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“Would you like one?” she asked him again.
“No—no thanks. I should be off to bed. Early call tomorrow,” he said while performing his nightly watch glance. The sun had disappeared behind a front of clouds, casting early shadows and dusk over the two yards.
“Thanks for joining me. It was enjoyable to not eat alone for a change,” Roberta said, looking him in the eyes so he would know she meant every word.
He smiled back, a killer, genuine smile this time. “I know what you mean. Thanks for inviting me. Next time pizza is on me.” He gave her a quick nod, spun on his heels, and headed across the lawn.
As he slowly walked home, Roberta sighed, watching his near six-foot-tall muscular frame. It was amazing to her how comfortable it felt talking to him in such a short time. Once she got the notion of what topics were safe.
As he turned and waved by his door, a flash like lighting came from his right.
In a blink, Taylor jumped off the porch landing, snatched the camera out of the unlucky photographer’s grasp, and smashed it against the side of the house. The crash and crinkle of crushed plastic and glass shattering resonated across the lawn. Two of Taylor’s bodyguards flew around the corner of the house and yanked a lanky figure to his feet. They muscled him to the front of the house, accompanied by high-pitched protest sounds mixed with deep growls from his captors.
Roberta’s eyes followed the bodyguards struggling to the front driveway with their catch as a police cruiser approached. The photographer got stuffed into the back of the cruiser, and Roberta looked at Taylor’s back stoop. He was gone. Shards of broken camera glass reflected in the floodlight where he had last stood.
Frozen in the dim light of her deck, Roberta was unable to utter so much as a sound, her hands cupped in front of her mouth in horror.Where is Taylor? Has he gone into the safe haven of the house? Is he okay?Her eyes scanned over her own backyard, searching for him.
Rockets couldn’t have sent her blasting higher than the words whispered behind her. “Roberta, are you okay?” Taylor’s hands came down gently on her shoulders, turning her around before putting himself between the attack site and her.
“Sweet Jesus!” she yelped, her hand flying down to cover her heart and stop the thundering that started again. “Areyouall right?”
“I’m fine. I wanted to make sure you are okay,” he said, eyes boring into hers as if trying to read any hint of fear. “You see why I try to be so careful. The scum always manages to ooze their way in somehow. At least they didn’t get a picture of you.” Taylor’s grip on her shoulders loosened, his hands sliding down her upper arms. Roberta stared back at him, not knowing what to say.What could be so bad about a picture? It wouldn’t kill me. It would be easy enough to explain I lived next door.
Taylor’s eyes shifted down again and softened. He must have seen her puzzlement. “You don’t want to get caught by the paparazzi. All it would take is one picture, then they will stalk you at work, in stores, here at home. It will make being out with the dogs impossible. Count your blessings tonight; this one failed.”
Understanding flashed through her brain. “If he did snare a picture, I don’t think it’s of much use in shards.” Her head tipped toward the pile of rubble being picked up by Taylor’s bodyguard.
A flash of white teeth in a huge smile accompanied his laughter. “Did you see that? That was so exhilarating!” He half chuckled, half giggled in his giddiness. Roberta imagined him as a happy five-year-old and began to laugh herself at the joy in his expression.
Suddenly, Taylor hugged her to him, crushing her hands and arms to her sides, the side of her face pinned to his hard, sculpted chest. His hands clasped behind her back, and he squeezed even tighter. Unable to breathe, she squeaked in protest. Her body rocked backward as the restraints flew off.
“Sorry. I forgot myself. I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his shyness suddenly taking over.
Panting, she said, “I couldn’t breathe.”
“I need to be going. Good night, Roberta.” He wagged an index finger at her. “Lock your doors!” He bounded down the deck stairs and was halfway across the lawn before she could stop laughing.
“Okay, good night,” she called out, watching him go again, this time making an uneventful trip to his own kitchen, where his silhouette waved from inside the door.
