His lips cruised to her ear while his hands criss-crossed in front of her to smooth up and down her arms. “Regrets already?”

God, she loved his touch. It was…comforting. He didn’t touch her breasts or between her legs, he didn’t thrust his pelvis against her butt. None of the things she’d have expected of a normal, hot-blooded male first thing in the morning, looking to get lucky.

And emotion swamped her, drowning her. She was deathly afraid it was deep emotion, and maybe even an emotion that began with the letter L.

“Talk to me, Princess.”

She drew a deep breath and watched the sun bursting a myriad of colors on the blooming day. After the night they’d had, she should be sleepy, but she was wide awake.

And it had been quite a night. They’d had only that one condom, but it hadn’t mattered. They’d explored other options, pleasuring each other by touch, by mouth, leaving her little more than a sensory creature, fed on passion and hunger until they’d exhausted themselves.

Mac didn’t say anything, but he kept on touching her, lightly, sweetly, sharing his heat.

“I haven’t had a night like that since…well.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time.” She closed her eyes and admitted the truth. “I haven’t allowed myself to.” Then, knowing she needed to say it face-to-face, she turned, tipped back her head. “That wasn’t just comfort sex,” she whispered. “That wasn’t even just wild, screaming, sweaty sex.”

Emotion flickered in his gaze, too, but leading the pack of all of it was a sudden regret. “Taylor-”

“No.” She couldn’t handle hearing him say it, that for him it hadn’t been anything but those things. She already knew. “Last night I opened up to you, in a way that…” She let out a slow breath and tried to smile. “In a way that, quite frankly, terrifies me. I’m not ready for it, Mac. I’m not ready and I’m fairly certain you’re not either.”

That he said nothing only fed the knowledge she was in over her head. Way over her head. Throat closing, she backed out of his arms. “I have things to think about, and you have your ex-wife to get over.”

Shock filled his face. “What?”

“I’ve never felt the need to compete with anyone in my life, and I won’t do it now.”

“Ariel is not sharing my bed.”

Ariel. The ex-wife had a name. She swallowed hard. It didn’t escape her that she might be truly and completely over Jeff if she could feel this searing jealousy. God, she’d loved Jeff. But he was gone and she wasn’t. “I didn’t mean to drum this all up now. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “We’ve been intimate in bed, but that’s all. That’s all it’s going to be.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly when she opened her eyes and waited for a response. Her heart cracked, but what the hell had she expected him to say? He’d never been anything but brutally honest with her, and she had no one but herself to blame for getting in too deep now.

“You know what?” She managed a smile. “I need to go. Lots of stuff to do today.”

She figured the fact that he’d silently driven her home meant he was even less ready than she’d imagined.

Still, he walked her in, even though it was nearly time for him to start work. He walked her up the stairs and into her apartment. He walked her all the way to her closed bedroom door.

Then he lifted a hand and stroked his knuckles across her jaw in a heartbreakingly tender gesture. Fighting the urge to grab his hand and hold it to her face, she opened the door and went inside.

More confused than ever.


IN MAC’S OPINION, the problem had nothing to do with confusion. It’s just one could never be prepared to have your heart ripped open to another.

It had to do with acceptance. Trust. Willingness.

As in, was he willing to accept that Taylor was nothing like Ariel. Was he willing to trust that she would never, ever, try to destroy him the way Ariel had? Was he willing to open up and share himself, heart and soul?

No. No, he most definitely wasn’t.

No doubt, Taylor drew him, and on far more than a physical level. And yet he knew enough to understand that trying again with her, and actually doing it, were two different things.

There could be no half-ass attempt here, he had to mean it. For Taylor’s sake.

She’d been hurt by life, too, and he wouldn’t toy with her. No, if he ever decided to have another relationship, he’d give it his all.

He just didn’t have his all to give.

For two days, he didn’t see much of her. Not because he avoided her, but because she avoided him. She was good at it.

On the third day, Suzanne came over with a chest of leftovers from a party she’d catered, and informed Mac that Taylor was at an estate sale, drooling over some antiques from France.

“I can’t wait until she can open her store,” Suzanne said, popping open a Tupperware container. “She deserves it.”

Moved by the delicious scent and the grumble in his empty belly, Mac unhooked his tool belt and let it hit the floor. “Store?”

“She hopes to use one of the downstairs storefronts to open her own antique shop.” Suzanne shot him a look when his stomach grumbled loudly. Silently she handed him a napkin. “Mini quiches, if you’re not too manly to eat such a thing.”

“I’m not too manly to eat anything smelling that good.” He nearly moaned at his first bite, then sank to the floor and did moan at his second. “You’re a genius.”

“No, that’s Nicole. But I am good in the kitchen. Just like you’re good with your hands.”

Mac stopped midbite and glanced up in time to see Suzanne blush. “I mean, you do incredible work,” she said, pointing to the wood floor molding and casing.

“She told you about the other night.”

“No.” She sat down next to him. “She didn’t tell me anything, she didn’t have to. Nicole and I had breakfast with her to discuss Nicole’s upcoming wedding plans and…”

“And…”

“And we guessed. She had this…glow about her, and she was…I don’t know…happier than I’ve seen her in awhile. Maybe happier than I’ve seen her ever.” Suzanne nudged his shoulder with hers. “She never talks about it, never complains, but we know she’s had it rough. We’re her best friends, Mac, and we only just met six months ago. Before us, she had no one. I hate to think about her like that, so alone, but even with us hounding her all the time, she holds back. But with you…” She let out a gentle smile.

“Let’s just say we’re hoping she’s not holding back.”

He thought of the night he’d spent with Taylor.

The night he’d held her in his arms, the night they’d rocked each other’s worlds with what should have been a simple bout of healthy, recreational sex.

And had really been so much more.

He looked into Suzanne’s hopeful eyes and had to tell her the truth. “I don’t know what we’re doing, Taylor and I, but I doubt it’s going in the direction you’re thinking.”

“Oh.” Her sweet smile faded some. “Really?”

“Really,” he said regretfully.

She took away his napkin, and then on second thought, took the quiches as well.

“Hey-” His stomach growled in protest.

“Sorry. Turns out I don’t have any extra.”


MAC WENT HOME to more mail. Mostly bills, which he was making his way through, slowly, methodically, painfully. He tossed the entire stack to his table, toppling over the previous stack.

And revealed a thick packet from South Village’s Town Council. Staring at it, he told himself if they’d turned down his bids, it would have been a nice little white envelope with a short letter saying thanks but no thanks.

But then again, a thanks but no thanks could come with a stack of other projects to bid.

Hence the thick packet.

Heart pounding uncomfortably, he backed to a chair and plopped into it, his legs a little rubbery. Holding his breath, he ripped into the envelope and started reading.


TAYLOR’S ARCHITECT, Ty Patrick O’Grady, was a tall, dark, gorgeous man with an Irish accent, flashing eyes and a roguish smile.

Taylor happened to know who put that spectacular smile on his face on a daily basis. Nicole, who was going to marry Ty as soon as he convinced her to set an actual date.

But for now, Taylor and Ty, who had some last minute things to go over, were in a meeting. A walking meeting.

Ty grinned at her as they munched on soft pretzels and drank sodas, walking through the lunch crowd along a particularly swank street halfway between Ty’s home office and her building.

Using what was left of his pretzel, he pointed at a new upscale lingerie shop. The window display was what had caught his attention. More specifically, the naughty looking black leather skirt, matching crop top, five-inch spikes and whip.

Taylor knew she couldn’t so much as afford a pair of panties from the place. How times change, she thought with a sigh that didn’t really signify any wistfulness for the changes in her life. She loved where she was, and wouldn’t trade it for…well, for all the money in her grandfather’s estate.

And yet a new outfit once in awhile would be nice. Yes, she had gorgeous clothes, but all of them-like the emerald green sleeveless dress, matching strappy sandals and wide-brimmed hat she wore today-were leftovers from another era.

Those days were long gone, even if her clothing addiction wasn’t.

“I should buy that outfit for Nicole,” Ty said around a huge bite. “What do you think?”

Taylor laughed at the vision of Dr. Nicole Mann, out of her preferred jeans and doctor’s jacket, and into the leather. “She’d kill you.”

“Yeah.” Ty’s fond grin didn’t fade. “Love that woman madly, I do.”

At the utterly pathetically lovelorn expression on this big, tough, former bad boy’s Irish face, Taylor had to sigh. What would it be like to bring such a man to his knees with love?

Hell, she reminded herself viciously. It would be hell, at least on the heart.

She’d come close to forgetting that while lying in Mac’s arms, being driven crazy by his mouth, his touch, his voice. She’d come close to forgetting just about everything, including the fact he was never going to love her the way she secretly wanted to be loved.

She’d avoided him. Mostly because she was weak.

One look from his whiskey eyes and she’d leap right back into his arms and screw good pride. She’d take what she could get.

Well, the hell with that. “So about my bath room…”

“Yep.” Ty aimed that killer smile at her. “You can have that antique stand-alone bathtub on claws like you want. The floor will support it, and so will the plumbing. No changes required.”

“And the window turrets? That won’t change the structure of the roof?”

“It might piss off your contractor having to add trim now, but it won’t change anything major.”

Hmm. Pissing off Mac so he was as unbalanced as she was did have its merits. “How about I let you tell him.”

Ty, incredibly observant, cocked his head. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not.”

“Mac working out okay?”

“Absolutely.”

Not fooled, Ty’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed. “I suggested him because even though he’s relatively new to this scale and scope of work, I’ve seen what he can do. The man is magic with his hands.”

Taylor stuck her tongue in her cheek. Oh good God, was Mac magic with his hands. “I know.”

“But something’s wrong,” he repeated, studying her closely.

“No, it’s nothing.” She looked into Ty’s worried gaze and managed a smile. “Nothing. Everything is great, you should see it.”

“Yes, let’s see it,” he said firmly, making her sigh. She’d learned there was nothing more protective than a man who was going to marry your best friend. “It’s blocks out of your way,” she protested, but Ty merely kept walking.

“Well, at least slow down,” she grumbled after him. “I’m not doing a marathon in these three-inch sandals simply because you’re feeling overprotective.”

“I wouldn’t be feeling overprotective if you’d tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing!”

“We’re just making sure, darlin’.”

They passed by several restaurants that had such delicious scents wafting from them Taylor could only inhale deeply and dream. Her budget meant dinner tonight consisted of a can of soup.

They turned the corner and passed three clothing stores that had her drooling, but the next shop, called Accents, had her wrinkling her nose in snobbery.

The “accents” for decorating were all new, cheap and in her opinion, tacky.

On her street now, right across from her building in fact, they came to a flower stand. Before they crossed, Ty touched a pot of daisies. He sniffed at the dozen wrapped roses, and smiled at the lilies.

“Sentimental fool,” Taylor murmured, having to smile when he shot her an admitting grin.