After an hour of arguing, Taylor relented and agreed to head home for the night. The whole crew had ganged up on her, insisting that she was too sick to go through another all-nighter. They’d all had rest, and she hadn’t. Marcus and Fitz had taken it upon themselves to secure a warrant for the records of all the professors from the Classics and Theology departments at Vanderbilt, and were on their way with a court order to drag Vanderbilt’s Dean out of bed to gain access to the names of their possible suspects. Lincoln was setting up to run the names they retrieved through his databases and look for past indiscretions that would help solidify their case. Price had practically forced her out the door, handing her jacket and purse to her and walking her to the stairs that led to the parking lot.
Baldwin drove her into the night, stopping briefly at the Walgreens drive-through to pick up a prescription for antibiotics Taylor’s doctor had called in for her. He followed her directions and got her home.
Taylor lived in a remote, rambling log house with lots of windows, perched on several acres of land. She loved watching the animals, kept the bird feeders full all year and salt licks out for the deer. The inside of the house was as comfortable as the outside, with a soft leather sofa, throw rugs, and a big fireplace with logs stacked perfectly on the brick hearth. A second-story loft overlooked the open living/dining room, and Taylor made her bedroom up there, along with her precious pool table. She was as dependent on the table as she would have been a drug to help her relax in the middle of her sleepless nights. It was a great pastime for an insomniac. She had an office set up in the bedroom downstairs, with inset bookcases filled with everything from the hardbound classics to paperback mysteries. It was lived in, comfortable, away from the world she had to deal with day in and day out. It was a little lonely at times, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. It was a casual and comfortable lifestyle for her.
Seeing Baldwin in her space confused her. He fit so well. Like he’d been a part of her world from the beginning.
Baldwin got Taylor laid out on her couch, a mug of steaming green tea sitting on the coffee table next to her. Taylor was impressed by his domesticity and bedside manner. He had been clucking over her like a mother hen since they got to her place and was currently in her kitchen, using her pots and pans to make her an omelet. Normally, she would have been uncomfortable having him wait on her hand and foot, but she felt so lousy, she didn’t have the strength to argue. She relaxed a little, letting herself enjoy his ministrations. She heard him humming to himself as he put together her food, then laughing and scolding the cat for trying to get into the eggs.
As he came back into the living room carrying their dinner, he couldn’t help but notice that despite being sick, run down, and sleepless for two nights, Taylor looked beautiful. She fit so well into her home. She’d changed clothes when they’d gotten there, and was casually dressed in cut-off jeans and a long-sleeved University of Tennessee T-shirt; her feet bare revealed toenails polished hooker red, which surprised him a bit. She didn’t seem the type. He was surprised to find himself wondering how he could fit into the sanctuary Taylor had created for herself.
He shook his head, laughing quietly. Man, he was getting the cart before the horse. But he recognized he was finally coming back to life, and he liked how he felt when he was with her. As strange as it was, he sensed that it was right.
They ate together in silence, both anticipating their next moves. Baldwin finished his eggs, pushed the plate away and gave Taylor a smile.
“You want me to make a fire?”
“Aren’t you just the little domestic?” she teased. “Yes, that would be nice. Thanks.” She settled in deeper, grabbed her cup of tea and watched him. She was drawn to him in a way she couldn’t understand. It was more than lust: though he was a very handsome man, he was still much too thin and had dark circles under his eyes. But she could sense the change in his energy. The sense of purpose he carried with him was palpable.
He got the fire lit and returned to the chair facing the sofa. “Can I get you anything else? More tea? More food? Soup? You have some nasty canned stuff in the pantry. I could heat it up for you?”
“Nasty canned stuff? Thanks for the commentary on my taste. No, I’m fine. I just want to sit here and relax. It seems like days since I even sat down.”
“It has been a crazy couple of days.”
“Do you think Fitz and Marcus have found anything yet?”
“Taylor, they told you they’d call the minute they had anything worthwhile. There has to be thirty or so professors for them to look at, and the school is still closed after the storm. It’s going to take them some time. They’re good cops. They won’t miss anything.”