Always (15 page)

      "Forget it," she shouted over the rain and thunder. "I was right about giving up."

      He dropped the hood and they bolted for Sue's car, both gasping as they slid across the vinyl seat. Mopping rain from his forehead, he started the engine. "N-nothing c-colder than s-summer rain at n-nine thousand f-feet."

      "N-no k-kidding."
 

      He glanced at her sitting there dripping and shivering, then his breath left his lungs in a sudden gush. Her soaked yellow knit dress clung like a second skin, and her nipples were clearly defined beneath the wet fabric.

      She turned toward him and he jerked his gaze from her tempting breasts to her face, realizing immediately that she knew exactly where he'd been looking. "I, uh..."

      "We'd better go straight to the clinic," she said.

      "No, you're soaked and Sue already rescheduled your appointments."

      "Oh, then let's go to my house so I can change and you can get dry," she whispered, pushing her damp hair away from her face. "And call Sue."

      He swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling against the scorching need to tug her against him, to stroke her rain-slick shoulder, to lap the sparkling droplets from her face and neck and–

      
Whoa.

      No longer the least bit cold, he faced forward and turned on the windshield wipers. The windows were completely fogged over. Chuckling, he flipped the defroster to high and glanced at Taylor. Her cheeks reddened.

      "Seems we're always fogging up windows," he said quietly, no longer laughing.

      She turned to stare out the window as he maneuvered the Chevy away from Taylor's dead car, then down the hill to her driveway. "I'll call Sue and ask her to reschedule your appointments for this afternoon."

      "Thanks." Taylor opened the door. "And thanks for rescuing me."

      He pulled the key from the ignition and pivoted to stare at the perplexing woman again. "You're driving me crazy."

      She pushed the door open farther. "Don't, Gordon." She bit her lower lip and looked away again. "We'd better call Sue."

      Sighing, he watched her jump from the car and make a mad dash for the front door. What the hell was he going to do about this? He wanted her. He burned with the need to touch her, to taste her, to hold her. All he thought about was Taylor Bowen–what they'd had.

      What they'd lost.

      Angrily, he jerked open the car door and followed Taylor into the small living room or parlor or whatever they called rooms these days in houses built before the turn of the century. Frustration knotted in his gut as he stood dripping on a small rug in the entry.
 

      "I'll get you a towel." Taylor disappeared through the kitchen, returning a moment later with two pink towels. "There's the phone. Call Sue while I change."

      Sighing, he slipped off his shoes and dried his face and neck, then made his way to the phone. Sue picked up on the first ring. Her tone and the background racket told Gordon things had gone from bad to worse since his departure.

      "Taylor's car broke down," he said. "There's a bonus in this for you, Sue. I'm sorry for leaving you with that madhouse."

      "No problem," she said in a suspiciously sweet tone. "Take as long as you need. I already rescheduled all your appointments for afternoon. Have lunch."

      
Have lunch
? This wasn't the Sue Wheeler he knew and feared. "Okay, sure." He glanced at his watch. "We'll be back by one o'clock."

      "Taylor's next appointment isn't until two."

      A dog barked in the background and someone sneezed. "Are you sure, Sue?"

      "Positive. I have everything under control." She gave a nervous laugh. "Don't I always come through?"

      Gordon hesitated. "Yeah, actually." He cleared his throat. "All right, we'll see you at two, but page me if anything comes up. Maybe one of these days we'll get a microwave tower up here so cell phones will actually work."

      "Don't hold your breath." Sue laughed again, then the steady hum of a dial tone replaced his receptionist's voice in his ear.
 

      "Okay." He hung up the phone and rubbed the towel over his head again, squeezing water out of his pony tail. Maybe he had time to run home and change, too. No, he didn't want to leave Sue there alone any longer than necessary.

      "Everything all right?" Taylor asked from the bottom of the stairs.

      He spun around to face her, the pink towel still clutched in his fist. She'd replaced the yellow knit dress with a blue cardigan sweater and a pair of softly faded jeans. A brand new pair of hiking boots encased her feet.

      "I see you surrendered." He flashed her a grin.

      "Yep, no more sandals or sun dresses for me until I'm back down below a mile high."

      The reminder that she planned to leave sliced through him, but he forcibly shoved his discomfort aside. "Do you suppose I could toss my jeans and shirt in your dryer?" He shrugged and managed a smile.
 

      "Sure, but shouldn't we get back?" She waved her hand, indicating he should follow. "I take it Sue was able to reschedule our appointments?"

      "Super Receptionist strikes again." He tried not to watch the way Taylor's jeans hugged the cheeks of her bottom.
Perfection.

      "What time do we have to be back?" she asked over her shoulder as she led him through the kitchen.

      "Uh, two."

      "That late?" She pushed open a dark green swinging door. "Utility room. Help yourself."

      "Sue said she'd schedule everybody after lunch. It's bound to be a late night." He stepped into the narrow doorway and looked down at his hostess. Her green eyes sparkled as thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning struck somewhere nearby, making the floor vibrate beneath their feet.

      She was so close. So accessible. He braced himself against the wall with one arm and dropped his towel to the floor. Gently, he brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into the caress, igniting an inferno in his veins.

      He cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face upward. Her eyes fluttered open, their expression mirroring his conflict as if she had a direct connection to his brain. And heart.

      "Don't," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. "Please."

      Her words had the same effect as a frigid mountain stream. He clenched his fists and dropped his hands to his sides. "I'm sorry."

      She shifted into the kitchen, deftly putting some distance between them. "I'd better call someone about my car while you're getting dry. I could heat some soup."

      He cleared his throat. "Soup sounds good. Thanks." He went into the utility room and closed the door, then emptied his pockets onto the top of the dryer. He set the dryer to run on high then leaned against the washing machine and waited. His jeans were only damp, so they shouldn't take too long.

      Sue had said he should talk to Taylor. This was the perfect opportunity. They were alone. They had a couple of hours to kill. And he was in his underwear with Taylor on the other side of the door.

      "Shit, don't go there."

      He reeled in his wayward thoughts to Sue's lecture. Rubbing the back of his neck, he pondered his options. If he told Taylor everything, she'd realize the mistake she'd made ten years ago. Would it make any difference now?
 

      He remembered the day he'd gone to her house and learned she was gone. Her mother had refused to speak to him, but Taylor's father hadn't hesitated. He'd told Gordon that his little girl was too good for a two-timing bastard, and that was that.

      Gordon's throat had burned with unshed tears. Boys didn't cry, and he was almost a man by then.

      A man with a broken heart.

      Taylor had hurt him in the worst possible way. She hadn't loved him as much as he'd loved her. If she had, she would've come to him and asked for the truth. Instead, she ran away and tossed their love aside like an old pair of socks.

      She hadn't come to him then for the truth. Why should he offer it to her now? It obviously wasn't important to her. No, he wouldn't volunteer anything. If Sue wanted to, that was her business. As far as he was concerned, Taylor was the one who owed him an explanation. It all boiled down to one thing.
 

      A matter of trust.

*
 
*
 
*

      The moment the utility room door closed, Taylor leaned against the kitchen table and counted to ten. Gordon had almost kissed her again. Even worse, she'd wanted him to.

      "You cannot do this," she muttered. Gordon had cheated on her with her best friend. How could she still want him now?

      She didn't. All this was a simple case of hormones. She could handle this.

      "Prove it." Gnashing her teeth, she grabbed the phone directory and opened it to auto repair. She had two choices in Digby. One name looked familiar, so she dialed that one. She explained her situation, then gave the man her name and address.       "I'd heard you were back in Digby," the man said. "I'll bet you don't remember me."

      She glanced at the mechanic's name again. "Well, your name is familiar, but I–"

      "I'm crushed," he said, chuckling. "Your brother and me played baseball together in high school."

      Of course. Her brother Mike had been Digby High's starting pitcher, and Rick Miller the catcher. "Rick, yes, I do remember you."

      After several minutes of small talk, Taylor arranged to have her car towed to Rick's garage, then opened a can of vegetable soup and dumped it into a pan. She grabbed some garlic bread from the freezer and turned on the oven to preheat, then stirred the soup.

      Gordon was obviously going to hide in there with his clothes.
Well, fine
. He was being childish. And why hadn't he offered her an explanation about what happened between him and Sue on graduation night?

      Ryan looked just like his mother, so there were no clues there. Maybe Taylor should just ask for the truth. No, if she asked, Gordon might think she cared.

      She didn't, of course.

      Well, not much anyway. All right, even if Gordon wasn't Ryan's father, the fact remained that he'd slept with her best friend right after being with her.
Damn
. Taylor practically threw the bread into the oven, then glowered at the closed utility room door. What the hell was he doing in there?

      Of course, he was practically naked. "Get a grip." She drew a deep breath and set the table. From now on, she would not react to Gordon or do anything to encourage his advances. Nothing.
 

      
I'll tell him about Jeremy.

      The utility room door squeaked open and Gordon padded out carrying his socks. "All dry," he said, his tone and expression stoic. "Thanks."

      "Lunch is almost ready." She poured the soup into bowls.

      "Can I help?"

      "Sure, there's a pitcher of tea in the fridge." She watched him put ice in the glasses, then fill them with tea. "I guess you've learned to do things for yourself, being a bachelor."

      "Yep."

      Why wouldn't he tell her what she wanted to know?
No, I don't care
. She grabbed a basket and retrieved the bread, then slid it across the table and took her seat across from Gordon. She really didn't care about Gordon's life.

      
Liar.

      She watched his long, lean fingers grip his spoon. Those fingers had felt so gentle against her cheek. Her own hand followed her thoughts, then she reached for her napkin and placed it in her lap. She wasn't even hungry now.

      "So...you never married?" Why had she asked him that? Small talk. That was all. Nothing more. At least she hadn't asked him about Sue.
 

      "Nope." He spooned soup into his mouth and broke apart a piece of bread. "Thanks for lunch."

      "You're welcome."

      Taylor ate her soup in silence, peeved that he hadn't offered any additional information. Finally, she set her spoon aside and reached for a piece of bread. The salty, crunchy, yeasty flavor filled her mouth and she concentrated on chewing and savoring it, forbidding that other subject from interfering with her thoughts.

      "Did
you
?" he asked, startling her.

      "Did I what?"

      "Ever get married?"

      Okay, that was a fair question. "No, school kept me too busy."
Tell him about Jeremy
.
 

      "I remember those days myself." He took another spoonful of soup, then stared at her for several moments. "I can't believe there weren't other med students beating down your door, though."

      "Well, thanks, actually–"
 
The phone rang and she leapt up to answer it. Just when she'd found the courage to tell him about Jeremy, too.