right now, things were definitely haywire. Willy was right, he would have slept with her, made love to her. God, what living, breathing male wouldn't? But she made it sound so predictable, so—superficial that it bothered him.
He leaned forward. "How about straightening me out here? You don't ever want to take the cure for your virginity or you particularly don't want me to, uh, play doctor?"
She put down her fork. "If you're asking me if I ever want to have sex, the answer is a definite yes. For one thing, I want children. As for the second part of your question, I don't think so. I don't like the effect you have on me."
"The effect?" he echoed.
"You know, the whole fire ants in the belly feeling, rapid breathing, daydreaming, fluttering heart, that kind of thing."
Taylor took a calming breath. Talk about hearts! His own was ready to pound its way put of his chest cavity. He was hot and getting hotter by the minute, while Willy casually dipped more bread in what was left of her migas.
"What about loss of appetite?" he asked wryly.
"That too," she agreed, popping the moist bread into her mouth. Her expression turned serious. "I don't think you're healthy for me, Taylor."
He liked the way she said his name, kind of soft and wondering like. "Oh, I don't know," he said after a moment. "Your reactions to me are healthy enough the way I see it. That effect you're describing is what makes the world go around. Most people revel in it. In fact, they spend their lives searching for it."
"Give it up, good lookin'." She smiled. " You're getting dangerously close to the line 'Please, babe, I'll make it good for you, I promise.' You won't sink to that, will you?" she chided.
Please, babe! No way. Begging a woman wasn't his style nor had it ever been a necessity. "Actually, as it turns out, I don't plan to 'sink' at all. I came to Spain to talk to my brother. When that's done, I'll be gone. There's one thing you haven't put under your microscope, Willow." He watched her flinch at the name. "And that's the effect you have on me, which, as this conversation continues, is approaching zero."
She gave him a brilliant smile. "Great!" She looked across at his barely touched lunch. "If you don't want that, I'll eat it."
With a shake of his head and something that sounded suspiciously like a harrumph, he shoved the plate across the table. What had ever possessed him to think this woman was interesting, fascinating, or anything else—she was more fruitcake than cheesecake. Now all he had to do was convince his body of that and he'd be home free. The next few days waiting for Dan were going to be impossible.
Willy dug into the last of Taylor's migas, thankful their conversation was over. She'd been true to herself and set the rules. He knew she wasn't interested, and she'd pissed him off enough to make him retreat. Why didn't she feel more relieved? She should be glad that he was angry with her, that he was no longer interested. Something was wrong. For all her bravado, she couldn't eat another bite. She pushed back the plate.
"Ready to go?" she asked.
"More than ready. Impatient would be a better description." He stood up and tossed some bills on the table. He looked down at her. "Now where's that car of yours?"
The car was gone, definitely gone.
"Are you sure this is where you left it?" Taylor asked, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and glancing up and down the street.
"Of course, I'm sure. Do you think I'd forget where I parked my car?"
Taylor glanced back at her. "From what you told me, it sounds more like it parked you."
She gave him her best glare.
"What I'm trying to say is that the night you got here it was dark and raining. You could be mistaken."
"I could, but I'm not. This is the street and that—" She nodded at a spot near a curbside palm tree "—is exactly where I parked it. I'd know Cissy's oil stains anywhere."
Taylor followed the direction of Willy's nod. There was a dark oil stain on
He leaned forward. "How about straightening me out here? You don't ever want to take the cure for your virginity or you particularly don't want me to, uh, play doctor?"
She put down her fork. "If you're asking me if I ever want to have sex, the answer is a definite yes. For one thing, I want children. As for the second part of your question, I don't think so. I don't like the effect you have on me."
"The effect?" he echoed.
"You know, the whole fire ants in the belly feeling, rapid breathing, daydreaming, fluttering heart, that kind of thing."
Taylor took a calming breath. Talk about hearts! His own was ready to pound its way put of his chest cavity. He was hot and getting hotter by the minute, while Willy casually dipped more bread in what was left of her migas.
"What about loss of appetite?" he asked wryly.
"That too," she agreed, popping the moist bread into her mouth. Her expression turned serious. "I don't think you're healthy for me, Taylor."
He liked the way she said his name, kind of soft and wondering like. "Oh, I don't know," he said after a moment. "Your reactions to me are healthy enough the way I see it. That effect you're describing is what makes the world go around. Most people revel in it. In fact, they spend their lives searching for it."
"Give it up, good lookin'." She smiled. " You're getting dangerously close to the line 'Please, babe, I'll make it good for you, I promise.' You won't sink to that, will you?" she chided.
Please, babe! No way. Begging a woman wasn't his style nor had it ever been a necessity. "Actually, as it turns out, I don't plan to 'sink' at all. I came to Spain to talk to my brother. When that's done, I'll be gone. There's one thing you haven't put under your microscope, Willow." He watched her flinch at the name. "And that's the effect you have on me, which, as this conversation continues, is approaching zero."
She gave him a brilliant smile. "Great!" She looked across at his barely touched lunch. "If you don't want that, I'll eat it."
With a shake of his head and something that sounded suspiciously like a harrumph, he shoved the plate across the table. What had ever possessed him to think this woman was interesting, fascinating, or anything else—she was more fruitcake than cheesecake. Now all he had to do was convince his body of that and he'd be home free. The next few days waiting for Dan were going to be impossible.
Willy dug into the last of Taylor's migas, thankful their conversation was over. She'd been true to herself and set the rules. He knew she wasn't interested, and she'd pissed him off enough to make him retreat. Why didn't she feel more relieved? She should be glad that he was angry with her, that he was no longer interested. Something was wrong. For all her bravado, she couldn't eat another bite. She pushed back the plate.
"Ready to go?" she asked.
"More than ready. Impatient would be a better description." He stood up and tossed some bills on the table. He looked down at her. "Now where's that car of yours?"
The car was gone, definitely gone.
"Are you sure this is where you left it?" Taylor asked, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and glancing up and down the street.
"Of course, I'm sure. Do you think I'd forget where I parked my car?"
Taylor glanced back at her. "From what you told me, it sounds more like it parked you."
She gave him her best glare.
"What I'm trying to say is that the night you got here it was dark and raining. You could be mistaken."
"I could, but I'm not. This is the street and that—" She nodded at a spot near a curbside palm tree "—is exactly where I parked it. I'd know Cissy's oil stains anywhere."
Taylor followed the direction of Willy's nod. There was a dark oil stain on
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