He's the One by Jane Beckenham (ready to read books .TXT) 📗

An arctic chill iced Taylor's veins, understanding instant. She stiffened and pulled away. “I think you've said enough."

She hurt. Damn it. Deep down inside. A place where no one could see, except her. Mortified at her stupidity for letting go, for being such an easy target, Taylor gathered up her bag and folder of notes and walked to the door.

"I'm doing this all wrong."

She spun round on her heels, fury firing every part of her. “What's wrong, Cade, is that you are a tease. You stop and start at will."

"I just said not here, that's all."

"That's all? That wasn't exactly what you said. What you said was—you can't,” she parroted with sarcasm, fingers gripping the door handle with knuckle-white intensity. “Once again you've started something you didn't finish."

Several, loud harsh seconds ticked by, and with each one, Taylor fought to harden her heart.

"You think I don't intend finishing what we started?"

"You have a habit of that where I'm concerned, it seems. But it's okay, I'm letting you off the hook.” Taylor yanked the door open. She had to get out of there.

Damn, damn, damn. She'd been stupid and let her emotions get the better of her, trusted herself. How dumb was that? She'd trusted her emotions once before, only to realize she'd been making a huge mistake.

"I'm not putting myself through this again. I can't. Too bad if my clients want to know about orgasms and sexual positions. I'll refer them to the library."

"Taylor?"

She held up a hand to stall him. “I don't deserve this."

"No, you don't."

She squeezed her eyes closed and battled to hold back the tears, but failed. One after another they cascaded down her cheeks, an unstemable flow, which only intensified her anger—at herself.

"You deserve better, Taylor. You don't deserve some derelict building and a stack of dusty cushions on a rubbish-strewn floor.

She opened her eyes and roughly brushed at her dampened cheeks. Cade stood in front of her. She could lean forward and kiss him. She wanted to. Very much.

No, you don't.

Oh, yes, she did.

Her jaw stiffened as she held firm, confused by the intensity of her feelings for this man, a virtual stranger. Nothing could douse the heat and lust and ... yearning she felt for him. She still wanted him—so very much. Yet inside, her brain warned her to tread carefully. Not to get hurt.

Too late.

Cade finally spoke, ending the silence “You asked something very special of me the other night, Taylor Sullivan. A privilege most men never get asked. I don't want you to remember your first time surrounded by dirt and debris. I want you, Taylor. My body is in a constant state of arousal. Don't think this business is finished."

"It isn't?"

His fingers cupped her chin, tilting it upwards, and he speared her with a blistering gaze. “Far from it, sweetheart.” He slid a hand over hers, linking their fingers. “Come on. Let's go."

Taylor stalled. “Where to?"

"To unfinished business."

Chapter Seven

"What is it they say about best laid plans?” Taylor chuckled as they exited the building.

Row upon row of vintage and classic cars lined the street, with their owners and passersby who obviously couldn't resist the urge to view these beautifully restored cars meandering along the sidewalk. Taylor witnessed the glimmer of admiration sprint across Cade's eyes. “Go on,” she urged.

"But?"

"But nothing. They're beautiful."

Cade gave her a quick smile. He drew her towards him. “Have I told you you're beautiful, too?"

"A few minutes ago,” she said and gloried in the desire she saw mirrored in Cade's dark gaze. “But I don't mind if you say it again,” she answered truthfully, and laughed aloud, surprised and delighted to hear her laughter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed, so joyful. Cade's mouth found hers, and she leant against him, amazed at how a mouth could feel so delicious and give so much joy as Cade's did to her.

"The cars,” she reminded him.

"Hmm, but this is yummy."

"You make me sound like chocolate."

"Yeah. Rich, caramel chocolate, the Swiss kind, the stuff that melts in your mouth. Far too good to miss."

"You won't miss it,” she said pulling back. “It's just on delayed time, that's all."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I'll make sure you do,” she countered. Yep. She sure would.

Hand in hand they strolled along the sidewalk, Taylor leaning into Cade's embrace as they viewed the long line of cars. It felt so good to be with him. Normal in fact. All around them people talked, admired the cars, the atmosphere almost carnival-like.

"Oh, look. Cotton candy,” Taylor's mouth watered as she pointed towards a group of stallholders selling the bright pink confectionery along with toffee apples and hot fries. “We could call it dessert."

"And here I was thinking you were dessert,” Cade said, kissing her again.

"Do you want whipped cream with that?"

Cade let out a low belly rumble. “Don't tempt me.” He bowed regally, humor dancing across his expressive face. “Madam, dessert waits.” Leading her by the hand, they moved towards the closest stall. “Two, please."

The vendor passed over the cotton candy, and Cade paid. He held them out. “You've a choice. Pink or pink."

"Oh, pink, I think."

Hand in hand, they carried on through the crowds, Cade delighting in informing her about each vehicle, it's make and year.

"You're a mine of information, aren't you?” she said truly impressed.

"I try."

"You're succeeding."

They came up on a group huddled around two cars. Taylor couldn't hold back her sudden excitement. “I know these ones. That's a ‘55 Chevy,” she earmarked the car. “And that bike is a Triumph Bonneville, the Jaguar of bikes."

Cade's brows rose. “How do you know all this?"

"I told you, I'm a petrolhead in disguise."

"It's more than that. That year car and the bike are quite rare. What aren't you telling me, Taylor?"

A frisson of panic skittered up and down Taylor's spine. “Nothing,” she denied instantly. She pulled her arm from his and put some space between them. “You're making something out of nothing."

"No, I'm not. I bet most