us.”
“Woody wants me to have a ring. Marvelous.” She turned and walked down the long line of glass-topped cases, trailing her fingers along the edge.
He went after her, feeling stupid and clumsy, and not a little angry. “And Tiffany mentioned it to me this morning. Called me a slacker.”
She kept moving. “Tiffany wants me to have a ring. Double marvelous. And has Thelma gotten a vote, or were two opinions enough for you?”
Holden threw up his hands in defeat. “All right, all right! I want you to have a ring. I think it would be agood idea. I owe you something for this favor you’re doing me, damn it.”
“You owe me? Again, thanks but no thanks. You were close for a minute there, Holden, old sport, but no cigar. Care to try again?”
He was getting desperate. “Taylor, you’ll pick out a ring now, or I’m going to kiss you,” he all but growled. “I’m going to kiss you long. I’m going to kiss you hard. I’m going to kiss you in front of all these people until your toes curl in your shoes.”
Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He lowered his face to within an inch of hers and grinned. “Try me.”
She hesitated only a few seconds, then blurted out quickly, “I’ll take that one—over there, in the second case. Third one from the left, fourth row. The sapphire with the diamond baguettes. Gold setting. And probably worth a king’s ransom in markup. Happy now?”
“Delighted!” And then he kissed her anyway. Because she was the most exasperating woman he’d ever met.
8
T AYLOR EXCUSED HERSELF once she and Holden were back on the casino floor, mumbling something about needing to powder her nose, and immediately went off in search of Lance—and Tiffany. Because where she found one, she would be sure to find the other.
She should have known Tiffany hadn’t sought out Amanda Price’s company because she trusted the woman’s fashion sense. Fashion, to Tiffany, meant something highly outrageous and startling. To Amanda, it meant fabulously expensive and impressive.
And Amanda couldn’t care less about Tiffany or about anyone, probably, other than herself. It was a harsh judgment and one Taylor berated herself for making, but she had good reasons not to like the supermodel.
None of them, however, that she was ready to admit to herself. Not now, with Holden’s “engagement” ring on her finger.
Taylor searched a few minutes, then stopped dead, feeling she was in the middle of an endless maze. Had someone told her that the Taj Mahal was the largestcasino in Atlantic City? Even if it wasn’t true, she was more than ready to believe it as she searched the casino aisles, careful to stay out of sight of the roulette tables, where Holden had gone to join Woody.
Why did she feel so responsible for Tiffany, for Woody, even for Holden, for Pete’s sake? Why was she worried about them? It wasn’t as if any of them were more than transitory figures in her life, right? It wasn’t as if she really cared….
“Where are you?” she muttered under her breath, giving the lie to her self-protective thoughts as she sought vainly for the sight of lime green hair.
She’d kill Tiffany if she’d tried to get onto the casino floor. Absolutely, positively kill her. Didn’t Holden have enough trouble without adding a sister arrested for underage gambling to the list?
Yet, Taylor was convinced that underage gambling was just what Tiffany had in mind. What other mischief could she be up to? Mischief that included Lance. Mischief that excluded letting anyone else in on her plans?
Just as she was about to abandon the casino floor and check out the shops again, Taylor caught sight of Thelma Helper out of the corner of her eye. The woman was sitting in front of a quarter machine, her eyes glazed as if she had been staring at the twirling tumblers for hours—which she probably had.
“Thelma!” she exclaimed, coming up behind the housekeeper so suddenly that
“Woody wants me to have a ring. Marvelous.” She turned and walked down the long line of glass-topped cases, trailing her fingers along the edge.
He went after her, feeling stupid and clumsy, and not a little angry. “And Tiffany mentioned it to me this morning. Called me a slacker.”
She kept moving. “Tiffany wants me to have a ring. Double marvelous. And has Thelma gotten a vote, or were two opinions enough for you?”
Holden threw up his hands in defeat. “All right, all right! I want you to have a ring. I think it would be agood idea. I owe you something for this favor you’re doing me, damn it.”
“You owe me? Again, thanks but no thanks. You were close for a minute there, Holden, old sport, but no cigar. Care to try again?”
He was getting desperate. “Taylor, you’ll pick out a ring now, or I’m going to kiss you,” he all but growled. “I’m going to kiss you long. I’m going to kiss you hard. I’m going to kiss you in front of all these people until your toes curl in your shoes.”
Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He lowered his face to within an inch of hers and grinned. “Try me.”
She hesitated only a few seconds, then blurted out quickly, “I’ll take that one—over there, in the second case. Third one from the left, fourth row. The sapphire with the diamond baguettes. Gold setting. And probably worth a king’s ransom in markup. Happy now?”
“Delighted!” And then he kissed her anyway. Because she was the most exasperating woman he’d ever met.
8
T AYLOR EXCUSED HERSELF once she and Holden were back on the casino floor, mumbling something about needing to powder her nose, and immediately went off in search of Lance—and Tiffany. Because where she found one, she would be sure to find the other.
She should have known Tiffany hadn’t sought out Amanda Price’s company because she trusted the woman’s fashion sense. Fashion, to Tiffany, meant something highly outrageous and startling. To Amanda, it meant fabulously expensive and impressive.
And Amanda couldn’t care less about Tiffany or about anyone, probably, other than herself. It was a harsh judgment and one Taylor berated herself for making, but she had good reasons not to like the supermodel.
None of them, however, that she was ready to admit to herself. Not now, with Holden’s “engagement” ring on her finger.
Taylor searched a few minutes, then stopped dead, feeling she was in the middle of an endless maze. Had someone told her that the Taj Mahal was the largestcasino in Atlantic City? Even if it wasn’t true, she was more than ready to believe it as she searched the casino aisles, careful to stay out of sight of the roulette tables, where Holden had gone to join Woody.
Why did she feel so responsible for Tiffany, for Woody, even for Holden, for Pete’s sake? Why was she worried about them? It wasn’t as if any of them were more than transitory figures in her life, right? It wasn’t as if she really cared….
“Where are you?” she muttered under her breath, giving the lie to her self-protective thoughts as she sought vainly for the sight of lime green hair.
She’d kill Tiffany if she’d tried to get onto the casino floor. Absolutely, positively kill her. Didn’t Holden have enough trouble without adding a sister arrested for underage gambling to the list?
Yet, Taylor was convinced that underage gambling was just what Tiffany had in mind. What other mischief could she be up to? Mischief that included Lance. Mischief that excluded letting anyone else in on her plans?
Just as she was about to abandon the casino floor and check out the shops again, Taylor caught sight of Thelma Helper out of the corner of her eye. The woman was sitting in front of a quarter machine, her eyes glazed as if she had been staring at the twirling tumblers for hours—which she probably had.
“Thelma!” she exclaimed, coming up behind the housekeeper so suddenly that
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