just a piece of jewelry. A gift between friends. Come on, I want to give you a present.”
“I said no,” Taylor repeated, feeling mulish, more than mulish. Feeling suddenly weepy. Didn’t he have any idea what he was asking of her? A ring was more than some gold, a cold stone, a magnificent gesture that might be worth a small fortune to most everyone else but was no more than the cost of one product endorsement television commercial to him. A ringwas a commitment, a symbol, a promise. It wasn’t a prop. Not that she could tell him that.
Holden sighed. “Taylor…”
Taylor’s temper flared, mostly because she felt tears stinging at the backs of her eyes and resented how Holden’s offhand, conventional gesture had instigated them. “Look, Holden, what part of no can’t you understand? My mother took off her engagement ring once—in church, to let Dad slip a wedding ring on her finger. Oh, she has it cleaned once in a while, but that’s it. Those rings have been on her finger so long her finger has shrunk around them, so that they twist sometimes. I know it’s only a stone to you, only a superstition, a meaningless symbol, a quirk, even a bit of propaganda put out by jewelers trying to make a buck—whatever you want to call it—but, damn it, Holden, not to me! Not to me.”
He reached up and scratched behind his ear, looking confused and adorably handsome. For a smart man, he certainly had a lot to learn about women and their vulnerable hearts. And she wondered why nothing in his life had ever taught him. “All right, Taylor. No diamonds. No traditional engagement ring.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor thought she saw Lance creeping toward the lobby. No, she did see Lance creeping toward the lobby. Oh, brother, here we go, she silently groaned, barely paying attention to Holden—although she was pretty sure he’d agreednot to buy her diamonds. She let out her breath in a grateful sigh. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So it’s settled. We’ll get you a ruby one. Or one of those green stones. I don’t care—pick a color,” he said, taking hold of her hand and pulling her along to the escalator, leaving her no choice but to hop on the moving metal stairs and hang on for dear life—all while peeking back to where Lance had been and to where he wasn’t anymore.
T AYLOR A NGEL WAS the most exasperating woman he’d ever met!
She’d come along with him until he’d located the jewelry store, his warning grip on her hand not leaving her much choice, but she had refused to try on any of the rings he pointed out to her in the glass cases.
“Pick one,” Holden had told her, ordered her, asked her, pleaded with her each time the salesperson left to wait on another customer. “For the love of heaven, just close your eyes and pick one.”
She avoided his eyes as she had done for the past twenty minutes. “Why?”
He closed his own eyes a moment, counting to ten. “Because everyone in the world expects you to have an engagement ring.”
Now she looked at him. Coolly. Levelly. “No. I’d need a better reason than that.”
“All right.” He searched his brain for logical reasons, not wanting to tell her that, for some absolutelyunfathomable reason, he really did want to give her a present.
A present that he would see every day. A present that would be a gesture, more than a gesture. A mark of ownership? No. Couldn’t be that.
He struggled to find something to say and improvised, “Because Amanda won’t go away until she has some sort of proof that this engagement is real, okay? Tact, she doesn’t understand. Manners, she doesn’t understand. Jewelry, the lady understands.”
Taylor’s left eyebrow lifted a fraction. “No.”
He tried another avenue. “Woody wants you to have a ring.”
“Say that one again.”
Ah, progress! He should have thought of this sooner—she liked Woody. “I said, Woody asked if I had gotten you a ring yet. He expects it of me, of
“I said no,” Taylor repeated, feeling mulish, more than mulish. Feeling suddenly weepy. Didn’t he have any idea what he was asking of her? A ring was more than some gold, a cold stone, a magnificent gesture that might be worth a small fortune to most everyone else but was no more than the cost of one product endorsement television commercial to him. A ringwas a commitment, a symbol, a promise. It wasn’t a prop. Not that she could tell him that.
Holden sighed. “Taylor…”
Taylor’s temper flared, mostly because she felt tears stinging at the backs of her eyes and resented how Holden’s offhand, conventional gesture had instigated them. “Look, Holden, what part of no can’t you understand? My mother took off her engagement ring once—in church, to let Dad slip a wedding ring on her finger. Oh, she has it cleaned once in a while, but that’s it. Those rings have been on her finger so long her finger has shrunk around them, so that they twist sometimes. I know it’s only a stone to you, only a superstition, a meaningless symbol, a quirk, even a bit of propaganda put out by jewelers trying to make a buck—whatever you want to call it—but, damn it, Holden, not to me! Not to me.”
He reached up and scratched behind his ear, looking confused and adorably handsome. For a smart man, he certainly had a lot to learn about women and their vulnerable hearts. And she wondered why nothing in his life had ever taught him. “All right, Taylor. No diamonds. No traditional engagement ring.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Taylor thought she saw Lance creeping toward the lobby. No, she did see Lance creeping toward the lobby. Oh, brother, here we go, she silently groaned, barely paying attention to Holden—although she was pretty sure he’d agreednot to buy her diamonds. She let out her breath in a grateful sigh. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So it’s settled. We’ll get you a ruby one. Or one of those green stones. I don’t care—pick a color,” he said, taking hold of her hand and pulling her along to the escalator, leaving her no choice but to hop on the moving metal stairs and hang on for dear life—all while peeking back to where Lance had been and to where he wasn’t anymore.
T AYLOR A NGEL WAS the most exasperating woman he’d ever met!
She’d come along with him until he’d located the jewelry store, his warning grip on her hand not leaving her much choice, but she had refused to try on any of the rings he pointed out to her in the glass cases.
“Pick one,” Holden had told her, ordered her, asked her, pleaded with her each time the salesperson left to wait on another customer. “For the love of heaven, just close your eyes and pick one.”
She avoided his eyes as she had done for the past twenty minutes. “Why?”
He closed his own eyes a moment, counting to ten. “Because everyone in the world expects you to have an engagement ring.”
Now she looked at him. Coolly. Levelly. “No. I’d need a better reason than that.”
“All right.” He searched his brain for logical reasons, not wanting to tell her that, for some absolutelyunfathomable reason, he really did want to give her a present.
A present that he would see every day. A present that would be a gesture, more than a gesture. A mark of ownership? No. Couldn’t be that.
He struggled to find something to say and improvised, “Because Amanda won’t go away until she has some sort of proof that this engagement is real, okay? Tact, she doesn’t understand. Manners, she doesn’t understand. Jewelry, the lady understands.”
Taylor’s left eyebrow lifted a fraction. “No.”
He tried another avenue. “Woody wants you to have a ring.”
“Say that one again.”
Ah, progress! He should have thought of this sooner—she liked Woody. “I said, Woody asked if I had gotten you a ring yet. He expects it of me, of
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