Page 71 of Waiting For A Girl Like You
Taylor popped her head inside the media room. “Hard at work?”
Why did she always have to sound so condescending? Sure, Taylor’s annoying voice was something Jamison was learning to live with, but it still grated and made her want to punch the woman in the nose.
Annabeth and Abe kept quiet, and Jamison kicked both of them in the shins. “We’re good,” she told Taylor. “Just keeping busy while Liam is out having his stitches checked.”
Taylor cooed and entered the room a little further. She had been asked—politely—on several occasions to stay out, but continued to find excuses to come in and take a look around.
“How’s Liam feeling?” Taylor strolled, her progression through the doorway timed with the measured clicks of her heels. Today, she was dressed as if she were heading into the office, even though Fairweather’s buildings remained closed. The grey high-waisted slacks tailored to fit her narrow hips and long legs looked good, as did the white blouse. The open neckline showcased her cleavage, giving the entire outfit a feminine look. “He should practice running away more. We wouldn’t want him to actually take a bullet next time.”
Abe’s fingers halted their typing, his hands hovering over the keyboard. “I’m going to check on my mom,” he murmured. “She’s taking a nap and wants me to wake her after about an hour.”
Rolling his chair back swiftly from the table, he turned and sped from the room, almost colliding with Taylor, who had paused to review the information regarding Bryan and Brandy Carroll tacked to a giant display board.
“What’s this?” Taylor asked.
Jamison closed her search window. They were being much more open with Taylor, so she supposed it didn’t hurt to explain.
“Toby mentioned a woman named Brandy during our phone call with him yesterday, and Rowan tracked her down. We think her name is Brandy Carroll.”
Reading the data on the sheet, Taylor’s head tilted. Jamison couldn’t see her face, but she imagined that heavily freckled nose of hers was wrinkling in distaste as it usually did when Toby was discussed. “What do you know about her?”
Annabeth stretched in her folding chair, closing her laptop. “She’s the daughter of a drug runner in St. Thomas, and her time on the island coincides with Toby and CeCe’s. They even went to the same school.”
Taylor glanced back at them, her strawberry blonde hair sweeping over her shoulder. She really was beautiful, and while her father wasn’t interested, Jamison wondered how Taylor hadn’t snagged herself another rich man. In her mid-thirties, with a fantastic body, beautiful face, and an obviously shrewd mind—otherwise, she would never have survived working with Benjamin Fairweather—the woman was an ideal candidate for a corporate executive’s wife.
On the recliner, Rowan’s snoring picked up, and the three of them grinned. “Rowan was on the phone with his brother and just dozed off,” Annabeth said, smiling at him. “I took the phone and told Killian he would call him back.”
“Have you ever talked to his brother before?” Jamison asked, getting an idea. Killian McIntyre might be an eternal bachelor, but maybe all he needed was to meet someone who could match his notoriously bad attitude. Someone like Taylor. “I’ve seen him at events, but have never spoken directly to him.”
Annabeth shrugged. “Not really. He seemed nice.”
“He’s not.” Giving them her attention, Taylor turned slowly and shoved her hands in the pockets of her slacks. “He’s conceited, and rude, and an arrogant jerk.”
“He’s also hot,” Jamison added, liking that fiery glint in Taylor’s eyes. “I’ll wholeheartedly admit that I stopped and stared.”
Taylor took a seat across from them and rested her elbow on the table. “Dangerous people often hide behind pretty faces, Jamison. You need to remember that,” she said, propping her chin on the palm of her hand. “Killian McIntyre gives me the creeps. I get that he’s ruthless and evil, but does he have to be so charming while doing it? It’s gross behavior.”
“My dad sort of operates the same way.” Jamison searched her memory for an example. “He can be charming while—”
“Your dad isn’t like that,” Taylor interrupted. “He and Samuel are both unapologetically themselves, and I find that much more trustworthy. Fairweather men are superior to McIntyre men in every possible way.”
“I beg to differ, but I’m too hungry for this argument.” Annabeth stood to leave. “And Rowan is going to wake up soon, so I’m going to make us some lunch.”
Jamison batted her eyes. “Can you make me some lunch, too?”
“Have Abe make it,” Annabeth said with an evil giggle as she left. “Apparently, he’s a cook now.”
“Abe can cook?” Taylor asked when they were alone with nothing but Rowan’s snoring filling the silence. “That’s new.”
Jamison awkwardly fiddled with her keyboard, hoping Taylor would leave if she kept her reply short. “I guess.”
It wasn’t that they hadn’t been alone together before, but it was all business during those times, with one or two snarky comments tossed in for fun. Taylor usually kicked things off with a random off-the-wall observation, and waiting for the first one to come out was annoying Jamison.
“What was it like?” Taylor asked, crossing her legs to settle in. “Yesterday, I mean.”
“Are you asking me what it was like thinking the man I love had died?” Jamison sneered at the audacity. “It suc—”
“I wasn’t asking that. I’m very familiar with the feeling,” Taylor cut her off bluntly. “Or did you forget I lost my husband?”
