One Tough Cookie (5 page)

She hadn't liked the way he made her feel this morning, the way he'd looked at her mouth. She turned her head and sighed.
Tell the truth, Willy, you've been ogling him all week. He's the most fascinatingly bad-tempered male you've ever had the misfortune to come across. With all that masculine superiority, power, good looks, and money to boot, he was definitely a pain maker. Every hard muscle in his body designed to make you weak in the knees, then weak in the head. And what was the end result?
Pain. A whole load of it. She wanted no part of it—or him. She wasn't going to heel to a man, any man, any time. Her mother had done it for years, and for what?

She shuddered when she thought of her mother, the beautiful Michelle Desmond, once a celebrated model, pleading, begging,
whimpering
for her husband to return home. The image burned in Willy's consciousness and her own body heat rose. She'd tried to soothe her mom, calm her. Tell her she could make it on her own, that with time she'd be okay. And she'd never forget her mother's response and the flood of tears that accompanied it.

"You don't understand, Willy. You can't. I
love
him. I'll
always
love him. He's my life. I
need
him." And the tears and pleadings had continued.

She shifted uncomfortably. Her mother's loss of pride had made her crazy—and sad. It had also strengthened her own resolve.

She would never—ever—be that vulnerable to a man! If that was grand passion, she wanted no part of it. Love should be kept in check, not dominate your whole existence.

Since the day she'd left New York over four years ago, she'd worked to ensure that kind of need took no root in her life. She was single-minded and purposeful—she'd made a plan and stuck to it. So she'd been tightly focused, maybe even obsessive, but damn it, it worked. She was strong, resourceful, and self-reliant. Well armored against dangerous emotions.

Until Taylor Monroe.

Thinking about Taylor's slow-firing eyes, she took a big gulp of fresh air. Maybe there was no defense against eyes like that, against a man like that. The thought was terrifying.

Usually her height, strength, and bearing, not to mention her smart mouth, kept interested men at bay. She had a talent for turning would-be lovers into friends. Could she do that with Taylor? Did she want to? A coil twisted through her stomach and she tensed. Damn it. She wouldn't let hormones get the better of her.
No frickin' way
. Besides, he wasn't going to be here long and neither was she. He was probably already chafing to get back to New York. She just hoped he wouldn't drag Dan with him.

"Hey there. If it isn't wild Willy."

A shadow fell across the sand in front of her, and she turned, propping herself up on her elbows. When she saw who it was, her mood lightened. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes.

"Elena," she said. "What are you doing here?"

The extraordinarily tall, darkly beautiful woman returned the smile and sank to her knees opposite Willy. "Working. At least I will be in a couple of days. A video for the Spanish Tourist Bureau."

"Hey, that's great."

"It is, isn't it? But there's a couple of local girls not too happy about a Florida-born Cuban stealing the job, I can tell you. Especially one who can barely speak the language." She gave Willy an embarrassed grin.

Willy laughed.

"Are you still taking Spanish classes?" Willy asked.

"Yes." Elena drew a long finger through the sand. "But it doesn't come easy. I don't have your head for languages."

Willy shrugged. "I traveled. I learned. It's no big deal. Necessity more than anything."

"Five languages? I'd call that a big deal, especially when I have trouble becoming fluent in one."

"Another couple of months here, and you'll be speaking like a native.

"Si."
Elena smiled softly and then turned questioning. "Willy?"

"Uh-huh."

"Have you seen Dan?"

"I'm staying at his place, but I haven't seen him. Yet. He's still in Madrid. He's supposed to be back sometime next week."

"Oh." The word dropped to the sand with a dull thud, heavy with disappointment.

Willy cocked her head to one side. "That was a damned heavy 'oh.' What's going on?"

"I was hoping to see him. I, uh, thought I might kind of run into him, that's all. But I'll be gone by then. We're filming in Ronda."

"So come back when you're done. Ronda's not that far. What? An hour? Hour and a half? You can visit on the way back."

"I don't know," she said. "If I showed up, chances are Danny would just take off again."

"Not next week, he won't. We have work to do. Add to that his brother's here under full sail to talk him into going back stateside. I'm afraid poor Dan is trapped." Willy touched Elena's arm. "Come back. He'd want to see you."

"Sure. About as much as he wants to see that brother of his."

"Things aren't always what they seem, you know. Dan and Taylor might disagree a little." Willy chuckled. "Make that a
lot.
But Dan does love him. I'm sure of it—and differences can be resolved."
Listen to me,
she thought.
Little Miss Optimism.
But she liked Elena—and she adored Dan. It would be wonderful if they could get back together. Even grouchy old big brother couldn't disagree with that. She added, "Even your and Dan's differences."

Elena played in the sand and then lifted her head to give Willy a long look. "I'll think about it." She smiled a bit too brightly. "But for now, what about a swim?"

Willy welcomed the change of subject. Despite her good intentions, she was, by skirting the edge of Dan and Elena's relationship, in uncomfortable territory. She'd spent years avoiding the emotions that were causing both of them so much unhappiness. What the hell did she know about love anyway? Zip. Zero.
Nada.
And that was just how she wanted it.

"Good idea," she said, jumping to her feet and stripping down to her bikini. "Let's go. Last one in buys lunch."

"You're on." Elena stood up, and doffing both her T-shirt and bikini top in one clean lift, she ran to catch the streaking Willy.

Chapter 3

Forty-five minutes later, they were happily exhausted and heading back up the beach to Willy's abandoned towel. Thirty feet from it, Willy stopped in her sandy tracks. A mild Spanish curse escaped through her compressed lips. He'd found her. Not that it was difficult. The beach area here wasn't that big.

Elena shot her a questioning look. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. But prepare yourself. You're about to meet Dan's brother."

Elena's eyebrows lifted slightly, and Willy followed her glance back toward her abandoned towel, now occupied by a dark, good-looking man who was watching them intently. He was wearing an open white dress shirt and suit pants. His feet were bare, and he was dangling a pair of wing tips between his raised knees.

"Not bad," Elena said under her breath. "Not bad at all."

"Oh, yes he is, Elena. Make no mistake about that," she whispered back.
Very, very bad
.

Taylor's cool gaze traveled leisurely, and admiringly, over Willy's body, taking in the scrap of bikini that both covered and highlighted her toned figure. When his eyes slid from her to Elena, Willy smiled, wondering what effect her ravishing, bare-breasted companion was having on him.

She had to hand it him. He kept his cool, not a trace of discomfort or the well-known tourist leer. Faced with Elena's body magic, that couldn't have been easy.
A touch of class,
she thought, when his eyes came back to rest on her.

"You're a stubborn man, Monroe. You should be in bed." She reached for her bag and pulled out a smaller towel.

"I was lonely," he answered in a low rasp, giving her a private smile. He coughed and lifted a hand to massage his throat.

"Yeah, well, just don't have a relapse, okay? My nursing days are over." She turned then to Elena, who was busy donning her T-shirt. "Elena Ruiz, meet Taylor Monroe. Dan's brother from New York."

"Hi." Elena offered her hand and Taylor took it.

"Elena." He gave her a friendly nod, then seemed to remember something. "Ah, that Elena," he added. "You're even more beautiful than Dan said you were."

When Elena's smile brightened, Willy knew it wasn't the compliment that did it. It was the fact that Dan had mentioned her to his brother. A thin slice of hope, but she took it. "Thank you." She turned a happy face to Willy. "I'd better go, I've got a bus to catch, but I'll see you in a few days, okay?" They hugged and Elena headed up the beach, a smile on her face big enough for sunrise.

"
Adios
." She called out. It seemed Elena had made up her mind.
Look out, Danny boy.

"That is one beautiful woman." Taylor said.

"Yes, she is." She dropped to her knees and reached for her shirt. Taylor watched her towel her hair.

"Do you ever go swimming like that?"

Like what?" she asked, knowing full well what he meant but playing the innocent.

"Topless."

"Sure." She stuffed the damp towel in her bag.

"But not today?"

"No. Not today."

"Why?"

She shrugged. She didn't exactly know why. Was it because there was a slight chance Taylor would find her here? She'd never had any qualms about it before.

"I'd like to be there when you do," he said.

"I don't usually make public announcements about it. I just do it when it feels right."

"But not today," he said again. She gave him a look of pained frustration.

"That's right."

He grinned at her. "My loss, I guess. Still, as a kindness to an ailing man...
"

"There's nothing ailing about you, Monroe. Nothing at all. And I'd appreciate it if you'd cut the crap."

"You're one tough cookie, aren't you?" His eyes traveled her length. "And you have the most beautiful body on this beach. So, are you always so tough? Or is it solely for my benefit?"

"Always," Willy lied, feeling anything but tough. Especially with his shaded eyes fixed on her.

He studied her tight jaw, then tapped it lightly with his index finger. "Can I buy you a soda?"

Anything to make him move away from her. "That's the first
decent
thing you've said since you got here. I'd love one."

He got to his feet, brushed some sand from his pants, and headed for the palm-shaded serving hut a few yards down the beach. Willy pulled a comb through her wet hair and watched him go. Even though the suit pants and dress shirt were out of place, the easy gait of the man said he wasn't. Taylor wouldn't be out of place anywhere. He had a rough elegance about him and a cool confidence laced with underlying caution. Dan had said he was exacting, organized to a fault, but here, now, he looked as casual and at ease in his business clothes as she did in her swimsuit.

He came back with the drinks and handed her one, seeming easy with the silence that rested between them. It was Willy who broke it. "Is this the first time you've been to Spain?"

"First time off the North American continent to be exact. Except for Hawaii. The traveling I do is mainly for business and that's generally the States with a few trips to Canada."

"What exactly is it you do anyway? Danny told me but I'm not sure I completely understand." She sipped her soda.

"I'm a consultant. A financial consultant."

"Isn't that just a fancy name for an insurance salesman or stockbroker?"

He gave her an irritated sideways glance. "Sounds like you don't approve of either. You're right though—the title is often used loosely, but I like to think of myself as the genuine article. I tell people, corporations mainly, how to invest their excess capital. I'm not fleecing little old ladies out of their life savings if that's what you're thinking."

A money man. Willy had grown up surrounded by them, wheeling and dealing. Always talking about the next big deal, the next big killing. It was all a blur to her and a major bore. She couldn't imagine anyone getting satisfaction from something so cold and impersonal.

"I see." She didn't feign further interest. Feigning wasn't a talent of hers. She took a long drink of soda and turned her eyes back to the sea.

"I can tell you're fascinated," he said dryly. "So how about you? How do you earn your daily bread?"

"A bit of this and a bit of that." His eyes were intense, and she warmed more under his gaze than she had under the hot Spanish sun.

"Which means you don't work? That must be the reason you and Danny get along so well. He has an aversion to it, too."

"That's not true. Danny works every time he gets the opportunity."

"Yeah, too bad the opportunity doesn't arise too often. Especially lately."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a self-satisfied ass?" she snapped.

"All the time." He took a long swig of his drink and continued. "So you don't work either?" The man was relentless.

"Of course I work. If I didn't work, how would I live?"