Page 26 of Taylor’s Warrior

Short-range eye contact was even more devastating. Even though there was a less than zero chance of it happening, every inch of her body prepared for that mouth to claim hers. The moment stretched into a warped kind of eternity, as if he were teetering as much on the edge as she was, a heartbeat away from lips meeting in a kiss that would crack asunder the fabric of the universe. Without conscious thought, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.

That small action, it seemed, was enough to break the spell holding them both in thrall. When Rhys stepped back and gently put some space between them, stone-cold sanity made its presence known with a crashing entrance.

“Lunch.” She wasn’t sure whether she strangled the word or it strangled her. “We should probably dry off and get cleaned up.”

Rhys pushed further away. “You go ahead. I’ll retrieve your sunglasses. Go,” he urged softly.

She’d never heard him sound quite like that before, leaving her in no doubt he was as affected as she was by what had just happened.

Taylor was back to normal by the time she’d taken a shower, and ready to focus on something far more prosaic. She still owed Rhys that explanation, and the time was now right to settle the debt.

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The kitchen might have been on the small side, but it came fully equipped, and after a delicious lunch, Taylor helped Rhys to stack the dirty dishes in the dishwasher He’d seemed a little surprised by her offer of assistance, but then again, from the bits and pieces he’d divulged about previous assignments, he’d worked for some real divas who’d think nothing of leaving him to deal with similar tasks alone.

“Ready for some coffee?” he asked when the job was done.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “You beat me to it. Again. Actually…”

“Yes?”

There was her cue. “Coffee would be good. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Rhys had the most expressive eyebrows. “Okay. Let me make the drinks, then we can talk.”

Taylor didn’t argue—not when she could use the extra few minutes alone to marshal her thoughts. When he joined her in the living room and took his seat at the opposite end of the sofa, mirroring her posture of sitting sideways, she hoped he wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

“I know you said you don’t need to know why I need a bodyguard, but… I think it’s time to tell you why you’ve had this exile forced on you—and for that, I apologize. I know the last thing you’d want is to be in this situation with me.”

“Stop right there. No apology necessary. You say that as if it’s… I don’t know, some kind of cruel and unusual punishment to be here with you. I might have thought that at one time, but now? Things are a bit different. Aren’t they?” he prompted.

Her heart gave a little leap of happiness. “I hope so.” She managed a small smile. “So, I’d better get started, or we’ll be here all night.”

“Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Oh, the man was making it so difficult to remain distant from him. “Okay, but you might need more coffee to keep you awake.”

His spontaneous smile almost became a chuckle. “I don’t think that’s going to be an issue. Ready when you are.”

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Taylor let herself drift back into the past. “My mom passed a few months before my fourth birthday. I don’t have any clear memories of her, just some hazy impressions of feelings, like I know she was there, but I only know what she looked like from old photographs. When she was gone, Pops just took over. He worked hard to support us… got me the best childcare he could find for while he was working—and he was working some long hours. Got me into the best school he could find. Sent me away to college and was there at my graduation.”

“It sounds as if he did his best to give you the best of everything.”

Although Taylor smiled at the comment, she couldn’t help but be a little sad, too. “I always believed that. What I found out a few days ago—the thing that brought us to where we are now—it’s making me question everything.”

“How so?”

His genuine concern brought a lump to her throat. “It looks as if Pops might not be the man I thought he was, and if that’s true… it feels as if my whole childhood is missing something vital, but I have no idea what. As if… something doesn’t add up.”

She gave a short, quiet laugh and shook her head. “I’m not sure how much sense that makes. Anyway, fast forward a few years. I graduated from college, and returned to New York, where I’d secured a great job. I’d gotten a place of my own, and life was good. I was dating a great guy—we met through Pops. We were even talking about moving in together… until Wyatt didn’t show up for a date and didn’t answer my calls. I tried to find him, but there was no trace. I reported him missing, and then a few days later, they pulled him out of the Hudson River.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been a massive shock.”

“At the time, it was.” The horrible event was far enough in the past not to cause her any further grief, but Taylor still felt sad for Wyatt and his family, and to some degree, likely always would.

“He was murdered—shot twice,” she continued. “When I called Pops to let him know… he sounded nervous. Really nervous. Told me to take a few personal days, not to go anywhere, just wait to hear from him. He wouldn’t tell me why, just said to stay home, sit tight and wait. I didn’t question any of it. I mean, it was Pops telling me to do that, so why wouldn’t I take him at face value?”