“Balance is hard,” he agreed in the same noncommittal tone.
“My father was all about his career, but still made time for me. He took me to work with him on more than one occasion.”
“I remember.”
“You do?” She recalled seeing Royce at ThomKnox fresh out of college, when she was a teenager. She had no idea he’d noticed her beyond the moment he caught her in his arms. And then she’d been pretty sure it hadn’t registered as an event worth remembering to him.
“He told me to stay away from you,” Royce said now.
“Dad?” She’d been lectured but had no idea that he’d gone to Royce, too. “Wow. That’s embarrassing.”
“It was necessary.” He raked his eyes over her body, then touched a nipple that peeked out from the sheet. “Look where we’ve ended up.”
She had to smile, though the news that he was told to stay away from her rocked her where she sat. “My father had a lot of nerve.”
“He loved you.”
“He was ten years older than my mom, did you know that? And they were great together. Why didn’t he think I could handle a relationship with you?” She sensed she was treading on sacred ground. That her father’s reasons had been buried with him.
Royce didn’t seem to think so. “If I had to guess, I’d say it was stereotypical fatherly protection. He was my age once, and had your mother in his sights. Do you believe he was always the consummate gentleman?”
“Ew.” But she had to laugh. Her parents had been very much in love, and Deena was gorgeous. No doubt her father’s thoughts about her were less than wholesome. “He liked Brannon for me.”
“A safer choice.”
She could hear the pride in his voice at being the forbidden choice. Bran and Taylor had never had the kind of explosive attraction that Royce and Taylor had.
“Don’t be so hard on him,” Royce told her. “Your father couldn’t bear the idea of you growing up. He could have acted out of self-preservation that had nothing to do with us. God knows my father’s done that.”
“Jack knows how to draw attention, that’s for sure.”
Royce watched the fire, silent.
“When we talked about you being named CEO, you said it was your responsibility.” She rattled the oversize ice cube in her glass. “Was that all it was?”
“It’s my legacy. My birthright. Just as COO is yours. Your dad only wanted the best for you, Taylor. Whatever he said or did while he was here, he said or did with you in mind. You meant everything to him.”
“I miss him.” She hugged the glass to her chest. A poor substitute for her dad. There would always be a void in her arms.
“So do I.” Royce sat his glass aside, gathered her close and kissed the top of her head.
“How did my mom lose him and remain standing?” she asked, not expecting an answer. He didn’t offer one, consoling her with a hand moving up and down along her arm. “Is the reward for finally finding The One losing them in the end? How is that fair?”
“Losing people we love is par for the course, Taylor. None of us get out of this life alive. Someone always has to go first.”
As sad as his words were, they were oddly comforting. She snuggled into him.
“Something I’m learning,” he murmured. He touched the bottom of the glass she still cradled. Her next sip was smoother than the last. “Well?”
“Complex,” she answered. It was a good way to describe scotch.
Complexwas also a good way to describe the feelings she was developing for Royce. She hadn’t thought about The End, not really, but she considered, ever so briefly, the beauty of being someone’s forever.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” Taylor stepped into the supply closet attached to the copy room. It’d been five days since she sipped scotch in Royce’s bed. Five days since he held her in his arms and consoled her. Five days since she realized her feelings for him were deepening.
She’d been trying not to focus on those “feelings,” since feelings were fickle. But she couldn’t keep from walking toward the glow of the supply closet—especially when the silhouette inside belonged to suited, bow-tied Royce.
He’d been working a lot this week, and late. Tonight was no exception. The executive floor was practically abandoned at this hour. She understood his new position was demanding. This was a temporary state—the shift from one position to the other wouldn’t last forever. Soon he could go home before nine at night.