs barked somewhere down the street and a cat hissed and howled as Gavin stepped out onto the porch, humidity lapping against him. He heard Taylor flip the light switch but nothing happened.

“Sorry, I guess it’s out.”

“You have a bulb?” He could change it before he left.

Taylor shook her head, her dimples causing his blood to almost boil. Her hand was still in his. “No. I need to get some.”

The darkness surrounded them, the only light from the entry window and what spilled through the door.

He circled the back of her hand with his thumb and felt her shiver. What the hell.

“Just as well,” he whispered, pulling her slowly to him. In the dim light her eyes looked darker. “You’re contrary and sometimes I don’t think you like me very much. For some masochistic reason, I like that about you. I like you, Taylor. Have I mentioned that?”

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“Uh.… No.” Her voice, when she whispered reminded him of silk stockings being removed in the dark, sexy as hell, almost dangerous.

“No? Well, that’s something I need to clear up then.” Just one taste. One simple taste.

He leaned in and set his lips to hers. Her lips were warm and smooth beneath his. Soft as satin. Honeysuckle, there it was again.

A simple taste would not suffice. She was shorter than he, considerably, but then most women were. She must have stood on tiptoe but he could feel all of her against him. She tightened her hold on his hand, and wound her other arm around his neck, a sigh from her mingled on the edge of his mouth, moist and heated.

Gavin licked the corner of her mouth with his tongue even as his other arm wound around her back and he lost his hand in all that long silky hair.

She sighed again and he angled his head to deepen the kiss. He had to taste more of her.

Honey and salt, fire and ice. Taylor was a delicious dessert made with contrasting flavors. Their tongues danced and mingled as they both held the other on her darkened porch to the music of a practicing fiddle.

Something … some unidentifiable feeling swirled in his gut. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced and nothing he wanted to forget.

Finally, he pulled away, rested his forehead against hers. “I should go.”

“Hmm.…”

Her response had him smiling. She seemed so in control all the time that when she wasn’t, he found it cute and wonderful. “Are we still on for tomorrow?” he asked her.

“Tomorrow?”

This time his grin allowed a chuckle out. Definitely not in control now, was she.

“Tomorrow afternoon. Ryan. You.” He glanced at her lips. “Me.”

“Oh.” Her lips held that vowel out, and he wanted to kiss her again. “Yes. If you’re sure.”

Her words whispered against his lips made him long for another taste.

Just one.

“I’m sure.” Then he dove again. There was nothing gentle about this kiss, both wanted it, both gave into it and both took from it. Her arms tightened around him as his did around her. He backed her up against the door facing, leaning into her warm, pliant body. He reacted instantly to their waists contacting, to the feel of her soft breasts crushed against his chest. He licked the roof of her mouth, felt her shiver and let his hands roam up and down her back, feather light. She arched, sighing into his mouth. He could feel the ridge of her backbone and as he dipped into the base of her spine, the thought of one day kissing her right there shot through his brain. When they pulled back both were panting.

“God, woman.”

Her laugh, husky with passion swirled between them.

He’d wanted to explore those dimples, but that would have to wait, or neither of them would be leaving this porch. “Next time.”

“Next time? What?” she asked him.

“Dimples.” On a resigned sigh, he disentangled them. Her confused look was completely adorable. That pull of brows that left the faintest frown between them.

“Good night, Gorgeous.” He tapped her chin with his finger before he turned and walked

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down the steps. The promise of rain tinged the air.

“Good night, Gavin.” At his car, he looked back, opening the driver’s door. He couldn’t see her, not really, just her outline against the light shining through the open door.

“Taylor?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s not his mother, you are. One thing runs deeper than blood. Love. Those ties are a hell of a lot stronger.” With that, he slid into the seat and started the car.

He couldn’t wait till tomorrow.

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