the street. He leaned against his sleek Mercedes and looked back at her. "Cissy?"
"Cissy the Citroen." She gave him a I-dare-you-to-snicker-at-me" look. He dared.
"Then the only thing to do is file a missing person's report," he said with mock gravity. "Do you have any idea where we would do that?"
Willy ignored his sarcasm. "No. But I'll find out." She was feeling worse about the loss of her old car than she cared to admit, and that bothered her. It wasn't smart to get attached to things. Even cars. But damn it. She and Cissy had shared four years of European roads. The ugly little beast had been her only constant for thousands of miles, and despite her warts, she 'd miss her. Get a grip, girl, she told herself. The Citroen was not a her. It was a clunky, worn-out piece of automotive junk.
"You okay?" Taylor asked.
She ran a hand under her nose, sniffed, and raised her head. "Fine. Let's go. I think there's a police station somewhere off Lobatas, just north of here." When she turned toward the car, he put a hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe they'll find her," he said. "Sometimes you get lucky."
She shrugged from under his hand. "Maybe. It really doesn't matter. The old thing was on its last legs anyway. I've got nothing but good wishes for the genius who managed to drive the bucket of bolts away."
Taylor pretended to believe her, while Willy tried to ignore that he had recognized Cissy's gender.
By the time she'd answered the necessary questions at the police station it was late afternoon. Taylor was outside sitting on the steps when she came out. He stood up, and with her one step up, they were eye to eye.
"No luck?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Tough."
"Yeah... tough."
"Are you hungry, thirsty, tired, or what?"
Willy half-smiled. "None of the above."
"What then?" He gave her a quizzical look.
"Restless."
"A walk then?"
"A swim. Most of the sun worshipers will be gone now. Off to expensive rooms to tend their burns. And as I recall, you did buy some trunks today."
"A swim it is." He reached for her hand, lifting it away from her side. When she started to pull it back, he tightened his grip, cocked his dark head, and smiled. "Just a swim." His grip tightened again as he led her to his car. "And then dinner. While you were in there filling out endless forms, I was scouting the restaurants. There's an Italian place about three blocks from here. Looks promising. What do you say?"
"Italian? You come to Spain and you want to eat Italian food?"
"I'm a pasta freak. What can I say?" He dropped her hand and lifted his palms upward before opening the car door for her.
She turned to face him before getting in. "I'd say we finally found something we can agree on."
"Pasta, huh?"
"Pasta," she confirmed.
He chuckled and helped her into the car. "It's a start at least. Now, which way to the beach?"
Chapter 4
While Taylor changed, Willy stripped down to her bikini and stuffed her T-shirt and cotton pants in her tote. She was kneeling in the sand replaiting the bottom of her braid when he came out of the change tent. Her messing with her hair stopped, and she rested her hands on the top of her thighs to watch his approach.
He wore black trunks. A white towel was draped lopsidedly around his neck. She gulped. And what a body… He might be New York but his abs were pure California. The muscles in Willy's stomach knotted as her hands, damp hands, rubbed nervously over her thighs. And more irritating than anything she was holding her damn breath.
He stood over her. "How about we avoid the old 'last one in is a rotten egg' routine and hit the water together?"
Anxious to move—get out from under his green gaze—she jumped to her feet. "No way. I love that routine. It's tradition." She gave him a challenging look. "How long has it been since you've been the rotten egg?"
"Never."
"Never?"
"That's right."
"Well, consider your glory days to be over and prepare for defeat. But let's make it interesting. The
"Cissy the Citroen." She gave him a I-dare-you-to-snicker-at-me" look. He dared.
"Then the only thing to do is file a missing person's report," he said with mock gravity. "Do you have any idea where we would do that?"
Willy ignored his sarcasm. "No. But I'll find out." She was feeling worse about the loss of her old car than she cared to admit, and that bothered her. It wasn't smart to get attached to things. Even cars. But damn it. She and Cissy had shared four years of European roads. The ugly little beast had been her only constant for thousands of miles, and despite her warts, she 'd miss her. Get a grip, girl, she told herself. The Citroen was not a her. It was a clunky, worn-out piece of automotive junk.
"You okay?" Taylor asked.
She ran a hand under her nose, sniffed, and raised her head. "Fine. Let's go. I think there's a police station somewhere off Lobatas, just north of here." When she turned toward the car, he put a hand on her shoulder.
"Maybe they'll find her," he said. "Sometimes you get lucky."
She shrugged from under his hand. "Maybe. It really doesn't matter. The old thing was on its last legs anyway. I've got nothing but good wishes for the genius who managed to drive the bucket of bolts away."
Taylor pretended to believe her, while Willy tried to ignore that he had recognized Cissy's gender.
By the time she'd answered the necessary questions at the police station it was late afternoon. Taylor was outside sitting on the steps when she came out. He stood up, and with her one step up, they were eye to eye.
"No luck?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Tough."
"Yeah... tough."
"Are you hungry, thirsty, tired, or what?"
Willy half-smiled. "None of the above."
"What then?" He gave her a quizzical look.
"Restless."
"A walk then?"
"A swim. Most of the sun worshipers will be gone now. Off to expensive rooms to tend their burns. And as I recall, you did buy some trunks today."
"A swim it is." He reached for her hand, lifting it away from her side. When she started to pull it back, he tightened his grip, cocked his dark head, and smiled. "Just a swim." His grip tightened again as he led her to his car. "And then dinner. While you were in there filling out endless forms, I was scouting the restaurants. There's an Italian place about three blocks from here. Looks promising. What do you say?"
"Italian? You come to Spain and you want to eat Italian food?"
"I'm a pasta freak. What can I say?" He dropped her hand and lifted his palms upward before opening the car door for her.
She turned to face him before getting in. "I'd say we finally found something we can agree on."
"Pasta, huh?"
"Pasta," she confirmed.
He chuckled and helped her into the car. "It's a start at least. Now, which way to the beach?"
Chapter 4
While Taylor changed, Willy stripped down to her bikini and stuffed her T-shirt and cotton pants in her tote. She was kneeling in the sand replaiting the bottom of her braid when he came out of the change tent. Her messing with her hair stopped, and she rested her hands on the top of her thighs to watch his approach.
He wore black trunks. A white towel was draped lopsidedly around his neck. She gulped. And what a body… He might be New York but his abs were pure California. The muscles in Willy's stomach knotted as her hands, damp hands, rubbed nervously over her thighs. And more irritating than anything she was holding her damn breath.
He stood over her. "How about we avoid the old 'last one in is a rotten egg' routine and hit the water together?"
Anxious to move—get out from under his green gaze—she jumped to her feet. "No way. I love that routine. It's tradition." She gave him a challenging look. "How long has it been since you've been the rotten egg?"
"Never."
"Never?"
"That's right."
"Well, consider your glory days to be over and prepare for defeat. But let's make it interesting. The
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