The One Who Got Away. Jo LeighЧитать онлайн книгу.
to have a sibling. He would have voted for a brother, however. A girl was too foreign. Too girly. And he’d wanted to be the toughest kid in town.
Steve had always protected the little brat, no matter what, even though he’d complained about her presence. Then protecting Taylor had become a part of him, too. He’d kept the older kids from picking on the tall, skinny tomboy.
After he’d graduated high school, he’d pretty much forgotten about her. Until he’d come home that last week, just after she’d turned eighteen.
His folks were gone on a trip he’d bought them. He’d liked the quiet and the peace, the time to study. He’d been taking night classes, studying forensics. During the day, he’d been a beat cop, and the toll had been heavy. The week away had been a blessing.
When Taylor had dropped by, making it awkwardly, painfully clear that she’d wanted him to take her, he’d hesitated, sure, but finally, he’d given in.
They’d stayed in bed for damn near three days. Doing everything they could think of, and by God the girl had an amazing imagination. She’d been wild, free, unafraid. The first time she’d taken him in her mouth, he’d nearly had a heart attack. And he could still remember her cries when he’d showed her the pleasure of his mouth on her.
She’d cried when they said goodbye, and he’d felt bad, but he’d explained to her that he was only in town for a short visit. The letters she’d sent him had come frequently at first, always with an invitation for a return visit, but he’d only answered one. There was no future for the two of them. Even if she had ended up at a college in New York, he couldn’t have kept up a relationship.
His career had been his whole focus for a long, long time. Back then, he’d wanted to be a homicide detective, and he’d accepted every lousy assignment, volunteered for all the crap no one else wanted to do. He’d eventually gotten his master’s degree in forensic science.
But he’d still made it out to California most years to go fishing with Steve. He’d heard about Taylor’s adventures at Berkeley, her first apartment, her job as a paralegal.
Steve had also told her that Taylor wanted to marry, to have kids, to have the kind of life that demanded the suburbs. Not Manhattan. Not with a cop.
But this week wasn’t about marriage and kids, at least not for them. It was Vegas, after all. Sin City. They were here to have a good time, to be there for Steve, although not in the way Steve imagined.
Ben turned over, thinking about his friend, what had gotten into him. Lisa represented everything Steve had avoided in his life. His love of his fishing boats, and his freedom, were so important to Steve, and anyone who knew him saw that from the get-go. So what had happened? Why the radical shift?
Lisa seemed nice enough, but there was no way in hell she was going to make Steve forget about his life in San Diego. Kansas was a terrible mistake, Ben felt it in his bones.
Maybe he should just shut up and let Steve do what he needed to. Or maybe, this was what being a friend was all about.
Whatever, he wasn’t going to be any good to anyone if he didn’t get some sleep.
His hand moved down his stomach until he gripped his length in his hand. Eyes closed, he pictured Taylor sitting across from him in the cabana. That tantalizing stretch of bare thigh.
Before he’d even gotten to the really good parts, it was over. He forced himself to get up, go to the bathroom, but now, exhaustion had taken over full-force. Once he was back in bed, the minute he’d plunked his head on the pillow he fell into a deep sleep.
TAYLOR DIALED BEN’S cell from the pay phone next to the Pink Taco. It rang once, and she heard his sleepy voice growl his “Hello.”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry. Go back to sleep. Call me later.”
“No, no. I’m up. I just haven’t had coffee yet.”
“Have it down here. Let’s meet at the coffee shop.”
“Sure. Give me about ten minutes.”
“Okay. I’ll get a table.”
He hung up and so did she. Damn, even his voice made her twitchy. That low grumble made her want to be there in person when he woke up. She desperately wanted to see his hair tousled, the first smile of the day. Maybe tomorrow.
She brushed her hair back from her shoulder, and went looking for the coffee shop. It was called Mister Lucky’s, and there was a small line of people waiting for a table. Almost everyone wore shorts and T-shirts, mostly brightly colored, although more so with the women than the men. Sandals were the footwear of choice, and the accessory of the day was small cameras, equally divided between still and video.
She had chosen her outfit with care. Khaki culottes with a nice leather belt, a pale green sleeveless cotton shirt, nothing spectacular at all, but she felt really comfortable in the outfit which was the important thing. She’d worn her angel earrings, the ones she’d picked up in Sedona two years before. They were kitschy, but she didn’t care. They were her favorites.
Her gaze went toward the elevators, but she didn’t spot Ben. And then she did.
He had on jeans, well-worn and perfect, with a navy polo shirt. His hair was slicked back, still damp from his shower. Her stomach tightened, and she had the urge to squeeze her legs together. What he did to her had to be illegal in most states. Luckily, Nevada wasn’t one of them.
He walked right to her, leaned over and kissed her on the lips, stealing her breath and her equilibrium. She put her hand on the wall behind her to steady herself, and when he smiled at her, she gripped harder.
“Morning.”
“Hi.”
“I hope this doesn’t take long,” he said. “I’m a bear before my first cup of coffee.”
She cleared her throat and her head, amazed at her reaction. Sure, she wanted the guy, but to flip out completely from a pleasant peck on the lips? What would she do when he really kissed her? She’d have to make damn sure she was lying down.
“What’s that smile for?”
“Nothing.” She turned toward the café entrance. “It’s moving pretty fast. Don’t worry.”
“Did you speak to your mother?”
She turned back to face him. “Yeah, I did. She’s just as mystified by this whole thing as we are.”
“Did she have any ideas?”
The people in front of them were led to their seats, and a moment later, a second hostess took them to a quiet table near the breakfast bar. They both ordered coffee, and didn’t speak until it arrived. Ben liked his black, which made some kind of weird sense. She wondered what else he liked. Wine with dinner? Sweets?
“Okay,” he said, putting his cup down on the saucer. “Where were we?”
“You asked if my mother had any ideas. She did, but she’s not sure what to make of it all. About six months ago, they had dinner together, and Steve got real maudlin talking about Dad. He was beating himself up over disappointing Dad by not taking over the business.”
“Your dad didn’t care.”
“I know. But obviously, Steve didn’t get it. I think going into business with Lisa’s dad is his way of making things right.”
“It can’t work.”
“Of course not. But I don’t think Steve’s thinking too clearly about that.”
Ben drank some more coffee, staring just past her shoulder while he thought. The waitress came by, and he ordered eggs and bacon. She chose a cheese omelet. After refilling their cups, they were alone again, but Ben didn’t say anything.
She waited, not wanting to interrupt.
Finally, he looked at her. “We need a plan.