Authors: E C Sheedy
"Maybe. Maybe not. The thing is he could have at least called again if he wasn't going to make it tonight. I wasn't planning on waiting half my life for him."
"I didn't know you
were
waiting for him. I thought you were just—what was it you said?—hanging out here for a while."
"Not exactly." Willy looked uncomfortable. "Dan wanted to tell you himself, so I promised I wouldn't say anything."
"Tell me what."
She had his full attention now.
"I should leave it to him. Like I said, I promised." She let out a long, frustrated breath. "Not that it matters, I guess, because it looks like he's a total no-show."
At that the door swung open. A short, harried, fair-haired dynamo named Danny Monroe swirled into the room and dropped a ton of luggage and camera equipment.
The two brothers smiled simultaneously, their grins wide with genuine delight.
"Hey, Stanley. Good to see you." Danny said.
Taylor stood, took Dan's outstretched hand, and pulled him into a rough embrace. "You, too, little brother. You, too."
Willy smiled as they patted each other's backs. There was a lot of love here. Oddly, even after hearing each man complain about the other, she wasn't surprised. She only hoped Taylor wouldn't spoil it.
Dan spied Willy and winked. "Willy. I'm glad you're still here. I've got great news." He stepped away from Taylor and caught her in an exuberant embrace. She returned it with fervor. Dan was one of her favorite people.
"It'd better be good. Almost two weeks late. That's got to be a record even for you."
He had the grace to look sheepish. "Yeah. Hey, I'm sorry. Honest." He turned his attention back to Taylor, who was watching them curiously. "But you did have reliable old Stanley here to look out for you. You were good to the lady, weren't you?"
"I did my best." Taylor gave Willow a sidelong glance.
"So the prodigal photographer returns. How are you, Dan?" Elena stood in the bedroom doorway. Her dark gaze fixed on Dan and held. She was wearing a brightly colored silk robe, very short. Her long tan legs were crossed at the ankles. Dan registered shock and barely held onto his smile. If Taylor was asked to describe his brother's expression, he would call it shock and longing. Frustrated longing, he added to himself.
Elena, tall and regally slender, stood a head taller than Danny. Physically, she was a stark contrast to Dan's short, muscular build.
He watched as Dan first hesitated, then stepped toward Elena. Taylor could see he was working to be casual. "Hi, sweets." He kissed her lightly. "I didn't expect to see you here. How's it going?"
"Good. It's going good," she answered. "Better now you're here."
He moved away and Elena's eyes followed him.
The woman has it bad
.
Taylor thought. Real bad. Just like me,
he added.
For a moment, a silent tension pervaded the small room. No one spoke. Taylor glanced at Willow at the same time her eyes turned to Elena. He saw Elena nod slightly, as if a signal had been given and received. When Willy's eyes caught his, she looked away. "Elena's visiting with me for a couple of days, Dan. I hope you don't mind," she said.
"No. Of course not. Why would I mind?" Dan answered. Again the room turned quiet.
Taylor watched a worried frown ripple over his forehead, and his own lips crooked in amused sympathy. His brother had been ambushed, pure and simple, and now he was trapped. Definitely some kind of female conspiracy going on here. Maybe there was some justice in the world after all. Dan was going to have a hard time extricating himself from this. Taylor looked around the tiny apartment. Nope, he thought, there was definitely no place to run. Or sleep, he thought with a jolt.
Willy broke the quiet. "So, did you drive straight through from Madrid? If you did, you must be beat."
"No. I stayed in Granada last night. I'd have been here earlier, but I had car trouble." He laughed. "Speaking of cars, where's Cissy, Willy? I expected she'd be out there glowing under the porch light."
"I'm afraid poor Cissy is history. I had to leave her in Marbella and some brave soul drove off with her. I notified the police, but I haven't heard anything."
"Bummer."
"Yeah. I miss the old wreck."
Taylor nodded at the mess of luggage at Dan's feet. "Is that everything or is there more in the car?"
"A couple things. I'll get them in the morning. I've got what I need for now and I'm bagged. All I want is to hit the nearest bunk, bed, or pallet."
Taylor had to admit Dan looked tired and decided there was no point in talking to him tonight. But no matter what, tomorrow morning was the deadline.
"I'm going for a walk," Willy said suddenly. "What about you, Taylor? We've been cooped up here all day waiting for Danny. Want to stretch your legs?"
Taylor eyed her suspiciously before answering, catching her quick glance toward Elena. "Sure, why not? What about you, Elena? Feel like a moonlight stroll?" The question was posed in bland innocence. No sense making it too easy on them, he decided.
"Me? Uh, no. I'll stay here and help Dan get settled. Maybe move Willy's and my things from his room."
"Come on, Taylor, let's go." Willy's strong fingers closed over his wrist and her eyes shot him a warning.
"You sure, Elena?" he asked again as Willy tugged him through the door. "We'd love to have you."
Elena suppressed a smile and turned luminous eyes to Dan. "I'm sure, Taylor. Now go already."
Taylor glanced at his brother. He looked like a man about to drown—in champagne.
Taylor managed a "Good luck, bro," before he was dragged out the door.
"It would be nice if you would wipe that dumb grin off your face," Willy said when they were a few steps away from the apartment.
"Can't help it. That's the first time I've seen Dan in a situation where he can't find the back door. Not that I can understand why he'd even want one. I like Elena. I think she'd be good for him."
"And if you didn't?"
"I wouldn't have let you manipulate me out of there," he stated flatly.
"Manipulate? I practically had to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out." She gave him a disapproving gaze. "You were no real help back there."
"Should I have been? There was my poor helpless baby bro set upon by two beautiful, tall, robust young women, with me as his only shield against their combined machinations."
Willy rolled her eyes. "Enough with the drama. Dan will survive."
Taylor laughed. More than survive, he thought, judging from the glow in Elena's eyes.
For a few minutes they walked in silence, Willy's hand clasped in his.
"So why did you do it?" he asked after a few minutes.
"Do what?"
"Decide to play matchmaker. I wouldn't think that would be your style."
"I'm not playing matchmaker. Elena asked me for some advice and I gave it to her, that's all."
"You gave Elena advice?"
Fascinating.
"That's what I just said, didn't I?" she said, sounding defensive and looking oddly embarrassed.
"And what would that advice be?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Why not? He is my brother."
Willy considered for a moment before answering. "Nothing really. I just told her to act assertively. Both she and Dan have been playing games with each other since they met. Neither of them has looked the truth square on. He's got this silly notion Elena's too tall. Which in some weird way makes him think he's not good enough for her." Willy roiled her eyes impatiently. "And Elena's too frightened to take the initiative, to
make
him believe they're right for each other. She's terrified he'll reject her again."
"Again?"
"They were together for a few months last year. Elena was hoping for more, but one day Dan just walked away. Mumbled something about not being the right man for her. I don't know the whole story. All I know is she was devastated."
Taylor's stomach muscles clenched. He didn't like to think of Dan leaving Elena like that. Like father, like son?
"Anyway," Willy went on, "she wanted some time alone with him—to sort things out—and she asked for my help. I agreed. Whether or not she plans to take my advice, I don't know. I mean my ideas are my own. They won't work for everyone."
"Don't worry. If your idea doesn't work, I think Elena has plenty to fall back on. And by the look on Dan's face when he saw her, I suspect he'll meet her more than halfway." Taylor didn't know if that was wishful thinking on his part—but he sure as hell hoped not.
He stopped and swung Willy around to face him, taking her face in his hands. "Because if he feels even half as much for her as I do for you, he's a goner." He nibbled at her lower lip and played his tongue across the crease of her mouth.
Willy inhaled sharply, drawing in his scent. Taylor always smelled so…clean, like he'd just been sprayed with fresh air and summer. When he deepened the kiss, she gave into it, wanted it to last forever.
Could it? Would it? Did what she feel for Taylor have any chance at all?
How could she know—for sure?
Taylor pulled back, his voice low and choppy when he spoke. "Either we keep walking or I'm going to embarrass both of us." He moved into her, throbbing hard and hot against her thigh. "And we'd better take a dark street, a very dark street." Drawing a long breath, he pulled away. "Let's go that way." Willy followed his lead. After the kiss they'd shared, she wasn't sure which country she was in, let alone which street to walk on.
For the next hour they walked in silence, enjoying the brilliance of the stars and the lush Spanish night. They were nearing the apartment when they became aware of soft footsteps behind them, rapid, stealthy footsteps.
Instantly alert, Willy spun to face what she instinctively knew was danger. Taylor was a split second behind. One of the men yelled something in Spanish, raised something that looked like a baseball bat, and swung at Taylor. He feinted right, but the bat still connected with his shoulder. He winced with pain, then slammed a fist into his attacker's face. He hit his mark and heard bone snap, but the bastard swung again, and again Taylor's shoulder took the brunt of it. This time, Taylor aimed for his gut and was rewarded with a harsh grunt and gusty explosion of breath from his assailant. His attacker, not up for another try, made a hasty stumbling retreat. Taylor spun around just in time to see Willy toss her attacker across a low-growing hedge. The man wasted no time joining his companion.
Taylor took the few steps to Willy's side.
"God, Willow. Are you okay?" he gasped, still struggling for even breathing.
Willy put her head down and rested her hands on her knees, the stance of a runner after a hard-fought race. She took a couple of steadying breaths before answering. "Better than him I think." She nodded in the direction taken by Taylor's attacker. "I could hear his nose break from here." She managed a quick smile. "You're one mean
hombre,
Taylor Monroe. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He rotated his shoulder. "Maybe a bruise or two."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Willy stood up, rubbed at her side, and grimaced, "What do you think they were using anyway, billy clubs?"
"God knows. Let me see that. Come over here to the light." Taylor carefully lifted her T-shirt to look at her injury. He couldn't make out any color, but the skin was already thickening into a large, ugly welt. "You're going to have a bruise or two of your own. But there's no blood." He probed delicately. "And I don't think anything is broken."
Gently he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. He didn't speak, just held her.
"I'm okay," she said. "You know I can look out for myself." Still she tapped into his steady warmth and waited for her heartbeat to slow.
He nodded his head at her response, and she could feel his breath on her neck. "I know you can, and I'm damned glad of it."
Even as he said the words, Taylor wondered at the truth of them. If he'd needed an object lesson, this attack was it, highlighting facts he'd been refusing to see, or maybe deliberately avoiding. Now those fact were clear to the point of pain. There was no part of this woman that needed him. No part of her that would reach out for him if she was troubled, worried, or alone. His shoulder spasmed with pain, but what pained him more was knowing he had nothing to give this amazing woman. Adrenaline receded, leaving intense disquiet.
He lifted his head and held her away from him. "Let's go home. You need to rest."
Willy looked questioning at the tense lines of his face. He looked so... sad, or was it worried? She wasn't sure, but she tried to soothe him. "I'm okay. Really. I've handled worse than this. Weren't you the one who told me I can handle anything?"
He gave her a grim smile. "Yeah. I guess I did." He seemed to take no pleasure in the thought.
* * *
The only light still on in the apartment was the tiny lamp by the sofa. The door to the bedroom was closed.
Willy looked first at the door, then at Taylor. She smiled at him as the sound of a softly playing radio and muffled voices drifted through the door.
"I think we're on our own. What do you think?" He kept his voice low.
"Looks that way. You take the sofa. I'll take the floor. I've got a sleeping bag still rolled up in my backpack."
"
You
take the sofa," Taylor said firmly. "I'll bring in the old lounge chair from the balcony."
Willy started to argue, but one look at Taylor's set expression changed her mind. "Okay. If you think you can stand it."
"I'll be fine." His answer was oddly terse and Willy cocked her head to stare at him.
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked again.
"I'm fine." He handed her a couple of skimpy blankets. "Here, take these. I'll get the chair."
When he came back, she was in the kitchen. Her T-shirt was pulled up and she was applying a cold cloth to the raised welt above her waist, now noticeably blue.
Taylor set up the lounge chair, cursed when it didn't flatten right out, and groaned inwardly. As it was, it was going to be a long, lonely night with Willy sleeping not three feet away, and by the looks of the teetering, lopsided lounger, damned uncomfortable.