He's the One (18 page)

While her brother and Cade held a chatty banter over her head, she remained silent, doing her best to ignore the hunk. When she caught his easy smile, she jerked her head away and turned. She wouldn't look.

Damn him. And all men in general. Cade, however, was obviously enjoying every single moment of this.

Of course he would. He got his own way—again.

"Here we are. Home sweet home,” Edward announced as he directed Cade up the drive to the family home.

Cade brought the pickup to a halt, and Taylor uttered a grunt as she shoved passed him, stumbling over his long legs in the process. She had to get out, get some distance between them. She needed to breathe.

"Nice place."

"Yeah, they've lived here since they married,” Edward answered. “Gotta run, the folks are inside.” He nodded toward the house.

"You're not staying?” A fresh wave of panic reared its ugly head. She didn't want to go inside. Not alone. And certainly not with Cade in tow. This was worsening by the second.

But her brother ignored her pleas, wheeled his racing bike from the garage and left without a backward glance. Left her—with Cade—and her mother.

"You don't have to come in, you can go,” she said to Cade.
Please go
.

"Make an excuse you mean?"

"Yeah, Edward was just being friendly."

"Nice guy."

She shrugged.

Just then, the screen door opened and a tall pokerfaced, gray haired woman came out to the porch.

"Taylor?"

She didn't say it was lovely to see you, how are you, simply Taylor's name. A question, with so many words and demands tied into that one word.

Taylor's mouth down turned, and she blinked away the sudden threat of tears. “Hi, Mum. Edward suggested I bring Cade."

"I see.” Again, not hello. Welcome. Nothing. Instead her mother linked her fingers, turned on her heel and walked back inside.

Embarrassed by her relation's brutal rudeness, Taylor didn't know what to say.

"She doesn't seem pleased to see me."

"She's like that with everyone."

"Even you, it seems?"

Taylor sighed. “Usually."

"And I thought having a drunk for a father and a mother who didn't bother was hard work."

"Don't, Cade. Please, don't. Family is, well, family.” She shrugged battling weary resignation. “You get used to it."

With legs heavy as lead, Taylor took the steps with Cade at her side. She couldn't see any way out of this meeting and was determined to get it over with as quick as possible.

Her parents loved Rob. Remembered Rob. Made sure Rob, even in death, was in her life, always. They made her feel guilty for wanting something else. For being different.

The distinctive villa in one of Auckland's lushest suburbs bespoke money, but inside, was ... well, just plain weird.

"Your parents sure are into antiques,” Cade said, eyeballing with incredulity the overstuffed room. Taylor followed his gaze with the eye of someone who'd never seen it. Every nook and cranny had been stuffed to bursting with furniture, plate collections, stuffed animals and Victoriana.

"Try living with it."

"Nightmares?” Cade surmised

"Frequently,” she returned and gave him a lopsided grin.

"Sherry, ah ... Mr. Harper.” Her mother looked at Cade as if there was something not quite acceptable, and internally, Taylor cringed.
Here it goes again
. Same old, same old.

"Call me Cade."

"Oh, right.” She handed Cade the small crystal glass of sherry. Seeing the tiny stem in Cade's large hand, delicate versus strong brought a sudden flurry of tears to Taylor's eyes. She quickly turned and brushed them away. Everything was so up and down. And now this. She knew the outcome. It was always the same.

Cade wasn't Rob.

Just then a woman of about forty walked in. Dressed in black with a crisp white apron tied around her waist, hair tied in a severe bun, she announced dinner. “Mr. Sullivan is running late, but dinner is ready, ma'am."

Cade's hand jerked, droplets of the sherry spilling over the tip of his glass. Taylor caught him staring at her. “A maid?” he mouthed.

"Your father knows how much I like us to eat together, especially on this occasion."

"Occasion? Is it a birthday?” Cade's question caught Taylor unawares and a sharp gasp set her nerves on high alert. She should have warned Cade. She eyed her mother, her stark face softening a fraction. The only time it seemed to soften. Here it comes.

"It's Rob's anniversary; Taylor's fiancée,” her mother explained.

"Ex fiancée,” Cade corrected.

One gray brow on her mother's face arched and in slow motion; she placed her starched white linen napkin on her lap, smoothing out the invisible creases, ignoring Cade's correction.

"Rob was such a beautiful and talented young man. He was way ahead of his time, you know."

"With what?"

Taylor cringed. She willed Cade to shut up, to just say, sorry, he had to go. Once her mother started...

"Mathematics, of course."

Cade's gaze swiveled in her direction, brows arching in an unspoken question.

"My parents lecture at universities all round the world."

"In mathematics?"

Her mother straightened, a flicker of a smile tilting the corners of her mouth into an imitation of a smile. “Of course. And Rob would have followed in our footsteps. He was on his way."

"Sounds perfect."

"It was. He was absolutely just the man for our Taylor. A bit older and wouldn't have minded her ... ah ... creative tangents."

"Mother.” Dear God. Nothing had changed. Rob was perfect. She
was
to be perfected.

"Tangents?"

Taylor watched the play of lines on Cade's face crease, his brows knotting. The pulse in the side of his neck throbbed erratically, its beat hypnotizing. She remembered licking it, tasting his skin.

"This ‘business’ of hers. We've always told Taylor she needs to take things seriously, then she'll find her place."

"Place?” Cade's pulse was slamming up and down now, the muscles in his neck corded. There was such a disappointed set to Cade's mouth, Taylor's nerves coiled ever tighter. This conversation didn't bode well.

"You know her brother has been awarded a fellowship at a prestigious university, and Kiera, her sister, is head surgeon now."

"Impressive."

"Yes.” Her mother sighed, her gray eyes flickering briefly in her direction.

Cade stood up and placed his glass down on the mahogany side table. He turned to her mother. “Actually, I think Taylor's business is a great success."

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps, nothing, Mrs. Sullivan. Taylor is creative, dedicated and very successful. She gives couples the chance to start life with their dream wedding. Isn't that what it's all about? Dreams of the future?"

For a few tense, silent moments, it was as if there was a stand off between Cade and her mother. Taylor's head swiveled back and forth, unsure who would be victorious.

In this house no one balked at her mother. But then, her mother had never battled Cade.

Go, Cade
, she wished silently.

"What do you do, Mr. Harper?” her mother asked, her imperious gaze never wavering.

"I own a bar."

"Several, actually, mother,” Taylor interrupted. “Plus Cade is opening a new line of boutique bars."

"Really. How interesting.” She may have said it, but Taylor knew her mother was looking down her very long nose right now. Cade, in her opinion, wasn't of any interest and more than likely the bottom of the pecking order.

"It is, Mrs. Sullivan. The cash flow is great. I own all the buildings. I'm a real successful guy. I didn't go to university, but then, unlike you, I don't judge people by a piece of paper that says whether they studied or not. And, then, of course, I'm not Rob."

"Cade."

Cade silenced her with a flick of his hand. “Rob, Mrs. Sullivan, is dead. Long gone. You can still love a dead man, but they're not much use. Only to you, that is."

"What are you talking about? Where did you find this...?"

"Boor? Is that the word you're trying to find, to pigeonhole me with, Mrs. Sullivan? Sorry. I might not have fancy manners or come from the right side of the tracks, but what I have is mine. I've worked damned hard for every piece of brick and mortar and I'm proud of it."

"I ... never,” her mother stumbled over her words, something Taylor had never, ever seen.

Go Cade. Go!

"No, that's right,” Cade interrupted her. “You've not lived. You've set yourself up here in your ivory tower, with your overstuffed antiques and dead animals hanging on the walls. You judge everyone by your own limiting standards. Even your daughter."

"Cade, don't."

He turned to her, and she saw the fire in his eyes burning bright. “It's okay, sweetheart. Your mother needs to hear this. It's about time."

Taylor agreed silently. Trouble was, she'd never had the guts.

"You judge Taylor by some odd-ball idea that she needs to be the same as you and your over qualified high-falluting brain boxes. Well, she might not have a Mensa IQ, but she's bright, she's funny, she's creative, and she's making her own way in the world. But you can't let go, can you? You want her to fit into that precise preconceived world of yours. You want her so-called perfect."

"That's enough.” Finally, her mother found her voice. Her face white with fury, gray eyes narrowed. “Taylor needs..."

"To be Taylor, Mrs. Sullivan. Let her do her own thing."

"That sounds like some psycho babble."

"No. She's just different. From you. From me. She is simply herself, Mrs. Sullivan. Taylor is herself. And that is more than enough."

Her mother pulled herself out of her chair, stiff and unyielding. Taylor could see by her steely expression that none of what Cade had said in her favor had sunk in. Florence Sullivan was too set in her ways, too rigid to understand.

"Rob was a dear family friend."

"I'm not doubting that. He was your great white hope, so to speak. You hoped to use him to ‘whip’ Taylor into shape. But he's dead. You can't keep using him every year to control your daughter."

"I think, Mr. Harper,” her mother spoke through thinned lips, “you had better go."

Taylor's gaze shifted downwards. Her mother had balled the napkin in one fist.

"Come on.” Cade grabbed her hand and tugged. “We're out of here."

"Taylor, dinner is served,” her mother cut in.

Dark, stormy eyes stared down into her face. Eyes that had burned brightly as he'd taught her, loved her, and now released her. Why did she feel she was in a tug of war, with her being the so-called piggy in the middle. Taylor stood and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. There was a stab of pain behind her eyes. “Another night, Mother. I think I had better go to."

"But Rob's anniversary."

"Cade's right. He's dead. I've got to go.” Turning on her heels she ran from the room, bypassed the row of deer heads that as a child had scared the living daylights out of her. She yanked open the front door and rushed outside, doubling over, hands resting on her thighs as her chest heaved and she struggled for oxygen.

"Get in."

Taylor lifted her head and peered through strands of hair that had fallen free.

"Taylor. Get in. Now."

Hauling herself upright, she reacted on auto-pilot and slid into the pickup. Before she'd even closed the door, Cade fired the engine and they were down the drive and around the first corner.

"Cade?"

"Don't say a word, Taylor. Not right now."

They came to a steep curve in the road, the narrowed entrance to Mt. Victoria.

"Why here?"

"I need to calm down. Think. Because believe me, I've never been so furious."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be, because it's you I'm angry with."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Why'd you let her do it, Taylor? Why'd you let her stifle you?"

"You didn't have to stick up for me,” Taylor rounded with indignation. She grabbed her bag, hugging it to her chest. It had become her talisman of protection where he was concerned.

"I know that, but how long were you prepared to play second fiddle to a dead man?"

"I..."

Cade brought the car to a halt at the edge of the lookout. It was dark, yet the night sky shone with the reflection of a million city lights bouncing against the inky darkness.

Enveloped by a numbing sadness, Taylor sucked in a steadying breath. “Sometimes, it was simply easier. When you've a Mensa IQ brother and sister, as well as your parents, and you're the odd one out, it's easier to think it doesn't matter and not rock the boat."

"But you did rock it. You started your business. That surely wasn't in their plans for you."

"No, it wasn't. After Rob died, they thought I'd just fall back into place again, But his death lit something else in me, a need to do what I wanted to do."

"So you started Creative Weddings."

"Something like that,” she agreed.

"Good on you."

A slow smile tilted the corners of Taylor's mouth. “Yeah, good on me.” Tiny at first, a tinkling sound erupted from her throat, then a full, hearty belly rumble brewed down deep, bubbling up until she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"No one has ever spoken to my mother like that."

"Tough. First time for everything."

"That's what got us here in the first place,” Taylor said softly.

"Mm.” Cade slid over the seat toward her and wrapped her in his arms. “Usually, after the first time, there's a second time."

"I think we've already had that,” she countered playfully, hands resting on his chest. She could feel the heat beneath her fingertips, the thrust of his pulse. She swallowed hard.

"Who's counting?"

"Not me."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"This.” And his mouth claimed hers. Hot. Fast. Furious. And total. Gathered in his arms, Taylor felt as if she'd come home. This was what she had been waiting for. Not just for the last few days, but since forever.

"Delicious,” Cade murmured as his mouth moved over hers, hands in her hair. He pulled the pins from her hair. “I've been waiting all afternoon to do this.” In seconds, her hair cascaded around her shoulders. He buried his face in the loosened strands. “You smell of violets and roses."