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shower. That's it. I can't think about this any more. I'l go insane.

She toweled herself off, and slipped into a pair of flannel boxers and a soft, green T-shirt. In

the living room, she pulled out the sofa bed, retrieved the pillows and comforter once again

from Sam's room, and clicked on the television, looking for something mindless, preferably a

horror movie, to save her from the madness in her own head.

ACROSS THE LAWN, only a football field away, Taylor sat in her room, the remote in her

hand stopping on HBO. A madman with a knife was chasing Neve Campbell through a big house,

toppling furniture and breaking knick-knacks. Taylor ran a hand through her still-wet hair, and

pulled the covers up around her, chilled from her shower. What the hell was she supposed to

do about this?

She'd never had such as aching attraction to anybody in her life, and she was at an absolute

loss over how to deal with it.

It was pretty clear to her that Melanie was straight. Or was it? She'd thrown the word out

there for Melanie to jump on, actually referring to her as a straight person, but she hadn't

bitten. That didn't mean anything, of course. She'd only know Taylor a couple days. Why on

earth would she suddenly blurt out something as personal as her sexual preference? On the

other hand, she knew Taylor was gay, so she had to realize she was in friendly territory.

She'd had lunch with Ben. Taylor grimaced. She hated that this little fact bothered her so

much. So, they had lunch. So what?

Didn't mean anything. Of course, there was the tiny little fact that Ben Rhodes had known

Melanie for all of fifteen minutes before he'd asked her to lunch. That definitely meant he

was interested. She swallowed hard, knowing that it would be very difficult for her if Ben and

Melanie began seeing each other.

She lives in Chicago, for Christ's sake. She's not going to be "seeing" either of you. Jesus, Rhodes, get a grip.

On that not-so-pleasant note, she pushed all thoughts of Melanie Larson as far away as

possible, and concentrated on the screen, hoping two hours of Neve would take her mind off

this mess.

Chapter Eight

MELANIE WAS PERFECTLY content, her head resting against the seat, sun warming her face,

Taylor at her side. She stole a glance at her companion, who was tapping the steering wheel to

the Latin beat of the Ricky Martin tune on the radio. Tapping it with those hands. Melanie

caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She let her gaze wander down to the smooth,

muscular legs, up to the khaki shorts, and indigo long-sleeved henley. Her dark hair was down

again, much to Melanie's delight, and round, black-framed sunglasses hid her eyes. The warm,

musky scent she wore floated to Melanie's nostrils, and she breathed deeply, thoroughly

enjoying it.

They had exited the expressway, and were now cruising through the city. "This is a pretty

good time, with rush hour being just about over. You don't want to be driving around here at

five o'clock." She made a left, and pointed out the window. "This is Frontier Field. It's only a couple years old. We have a minor league baseball team, the Red Wings, that play here. I'm

not a big baseball fan, but it's fun to go to the games."

"I played softball in high school, but I can't seem to get through an entire baseball game on

TV. Bores me to tears."

"Me, too," Taylor laughed. "There's no earthly reason a simple baseball game should take four hours."

Melanie adjusted her sun visor. "It's been just gorgeous out. Is the weather always this nice

here?"

"Ha!" Taylor spat. "You, young lady, must be a good luck charm, because Rochester weather sucks much of the time. The summer's not too bad, although it can get awfully hot. And the

winter? Ugh. Nasty."

Taylor had turned down a narrow, quiet street, and found a parking spot. "Feel like walking a

bit?"

"Sure. I'm up for anything you can dish out."

Taylor slid a glance her way, a challenging sparkle in her eye.

Melanie swallowed, but was surprised to find herself returning the look with one of her own.

Taylor arched an eyebrow questioningly, then smiled. "Come on."

God, it's fun to flirt with her, Melanie thought.

They walked down a wide sidewalk, Taylor pointing at different buildings. "This is called High

Falls. It used to be a very rundown, not-so-safe part of town, but our mayor has been working

really hard to fix it up, and get people down here again. All these shops are fairly new. There's

a bunch of restaurants around here. The new baseball stadium has been a great draw for

business."

They proceeded on and the sidewalk became a large, wide bridge. They walked out to the

middle, passing many other people.

There were benches and trash cans. The whole area had a very clean, proud look. Taylor

pointed to the water flowing below them, splashing down from the falls on the right.

"This is the Genesee River. And over there," she pointed to their left, "is Genesee Brewing.

Their beer is very popular and plentiful around here." She dropped her voice to a whisper.

"It's not very good, though."

Melanie laughed. "Not very loyal of you."

"I know. I prefer Canadian. Don't tell anybody, though. They can make people disappear." She winked at Melanie, whose knees went weak.

They strolled casually back to the car, chatting about this and that. They drove a little more,

and Taylor pointed out different things... the newly renovated and enlarged library, where

Taylor claimed she could live, the Liberty Pole, which was turned into a Christmas tree with

lights during the holidays, the War Memorial, now referred to as Blue Cross Arena, after the

large, local health insurance organization. The brunette had grimaced at that. "I hate

Corporate America. Everything's about money. I liked the War Memorial. But nowadays, a

company can come along, flash enough money, and suddenly it's the Blue Cross Arena. Just like

Frontier Field. Couldn't it be Red Wings Stadium or something? Frontier forks over enough

money and now it's Frontier Field. It sucks." She made a turn, and headed back past the

baseball stadium. "Okay, let's go this way."

Melanie leaned back, and closed her eyes, letting the warm evening air blowing in the sunroof

caress her face. "Thank you for this. It's nice to have somebody to talk to."

"Wel , you just happen to be great company, so don't thank me."

Melanie smiled at that, but didn't open her eyes. Taylor took the opportunity to alternate her

attention between the road and the body next to her. Melanie was wearing denim shorts that

hugged her curves perfectly, the first thing Taylor had noticed when the auburn-haired

woman had walked ahead of her to the car. Her shirt was a short-sleeved white button down,

which she had tucked neatly into her shorts and cinched with a brown belt. Brown boat shoes

adorned her small feet. Taylor followed the sparkle of the gold watch on her left wrist as she

lifted her hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. The sun shining on her head was

revealing golden highlights, and Taylor licked her lips nervously. Goddamn.

As they crested a hil and headed down the other side, water came into view. "Hungry?"

Melanie opened her eyes, and smiled. "Yup."

"How 'bout a hot dog and a stroll on the pier?"

A grin lit up the face next to her. "And ice cream for dessert?"

Taylor laughed at the childlike quality of the question. "If you're a good girl."

"Oh, I'm very good." Melanie felt her face redden, mortified that the words had slipped out.

"We'll see," Taylor replied in a low voice that shot straight to Melanie's groin. Jesus Christ.

How does she do that? Melanie asked herself.

They parked and locked up the car, Taylor grabbing a navy blue Gap sweatshirt from the back

seat, and tying the sleeves around her waist.

"Is that Lake Ontario?" Melanie asked.

"Yup." She nudged Melanie playfully. "Maybe if we squint hard enough, we can see Sam."

"Maybe if we reach far enough, I can slap Sam."

Taylor purchased hot dogs for the two of them, and they wandered to the pier that stretched

out onto the lake. It was busy, as the evening was pleasant, with various families out for a

stroll and many a teenager just looking to hang out. The two women seemed aware only of each

other. They wandered slowly, in no hurry, looking out onto the water, and eating their dinner.

"Taylor, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Do you look like your mom?"

Taylor caught her eye. "Where did that come from?"

"I just was wondering. Other than your eyes, I don't really see a lot of Ben in you. I just

thought you must look more like her."

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, I look a lot like her. Almost like twins, as my grandma says."

"Were you close to her?"

Taylor hesitated, not used to the subject.

Melanie took it as annoyance and hurried to apologize. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer

that. Never mind. I'm being nosy. It's none of my business," she said in a rush.

"No, no," Taylor reassured her. "It's okay. I don't mind. I'm just not used to talking about her." She took a deep breath. "Yes. We were very close. I could tell her just about anything, and she'd listen with an open mind and an open heart. I was terrified to tell my family that

I'm gay, but Maggie and I were having problems and I was a mess...barely functioning, really. I

made the decision to tel her, if for no other reason than I needed my mommy." She smiled at

Melanie, and the older woman had a sudden flash of what Taylor must have looked like as a

little girl. "She didn't even flinch—no small feat for a woman raised as an Italian Catholic. She came right over to me, put her arms around me, and just held me so I could cry, while she kept

telling me that she loved me and everything would be okay. I think that was the single closest

moment we ever had. There's nobody quite like my mom."

"Sam said you moved home to take care of your dad."

"Yeah. He was crushed, an absolute mess when my mom was killed. Not that any husband

wouldn't be, but they had something really special. He hadn't the foggiest idea what to do. It

was like he was in some kind of daze. My big brother Frankie came home and had to take care

of the funeral arrangements. My dad was just too lost to do any of it. When Frankie had to go

back to New York City, he and I decided we couldn't leave Dad alone in the state he was in.

So, I moved out of my apartment and came back home to look after him."

"The poor man," Melanie whispered.

Taylor nodded. "It was pretty awful to watch. This big, strong man who's always been my hero

was reduced to nothing more than a sobbing child." Even now, Taylor shuddered at the picture

her father had presented. His grief was the hardest thing with which she'd ever had to deal,

aside from the actual loss of her mother. "Luckily, he pulled himself through in a few months.

But, it wasn't easy."

"You said you're not used to talking about your mom. Is that why? To spare him?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so. I know it's not the best way to deal with things, but it seems to work. I just kept telling myself to give it a little more time, give it a little more time. It's probably

been long enough, but I've gotten so used to not talking about her that I still don't."

Melanie nodded and said softly, "Well, she sounds wonderful. You must miss her."

"Terribly."

Taylor's dark eyes had misted, and Melanie laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I'm sorry. I

shouldn't have brought it up. I didn't mean to upset you."

Taylor looked down at her, and tucked the redhead's hand under her own arm, as if walking

her down the aisle. "Don't apologize.

I haven't talked about her much at all since she died, and that's probably not healthy. I need

to talk about her. It's good for me. She deserves to be remembered, and for some strange

reason, I feel really comfortable talking to you. So, thank you for asking." Melanie smiled her relief and Taylor asked, "What about you? Are you close to your parents?"

"I guess you could say I'm pretty close to my mom, despite the fact that we don't have a

whole lot in common. My dad's more of a passing presence in my life than a father." She said it with a half-grin, attempting to make light of the remark, but Taylor could see the faint

shadow of old pain that shaded her pretty face. "My parents divorced when I was fourteen,

and my father's been kind of a fleeting figure ever since."

"That's a rough age to deal with a divorce."

"Tell me about it. My mom had never worked, not full-time anyway, and suddenly she finds

herself with no husband, no house, and a kid to support."

"Ouch." Taylor winced.

"Yeah. It wasn't easy for her. We moved to a suburb of Phil y so she could be close to her

sister Darlene... that's Sam's mom. Aunt Dar helped her find a job at a local bank. I saw my

dad on the occasional weekend or holiday here and there, but Sam's dad, my Uncle Phil, was

much more of a father figure to me. We got a little apartment, just me and my mom. She did a

damn good job with what was thrown at her."

Taylor smiled at the glimmer in the ocean blue eyes. "You're proud of her."

"You bet I am. She didn't let him destroy her life. It happens, believe me. I've seen it. But,

she cal ed up a strength she didn't think she had. I didn't think she had it, either, frankly."