Beyond the Consequences: Book 5 of the Consequences Series (Volume 5) (27 page)

“Was she upset?” Madeline asked.

“No,” Tony answered. “When we started to tuck her in, she ran to our room and said she wanted to be close to her brother.” With a scoff, he added, “That sounds all well and good, but so far she’s yet to be any help with the middle of the night feeding.”

“Oui,” Madeline laughed. “She’s a smart one, your daughter. She is very good at reasoning.”

Claire nodded as she sipped her warm, decaffeinated tea. “Too good, but the night before, she slept fine in her bed. I hope…”

Madeline’s knowing eyes peered toward Claire. “Do not worry. She will sleep in her own bed before she goes to university.”

Tony’s cough and laugh filled the dining room. “Well, let’s hope it’s way before that.”

The four continued to chat until they heard the sound of little feet coming through the foyer. They all turned as Nichol made her way into the dining room and walked toward Claire.

“I woked up,” she said sleepily.

“Yes, you did. Did you sleep okay in our big bed?”

Nichol nodded, and then with a grin she said, “Eccept Daddy snores.”

The room erupted with everyone’s laughter, followed by a dark-eyed stare coming from the head of the table. Playfully, Tony replied, “Well then, I guess you’ll need to sleep in your own room from now on.”

Nichol giggled. “I like your snoring, Daddy. It sounds funny.” She looked up at Claire. “Doesn’t it, Momma?”

Stifling her laughter, Claire’s eyes met Tony’s. Truthfully, she’d never noticed. Well, maybe when they first began to sleep together, but Claire always considered it rhythmic breathing more than snoring. Then after they had been separated, once they were reunited, she welcomed the sound of her husband sleeping beside her. “I think it sounds nice. That’s how I know your daddy’s there.”

“Good answer,” Tony declared. “You may have been sharing a bed with Nichol, in her room.”

Claire’s emerald eyes sparkled. “I don’t think I need to be too concerned.”

Tony stood, leaned down and gave Claire a kiss and Nichol a peck on her hair. “That’s it. I’m leaving before you start discussing any more of my bad habits.”

“We can save that for another time,” Claire offered. Peering toward Madeline and Francis, she joked, “I’m sure you don’t want to spend all morning sitting here. The list is rather lengthy.”

Tony shook his head with a grin as he whispered near Claire’s ear, “There’s that smart mouth I love.”

When he turned to leave, Claire asked, “Nichol, are you ready for some breakfast?”

As she spoke, the cook came from the kitchen with a tray, and Nichol climbed onto the chair beside her mother. “I do fhink it sounds funny,” she whispered as she watched her breakfast being served.

THE TIRES OF
the rental car bounced as Phil turned onto the private lane. Was the loose gravel the cause of his trembling hands or was it something else? As the silence within the car loomed, Phil’s grip upon the helpless steering wheel tightened, blanching his knuckles and straining his wrists. Outside the windows large trees lined the lane while manicured lawns filled the landscape. The large, strategically placed trees created a canopy over the lane, allowing minimal illumination from the evening sun. The resulting strobe of the sunshine reminded Phil of the lane on the Rawlings estate, except these trees weren’t oak. These trees were cypress and draped with beautiful Spanish moss that veiled the full beauty of the resort. As the trees parted, the main lodge came into view. Above the plantation-style mansion, the sky filled with a kaleidoscope of color. Reds swirled with pinks as shadows took on a purple hue.

“This is beautiful.” Taylor’s statement shattered the silence, relieving a fraction of the tension from Phil’s grip.

He turned to his right. “It is. Have you ever stayed here before?”

“No,” Taylor answered. “Not here. I mean, I grew up about fifty miles away, near Sebring. I’d heard of this place, but…” She shrugged. “…I guess I thought I was done with this area of the country.”

Phil slowed the car as he eased in front of the main building. Putting the gear in park, he reached for Taylor’s hand. “We don’t have to do this, you know. We can drive back to the airport right now. The Rawlings Industries plane is there and the pilot is on standby. You say the word and we can fly back to Iowa.”

Inhaling deeply, Taylor shook her head and turned her gaze toward the side window. “No, Phil, I have to do this. If I don’t, I’ll always wonder if…”

Phil waited as Taylor collected her thoughts and silence once again filled the car. There was so much he wanted to know: so many questions. Only knowing bits and pieces about someone’s past was the penance for not meeting one another until later in life. Those lives and stories, the ones that created a foundation of the present and future, remain hidden, until access was granted. He understood the need to keep the past from crashing with the present. Hell, his walls were tall enough to keep a fuck’n ninja from scaling them, and for that reason, he didn’t pry. That’s not to say he hadn’t done his research before Taylor was hired; however, that was business. This no longer was.

It wasn’t until they landed in Fort Lauderdale and began the drive away from the crystal blue ocean that Phil got a rare glimpse of the private woman beside him. Through the past two years he’d seen many sides of her—sides he enjoyed—but this was different. There was a cyclone of emotion he’d never witnessed. He didn’t know the particulars of what was happening behind her beautiful blue eyes, yet he knew enough to know it was causing her pain. That alone was more than enough reason to make him want to turn the car around and take them both back to the cooler world of Iowa.

As the warm Florida air stirred, the clouds above the columned mansion continued to swirl, brightening and darkening the landscape as shadows collided with light. Everything around him was happening in slow motion. Only Phil’s thoughts were occurring at a normal speed. He felt his blood pump and echo in his ears. Each beat of his heart intensified the silence. He was a man of action, a person who fixed things. He made them right. Sitting and watching the woman in his life, the woman who was usually a rock, crumble in the seat beside him was pure, unadulterated torture.

If he could, he’d take away her memories as well as her thoughts. If he could, he’d eliminate the current cause. He’d eliminated threats before. But alas, this was beyond his realm of expertise. Only current dangers could be eradicated. Purging the past was not something he could do. It was up to her. For that reason and possibility at liberation, Phil supported her.

After what seemed like hours, but according to the dashboard had only been a few minutes, Phil rubbed Taylor’s shoulder. The quaking beneath his fingertips told him what she’d been trying to hide. Throughout the two years they’d known one another, never before had he seen her cry. She wasn’t like Claire: that woman could cry at the drop of a hat. No, Taylor’s emotions were usually concealed, the perfect attribute of a bodyguard or an agent: slow to anger and quick to react, conscious of everything at all times. Yet, the emotions Phil now witnessed were not a quick reaction. No, they’d been building over time: long before he knew Taylor Walters.

“I’ll go get us checked in, and we can get some rest before your appointment with the attorney tomorrow.”

Taylor nodded as she continued to look away.

A few minutes later, Phil apprehensively returned to the car. He could handle a confrontation with an adversary, chest to chest and guns blazing; however, confronting emotions that bubbled like a tar pit—thick, dense, and capable of suffocation—was out of Phil’s element. With each step he contemplated his next move. Opening the door, he sighed with relief. Staring up toward him was one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. Somewhere in the time since he’d left and returned, Taylor had taken hold of her grief and returned it to the place that not only concealed it from the world, but from her heart. Though her eyes glistened with the remnants of tears, her gaze was clear and precise. Seeing the obvious change, Phil couldn’t stop the relief suddenly surging through him as the smile returned to his lips.

“We have a private cottage near the back of the estate. I thought you might like the privacy.”

Her brows rose in question.

Phil’s smile quirked to the side. “That’s not what I meant.”

Taylor’s hand covered his as he started the car. “I know. Thank you.”

He didn’t respond as he turned toward her. There was nothing he could think to say. Taylor shouldn’t thank him. It was her. He should be the one to thank her for applying for the job with the Rawlings family, for bringing a part of him back to life. Hell, not back to life, but to life. She’d shown him that he could do his job, protect those he cared about and still have more.

“Taylor, don’t thank me. I’m totally inept when it comes to what to do here.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re not. You’re giving me exactly what I need. Sometimes more can be said with silent understanding than all the words in the world. If it weren’t for you, I’d be facing this alone.” She leaned near and kissed his cheek. “When it all happened, I never imagined ever again having someone I trusted enough to be there for me.”

He squeezed her hand and put the car into reverse. “Let’s go see this cottage. They promised me it was the best one on the property.”

In no time, Phil was swiping the plastic card against the reader on the door of the quaint Florida styled cottage. The manager at the desk had been right about its isolation. After passing many smaller dwellings, the road narrowed and disappeared into the jungle of cypress. The manicured lawns disappeared as only underbrush could survive the denseness of the vegetation. Then, like lifting of a blanket, the trees parted and a cottage the size of many homes came into view. By the description and map that Phil had been shown, he knew that there was a rear screened-in patio that looked out to a small pond. There were also trails that could take them around the grounds, and back near the main mansion was a stable with horses available for the guests. Not knowing how tomorrow would go, Phil had gone ahead and booked the cottage for multiple nights.

“Oh, my!” Taylor gasped as she stepped into the living room. “This isn’t a cottage; it’s a house.”

Setting down her purse, she roamed from door to door. Everything was open and bright with white tile floors, yellow walls, and colorful cushions gracing the furniture. Each room had large windows offering natural light in the heat of the day. In the kitchen, with a counter that arched toward the living room, Taylor spun completely around. “Look at this kitchen! I wish we were staying longer. I’d love to cook.” She turned her smiling gaze toward Phil. “See what you do to me. That’s not something I ever thought I’d say.”

He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her toward him. “There’s a restaurant at the main mansion that also delivers.” He shrugged. “I also saw a small grocery store about ten minutes from the resort.” Phil scrunched his nose. “Do you know how to cook?”

She slapped his shoulder. “Yes! Just because I haven’t done it in a while doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to do it.”

Taking a step and then two, he backed Taylor against the refrigerator pressing his body against hers. “Hmmm, speaking from experience, lack of recent activity has been no indicator of your level of expertise.” He ran his palms down her arms until their fingers intertwined. “As a matter of fact, I think I like being the one who’s fortunate enough to experience your return to previous activities.”

“Oh, you do?” she murmured, as she leaned closer, lifted her chin, and kissed his lips.

Phil nodded as their lips lingered. His chest pressing against her breasts, as the connection of their kiss remained unbroken. The thin material separating their skin did little to conceal the hardening of her nipples. Though the air conditioner roared, the temperature of their cottage rose with each passing moment. Her need filled his senses while her hands released his and began to pull his shirt from his jeans.

He reciprocated and when his touch found the soft skin of her waist, Phil asked, “Shall we find the master bedroom?”

Taylor didn’t speak; instead she reached for his hand and led him through the archway toward the adjoining room with the large king-sized bed. Beyond the unblocked windows, the small lake glistened with the last rays of the evening sun. The earlier redness had bled from the sky, pooled behind the large trees and left lingering purple wisps floating above the horizon as dusk offered the dimmed illumination of only the moon and stars.

Phil didn’t need Taylor’s words to recognize her hunger. The appetite he witnessed wasn’t for food, but for connection. The path before her was more daunting than she wanted to admit. It would take strength and support. As their bodies became one and the world beyond the window darkened, Phil wanted to give her everything she needed. His desire wasn’t purely carnal, though that element’s presence was unquestioned. He wanted to be the one she could lean upon, to applaud her inner strength, and also to catch her if she fell. The woman below him wasn’t a damsel in distress. She was every bit as fierce as he, yet even he craved the knowledge of not being alone. Until Taylor, Phil had never known how badly he desired that connection.