The One Who Got Away (3 page)

It was the waitress that brought him out of his daze. She of the black leather short-shorts, leopard-print vest and perky smile. “What can I get you?”

Taylor ordered a piña colada, he got a scotch on the rocks. The waitress cleared their table, then hustled off, leaving them in the relative quiet. The music, now something by Tom Petty, wafted in along with the laughter and muffled chatter from the group at the bar.

Taylor leaned toward him. “It's good to see you, Ben.”

His gaze moved up to her eyes radiating fondness that touched him unexpectedly. “You, too.”

“You probably know how horrible Steve is at gossip, so I don't know much of what's happened to you other than you're now a private investigator. Are you happy?”

“For the most part. I like being my own boss.”

“That makes sense.”

“But I still work with the NYPD a lot. More than I figured.”

“Interesting stuff?”

“Occasionally. Mostly it's the kind of footwork that takes a special know-how.” He chuckled. “That makes it sound like I'm some Colombo or something. I meant that I do the kind of background checks that don't make it into the NCIC. Paperwork traces, poking into things that might get dicey for the force. That kind of thing.”

“I think it sounds fascinating.”

“How kind of you.”

“I'm more interested in your personal life. Again, according to my brother, you're divorced.”

“For two years now.”

She ran her hand down her thigh to her knee. Not scratching, just an unconscious gesture that held him rapt. Odd, because it had been a hell of a long time since he'd been spellbound by a woman. Maybe it was the memories. Or the fact that he'd had to get up before God this morning and he was getting punchy.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “Was it bad?”

“I can't think of a divorce that isn't. But we're friends. In fact, we still occasionally make a night of it.”

Taylor's brows lifted.

“Not that much of a night. Alyson's gay.”

Taylor's brows stayed lifted.

“You can imagine how that went over with all my cop buddies.”

“Oh, my.”

“At the very least. But I don't think I'm too emotionally scarred. I vent my anguish by boycotting all reruns of
Ellen.
”

Her laughter hit him low, like a vibration right in the balls. It felt good, too good.

The drinks arrived, and she tried to pay. He used his best scowl, and gave the waitress too large a tip. Once they were alone again, he sipped his scotch, aware that it was either going to make him drunk as a sailor or put him to sleep. “So what are we going to do about this wedding thing?”

Taylor twirled her drink with her straw. It made the
little umbrella spin. “I'm not sure there's anything we can do. Or should.”

“Are you kidding? Can you honestly see Steve in a suit and tie, doing aircraft sales in the middle of friggin' Kansas?”

She shook her head. “No, I can't. But maybe he's had some sort of epiphany. Maybe we should honor that.”

“Epiphany? Steve? Are we talking about the same guy?”

Her sigh echoed his own frustration. “I know. Let me talk to Mom. I don't want to jump the gun.”

“He's getting married in six days.”

“Look, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. He's such a puppy. And I know he's lonely.”

Ben grinned. “I've never thought of him as a puppy, but I do agree about the lonely part. It's not easy to find a woman who likes to fish as much as he does.”

“That doesn't mean he has to go in the opposite direction. I could even understand a compromise. But this…this is nuts.”

“I agree.”

She sipped again, and he focused on her lips. Glossy-pink. Perfectly formed, ripe for kissing. She'd become an uncommon beauty, and if his signals weren't crossed, she wasn't averse to the idea of making this week quite memorable. However, it wasn't going to be remembered for tonight. The dollop of scotch had gone straight to his head, and if he didn't get up to the room soon, things were going to get ugly.

“Taylor,” he said, “I hate to cut the party short, but I'm going to have to bail. I was up way too early this morning.”

She put her drink down on the table, and he would swear she looked guilty. Why? He hadn't a clue.

“No problem. I need to get some sleep myself.” She stood, smoothing her short skirt down. “Are you going to be around tomorrow? I'll talk to Mom as soon as I can.”

He pulled out his wallet, then one of his cards. “Try my room, but if not, I've got my cell.”

“Terrific.” Her smile made him weak in the knees.

He stood, held out his hand. “Can I walk you up?”

“Thank you, but actually, I need to pick up something at the gift shop. You go on ahead.”

Disappointed, he nodded. Leaned over and kissed her cheek. Wanted to do a lot more. But he backed off. What he needed was sleep. He wanted to be on his game for Taylor. Nothing less would do. “Until tomorrow.”

She nodded, and as he walked away, he heard that sigh again. It almost made him turn around, but he held the course. Although he made his living interpreting nonverbal cues, he couldn't figure this one out. Either she was glad to get rid of him, or damn sorry to see him go.

He chose to believe it was the latter.

T
AYLOR WATCHED
B
EN
get into the elevator. He smiled at her, not noticing that behind him, a tall brunette in shorts was eyeing him with palpable lust. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he'd grown so accustomed to gorgeous women wanting him that it was old hat by now. The elevator doors closed while she still had her hand up, waving.

She wasn't sure why she'd told him she had to buy something. In fact, she didn't need a thing, and for all she knew the gift shop was closed by now. Instead, she wandered into the circular casino, her gaze shifting from the machines to the gamblers at the tables.

She'd never done much playing herself, even though she'd come to Vegas several times since she'd turned twenty-one. Mostly she liked to hang out at the blackjack tables—the cheap ones, not those with a minimum bet of twenty-five dollars. She wasn't rich enough to squander money like that. And normally, she wasn't an extraordinary risk-taker. Her mother didn't believe that, given her preference for motorcycles over cars, but it was true. There were only so many chances a person could take in life, and she wanted to make her gambles count.

Like her personal agenda for this trip, for example.
Sleeping with Ben wasn't so much a gamble as a last-ditch attempt to get herself back on course. She was twenty-eight, for heaven's sake, and dammit, she wanted to get married. Have kids. Two, to be precise. And she had no intention of settling.

Sure there had been nice guys, and she'd liked one or two a great deal. But it hadn't been enough. Perhaps her friends from Eve's Apple were right: she was too picky. She wanted a fairy-tale hero, not a real-life husband. What Taylor didn't understand was why she had to have one or the other. And no, she didn't feel as if she were reaching for the moon.

The truth was, she liked her life. She didn't sit around and mope because she wasn't married. She had lots of things she loved doing, including her bike, shooting pool in her league, going to flea markets, reading, a secret addiction to the Food Channel. She never felt bored, she always had a full plate, and for the most part, she was happy. All she really wanted was someone to share it all with. And, oh, God, how she wanted to have kids.

The Apple gals had suggested she consider doing that on her own, but Taylor had dismissed the idea. In her opinion children needed a father. Not that women couldn't raise kids successfully solo, but it was tough on everybody. Taylor had gotten along incredibly well with her father, and that relationship had formed her in so many ways. A lot of her independence had come from her father's attitude toward her. He'd always told her she could do anything, be anyone she wanted to be.

She couldn't imagine having grown up without his influence.

So, okay, maybe by the time she was thirty-five, if she still hadn't found Mr. Right, then she'd seriously consider it. But for now, she was determined to go for the brass ring. Being with Ben was an important part of the equation, and she still believed with all her heart that once this week was over, her life would change dramatically. She'd be able to date with new eyes, not always comparing the men she met to Ben.

She already felt better about things. His looks, for example. Yes, it was true he was stunningly gorgeous. But she'd been able to put that fact into perspective. There were lots of gorgeous men, but frankly, she would have been drawn to him even if he wasn't so handsome.

And that was the whole point. By the time Steve and Lisa got married she would have everything about Ben in perspective, and then she would be able to move on.

It didn't hurt that the task was going to be such a pleasant one, either. She grinned, but her mood deflated the next second. Perspective was well and fine, but the end result also meant she was going to lose something kind of special. A long-held fantasy was going to disappear in the light of those new eyes, and that was kind of sad.

He'd been her superhero, her perfect guy for so long, it was hard to imagine that standard falling away. But it had to.

Someone bumped her right shoulder, and she turned to face a nice-looking, white-haired gentleman
in a really snazzy tuxedo. He smiled, bowed his head gently and apologized. She nodded, then headed toward the elevator, but stopped just before she left the casino floor. There was an Elvis slot machine which would play a song if you hit the jackpot. She pulled a five from her purse, and slipped it in the slot. Instead of a handle, she pressed a button, playing maximum coins. Nothing.

Nothing the second hit, or the third. In the end she only got one cherry. Her five was gone, and she hadn't heard “Love Me Tender.”

C'est la vie.
Her real gamble was up in his room, sleeping by now. Dreaming of her?

 

B
EN STARED AT THE CLOCK
on the night table, the minutes passing so slowly they felt like hours. Sleep eluded him—due, to a large degree, to his preoccupation with Taylor.

The connection was still there after all these years. He hadn't expected that. She'd been so young back then, and had he had an ounce of decency in him, he'd be ashamed that he'd taken advantage of her youth. Yeah, she'd come on to him, but a stronger man would have said no. When it came to Taylor, however, he wasn't the least bit strong.

Not that he'd always felt that way about her. Back when he and Steve had first started hanging out, Taylor had been a nuisance. She'd followed them everywhere in the tradition of baby sisters, always running to her mother when they'd shut her out of their “big kid” adventures. So they'd had to drag her along when it would have been a lot more fun without her.
He hadn't minded too much. As an only child, he'd always wondered what it would be like 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.

 

T
AYLOR DIALED
B
EN'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. I don't want to alienate Steve, and I don't want to hurt Lisa. But we've got to do something.”

She nodded. “I've been thinking about it all morning. What if we just talk to him? Tell him our concerns?”

Ben nodded. “That'll be me. Maybe give him a couple of beers to soften the blow.”

“I'd like to talk to Lisa. Find out if she realizes what she's getting into.”

“That should be fun.”

“Oh, yeah. A real walk in the park.”

The food came, and for the first few minutes, it was all business. Ben liked his toast with jam, and his eggs over-medium. She watched him while she ate her omelet, liking the way he chewed. Amazed that he could even make that sexy.