ushered Taylor to one of the green padded chairs, and he sat next to her. The television in the corner was off, which was what he wanted, and the overhead fan was on, creating a nice breeze in the semiprivate space. He’d like it even better if he could close the curtain, but he didn’t want to scare her.
“This is unbelievable,” she said. “I haven’t been here before, but I’d heard about the cabanas.”
“They’re not easy to reserve,” he said, “although sometimes you can get lucky.”
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. It was a sight he wouldn’t soon forget. The long stretch of bare thigh, the perfection of her knee, the subtle curve of her calf. To say nothing of the arch of her foot, and the seduction of her high black heel. He felt as mesmerized as a compulsive gambler staring at a royal flush.
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.
3
