He's the One (15 page)

Taylor curled into the corner of the car, buttoning up Cade's shirt with shaking fingers. Holding her breath, she clutched her hands to her chest. Her heartbeat was frantic, pounding as if it was going to explode.

Fancy being caught in the backseat of a car of all places. What was wrong with her? She wasn't some schoolgirl—okay, so she was still relatively inexperienced, but the “back seat"—what was she thinking?

Nothing.

Ain't that the truth. Thinking had flown out the window the moment he touched her.

Sneaking across the seat, making sure she kept her head below the window line, Taylor listened to the brothers.

"What do you want, Zane?"

"Just dropping off these car parts from Harry Fontain."

"Thanks, now goodbye."

"What? No time for your brother?"

"Nope,” Cade bit out harshly.

"None?"

"That's right,” he reinforced.

Taylor slid a fraction higher on the seat. Cade stood with his back to her. Dressed only in his jeans, his bare back ribbed with ripcord toned muscles, shoulders broad and flexed, he folded his arms across his chest. But that wasn't the only thing he wore. Scored across his beautiful back were other marks. Scratches. Ones she'd inflicted in the heat of passion, when Cade loved her.

Heat scorched her cheeks as she eyed the red love-marks, remembering the delicious pleasure he'd given her at that moment in time.

Bad girl!

It seemed, however, Zane wasn't about to budge and Taylor realized, Zane knew exactly what was going on because his gaze kept sliding over Cade's shoulder toward the car.

Good Lord, she'd been caught bonking in the back seat. What was she, a tart?

"Go home to your dog, Zane. I'm sure I can hear it barking."

"Tetchy, aren't we?"

"Busy,” Cade shot back.

"Yeah, I can see.” Zane chuckled. He turned to leave and walked a few feet away. “See ya later, brother. Oh, and bye, Taylor."

Hell and damnation. Zane Harper winked in her direction with his final wave goodbye.

"Damn.” She shouldn't have looked. Heat flooded her cheeks, tears blurring her vision, her humiliation total.

"You okay?"

Taylor's head snapped up. “No, I'm not.” She wrapped her arms across her chest which was a big mistake as it only emphasized the state of her very sensitive nipples and the reason for their state of grace. “I've got to get out of here and go home. Just like Zane and his dog,” she bit out as she scampered out of the car.

"Taylor?"

She brushed him off with a dismissive wave. “No, Cade. Forget it. I can't do this."

She should have listened to her inner warnings, but no, she thought she knew best, knew everything. Wrong! Dumb broad. She was
so
wrong.

The pungent aroma of percolating coffee permeated the entire apartment as Taylor showered. Cade had promised her a meal fit for a princess, but right now, she wasn't sure she could eat a thing as her stomach heaved with nerves.

Trouble was, she couldn't stay hidden in the bathroom any longer. And the reality was the fantasy was over.

Switching off the pulsing jet of hot spray, she exited the shower and toweled herself dry. As the fine damp mist evaporated and the mirror cleared, Taylor caught sight of herself.

Hints of purple shadowed beneath her eyes, and there was a flush to her cheeks, a twinkling sparkle in her eyes she'd never noticed before.

That's because you've never had sex before, Sullivan.

She traced the path of her lips. They seemed fuller, sensual.

Well kissed!

She leaned forward taking a closer inventory of her reflection, hands trailing down her body at the same time. That too seemed different, or was it her imagination?

No. She didn't think so. It must be true then, she realized with a satisfied smile. She did feel different. Womanly!

Well loved
.

Her breasts felt heavy and full, and as her hand lowered across her flat abdomen, her insides clenched, muscles teasing. She remembered with vivid clarity the feel of Cade inside her. Pulsating. Pleasuring.

Gathering up her clothes, Taylor eyed her dress and grimaced. She hadn't been home since Friday and the dress looked the worse for wear. But then, she'd barely worn anything all weekend. Simply skin. And it had been wonderful.

Smoothing down the wrinkles of her dress with a flat palm, she made quick work of her hair, tying it up in a ponytail. She reached for her lip-gloss from her handbag and uncapped it. About to glide the pinky stick across her lips, her hand stilled.

She didn't need it. Her lips looked sensational.

Cade had done this.

Capping the lipstick, she tossed it into her bag and dragged in a steadying breath. She exited the bathroom and followed the coffee aroma to the kitchen.

With a tea towel tucked into the waistband of his jeans, Cade busied himself preparing the gourmet delight he'd promised.

"Be ready in a moment."

"Take all the time you need,” Taylor enthused, enjoying the show, even finding herself licking her lips. Cade was one delicious man. Everything about him set her senses in a spin. Yet, there was a part of her that held back.

The guilty part.

The part that said,
watch out, don't trust. You've made this mistake before, and look what happened.

Pride mirrored in Cade's eyes as he placed a pile of pancakes and bacon on the counter. “There you are. Coffee?"

Taylor eyed the food, and her stomach gurgled.

"Anyone would think I've been starving you,” he chuckled. “Tuck in."

Finally, she had to ask, “Is it always so awkward the morning after?"

With precise movements, Cade placed his cup on the bench. He gave her an impish shrug. “I wouldn't know."

"But you..."

"The fact is, Taylor, I don't stay. Nor do the women I've been with."

Taylor frowned, her brain wading through Cade's disclosure.

"Besides,” he continued, “this isn't quite the morning after is it? It's Sunday, remember; you arrived Friday night."

Hearing the truth, Taylor colored. And what a two days it had been. She'd learnt more about her body and its pleasure capacity in this short time than in her whole life.

You've had a good teacher.

Realizing Cade watched her intently, she lowered her gaze and began to eat.

But there was trouble in paradise, and Cade's gourmet endeavors may have been delicious, but she knew she'd no more be able to eat than chew a piece of cardboard. Finally, she put down her knife and fork. She looked at Cade, wishing she didn't have to say what she did. “I really have to go."

"I know."

Disappointment instant, Taylor mentally kicked herself. What had she expected—that he would plead and beg her to stay?

But Cade said no more, instead he carried on eating. Taylor watched him as he chewed a piece of bacon, the way his jaw moved, the play of his muscles in his throat, the slide of his tongue over his lips, slaking the taste of the bacon.

Fantasy versus reality. And sadly reality tasted sour.

"Sunday's come too quick,” he finally said.

Taylor gulped at her coffee, ignoring the burn of the scalding liquid as it slid down her throat. She placed the cup down on the table with precision, aware her hand was shaking. “Our high noon.” she said and linked her fingers together, hiding them beneath the table.

"Something like that,” Cade agreed. “So, what now?"

Taylor lifted her chin and looked stared at Cade, stiffening her spine. “Now, we go back to our normal lives."

Huh! Who was she kidding? Nothing would ever be normal after this. How could it? Cade had changed her forever.

But she had to pretend it would and so ate the remainder of her meal in silence, all the while battling the urge to plead with Cade to let her stay. Yet, she couldn't. That wasn't part of the bargain. And she always kept her side of a bargain.

The meal over, Taylor was grateful Cade had given her some space. In the bedroom she retrieved her bag and stood at the edge of the room.

How could one small room have so many memories?

Cade loving her. Teaching her. Tempting her.

Oh, God. This was hard.

"Life is hard,” Taylor heard her grandmother say. “We live, we love, and we die."

Die
. Rob had died. And had died believing a lie. She'd lied to him, and to herself. The sudden salty sting of tears burned Taylor's eyes. She squeezed them closed.

Time to go.

Bag in hand, she returned to the lounge, hearing the phone ring in the background and Cade's laughing voice as he took the call. “Yeah, nearly all finished here. The plan is working.” He covered the mouthpiece as she entered the room. “Hang on a sec.” He turned to her. “Can you grab my diary from down stairs? It's in the office, on the desk, a big bulky black affair,” he said.

Not really wanting to play the interloper to his phone call, she nodded and headed to the stairs that would take her to the back of the bar.

She walked straight to the desk and saw the large black diary exactly where Cade said it would be.

As she turned to go, she halted and turned full circle, taking in everything about this tiny room. How could it be only a few days since she'd entered this room with her way out proposition? It seemed a lifetime ago. Certainly life-changing, she mused as she hugged the diary to her chest and headed back upstairs.

"Got it.” She held it out.

Busy writing something down on a note pad, Cade indicated with a shake of his head that she put it on the bench. “Open it at today's date."

Taylor flipped the pages and scanned the days. It was one of those week-per-two-page affairs and she trailed her finger down the dates—then froze.

"It can't be."

"Taylor?"

Taylor's legs wobbled like jelly, waves of bile rising from her belly, to her throat and souring her mouth. The world suddenly went all haywire, a miasmic haze floating in front of her eyes. She struggled to concentrate, shaking her head to purge her brain of the fog as she fumbled for the chair behind her, sinking down into its cushioned embrace.

She slammed a hand against her forehead and groaned aloud. “It can't be? How could I have forgotten?"

"Taylor, what's wrong?"

Staring at the black ink in the diary, an accusing blur against the pristine white pages scattered across each date, she trailed a finger once again down the page as if it would erase what she already knew to be inevitable. For one mind-numbing minute, her vision blurred. She blinked repeatedly and wished whole-heartedly that this very moment would disappear. But the gods weren't on her side.

She glanced up at Cade. He'd put the phone down, though she didn't remember him terminating his call. Tears welled behind her eyes. She willed them away, but nothing was on her side right now and a single tear slid down her cheek.

"Sweetheart?” Cade hunched down in front of her, concern creasing his brow. He reached out to wipe her tear, but she jerked violently backwards.

"No. Don't touch me."

"Taylor? What's wrong?” he repeated.

"Nothing. Everything. This,” she said pointing to the diary.

"My diary. What's that got to do with you being upset?"

"Everything.” Taylor's shoulders slumped and a wave of dejection and tiredness overtook.

And guilt. Don't forget guilt!

"I should have listened."

"Listened to who? You're not making sense."

"To me, Cade. To my conscience."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I've betrayed someone."

"Betrayed?” Clearly confused, Cade drew a hand through his still damp hair and stood up. “Taylor, I'm sorry honey, but you're really not making any sense."

"Don't call me “honey", Cade. I'm not your
honey
. That sort of endearment is for a couple, people who have a relationship. We don't. And remember, we don't want one either. Neither of us do commitment,” she spat out.

Grim faced, Cade stared down at her. She wished he wouldn't. Those dark eyes penetrated into her soul. And that was a closed off place.

"I wasn't asking for commitment,” he said gently. “What happened, Taylor? Only an hour ago you were inviting me to be with you."

"I looked at your diary, that's what. Today is the tenth of May, Cade."

"So?"

"Four years ago today, it would have been my wedding day."

Cade's eyes bugged out, and if it hadn't been so sad, and serious, and that she was wallowing in guilt, Taylor would have laughed. But laughter was the furthest emotion she felt right now.

"It didn't happen, you see. My fiancée died."

Cade moved toward her, reaching out as if he was going to touch her. “Don't touch me, Cade.” He dropped his hands to his sides, and she hugged her arms tightly around her in a protective band. “I don't need your sympathy."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to let me go."

Cade stood back, hands in the air surrender-style. “I'm not stopping you."

For the third night in a row, Cade paced the length of the bar, grateful the staff had disappeared for the day and that his few well-placed scowls had deflected any kindly interrogation from Katie.

Harry Fontain had phoned, urging him to join the “gang” at the footie game.

"Come on, do you good to get out and socialize."

"Forget it; I'm not in the mood."

"So what's up? Women problems?"

"None of your business."

"Ah, so it was the blonde? Didn't think she was your type, bit too much starch, if you get my drift."

Cade got his drift all right. “Like I said, Harry, none of your business."

"Man, have you got it bad."

Cade's jaw clenched. He wanted to tell the guy to butt out and go to hell, but the fact that Harry was right on the nose, irked the hell out of him.

"What you going to do about it, Cade, ol’ boy?"

Cade had declined the offer of any advice and the game of football, and now, as the silence engulfed him and he paced the empty bar, he'd never felt so alone. He came to a halt in the middle of the room and turned full circle. The bar was his flagship so to speak, his pride and joy. He'd worked damned hard to make it, haul his sorry arse out of the quagmire of his background, a childhood where food was scarce and parents who didn't give a damn.