Burning for You (7 page)

“It’s not the same for me. You don’t understand.”

Maybe she didn’t. She shook her head. “Perhaps not, and I shouldn’t presume to try. But I do know that whatever it is, you can’t blame yourself. So if you are, stop. There, my Dr. Phil for the day. Is he still even on?”

“No idea.”

She pushed her empty wineglass aside. Her face flamed. “Whew. Forgive me. That was probably extremely rude of me. I overstepped. Now I’m the cad. It’s an old-fashioned word, but I rather like it, you know?”

The corner of Joe’s lips inched upward. “It’s okay.”

She didn’t believe him. She’d sounded like a fool. “You keep saying that.”

“It’s true. Remember? I don’t lie.”

She relaxed. “This wine must have gone to my head. Whatever you do, don’t order me another one or I won’t be able to drive. At some point I have to get back to work.” The trees above rustled in the breeze. “Although I really don’t want to. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat out on a patio and drank wine. This is nice. Despite my bad manners.”

His tempting hair swished with every shake of his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. It’s been refreshing, actually. Enlightening. Most women hide everything. Play games. You’re blunt. You don’t hold anything back. I like that. A lot.”

She blushed again. He was good for her ego. “I wish other people did.”

“Ah, now it’s your turn not to be so hard on yourself.”

A car moved slowly down the street, temporarily diverting her attention. She watched until the taillights disappeared. Leo placed on their table a Bavarian pretzel that was the size of a small loaf of bread. She leaned forward and tore off a huge chunk, all the way to the first knot. She placed it on her plate, tore it into tinier pieces, and dipped a morsel into the fresh cup of rarebit.

“I love this cheese,” she gushed, putting the entire warm, gooey bite into her mouth. She chewed slowly, savoring the softness of bread melting in her mouth. She’d almost forgotten how enjoyable it was to sit with a man and just talk and enjoy great conversation. “I’m glad we decided to stay.”

“Good. Me too.”

Taylor took another bite, knowing that her guard slipping where he was concerned had nothing to do with the wine. She had to be sure not to be like all her favorite heroines who suddenly became blind to the hero’s flaws. Hadn’t that been how she’d overlooked all the problems with Owen? She’d refused to see the truth until too late. Hadn’t she promised herself not to jump into fast forward with a guy ever again? Yet something about Joe made her want to toss caution to the wind.

“So tell me about your family.” He held her gaze until she glanced away, her mind realizing that he’d gobsmacked her. He was already deep under her skin, a guy who probably didn’t like her except for her photography skills. She had to stay focused, not think about marrying the man five minutes after meeting him. “I told you about mine,” he cajoled.

He had, and no question to lob back came to mind. “It’s just me, Evelyn, and my mom. My dad died when I was eight. Navy test pilot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You told me about your sister. I have memories, like that advice I gave you, but as I’ve gotten older, I admit they’ve faded. I have to see pictures to really remember.”

She toyed with the empty wineglass stem. The fact she’d had two glasses had to be the reason she was telling him all this, right? “But he died doing what he loved. There’s something in that, I guess.”

“Your mom never remarried?”

“She never will. She says one great love was enough and she’s in a good place. She works at a perennial nursery and designs landscapes. She volunteers at the symphony. She’s always busy. Evelyn and I would love it if she found someone, but she’s not even interested in looking.”

“What about you? Do you believe in that one great love?”

She couldn’t help herself. “Do you?”

“Ah, the questions return. … For a moment you were doing so well.”

The wry grin returned as he shook his head in mock disbelief. Her fingers again itched to feel his hair. Wanted to see it cascade over him as he lowered himself over her. She waited while he tore off some remaining pretzel.

“Fine. I’ll indulge you,” Joe said. “Yes, I do believe in it. My parents are great role models. So, yes, I do eventually want something like that. But as you complained about earlier, I’m nonstop busy. I never get around to calling anyone, and I’m not a nine-to-five guy, so it’s hard to sustain a relationship. Things are always complicated.” She noticed a hitch in the way he said those last three words.

“Complicated is my middle name,” Taylor admitted. “And I could see how your schedule gets in the way. But you do get time off.”

“Which I use to rock climb, box, to try to keep my house clean and train for marathons.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You box?”

His lips twitched. “Most people are impressed with the marathons.”

“Tell me more about boxing. I’m looking for a project.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m struggling to find an applied project for my master’s degree. It’s like a thesis, but instead of doing a written paper, I’m trying to come up with a photography project that has impact, that makes a difference. I need something my professor will agree with, and maybe, just maybe, will allow me to enter into the competition.”

“Is money involved?”

“If I win, and I can’t even enter unless my professor recommends me. Right now, I just want to get this degree done.”

He again intertwined his legs between hers as he stretched out. “Well, perhaps you could do the Guns ’N Hoses competition. That’s in November. I’m five and oh. I helped the firefighters claim victory last year.”

“I can’t wait until November. It has to done by the end of July. And what is guns and whatever?”

“Hoses. It’s the police versus firefighters boxing match. All proceeds go to charity. The Backstoppers.”

“Sorry, it’s clearly very important to you, but I have no idea.” She brightened. “I’ll Google both of those.”

“Do. The event is huge. Over seventeen thousand people attended.”

“And you run too.”

“Yes.”

Which explained why he was so fit, other than staying in shape for work. The pink shirt showcased bulging biceps and hard pecs. He’d been pure temptation all night. “I’m not really into sports other than baseball or hockey,” she admitted. “I can’t afford to go much, but I’m what you call a see-it-for-free-on-TV fan. Presley’s always carries the games.”

“You’re still a fan. That’s what counts. So, I saw your ex. Anyone else in the picture?”

“No.” Her fingers tightened around the edge of the metal table. “I’m glad he’s moved on. I was shocked, that’s all. It’s a big city. I didn’t think I’d run into him ever again.”

“Well, the table seemed pretty tight. He was holding her hand.”

“He’s probably with her.”

“Well, if you see him again, hopefully it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Probably not. I’m glad he found someone. We all deserve happiness.” Taylor shivered. Suddenly all her senses were on high alert, the warm fuzzy feeling gone—her head perfectly clear. Owen. For a year she’d constantly looked over her shoulder, worried he might be there. Even after things had settled, he was always in the back of her mind, but never in a good way. Tonight he’d been less than thirty feet away.

Joe noticed her shiver. “Cold?”

“A little. The temperature dropped.” Better than admitting that Owen had terrified her at the end of their relationship, so much that she’d called the police. Twice.

“We should probably get back,” he suggested. Their pretzel plate boasted crumbs and his beer glass held one last sip, so he lifted the rim to his lips, finished off the brew. “Unless you want anything else? I’m happy to stay longer.”

“Cup of black coffee might be good, if you have the time.”

“I’ve got all night.”

She relaxed. “Good, because I could use a jolt of caffeine. I’ll have no break when I get back.”

Leo magically appeared to take the order and remove the dirty dishes.

“Make it two cups black,” Joe told him, leaning forward to pass over the empty beer glass. “So, when can you show me how to take portraits? What’s your schedule look like?”

“I don’t have my planner with me, but I do have my phone.” Taylor scrolled through its calendar. Sadly, most days were empty. Once she met with Virginia on Tuesday, she had very few photo dates. She also had a meeting with the professor supervising her project, the one who’d rejected her time and again.

Maybe Joe was right about karma. Maybe she still owed on some great cosmic bill she didn’t know about. Maybe her professor would think that boxing would be project worthy. She could go to the gym …

Like her earlier buzz, she let the idea fade away as she sipped the coffee Leo brought. Her professor wanted something that would provide a window into the soul. He’d rejected idea after idea, everything from working with the elderly to a day in the no-kill shelter. Boxing would be too mundane. Not enough of a look into another world. He wanted something beyond the photo story. He wanted something where people allowed themselves to be vulnerable. Where they faced their fears head-on. Something where people exposed themselves without even knowing it, where they let others peer into the depths of their psyche. … Like exposing when they’d been burned.

She finally understood what her professor meant. Joe was passionate about making his sister and other burn survivors feel beautiful.

To do that, they’d have to show their skin, their flaws, and own them in a defiant celebration of their bodies. Show that they’d overcome. That fate hadn’t won.

She knew for certain that this was something her professor would get behind. She’d have to clear it with him, but it was the best idea she’d had. Come on, karma, she thought. You owe me one.

She glanced up, caught Joe’s gaze. “You know what?”

“What?” he asked, taking her bait.

“I’ll do it. Your book.”

He sat back with a thump. “You will?”

“Yes.” As soon as she said the words, she knew she was one hundred percent committed. Even if her project wasn’t approved, and she was pretty sure it would be, Joe had gotten under her skin in a way she didn’t yet understand. Doing his book meant she’d see him again, and not just one more time like if she photographed his family. She wanted to keep seeing him—she hadn’t felt this relaxed or turned on in ages.

After Owen, she’d sworn never again, but Joe made her want to trust, made her want to believe. She could use the publicity the book would provide, she rationalized. Maybe if she moved fast, she’d still have a shot at entering the competition. “I want those networking connections,” she told him. “You’re right. It’ll be a good opportunity.”

He reached forward and shook her hand. Her fingertips tingled, sending raw heat coursing through her veins. “Perfect. So we have a new agreement.”

“Yes. You. Me. We’ll take the photos and produce the book.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She laughed at his deliberate choice of words. Each minute she spent in his company made her like him more, made her loosen up, made her want to lose the fearful woman who was once bitten, twice shy. If nothing else, she wanted to feel something that didn’t come from a book, indulge in a fantasy even if it was a fool’s errand.

She took his hand, gave it another shake. Heat fused them together, warming her through. She blushed, smiled. Shook her head in disbelief as his lips inched upward in a grin. “You know, Joe, for once you just might be right.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” His hand felt good. She didn’t want to let it go. “I do believe we have a plan.”

*  *  *

Bill paid—his treat, he’d insisted—Joe found himself a few minutes later once again clinging to the door handle as she sped her little car through the streets of St. Louis. He didn’t mind. She’d agreed. A huge load had been lifted from his shoulders.

Sure, he would now have to introduce her to his family, who would immediately love her. That was a small price to pay, for every woman Joe brought around was potential marriage material until proven otherwise. Not that there were many. Actually more like few and far between.

As for Taylor, she was the photographer. Joe admitted he liked her. She was blunt. Funny. Devoted. Interesting. Sexy as hell, whether her hair was up or down, like now. He glanced at her profile as she whipped around a corner. They were almost back at Presley’s. Yes, interesting, and he’d be interested in asking her out, but he refused to complicate matters. Also, all his standard reasons of why he didn’t date rushed forward, but Joe pushed them aside. No reason to rehash those. He’d lived a long time with the truth about himself, that his flaws drove women away.

He needed Taylor for the book, and he wanted the book for his sister. So any desires he had needed to be kept in check. No matter how tempting she might be.

She threw the car in park, jolting him, and then they were standing outside her car. “I’ll call you,” he told her, “for sure this time.”

She smiled, the glow of the streetlights lighting up her whole face. “I won’t hold my breath.”

He had the urge to kiss her, to capture that breath, to draw it from her lips and into his body. Instead, he shoved his hands into his front pockets. “My mother and sister won’t let me live it down if I don’t. I guess you need to go in. Do you want me to walk you to the door?”

“It’s right there. It’s safe. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He removed his hands, dropped them to his side. They weren’t on a date, and her upturned, expectant face demanded he take charge. He reached forward, tucked a loose stand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched. “Good night then.”

He thrust his right hand forward, the handshake failing to satisfy the overpowering need to touch her, to explore her softness. Just rubbing his thumb over her lower lip—what would that hurt?

Instead, he fused his fingers with hers, shook, and detached quickly before he did something that would embarrass himself or ruin being professional. Instead, he waited until she had safely entered the restaurant before he turned, took a deep breath, and went home.