Page 29 of Taylor’s Warrior

“I think it’s necessary,” Rhys responded, putting emphasis on the last word. “You’ll go stir crazy if we stay here for another evening.”

“But we’ve been out.” She stood and padded barefoot towards him, until she was only a couple of feet away from him.

He couldn’t argue with that, but in his book, shopping—no matter what they’d set out to purchase—was a chore and did not equate to going out. “True as far as it goes, but it’s not what I’d call a recreational activity.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Typical male. Okay, then—where are we going? And when?”

“A restaurant. Not too far away.” That was the first thing he’d checked after his call with Caroline—had it not been within a reasonable driving distance, he’d have probably needed high explosives to persuade Taylor into going. “And we’re going this evening.”

“What? How did you manage to get a table at such short notice?” Her expression became suspicious. “It’s not going to be any good, isn’t it?”

He could see where she was trying to steer this, and he was not going to let her get away with it. “We’re going this evening, and the availability of a table at short notice is not a reflection of the quality. It’s called good timing. The person I spoke to told me they’d just had a cancellation. And if what Caroline told me about the place is accurate, it will be good—if you’re prepared to expand your horizons beyond barbecue.”

He’d already browsed the menu on his cell phone, and from his point of view, eating there wasn’t going to be anything remotely like the kind of culinary hardship that had kept him alive while on deployment. The provenance of some of that food—if it could be called that in the first place—was at best questionable.

Taylor lifted her chin. “My horizons are fully expanded, thank you very much. I used to live in New York, if you recall?”

She had a point; he conceded it with a respectful nod. “I recall very well. We’ll be leaving at six—make sure you’re ready in time.”

And with that, he pivoted and walked away before Taylor could make any further protest.

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The blue-and-white décor of the restaurant was a perfect reflection of its coastal location, and its open frontage beneath a cool veranda afforded patrons the pleasure of al fresco dining without exposing them to the full glare of the California sun. An abundance of greenery added freshness, while framed black-and-white photographs from probably the Fifties or Sixties provided character.

Taylor glanced up from her menu and caught Rhys carrying out another visual sweep of their surroundings. His vigilance was impressive, and probably something he did on autopilot when working—which, she reminded herself severely, he was, because this wasn’t a date.

Nope. Not. A. Date.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” she asked quietly. “It can’t be very relaxing for you.”

His gaze returned to rest on her. “I’m not here to relax, remember?”

She remembered—it was difficult not to, given his insistence on sitting with his back to the wall and his discreet inquiry about alternative exits when they’d first arrived. She longed to let him know how much she wished he were there to relax with her. Instead, she made a joke of it. “Oh, I don’t know. I persuaded you to use the pool, didn’t I?”

Unblinking, he studied her for a few very long moments. “Have you decided what you want yet?”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Almost there.”

The menu made her stomach rumble. All the dishes sounded delicious, but by the time the server came to take their order, she’d chosen her appetizer and narrowed it down to two entrées. At the last second, she opted for the tuna. Rhys gave the server his choices, and after the young woman left, he reached over for the carafe, to top up Taylor’s water glass.

“I was going to say something about it not being that difficult, but the look on your face said otherwise. What was the other possibility?”

Taylor sat up straight and attempted to take the high ground. “Whatever makes you think it was difficult?”

“The deer-in-the-headlights look. Let me guess—the braised short rib?”

How could he possibly know? “Maybe,” she admitted cautiously. “You can’t blame me, though—it all sounds so good.”

“I’m reliably informed it all tastes good, too. Starting to relax a little now?”

He was too, too observant. Taylor hadn’t truly realized how on edge this whole situation had made her until they’d ventured out this evening. “Some.”

“Good, because that was the idea. Are you sure you don’t want some wine to go with your guacamole and tuna?”

The avocado appetizer, with roasted chili pepper, toasted seeds, and cheese had been something of a no-brainer, unlike her dilemma with the entrée. While a glass of a chilled California Chardonnay might have been a pleasing complement to the meal, she had her reasons for wanting to remain stone-cold sober. Most of them were wrapped up in the man seated opposite her.

Taylor met and held her protector’s gaze. “It wouldn’t be fair—you can’t drink because you’re on duty, so I’m not going to do it in front of you. And I don’t like drinking alone anyway.”