“My God, you’re Valerie’s Taylor!”
Taylor felt the big punch right in his gut. He wished this damned woman would just shut her mouth, get up and leave, but he knew it wasn’t to be. No, he was about to be pinned.
Again his voice was mild, bland with disinterest. “You know Valerie Balack? I’m not really surprised. The two of you are really quite similar. I dated Valerie for a while there, nothing more, nothing less.”
But Sydney was staring at him and he knew at that moment that she and Valerie shared confidences and he’d been one of the confidences. His performance? Both in and out of bed?
Sydney sent a sideways glance at Lindsay, who was standing now to Taylor’s left, stiff as a cane. She smiled, a pitying smile that made Taylor want to smack her. “Perhaps I should introduce Lindsay to Valerie. The two of them could compare notes. Women enjoy doing that, you know. Valerie was always impressed with your endurance, that, and your ability to bring—Well, never mind that. What do you think, Lindsay?”
Lindsay stepped forward now and Taylor had no idea what would come out of her mouth. She said again, “I’m very tired, Sydney. I would like to take a shower. Are you here simply to make me change my mind? If you wish, you can leave your legal papers here. I will read them and think about it. Could you leave now?”
“You are smelling sweaty, Lindsay, and you do look on edge with your hair plastered against your head. But, my dear sister, your fiancé here and this whole business with Valerie—”
“What Taylor did with whom before we met is his business. It doesn’t matter to me. Get on with it, Sydney. Do you have anything else to say? Do you want to leave the papers?”
Sydney looked to Taylor, then shook her head. “No, I won’t leave the papers today. I’ll call and we’ll arrange a meeting between the two of us.”
“Fine. Good-bye.”
“My, but you seem to have gained a modicum of confidence with your guy sitting here. Actually, you showed some guts in San Francisco. I admit to being surprised. Father was quite hurt. Because of the hunk here? Is that why you’re going to marry him, Lindsay? Because he’ll protect you when you can’t do it yourself?”
Taylor rose quietly. He even smiled toward Sydney. “There you go again, firing at random. No hits for you this time. Perhaps you’ll excuse us now, Princess. We’re both very tired. I’ll see you to the door.”
Sydney looked triumphant and Lindsay wished Taylor had stayed seated, his mouth shut, and let her deal with Sydney. She could have dealt with her this time. At least she could have tried. At least Sydney hadn’t ground her under this time, despite her salvos, her random hits, as Taylor called them. Lindsay fought the familiar tug of the loser, the way she usually felt around Sydney. When would the feelings go away? When could she face Sydney and simply not care what she said? She watched Taylor escort Sydney out of the living room. She heard her sister’s heels click on the marble entrance tiles. She could picture Sydney smiling up at Taylor, giving him a look that would turn most men into slave material. But not Taylor.
She heard Sydney laugh, heard her say, “This is a beautiful place, Taylor. Will you let Lindsay pay for all of it now? And that diamond! Goodness, that must have set you back. Valerie told me, though, now that I think about it, that you weren’t poor—not up to our standards, certainly, but not poor by any means. And now you’re hooked up with my little half-sister. My very rich little half-sister. Has she let you take her to bed yet?”
Lindsay closed her eyes and waited. She heard Taylor say in his easy way, “Good-bye, Sydney. It was interesting to meet you. Family members can be such a treat. You should be careful, though. That strategy of yours becomes old very quickly.”
The front door closed. Sydney was gone.
Lindsay eased down into the chair Taylor had vacated, her hands clasped between her knees, staring down at the exquisite golden oak floor. She saw a dust mote. She frowned at it.
“I find it interesting that your half-sister knows Valerie Balack, but not incredible or overly coincidental. They’re remarkably alike, they run in the same social circles, so it makes sense that they’d hook up, both of them beautiful, confident, smart, rich. Both with no mercy, both certain that everything and everyone is here just for their pleasure.
“I hate to say this, Lindsay, but your half-sister isn’t going to be my favorite person in the future. Is your father even worse? No, you don’t have to say it. He is infinitely worse. Now, come here and hold me. Your sister is a harrowing experience. I feel shaky. I need some reassurance. I need to know you’re still here for me and that you’ll take care of me.”
She looked up at him and frowned. “ Reassurance,” she repeated, then rose and walked into his arms.
“Jesus, sweetheart, I need you.”
She accepted him and she accepted his words. “It’s all right, Taylor,” she said, patting her hands on his upper arms, his shoulders, lightly stroking her fingertips over his cheeks. “It’s all right. You did well with her. Much better than I ever have. She always leaves me defensive and feeling stupid.”
“I thought you said she was in San Francisco.”
“She must have come back to New York right after I did. I imagine she and Father got together and decided she was their best shot to get me to sign the money over to him.”
“That seems logical, but not overly bright, given her blatant tactics. I wonder what her cut is from your father if she succeeds. Probably a very hefty amount.”
“You don’t really think—Well, maybe you’re right. She’ll have to regroup now that you’re here. I wonder what her new approach will be. And she’ll have one, don’t doubt it.”
“I can wait to find out—twenty years, at least. Think we can put her off that long?”
“I’ll try, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Just remember, Lindsay, it’s now two of us. For always.”
“I’ll remember.”
They ate at a small Italian restaurant that evening. Lindsay permitted herself one glass of Chianti, a small bit of Taylor’s spaghetti, and a big salad.
“I’ve got a job on Tuesday. We’re talking skin and bones here. It’s February and I’ve got to pretend I’m a snow bunny in tight, immensely tight, ski outfits. The spaghetti is wonderful.”
He smiled at her, slowing his eating to match her pace. “Yes, it is. I’m sorry about your grandmother.”
“Yes, I’ll miss her.”
“And your mother.”
Lindsay frowned as she chewed on a cucumber. “Poor Mother. She wasn’t happy. She was an alcoholic and I can remember back when I was sixteen—before they sent me away to school—that she’d gained weight and her drinking had increased. It was my father’s infidelities and her own weakness. He wasn’t ever faithful, even at first, I don’t guess. I knew it and I was just sixteen.”
“Tell me.”
“I remember once when Sydney was making fun of my mother, the fat alcoholic. She was also mocking Holly, who’s behaving just like my mother did before she finally left my father. Sydney laughed and laughed until I pointed out that Father was more than likely never faithful to her mother either. Why should he be? I thought she was going to hit me. She was red and trembling with rage. She believes her mother was Father’s only true love, and after she died, all the mistresses and wives who followed her were vague copies of the real thing. Father was searching, ever searching, you see, to try to replace his first wife. I don’t even know what her name is.”
Taylor wanted to tell her that sounded just like some of Dr. Gruska’s garbage. “What happened to Sydney’s mother?”
Lindsay frowned, the tomato on her fork forgotten. “Sydney believes her mother died tragically, but she didn’t. I overheard that her mother had remarried and was living in New Zealand or someplace like that. I assume my father had to divorce her in order to marry my mother and then Holly. He’s kept up the pretense that her mother died. Perhaps to hold Sydney, I don’t know.”