Always (13 page)

      Then he'd proposed to Sue, who'd laughed and told him she wasn't into incest. Okay, so they weren't related, but she was right–any relationship beyond friendship would've been too weird for words. After that, Gordon had resumed his life as a semi-recluse and veterinarian.
 

      And the reason he hadn't been able to commit to Meghan sat in the front row of City Hall.
Taylor
. He shifted on the hard chair, his gaze still fixed on her. She licked her lips and he bit his own, remembering how she'd tasted when he grabbed and kissed her in his office last week.

      
Damn.

      The high school band filed into the hall at the rear and the choir members left the stage. Gordon forced his attention away from Taylor. The band marched up the center aisle playing something Gordon couldn't even begin to identify, and he felt certain no one else could either. They paused in front of the riser, facing the audience, and completed their number. The crowd applauded and the mayor took the podium again.
 

      "Dr. Bowen, on behalf of all the citizens of Digby, Colorado," he smiled like he was up for re-election, "welcome home."

      
Home
? Taylor's throat convulsed and her belly churned. The mayor called her to the stage and she allowed her gaze to sweep the crowd as she stood at his side. So many familiar faces. Amazing, considering how long she'd been gone. A strange ache commenced in her heart. This whole mess was something like finding a long lost sweater and trying it on to learn it still fit.

      But Digby didn't fit–rather, she didn't fit.

      The mayor pumped her hand and stepped aside, indicating she should take the microphone. Drawing a deep breath, she slipped behind the podium and lowered the microphone to her level.

      "Thank you all for the wonderful welcome." She resisted the word home, though it lingered in her mind, refusing to be completely banished despite her best efforts. All eyes looked at her expectantly, and she suddenly realized she couldn't deny her roots. These people knew her, and they liked being able to claim her as one of their own. After all, she'd been born and raised here. Fallen in love here...

      "When I was a little girl, we had a doctor," she continued. "I imagine most of you remember Dr. Eddington." Many heads nodded and a murmur swept through the crowd. "When I was nine, he treated me for a broken collarbone after I went over the handlebars of my bike. That was when I decided to become a doctor."

      All true. A deluge of memories flooded her and she drew another fortifying breath. Public speaking was bad enough by itself, but it was beyond cruel to have to face all the ghosts of her past–including Gordon–at the same time.

      "And it's also why I've asked Mayor Bradshaw to name the clinic after Dr. Eddington." Applause and cheers erupted, and Taylor waited. "Whenever it opens." More laughter, and she took that opportunity to glare at the mayor, whose face was as red as the carnation in his lapel. Gordon sat beside Tom Bradshaw, his expression unreadable, his appearance breathtaking. Straightening, she faced the crowd again, finding many expectant faces less unnerving than Gordon's one.

      "Again, I thank you for this wonderful welcome." She stepped aside, but the mayor indicated she should take his chair. Beside Gordon. Bolting for her vacant seat in the front row now would look pretty cowardly, so she gave a tight smile and perched herself on the edge of the chair.

      Where Gordon Lane was concerned, she was like a heat-seeking missile. Despite the foot or so that separated their chairs, she
felt
his warmth at her side. She cast a furtive glance from the corner of her eye and found him watching her, his eyes hooded, his brow furrowed.

      Sympathy–no, empathy–washed through her. He hadn't asked
 
her to invade his life again, after all. Perhaps it was time to tell him about Jeremy and her career plans. That might help them both put things into perspective.

      Jeremy Cole was a young doctor from a wealthy Philadelphia family. They'd promised to help fund his research in immunology

–the same field Taylor wanted to go into–if he married well. They'd met Taylor and liked her, despite her humble lineage. If she accepted Jeremy's proposal, she'd go to Philadelphia, never have to worry about money again, and she'd have her research.

      The price was marrying a man she didn't really love. She
liked
him well enough, but not the way–

      With a mental groan, she looked at Gordon again. He had his arms folded across his abdomen and one corner of his mouth quirked upward in a manner that made her wonder if he'd been reading her mind.

      She faced forward, unable to follow the mayor's speech.
Think about Jeremy
. Closing her eyes for a moment, she conjured his face. He was a hunk, but in a too pretty way–not rugged and bronzed like Gordon.

      Hissing softly to herself for allowing her thoughts to stray to Gordon again, she opened her eyes.
Jeremy. Focus, Taylor
. Jeremy...

      A sinking feeling smacked her in the belly.

      
Jeremy who?

*
 
*
 
*

      Sue padded around her kitchen hours after she'd tucked Ryan and Patches into bed. She should've gone to the welcoming ceremony for Taylor, but it would've been too late for Ryan to be up on a school night.

      With a pink terry cloth robe tied around her waist and fuzzy slippers with wiggly eyes keeping her feet toasty, she plopped into a chair at the kitchen table with a cup of herbal tea and a deck of tarot cards. She lit a yellow candle and placed it in the center of the table.
 

      Somehow, she
would
get Gordon and Taylor together again. The question was...how? Any fool could see they were soulmates, and it was all her fault they weren't together.

      A problem she intended to rectify, no matter what.

      She looked at the deck and opened the instruction book. All right, so she was an amateur, but she was a desperate amateur. "I'm trainable," she muttered, shuffling the deck at least three times as the booklet said.

      Concentrating on Gordon and Taylor, she cut the deck. The instructions for a celtic cross spread lay before her, and she followed them to the letter, but no matter how many times she referred to the book, she didn't understand what it all meant.
 

      "Something simpler." She leafed through the book and came to a single card reading. "Simple enough."
 

      The instructions said to shuffle, concentrate on the question, cut the deck, then draw one card. "Okay, even I can do that." If she only had to decipher the meaning of one card, maybe she could learn something constructive here.

      "Tell me the secret to getting Gordon and Taylor together," she whispered, following the instructions. The card she drew was The Moon, featuring a drawing of the moon with a face in it, and wolves howling at it from below.

      "Okay, so what does
that
mean?" She leafed through the booklet and found the explanation of the card. "'Error, sudden danger, illusion; instinct and portent are significant and beneficial, so the querent should heed them; commence with prudence.'"

      Rolling her eyes, she said, "Right, something definitely isn't as it seems–Taylor and Gordon." The cards were a waste of time. She put the deck back in the box with the booklet and took a sip of her tea. She needed something concrete.

      Rising, she blew out the candle and headed for the door. With a sigh, she turned out the light, then made her way down the hall to peek in at Ryan. He was snoring softly, his arm draped across that hairy mutt he loved so much. She smiled to herself, then went to her bedroom. The full moon shone through the lace curtains like a spotlight, illuminating her bed.       "Well, duh." She smacked herself in the forehead. "Sure, that's it."
 

      All she had to do was get Gordon and Taylor in bed together. Nature would handle the rest.

*
 
*
 
*

      Taylor lingered with the townspeople long enough to be polite, then made her excuses and headed for the door. She needed to put some distance between herself and her memories. Thankfully, she hadn't seen Gordon since shortly after the meeting had
 
ended and they vacated the head table.

      And yet, God help her, she'd been searching for him in the crowd. This was all so unhealthy, not to mention unwise. She couldn't prevent herself from thinking about him. Constantly.      

      The night was chilly and she pulled her sweater closer, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She paused on the steps and drew a deep breath. It was deliciously quiet compared to the revelry inside. After drawing another appreciative breath of the crisp evening air, she headed down the stone steps toward her car.

      "Free at last?" a voice asked from the darkness.

      Her heart screeched to a halt and she tripped, but Gordon's strong arm snaked out to grab her around the waist. And pulled her right against his hard chest.

      "You startled me," she whispered, staring up at his face, bathed in the glow from the moon.

      "I'm sorry for that," he said, his voice rough and evocative, "but I'm not sorry I caught you."

      Their hearts thudded along in unison. Though they stood on Digby Boulevard, they were alone. Completely alone.

      "Gordon, I..." She swallowed hard, struggling for words. She should push away from him and run to her car.
No, I will not run again.

      "I'm confused," he said quietly, still holding her. "Why did you come home, Taylor?"

      "I...you know why." She tried to draw a deep breath, but found the effort futile. Instead, rapid breathing fulfilled her need for oxygen. "Gordon, please."

      "Please what?" He lowered his head toward hers, and his hands were warm against her back as his lips found hers.

      Shock gave way to a welcoming rush so powerful she couldn't deny it. His tongue eased between her parted lips, and she forgot reason. She'd been starving for this. For Gordon.

      God help her.

      A giant crevice opened beneath her feet and in her heart, swallowing her whole. Suffocating her. She wanted his wonderful mouth on all of her. She wanted
him
.

      He deepened the kiss, fitting her more firmly against him as he tasted and plundered. Moaning, she grew acutely aware of how hard he was against her. And ready. Heated moisture pooled between her thighs, reminding her that he wasn't the only one ready.

      He pivoted and a cold stone pillar pressed against her back, contrasting startlingly with his hard heat. She almost sobbed when he cupped her bottom in his hands, suggesting that he had what she wanted. What she craved. He could slake her hunger so easily. So completely.

      She clung to him, relishing the softness of his hair and the rigidness of his body. He brought his hand to her rib-cage, brushing his thumb upward along the seam of her dress. Higher.

      Her breasts strained against the confines of her bra, and her nipples hardened as he teased and tantalized. Then he cupped her breast in his hand and her hips instinctively thrust toward him. Her muscles convulsed around the excruciating emptiness. She wanted–needed–him inside her.

      More than that. She wanted and needed his gentleness. There was no man on earth as good or as loving as Gordon Lane. How could she have forgotten that?

      He broke their kiss, gasping for breath. Befuddled, Taylor swayed as he stepped away, then grew aware of the massive doors opening as people started down the steps toward them.

      "Come on." He grabbed her hand and tugged, leaving her no choice but to follow.
 

      Next thing Taylor knew, she was settled in the front passenger seat of his Jeep, her breathing gradually returning to normal, though her body still burned. "What...?" She turned to him. Within moments, their combined heat had the windows fogged over.

      A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Brings back memories."

      Taylor laughed, too, though she could barely contain the urge to invite him home with her. She longed to feel his hard length against her, pressing her into the mattress, filling the part of her that remained empty. Bereft.

      After the crowds filed past, Gordon reached behind her and caressed the nape of her neck. A shiver raced down her spine and she never wanted him to stop touching her.

      "Damn, what the hell are we doing?" He stiffened and pulled his hand away. She watched him grip the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. Finally, he faced her. "I don't know what came over me," he said. "I'm sorry."

      No, she didn't want his apology. She wanted
him
. "Sorry?"

      "I shouldn't have..."

      Weariness settled over her, chasing away the hunger. Temporarily. "No, I suppose not."

      "I'll drive you home."

      "I have my car." She reached for the door handle, relieved to see the sidewalk was empty. "I'll see you tomorrow."