His Southern Temptation

chapter Four


Why was it that you remembered everything from your childhood as being so much bigger?

Taylor sat behind the desk where her father had spent the better part of thirty years practicing law and playing mayor of Elliott. She kicked off her flip-flops and propped her feet up on the desk, her inner child blowing a big raspberry at the voice in her head telling her to sit like a lady. The office was large and the desk adequately sized for a solo practitioner—definitely not the forbidding monolith she dreaded standing in front of when she was in trouble. Not that it had happened very often.

Now, she waited in her father’s former office, ready to work with her brother to fix the mess he’d left behind.

“She’s here?”

Teague’s voice rumbled from just beyond the door, his low baritone distinctive and clipped as he spoke to Jerline, the receptionist his father had left behind with his practice and a bunch of pissed-off clients. Taylor’s stomach clenched tightly, the sharp edge of the reaction surprising her. She was nervous to see her own brother. There was something really wrong and sad about that. They’d been close at one time, but distance, time, and opposing views about the way to live had created a gap she’d been unable to close over the years.

Teague’s footsteps grew louder as he headed toward the door, and before she was ready, he filled the opening. Tall, built like the runner he was with long limbs and whipcord muscles, her brother was a long line of tension from the tips of his toes to the pinched corners of his hazel eyes.

“Mary-Taylor.” He moved fully into the room, setting the briefcase down on the floor beside the couch and standing across the room, his gaze flickering between her face and the place where her feet rested on the desk. He wouldn’t make the first move. Teague was like their father in that way, so she popped up from behind the desk and vaulted over it to tackle-hug her big brother.

Her heart sank a little in her chest when he remained unmoving, hesitating a fraction of a second before his arms lifted and wrapped tightly around her frame. She hugged him hard. She couldn’t cover seven years of distance in this one hug, but she was sure as hell taking the first step.

“Hey, Boo.” Teague buried his face in her shoulder, hugging her tight and using her childhood nickname. The wetness on her lashes was a surprise. She wasn’t a crier, and she wasn’t really sure what they were about. But there were so many damn things to cry about lately. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Your last voice mail sounded like you were going to set fire to everything and watch it burn if you didn’t get some help.” She released him, the awkwardness once again edging back into the space between their bodies. “I hitched the first plane off the big island. You know how much I love a bonfire. I even brought marshmallows.”

“Right.” Teague stepped around her, easing behind the desk to lower himself into the chair. He looked so much like their father at that moment—successful, confident, the king of the world—or at least this little corner of it. In fact, he looked really good. Life in DC was treating him well, she supposed. When he smiled, she saw a little bit of the big brother she remembered, and it eased the residual tension in her chest.

“How long are you here?”

“About three weeks. It’s all I can spare from the spa.” She paused to laugh at the face he pulled, his lips twisting into a grimace. She wasn’t sure if it was aimed at the shortness of her visit or her choice in occupation. Teague didn’t think she was using her college degree to the level she should—another thing that contributed to the distance between them. “But I wanted to come help with the house. I figure I can get it packed up and cleaned out.”

“Oh, thank you baby Jesus.” He reached up and loosened his tie, relaxing back into the leather seat. “I hired packers, but I didn’t know how I was going to get it all sorted. There is a ton of shit in that house—expensive shit, but a ton of it.”

“No sweat. I’ll trash what needs to go, store what we want to keep, and sell the rest. I’m highly motivated. I need the money.” Taylor plopped down on the couch, her feet going up on the coffee table. She gave Teague points for not telling her to take them off. It was killing him. His jaw tightened and the muscle jumping there gave away the effort it took to remain quiet. She stretched, loosening up her lower back from a night spent in a strange bed. “With the cash from the sale, I can buy into a spa in Honolulu. I’ve got a group of investors and they’ve given me a sweetheart deal with a tight deadline to accept or reject it. Can you look at the papers for me?”

“Sure, no problem.” He rummaged in the desk drawer, emerging with a stick of gum he popped into his mouth, and offered her one as well. “So, you won’t be staying?”

“Now you sound like Lucky.” She tried to keep the pout out of her voice.

“Oh, hell. Lucky’s staying at the house.” Recollection flashed across his face, quickly replaced by an apology. “You okay with that? You can stay with me in the apartment upstairs if you don’t want to stay there with him. I’m back and forth to DC so we won’t be tripping over each other.”

She waved him off, the movement hopefully masking the flutter in her stomach and the heat rising in her cheeks. “We’re good. After I put the gun away, we worked out the sleeping arrangements.” She left out the groping on the floor and her invitation to share a bed. Teague would freak if he knew how different their sleeping arrangements had been in the past. It was part of his brotherly bossiness.

“What gun?”

“Father’s Smith & Wesson from the study.” She waved off his look of horror. Hell, Teague had taught her to use the gun when she was kid—he better believe she was going to use it if needed. “It’s a long story.”

“Shit, Taylor. Can you try not to cause any trouble while you’re here? Some of us still care about what people think about the Elliotts in this town.” His expression hardened as he barely kept his temper in check. “I’m fixing the mess he left behind with this practice, and I don’t need anything else on my plate.”

Ouch. She sat up a little straighter, refusing to give an inch on this argument. Teague applauded her choice to leave Bobby—her cheating bastard of a fiancé—at the altar, but he disapproved of everything she’d done after that day. Her lifestyle, her occupation, and her decisions in general didn’t live up to the Elliott family standard of decorum.

If he knew that just this morning she’d gotten a stripper job at the Jolly Gent to help Lucky find that missing girl, he’d keel over and die of shock. He’d have good company, because she was pretty sure Lucky would kick it when he found out what she’d done.

“Kiss my ass, Teague.” Taylor got up to leave, suddenly over this little family reunion.

“Hey, wait.” She heard him jump up behind her, his hand grasping her arm to turn her around to face him. She saw the regret in his eyes, and it thawed her resistance. “Sorry. I’m tired. Wrapping all this up is kicking my ass, and the partners in DC are starting to push for me to get back. Forgive me?”

Her first reaction was to tell him to forget it. She’d gone a number of years with no real relationship with him, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing in her life to keep the status quo. But during the long flight here she’d made up her mind to try to reconnect with Teague, and the first step required her to meet him halfway, especially when he offered an olive branch.

“It’s okay.” She smiled and his tense expression relaxed. “So, how is it going at work?”

His eyes lit up with excitement and the grin sprouting across his face was contagious. “I’m up for partnership. The youngest one ever, and it looks like I’m going to get it.”

“Shut up!” Taylor jumped back into his arms, her actions pushing a grunt and a laugh out of him. He hugged her again, this time with a hard squeeze, and in that moment she was really glad she came back. “That’s awesome. You deserve it.”

He blushed at her words, modesty and pride warring in his eyes and in the twitch of his lips. Pride won out and he grinned from ear to ear. Go, big brother.

Pulling back, she reached up to adjust her T-shirt, tugging it down from where it had ridden up. Teague glanced down and, presto, disapproval resettled in the line of his shoulders. She steeled herself for what was coming next.

“Taylor, what is that?”

“A piercing.” She tried to keep the defensive tone out of her voice and act like she didn’t care what he thought, but knew she sucked at it. There was no danger of her winning an Oscar any time soon.

“When did you get it? It looks like it hurt.”

“About two years ago. It didn’t hurt as much as the other ones. A little pinch and done.”

“Other ones?”

“Yeah. Two others. You’ll never see them.” She waited for their location to sink in and bit back her laugh when his eyes widened and he maintained strict eye contact. God, she loved her brother, but damn he was seriously uptight about some things. His attitude was practically begging her to be the brat and tweak him a little more. That’s what little sisters were for, right? “They hurt more than the tattoos though.”

“Oh, hell.” He settled to sit on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and looking like a lawyer in full cross-examination mode. Well, give it your best shot. I’ve got nothing to hide. Except the fact that she’d slept with his best friend. Repeatedly. On different continents. She’d keep that to herself. “How many? Where? You know they’re going to slide dangerously south when you’re an old woman, right?”

“Whatever. I’m going to be hot when I’m old.” Taylor flashed him body parts as she rattled off the list. “One on my wrist, ankle, lower back—total tramp stamp—and one on my shoulder.” She turned back to face him, her hands open with a shrug. “That’s it.”

“I think that’s enough. I hope you don’t regret them someday.”

“There are many things I will regret, but a little body ink and piercings won’t be on the list.”

Teague stared at her. She wanted to tell him not to worry about it, she was a big girl and the country club path wasn’t the only one that led to that mystical world called happiness. She’d found it with a stolen car, a plane ticket to Hawaii, and the sand between her toes.

“Well, avoid shocking the Baptist ladies club when they come to help you with the house. They’ll see those tats and hold a prayer vigil over you.”

“Why would they be coming to help?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been gone so long you’ve forgotten southern hospitality?”

“Or they just want to get in the house for a look around?” That was the flip side of southern hospitality—if you’re the one delivering the help, you got a front-row seat for everything.

He put a finger against his lips, indicating she should keep her voice down. Teague gestured toward the front of the office. “Jerline arranged it, and I’ve learned not to tell her no. I’m man enough to admit that she scares me a little.”

“Chicken.” Laughing, she reached down to grab her purse, ready to head out and get started on the packing. Their father’s secretary had always been an unstoppable force, fueled by her no-nonsense approach to life and a towering hairstyle anchored in place with about three cans of Aqua Net hair spray. Taylor welcomed the help, because the sooner they got the house sold, the sooner her dream became a reality.

“You really okay with Lucky staying at the house?”

She turned to look at him. His tone was off, something strained underneath the casual surface. “Sure, why not?”

“I remember you two have a love-hate thing going on at times.” He gestured to the ceiling where the furnished apartment their father owned was located. “You can stay here.”

“Nope. We’re good. We’ll work it out like grown-ups.”

Teague was pretty clueless about the passion that was always running between them like an electric current. She grinned at how she planned to work it out with Lucky, and in how many places, and in how many different positions.

“I promise we’ll try not to shock the Baptist ladies too much.”