A Taylor-Made Life (4 page)

“
You’re so stubborn. How
do you know?”

I shrugged, but a wide grin flexed my
face. My mother was a trooper, letting me do this. I knew she
didn’t like it, but I knew it was fate. “I don’t know how I know. I
just do.”

* * * *

I paced my room with more intensity
than the new black panther at the Fort Worth Zoo. This was
happening. It seemed so surreal, which was funny, considering all
the life-altering things that had happened to me in the past two
years. But nothing had made my heart beat like receiving that email
from Gavin Taylor.

I glanced in the mirror for the
thirtieth time in five minutes then smoothed down the ruffles on my
new GAP skirt. Having tried on at least fifteen different
outfits—twice—I’d finally settled on the navy ruffles with a pink
camisole and crocheted navy cardigan. Together with my Kate Spade
strappy sandals, I looked hot. Twirling in front of the mirror, I
watched the ruffles flair then kicked my heel up behind me before
braving a peek at the clock.

Four thirty. His flight had arrived
forty-five minutes ago, according to the CanSM itinerary. He’d
already texted from the airport saying he was on his way. My
fingers and toes tingled furiously.

Gavin—s
quee
, his name was
perfect—had established a schedule for us to meet. Romance on a
timetable. So what if he didn’t realize it was a romance yet? He’d
figure it out soon enough. I snickered, but it felt like my
favorite band pounded out a beat in my belly and those guys were
going in more than
One Direction
.

Gavin planned to stay four days at the
Omni, ten minutes from our North Dallas home. This first evening,
he was coming for dinner to meet my parents and me. Then he would
take me for a social outing the next day. I fanned my hands in
front of my face trying to visualize a social outing that didn’t
end in a lip lock. If the social outing wasn’t a total disaster,
he’d promised to take me to a cancer research fundraiser ball the
final evening. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure. I swallowed down the
nervous lump in my throat. No matter what, tonight needed to be a
success.

I’d spent an entire week online,
researching Mr. Taylor. As best I could tell, he was single,
handsome and smart. He’d been seen around town with the standard
starlet or model, and made appearances at celebrity banquets and
balls, but he didn’t seem committed to any of them. Could a guy who
lived like a rock star be interested in me? I stuffed down the
negative thoughts. Why wouldn’t he be interested? We had a lot in
common, and
something
had brought us together.

Papers on my computer desk ruffled in
the breeze from the open window. The spring weather was perfect for
love, and the mouth-watering smell from Dad’s yummy steaks on the
grill wafted in. I walked to the desk and plopped down a Disney
snow globe to keep the pages from blowing.

A wide smile cramped the muscles of my
face, but I couldn’t wipe it off. Mom and I had talked for a long
time about the possibility of Gavin as my Mr. Potential. Clearly
not sold on the idea, Mom was, at least, willing to give him a
chance. Of course, some amount of the decision would be his, but I
couldn’t think about that.

Dad was placed on a NTK status. And
right now, he didn’t
need to know
. Besides, according to my
research, I’d be marriage-legal in three weeks, and I was already
legal for sex—a shiver ran down my spine—as long as we stayed in
Texas. I wouldn’t need Dad’s approval or anyone’s. This was my
deal, sink or swim.

I slipped the top page of my research
from under the weight. The one with my favorite photo of Gavin. It
wasn’t any of the TMZ shots or the ones at the press announcements
for his company. This one was a private picture from his office. I
traced his face with my finger. He sat bent over his laptop, his
wavy brown hair in his eyes as if he were so busy doing something
life altering he couldn’t be bothered to brush the unruly locks out
of his way.

I dropped the paper and paced back to
the bathroom mirror to study my face, bright and fresh with my new
Clinique
. The dark circles under my eyes were, thankfully,
not so hideous. The concealer had done its job for once. Staring
intently, I looked as good as I could under the circumstances, but
my hand nervously flitted to the pink crocheted hat. My lack of
hair was the only glaring flaw in my appearance, and the constant
reminder to me, and the world, that I battled different
demons.

The doorbell rang.

I whipped my head around, pulse
pounding in my neck. The thudding felt as if my heart had taken up
residence there. I tiptoed to the hall and cracked my bedroom door.
The plan was to allow Mom and Dad a few minutes with him. Then I’d
come down and
wow
him. At least, I hoped I would.

I peeked out. The top of his head was
barely visible over the railing. He was gorgeous! Okay, the top of
his head was pretty amazing, and the great part was—he actually
showed.

Jumping up and down quietly, I did a
muted version of my happy dance. He was perfect. This was perfect.
I covered my mouth to stifle a giggle, and a broad grin spread
under my palm.

Joy engulfed me, but doubts assaulted
the good feelings. What if he didn’t want me? What if he really did
have a girlfriend? Fear tried to clamp down on my chest like the
claustrophobic feel of an MRI. The last two years had taught me to
never hope, and here I was, facing the possibility of all my dreams
coming true. Disappointment lurked outside, leering through the
windows of my happiness. I lifted my chin defiantly. Tonight I was
ditching disappointment for the tall, dark stranger in my living
room. To quote a line from Dad’s favorite movie—
Failure was not
an option.

* * * *

Greeted at the door by a sweet-faced,
middle-aged lady, Gavin stepped into the nice two-story home. Her
warm smile put his flip-flopping stomach at ease.

“You must be Gavin,” she said in a
pleasant tone. “Come in. I’m Maureen, Taylor’s mother. John’s
outside finishing up with the steaks. Oh.” She put a hand to her
mouth. “You do like meat, don’t you? I know some of you California
boys don’t eat meat.”

He chuckled as he shook her hand. “I’m
originally from the Midwest, and I eat meat. I love
steak.”

“I sometimes forget not everyone likes
what I like.” She took his jacket and hung it on a coat
rack.

The friendly woman ushered him down a
hall into a large, open family room and kitchen. The place was
homey.

He felt her gaze bore into his back as
if she were scrutinizing every inch of him. When he turned to face
her, a gleam of approval shone in her eyes, as if he’d passed some
strange initiation test.

“Would you care for a glass of wine?
How was your flight? Oh, I bet you didn’t even check into your
hotel yet, did you?”

Blinking at the barrage of questions,
he said, “I don’t drink. My body’s had enough chemicals to last a
lifetime.”

She tilted her head, staring
reflectively at him. “That’s exactly what Taylor says. Well, how
about iced tea?” Letting out a little snort of laughter, she then
continued with her inquiry and poured a glass of something. “Do you
drink tea?”

He smiled. “Is it sweet
tea?”

“It sure is.”

“I love sweet tea.” Taking the glass,
he said, “My flight was uneventful, and no, I haven’t checked into
my hotel yet.”

She stopped and studied him again.
“You answered all my questions.”

He waited for her to finish, but she
didn’t say anything.

The back door opened. A tall, lean man
with thick, brown hair peppered with gray came in carrying a large
platter of meat. He took one look at Gavin and nodded.

Heat burned his insides as if someone
had unleashed a thermal pod in his gut. Why was he so nervous?
Granted, he’d never been good with dads—especially his own, but why
did he feel like he was on a job interview? The awkward tension
squeezed his throat like an assailant, and he could barely
swallow.

The man set the platter in the oven,
washed at the sink, and stepped in front of Gavin, eyeing him up
and down. He thrust out his hand and spoke in a deep voice, “I’m
John Smith.”

John Smith?
Really?

“Gavin Taylor, but please call me
Gavin.” He shifted his drink to his other hand then wiped his palm
on his pants before shaking the man’s hand.

The guy squeezed tightly. “Gavin,
we’re glad you’re here. Taylor has had a few bad blows lately and
could benefit from a friend and mentor who can relate.”

“I hope to gain a friend myself.”
For however long that may be
loomed unspoken.

Maureen smiled. “I can already tell
you’re a kind soul. And I think you’ll be surprised with Taylor.
She’s a charming young woman, even if she is my only
child.”

Young woman?

“Is someone talking about
me?”

A lilting voice captivated him like
Ulysses’ sirens. He turned, seeking the source, and his jaw dropped
open when he found her.

Gavin blinked then slid his gaze down
the lean curves of her torso to her shapely legs. His mouth went
dry. This was Taylor Smith?

Wizards of CROG
.

She was beautiful. Dressed in a flirty
short skirt and heels, she could’ve passed for his date any night
of the week. Except she was years younger than any of them. The
innocence in her eyes echoed that harsh truth, all the while
drawing him in.

He shook his head, and remembering his
manners, stepped toward her. “Hello, I’m Gavin Taylor.”

My stomach fluttered like a bag of
butterflies. Heat flushed my body as he met me in the
entry.

Tall with thick hair that framed
handsome features, he extended his hand, which I tentatively took.
His grip was firm and warm, and his lean body still had muscles.
But the toll chemo had taken was evident in gaunt cheeks and
coloring, even if he appeared strong still. How had he kept his
hair?

“I’m Taylor.” I peeked up at him, then
peered around to my parents. “I heard my name. They haven’t been
giving you a hard time, have they? They give all my boyfriends the
third degree.”

Oh, jeez, Tay.

I mentally slapped my forehead. Why
hadn’t I just come right out and proposed?

He quirked an eyebrow over his
sparkling eyes, and my heart caught in my throat. “Oh, do you have
many boyfriends?”he asked.

I flashed him my dimples. “Loads.”
Then I laughed. Decent recovery. Tingles raced up and down my
spine.

His gaze never left mine. “Hmm… I
don’t like to share, so for the next three days, do you think you
can beat back the hordes?”

Still giggling, I said, “I’ll
try.”

“I appreciate that.” His sarcastic
smirk made me lick my lips.

OMG!
He was a dream. A very hot
dream. His eyes looked sea green though I’d bet if he wore blue,
they’d change color. I swallowed hard and couldn’t tear my gaze
away.

Dad interrupted, “Is everyone ready to
eat?”

Gavin swept his arm out to allow me to
walk in front and placed his hand on the small of my back. I sucked
in a tiny breath. The contact sent a wave of heat through me,
concentrating in my cheeks. I turned my head to smile at him. Oh
God! My breath hitched when he smiled back, revealing straight
white teeth and forcing me to focus on his very kissable lips. Was
this guy for real?

* * * *

Taylor’s dimpled smile warmed Gavin
from his heart to his toes. Nothing short of direct sunlight was as
bright. He led her to the table and sat next to her. The shock to
his system had sent his mind reeling. He couldn’t remember the last
time he’d been so pleasantly surprised by a young woman.
Young
being the operative word, the worrisome word. The big
smile plastered on his face slipped slightly.

“So how’s your business
doing?”

Tearing his gaze from Taylor, he
focused on John. The man’s stern face indicated he was
uncomfortable with Gavin’s preoccupation with his daughter.
Truthfully, Gavin found his own preoccupation slightly disturbing.
The girl was only seventeen, for Christ’s sake, and he couldn’t
stop flirting with her.

Gavin cleared his throat. “Last
quarter’s figures weren’t as strong as past numbers, or as hardy as
we anticipated.” He took a potato wrapped in foil from a bowl in
front of him. “The online gaming community took a hit over the
holidays with the release of Sony’s new gaming system, but we
expect to bounce back this first quarter of the New
Year.”

“Oh. That’s so cool. Are you involved
with the game development?” Taylor’s voice teemed with
excitement.

Sneaking a glance her way, he reached
for the condiment caddy. His fingers landed in the sour cream. He
closed his eyes as his face rivaled the temperature of his baked
potato. Taylor snickered and held out a napkin.

Turning to her, he wiped his fingers
with the soft linen. “Thanks.” He placed the napkin on the table.
“To answer your question, I have a direct hand in the development
of all our games and still continue to program some
myself.”