Burning for You (8 page)

“You know I can’t do it without your help. If you don’t help me, the entire country could be in jeopardy.”

“You know I’ll help you, Duncan. How could I not? I—”

“Don’t say you love me. I’m a rogue. A rake.”

“A spy in the guise of a pirate.”

He reached to gently touch her face. “My priority must be saving the crown.”

“Good book?”

“Hey, Mom.” Taylor dog-eared a corner. Sunday afternoon found Taylor making her weekly visit to her mother’s house. Unlike Taylor’s kitchen cupboards, which contained around two packets of ramen, three microwavable mashed-potato cups, and a half empty box of Pop-Tarts, her mom’s pantry was always full. She also stocked vanilla wafers and Oreos. Within seconds of putting down her book, Taylor had a handful of each.

Good cookies always made the weekly Sunday afternoon visit more bearable. Earlier she’d also made herself a roast beef and provolone sandwich, which was basically breakfast and lunch combined.

“You know, if you can’t afford food, you can always move home,” her mom suggested. She leaned a jean-clad hip against the center island, her short-sleeve kaftan rustling. “Live here and get three squares a day.”

“I’m good,” Taylor mumbled through an overstuffed mouthful of chocolate and cream filling. She sighed as the delicious goodness rolled over her taste buds. Store brands certainly couldn’t compete with the real thing. She set her uneaten cookies on the countertop and reached into an overhead cabinet for a glass.

Anticipating, her mother opened the refrigerator door and passed over a fresh half gallon of milk.

“Thanks.” Taylor poured herself a large glass and drank most down in one gulp. Then she refilled.

Her mom’s brow creased with worry. “If you’re hungry, I can lend you money for groceries, you know. I don’t like that you’re not eating.”

“I eat. Last night I went to Dressel’s. I just don’t buy cookies. Bad for my figure. Good because it gives me a reason to come see you.” Hunger slightly abated, Taylor dunked an Oreo before taking a bite. She wiped her sticky fingers on her jean shorts. “I’m turning in the calendar shoot Tuesday and I’ll get paid then. It’ll tide me over for a while.”

“I just wish you’d let me help. Move back home and save some money. Just for a little while. Maybe being here would help you focus on your project. How’s that going?”

“Fine.”

Her mom didn’t buy her fib. “Honey, I thought you’d have it done by now. I hate that you’re spending all this money on a master’s. Webster isn’t cheap.”

“I’ve got it handled, Mom,” Taylor replied stubbornly, as the chocolaty cream temptation on her tongue seemed to say, “Move home and you can eat me every day.” She ignored the inner voice and ate a vanilla wafer. “Things are about to break wide open. I’ve got a new client.”

“You need tons of new clients. Charlene knows a person who’s got a friend who works at
St. Louis Magazine
. I can find out if they’re hiring.”

“They aren’t. I checked. And I’ve got this.”

“I was only trying to help you network.” Her mom crossed her arms. Gave her the concerned look Taylor had been seeing for as long as she could remember. “Baby, I don’t like seeing you struggle.”

“I’m okay, Mom. What’s that about it being ninety-nine percent persistence?”

Her mom shook her head, disbelieving. “It’s ‘perspiration.’”

“Same idea.”

“You’ve always been so stubborn.”

Taylor’s chin jutted forward. “Well, I get it from you. You know you should sell the house and get a condo. Move where there are more people.”

Her mom shook her head again. “We’ve been through this. The house is not too big. And it’s paid for. It’s centrally located. I can get everywhere in ten minutes.”

The one-story, three-bedroom Kirkwood ranch had been the only home Taylor had ever known. The kitchen doorframe had permanent inked lines that marked how tall she and her sister had been on each birthday. Perhaps the memories made her mother lonely, which was why she kept pestering Taylor to move home.

“Yes, but now that Evelyn and I have moved out, it’s too much upkeep.” Taylor pressed. “You could travel and—”

“The house is not the issue. You’ll be taking me out of here in a cardboard box.”

“Okay, okay,” Taylor replied, backing down. She knew that entrenched tone. “Keep the house. It was Evelyn’s idea anyway.”

Her mom patted Taylor’s arm. “I know you worry, as I do about you. But I’m fine.” She reached to wipe some cookie crumbs from the corner of Taylor’s lips. “I’ve got bridge tonight. Oh, I need you to take care of Yin and Yang for me next week.”

As if on cue, two fluffy white Himalayans trotted into the kitchen and made figure eights between Taylor’s legs, tickling her with their fuzzy tails. “You can stay here while I’m gone. Take care of my babies. It’ll only be two days. I’m helping Charlene move her daughter to Topeka. We’re taking the car and she’s driving the U-Haul.”

“Who? Charlene?”

Charlene was even scarier than her mother when it came to driving. Taylor couldn’t imagine her behind the wheel of a U-Haul.

Her mother shook her head, her short white hair barely budging. “No. Her daughter. I’m riding shotgun in Charlene’s car. We leave Friday. Sheila’s accepted an associate job at a legal firm there. Very promising. She can make partner.”

Taylor didn’t touch that comment, lest she somehow inadvertently direct the conversation back toward her own current shortcomings. “I can be here.”

“So you’ll stay over? I don’t want them to be alone. I know it’s the weekend, but …”

Taylor sighed. She’d walked right into this one. “As long as this isn’t a ploy to get me to move home, I’m happy to house sit Yin and Yang.”

Her mother feigned innocence. “Never. Although, you may like being home. I’ll leave you some homemade meals in the refrigerator.”

Taylor resisted rolling her eyes. “Text me the details. I can get to work just as easily from here as I can from my apartment.”

“Which is why you should stay here for a while. Save up some money. If the commute’s the same—”

“Mom.” Taylor rinsed her empty glass and put it in the sink. She washed her hands. “I’d love to discuss this more but I’ve got photos to process, so I need to get going. I also have another job to plan.”

Her mom knew when she’d pushed enough. She opened her arms for a hug and drew Taylor in. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by. I needed a break from being in the garden and I’ll need to clean up before bridge.”

“One day I should learn that game.”

Her mom nodded, leaned back. “You should. I can teach you.”

With that, Taylor’s mom drew her in for another jasmine-scented hug. As Taylor drove home, her phone rang, and she put it to her ear. “This is Taylor.”

“It’s Joe.”

Joe. His deep sexy voice sent a thrill to her toes, as it had last night. “Hey,” she said, her heart racing. Distracted by his call, she failed to notice when a car came into her lane. Belated, she honked.

“Are your hands free?”

She frowned, picturing his scowl. “No, but I’m good.”

“Do you know how many accidents I work that are caused by driver inattention? Hang up and call me when you’re safely parked with the engine off. You’ve got my number.”

With that, he hung up on her. Thoroughly scolded, she tossed the iPhone on the passenger seat and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Really. The man was impossible. Talking on her phone was perfectly legal and she’d never even had so much as a speeding ticket, much less a fender bender.

She pulled into her assigned parking space, the one building amenity she appreciated at four a.m., and walked up three flights of hot stairs. She stepped into her one-bedroom and immediately turned on the window air-conditioning unit. The art deco building in Richmond Heights wasn’t centrally cooled, and in the winter the radiators banged and hissed but did a decent job. Still, she loved her space. Her artistic nature had been drawn to large windows that let in copious amounts of natural light. She also loved the high ceilings, the plaster millwork, and the aged wood floors. She flopped onto the couch, letting the cool air blow over her and called Joe back.

“I’m home,” she said when he answered, figuring he’d read the caller ID.

“Good. Sorry. Pet peeve. And you’re a dangerous driver.”

The hair on the back of her neck rose. “I am not.”

He laughed, a deep, robust chuckle that did little to reduce her hackles. “You forget I rode with you twice. The first time you had an excuse. The second time not so much.”

He let the silence fall, as if picturing her fuming. She refused to dignify him with an answer. “I spoke to my mother,” he finally said. “She’d love to have family photos done. We’re a go. Also, I want to set up the first of the burn book shoots.”

“You move fast.”

“In my line of work, you make decisions quickly. No need to waste time. When I see something I want, I go for it, and you are something I want.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that either. Her skin heated despite being under a direct blast of AC. “Well, okay,” she mumbled. “Let me grab my calendar.”

She rose, went to the kitchen table, and tugged the Humane Society pocket calendar out of her purse. Having a thing for cats, she’d donated five dollars in response to the direct mailing. The plastic protective cover rustled. “Okay, I just need a pen.”

“You don’t just use your phone? You scrolled through it last night.”

“I do, but only after I write it down on hard copy. I always know where my calendar is. I misplace my phone all the time. It’s a comedy as I try to find it. Okay, I’m ready.” She heard muffled voices in the background, then silence. “Are you there?”

Nothing. No answer.

“Hello? Hello? Are you there?” She checked her phone screen. All five circles were full, so she had more than enough signal. “Hello?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” More muffled noise, and then as if the phone was away from his ear, “Yes, I will. Just let me finish this call.” She could tell he wasn’t talking to her. A few more seconds of silence and he was back. “Sorry about that.”

Taylor frowned. “Are you at work?”

“No. Nephew’s birthday party. He’s four.” A pause and then, “Hey! Stop that. I’m on the phone.”

She again heard muffled noise. Clearly, Joe didn’t have the phone to his ear. “Joe?” She waited. “Joe?”

“What? Yeah. Sorry. My nieces and nephews don’t understand that you can’t hit a man with a squirt gun when he’s on the phone. I should be good now.” She heard him exhale a breath. “Maybe not. Can I call you back? I … Hey!”

Taylor held her phone out, watched the call timer increase by a second. Then another. Then another. He hadn’t ended the call. “Hello?” A female voice came through this time. “Taylor?”

“Yes. This is Taylor.”

“Oh, you’re there. Good. This is Judy. Judy Marino, Joe’s mom. You’re the photographer?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. I absolutely love this idea. I can’t wait to meet you.” Her enthusiasm came through loud and clear, and Taylor warmed to her immediately.

“Me either. Joe and I were just about to schedule—”

“I’ll let you two work out those details, but before we do this, I want to meet you beforehand. In fact, you should probably meet all of us. See what you’re getting into. Have you eaten?”

“A small sandwich and some cookies at my mother’s.” She’d slept until noon, for it’d been hard to sleep after her shift ended. First, she hadn’t known how to leave things. After she’d told him she’d do his book, they’d lingered until they’d finished their coffees. Then she’d driven him back to the lot near Presley’s, where they’d stood outside her car for a few awkward seconds. Did she hug him? He settled for grabbing her hand and giving it another firm shake.

“A few cookies is not a meal,” Judy said. “You need protein. Where are you?”

As if proving Judy’s point, Taylor’s stomach rumbled. “I’m at home.” She realized belatedly what Judy meant. “Richmond Heights.”

“Perfect. We’ve taken over a huge picnic area just outside the zoo. You know those tables on the hill between the Living World entrance and the Art Museum? We’re right there. Look for all the Captain America balloons.”

“I …” Had Joe’s mother just invited her over?

“No need to bring anything,” Judy continued. “We have more than enough food. See you in a few. But don’t rush. Be safe. Oh, here’s Joe.”

Within a few seconds, he returned to the line. “Hey. I overheard. So are you coming?”

“Can I say no?”

He chuckled, and she smiled despite herself. “I warned you my mother is a force of nature.”

“I’m not sure ‘warn’ was the word.”

“You don’t need to come, but it will give you a great opportunity to look us over and decide how the family photo session is going to work. We’re all here, and there are a lot of us. It’ll also give us a chance to talk.”

“I was going to process images from last night and …” She glanced at the microwave clock. Almost four. She could spare an hour or two if she burned the midnight oil later. Luckily, she was off Monday.

“So, are you coming? We’re grilling pork steaks and there’s a very special chocolate birthday cake for dessert.”

She shouldn’t. She had so much work to do. His rich voice chuckled, as if sensing her inner turmoil. “Don’t be chicken. We don’t bite.”

“Fine,” she bit out, strangely not bothered by being coerced into her decision.

“We’re literally in the area across from the zoo parking lot. You can’t miss us. See you soon.”

And with that, the call ended, the timer stopping. Taylor glanced at her red and white striped T-shirt and jean shorts. While the day wasn’t boiling, it was hot enough that any makeup would simply melt off. She gave her hair a cursory glance, the St. Louis humidity having frizzed out her blonde curls. She tamed them into a ponytail using a hairband. Then she thrust her calendar back into her purse, shoved her feet into some sandals, and grabbed her camera. She turned her AC down and locked the door behind her before she second-guessed herself and did exactly what he expected—chickened out.

*  *  *

She arrived fifteen minutes later. He hadn’t expected her quite so fast, even with his mother telling him that Taylor lived in Richmond Heights, which was practically around the corner. He’d also expected her to call back with some excuse and cancel.