"Both." Time to slap his cards on the table. "We go back a long way, Jonathan. I know you. I know
your family and your history. So I'll be blunt. Gordon was over the edge. His attack on Taylor wasn't spontaneous. It was planned, and it was twisted. What I need to figure out is, was it obsessive? You
see, the harassment continued beyond that one night. But did it also go beyond one man? Gordon—or someone—was playing mind games with Taylor, scaring her. Fixating on her, keeping tabs on her, sending creepy love notes via e-mail—you know the scenario. You know because you've been there.
The question is, are you giving a repeat performance?"
A red flush shot up Jonathan's neck. "You son of a bitch. I can't believe you're bringing this up after
all these years. Did you share these sordid details with Taylor—just to make doubly sure she'll always
be freaked out by me ?"
"I didn't say a word. I went right to the source—you." Reed wasn't going to be deterred by Jonathan's anger. He was going to use it to his advantage. "Now answer my question. Are you, or are you not,
back to your old habits of obsessing over a woman to the point of harassment?"
Slowly, Jonathan sucked in his breath. "You're talking about something that happened a dozen
years ago."
"It didn't happen once. It happened twice. First in college. Again in grad school. The second time you nearly got your ass thrown in jail."
"And you rescued me with your charming intervention and your brilliant legal mind. Bravo. I've more than paid you back. Douglas's gratitude was your golden goose. He got you in the door at Harter, Randolph and Collins. You're rich. You're respected. And you're probably going to make partner any
day now. Is this how you thank me?"
Reed's eyes glittered. "I don't owe you thanks. I came up with a strategy that worked. It kept both women from filing charges. As for why I did it, I did it because I truly believed you were innocent—except for an oversize ego and an arrogant belief that you could have anything, and anyone, you wanted. I never worried about those women's safety. I was well aware that your main weakness
was your thinking women were in love with you when that was not the truth. Is that still the case?"
Jonathan looked furious. He swallowed, hard, and when he spoke, his voice cut like shards of ice. "I'm thirty-five. I'm smart. I'm ambitious. I'm a respected international trade consultant who makes seven figures. As my lawyer, you know I'm on the verge of assuming a senior management role at Berkley
and Company. Do you honestly believe I'd jeopardize all that by stalking some woman—no matter
how desirable? I'd have neither the motivation nor the time. So, no, I'm not sending love notes to
your girlfriend. Does that satisfy you?"
Reed stared him down. "I suppose it'll have to."
"Yeah. It will." Jonathan tossed aside his napkin and stood up. "I'm heading back to the office. I've lost my appetite." He paused. "And, in case your passion-drugged mind suffers a temporary lapse while you and Taylor are in bed, let me remind you of your ethical responsibilities. There'll be no mention of my past misconduct. Trust me, it wouldn't do much for your professional future."
* * *
Reed watched Jonathan stalk out of the restaurant, his implicit threat still hanging in the air. It hadn't
come as any shock. Nor did it evoke any personal concern on Reed's part. Jonathan would never go
to the senior partners at Harter, Randolph & Collins, not with this one. It would mean opening up Pandora's box and revealing his past—a past he'd worked too hard to seal.
And if he did go? Let him.
There were more important aspects of this little confrontation with Jonathan to think about.
His outrage had been a no-brainer. Guilty or innocent, it was the natural response to Reed's interrogation. As for his denial, it did have a ring of truth to it.
The problem was, there were incongruities. Jonathan's body language, for one thing. It told Reed that Jonathan was more than pissed. He was scared.
But there was more that didn't sit right.
For example, he was worried that Jonathan's romantic fascination with Taylor was irrational. The way he'd shredded his bread; his clipped comments. He still wasn't ready to let it go, no matter how much
he pretended otherwise. His whole blasé attitude was a facade. He wanted her— bad. Further, his
interest in what new and damaging information Reed had on Gordon was lukewarm, at best. He'd
walked out of the restaurant without pumping Reed for a single detail, without demanding to know
what specifics Taylor had divulged, and how those specifics might impact Douglas.
For a man who was about to become an officer in his father's company, that seemed surprisingly lax.
And Jonathan was never lax.
Reed frowned, recalling the only two times he'd seen Jonathan behave in this unfocused, uncharacteristic, and self-destructive way.
Both times involved striking redheads with whom Jonathan became infatuated. Neither reciprocated.
Both times Jonathan had become obsessive and stepped over the line.
Both times Reed had intervened, earning Douglas's gratitude.
Since then, nothing.
Until now. Maybe.
Reed frowned, pushing aside his plate. Everything Jonathan had said today was true. He'd have to be
out of his mind to do this again. He'd be jeopardizing his entire future—a future that was on a major upswing.
But the pattern was there. So was the profile. Taylor had the same breeding as the other two girls, the same understated beauty and class, even the same coloring. And Jonathan wanted her.
Plus, she felt like she was being watched.
Was Jonathan the one watching her? Reed still wasn't sure. Nor was he sure if today's confrontation
had made things better or worse. If Jonathan was fixated on Taylor, if he was the one who had sent
those e-cards and was following her around, would he now back off, or stick even closer to her,
knowing that she and Reed were involved?
With a quick glance at his watch, Reed realized it was almost a quarter of two. He signaled for the
check and pulled out his credit card. He'd head back to the office, check his messages, then give Taylor
a call. Better yet, he'd go see her. Maybe he'd even meet her at Dellinger Academy, provide her with a personal escort home.
Fine, so he couldn't discuss his concerns about Jonathan with her.
That didn't mean he couldn't ease his mind by playing bodyguard.
CHAPTER 13
2:45 P.M.
DELLINGER ACADEMY
Taylor slung her tote bag over her shoulder and left her office, locking the door behind her. The school was still humming with activity as the sports teams gathered for practice and the various clubs convened for their weekly meetings.
There was something very comforting about Dellinger, she mused as she made her way through the
halls. It was an atmosphere she'd always felt good in, but lately it had been like a soothing balm, given
the difficulty of the past months. If she had to define its essence, she'd say it was a combination of the simplicity and hopefulness of youth mixed with the security of going through a stable, safe routine.
This afternoon, she'd probably have hung around awhile to watch the practices. But she'd barely eaten
all day. She had to grab something since she'd promised Kevin she'd be in early tonight for their guest. Besides, showing up in the gym to demonstrate her support for Dellinger's athletic programs wasn't too great an idea. She'd inevitably run into Chris Young. She wasn't too keen on that prospect. The fewer chances she gave him to make a bad situation worse, the better.
She'd paused in the corridor to fish in her bag for a mint when an unwelcome voice from the blue resonated behind her.
"Hello, Taylor."
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Tensing, she whirled around, coming face-to-face with Jonathan Mallory.
She didn't want to give a repeat performance of the last time. But seeing him here, in her school, on
her turf . . .
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply.
If he picked up on how alarmed she was to see him, he didn't let on. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression nondescript, his dark eyes veiled. "One of my clients has a daughter who's a student here. She's a member of the Young Business Leaders of America Club. They asked me to come in and speak to them about international trade. So here I am." His lips curved ever so slightly. "Why don't you join
us? I'm sure you'd find it fascinating. And afterward, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk. And, by
the way," he added in a low, pointed tone, "I'm nothing like my brother."
All Taylor wanted to do was run away as fast as she could. Jonathan Mallory might be nothing like his brother, but he gave her the creeps.
"I'm sure you're very much your own person," she managed, the words tasting like sawdust. "And it's very generous of you to take time out of your workday to talk to the kids in YBLA. Which student is your client's daughter?"
"Dana Coleman." He looked distinctly pleased that she was talking civilly to him. And those eyes—he looked so much like Gordon that Taylor felt her skin crawl.
"Dana, yes." If she didn't get away from him, she was going to lose it. "She's a bright girl."
"Not a surprise. Her parents are both Yale grads." Jonathan gestured toward the classroom he'd be speaking in. "So what do you say? Care to join our meeting, and then grab some coffee?"
"I can't." Taylor saw him start and realized how abrupt she'd sounded. She drew a calming breath, and took it down a notch. "The meeting sounds great. The problem is, I haven't eaten all day and, at this point, I'm feeling light-headed." That wasn't a lie. "I was just heading out to buy myself a sandwich."
"Even better." He gave her a slow smile—Gordon's smile. "Before the meeting gets under way, I'll
send out for some pizzas. If I remember correctly, teenagers and pizza are like bears and honey. The
kids can chow down, and you can replenish your strength. Afterward, we can get that cup of coffee."
He put his hand on her arm.
Instinctively, Taylor recoiled, tugging her arm away. "No."
She was referring to the date and the physical contact. She knew it, and Jonathan knew it. She could
tell by his scowl.
But he wasn't going to give up. She could see it in the hard set of his jaw.
Why in the world would he want to go out with her when she acted like a skittish rabbit around him?
"No," he repeated slowly, as if the word were foreign to him. "Why not?"
"Several reasons."
"The first being that I look like Gordon."
"Yes." She wasn't going to lie.
"You can't get beyond that until you get to know me." He didn't wait for her reply. "What are the other reasons?"
"My second career." She went for the least personal, and most irrefutable, argument. "I host a talk-radio show on WVNY. It's a family counseling show. Teens call in with their problems. Parents call in about their teens." Stop babbling, Taylor. "I've got a guest tonight. I promised my producer I'd be there early." She glanced at her watch, unable to focus on the time and not really caring what it was. "You have no idea how much I have to shove into the next few hours. I'll be eating on the run."
"I see." He wasn't buying it, even though he couldn't dispute it. "In that case, let's make it another time."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
He was pushing her into a corner. Fine.
"That's the last reason—and maybe the most important. I'm seeing someone."
"I know. Reed Weston."
Taylor's head shot up. "He told you?"
A shrug. "He mentioned it. He also mentioned it was new. So I'm assuming it's not exclusive."
She really didn't like this man. "I'm not good at juggling relationships."
"Ah. A one-man woman. How refreshing."
Was he complimenting her or mocking her?
"No, I mean it," he clarified, reading her expression. "Loyalty is a rare trait these days."
"Yup, that's me. Loyal." Taylor forced a light note into her tone. "In any case, I'd better get going."
She took a step toward the door. "Enjoy your time with YBLA."
"Taylor." He stopped her—verbally. He made no move to touch her again.
All she wanted was to get out of there. "Yes?"
"You can't get to know me if you keep running."
She turned around slowly. "I'm not running. I'm buying lunch, doing errands, and going to work."
"Would things be different if I weren't Gordon's identical twin?"
"As I said, I'm seeing Reed. So it's a moot point."
"Not really." He took out a business card, handed it to her. "If you change your mind, give me a call.
You won't regret it."
I already do. She took the card and shoved it in her pocket. It was the only way to end this unpleasant exchange. "I really have to go."
"I understand." His expression was unreadable again. "Until next time, then."
Next time? Not likely.
* * *
Taylor sucked in the fresh, cold air when she stepped out of Dellinger's front doors. So much for
the comfort of her school environment. She hoped Jonathan Mallory wasn't going to make a habit of visiting.
Hurrying through the school gates, she halted, blinking when she saw Reed standing on the sidewalk.
"Hi," he greeted her. He walked over, a quizzical pucker forming between his brows as he saw her agitated state. "Are you okay?"
"Not really."
"What's wrong?"
She massaged her temples. "I'm about to pass out from starvation."
"You look white as a sheet." He hooked an arm around her waist. "Come on. I'll get you some food."
Ten minutes later, they were in a little Italian deli, munching on their roast-beef-and-provolone panini.
"Thank you." Taylor could feel her energy level returning, along with the color in her cheeks. "All I've eaten today is a Nutri-Grain bar and three spoonfuls of yogurt. The chicken breast I defrosted for
dinner is pretty skimpy, and I won't have much time to eat it. I have to get to the station early. I've got
a guest tonight. She's a little on the nervous side. Kevin will kill me if I'm not there to prep her."
"Then I'm glad I could rescue you."
Taylor shot him a quizzical look. "You had no way of knowing I was about to faint from hunger. So,
to what do I owe this impromptu visit?"
"I came to say good night."
The quizzical look intensified. "Excuse me?"
"You fell asleep last night before I could say it. So I'm here to rectify the omission."
A glint of humor sparkled in Taylor's eyes. "I see. That's very thorough of you."
"And very gallant," he prompted.
"Yes, that, too." She took another bite of her sandwich. "Is it that easy for you to leave your office in
the middle of the day?"
"It's next to impossible. I did it anyway."
Her glance turned insightful. "I appreciate the snack and the sentiment. And I'm flattered by the attention. But I have a feeling it's more than me that's pulling you away from the office these days. Am I right?"
Reed wished he could confide in her. "I suppose," he replied with a shrug. "But, believe me, you're more than enough enticement to get me away from any place, anytime."
That prompted a tiny shiver as the memories of last night flashed through her mind. "Speaking of which,
I appreciate your sensitivity last night. I literally passed out. I don't remember anything after the sofa.
But I realize you didn't.. . you just put me on the bed and left me in my clothes instead of . .
."
"I'm not in the habit of taking advantage of sleeping women," Reed finished for her. He brought her
palm to his mouth, brushing his lips across it. "Besides, when I put you in that bed undressed, it won't be when I'm going home. It'll be when I'm staying. It also won't be when you're sound asleep. It'll be when you're awake—very awake."
Sexual tension crackled in the air, and the revived color on Taylor's cheeks deepened to a flush. "I'm glad," she replied frankly, making no attempt to play coy. It would be ludicrous to do so at this point. They both knew where this relationship was headed, at least physically. The only question was when it would get there.
"Was everything okay today?" Reed changed the subject to ask.