warm embrace she didn’t deserve.
Sighing, she pulled off her wet shower cap, untwisted her topknot and combed her fingers through her hair. The edges were damp at her temples and the nape of her neck. She’d gone natural eight years ago to simplify her hair care routine once her demanding tour schedule began preventing her from keeping regular salon appointments. After she’d chopped off her relaxed tresses, she’d felt freer than ever before. Rocking a short afro had emboldened her, imbuing her with an inner confidence she hadn’t felt in years. For the first time ever she could truly appreciate her thick brows, her big brown eyes, her high cheekbones, her full lips. When men flirted with her, she knew they were seeing her true beauty and nothing less.
Now, eight years later, her hair was thicker, longer and healthier than ever. Before leaving Paris, she’d gone to her personal stylist to have her hair blown out and flat ironed. She enjoyed being versatile and wearing different styles, even when she wasn’t performing.
As Taylor padded into the bedroom, her eyes landed on her leather handbag in the center of the bed. She stopped and stared at it as if it were a coiled rattlesnake poised to strike.
She’d left her purse in the limo all day so that she could explore Callaway Gardens unencumbered. Or at least that’s what she’d told herself at the time. Deep down, she knew the real reason was that she didn’t want to have her cell phone with her if Aidan called. She’d already lied to him that morning about having breakfast with Manning. There was no way she could tell him that she and Manning were spending the whole day together.
Ungluing her feet from the floor, Taylor went over to the bed and reluctantly pulled her phone out of her handbag. Her heart sank when she saw that Aidan had called several times. Seven, to be exact. And he’d texted her twice.
She grimaced, lowering herself to the bed as she read his messages. He’d sent the first one while she was on her way to Callaway Gardens: Are you back from breakfast yet? Where did you go? Hope it was good. The deputy secretary is taking me to dinner tonight. That ought to be interesting. Call me when you get back to your room.
The second text came through nearly two hours later: Still haven’t heard from you. Are you still at breakfast? Or did you get sidetracked on your way back to the hotel? I know you have a tendency to wander off for hours, especially if there’s a museum or a flea market involved. I hope that’s the reason I haven’t heard from you.
Taylor gnawed her lower lip, her stomach churning with guilt. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to the three voice mail messages Aidan had also left. He’d been worried that she and Manning would rekindle their relationship, and she’d assured him that he had nothing to worry about.
What a liar she was. A liar and a cheater.
Suddenly her cell phone rang, startling her so bad she dropped it on the floor.
Nervously tucking her hair behind one ear, she reached down to pick up the phone. She felt a surge of relief when she saw her mother’s number. And then she remembered the time difference between Washington, D.C. and Paris, and she realized that her mother wouldn’t be calling her this late unless it was an emergency.
Or she knew Taylor wasn’t in Paris.
Either reason was cause for dread.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor reluctantly pressed the answer button. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, yourself.” There was no mistaking the note of reproach in Elyse Vaughn’s smooth, cultured voice. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to the States this month.”
“Yet somehow you found out anyway,” Taylor murmured.
“Only because Aidan told me.”
“You spoke to Aidan?”
“I just got off the phone with him. He thought I already knew you were both back in the country. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor lied. “It must have slipped my mind.”
Her mother was silent.
Sighing, she pulled off her wet shower cap, untwisted her topknot and combed her fingers through her hair. The edges were damp at her temples and the nape of her neck. She’d gone natural eight years ago to simplify her hair care routine once her demanding tour schedule began preventing her from keeping regular salon appointments. After she’d chopped off her relaxed tresses, she’d felt freer than ever before. Rocking a short afro had emboldened her, imbuing her with an inner confidence she hadn’t felt in years. For the first time ever she could truly appreciate her thick brows, her big brown eyes, her high cheekbones, her full lips. When men flirted with her, she knew they were seeing her true beauty and nothing less.
Now, eight years later, her hair was thicker, longer and healthier than ever. Before leaving Paris, she’d gone to her personal stylist to have her hair blown out and flat ironed. She enjoyed being versatile and wearing different styles, even when she wasn’t performing.
As Taylor padded into the bedroom, her eyes landed on her leather handbag in the center of the bed. She stopped and stared at it as if it were a coiled rattlesnake poised to strike.
She’d left her purse in the limo all day so that she could explore Callaway Gardens unencumbered. Or at least that’s what she’d told herself at the time. Deep down, she knew the real reason was that she didn’t want to have her cell phone with her if Aidan called. She’d already lied to him that morning about having breakfast with Manning. There was no way she could tell him that she and Manning were spending the whole day together.
Ungluing her feet from the floor, Taylor went over to the bed and reluctantly pulled her phone out of her handbag. Her heart sank when she saw that Aidan had called several times. Seven, to be exact. And he’d texted her twice.
She grimaced, lowering herself to the bed as she read his messages. He’d sent the first one while she was on her way to Callaway Gardens: Are you back from breakfast yet? Where did you go? Hope it was good. The deputy secretary is taking me to dinner tonight. That ought to be interesting. Call me when you get back to your room.
The second text came through nearly two hours later: Still haven’t heard from you. Are you still at breakfast? Or did you get sidetracked on your way back to the hotel? I know you have a tendency to wander off for hours, especially if there’s a museum or a flea market involved. I hope that’s the reason I haven’t heard from you.
Taylor gnawed her lower lip, her stomach churning with guilt. She couldn’t bring herself to listen to the three voice mail messages Aidan had also left. He’d been worried that she and Manning would rekindle their relationship, and she’d assured him that he had nothing to worry about.
What a liar she was. A liar and a cheater.
Suddenly her cell phone rang, startling her so bad she dropped it on the floor.
Nervously tucking her hair behind one ear, she reached down to pick up the phone. She felt a surge of relief when she saw her mother’s number. And then she remembered the time difference between Washington, D.C. and Paris, and she realized that her mother wouldn’t be calling her this late unless it was an emergency.
Or she knew Taylor wasn’t in Paris.
Either reason was cause for dread.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor reluctantly pressed the answer button. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, yourself.” There was no mistaking the note of reproach in Elyse Vaughn’s smooth, cultured voice. “You didn’t tell me you were coming to the States this month.”
“Yet somehow you found out anyway,” Taylor murmured.
“Only because Aidan told me.”
“You spoke to Aidan?”
“I just got off the phone with him. He thought I already knew you were both back in the country. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor lied. “It must have slipped my mind.”
Her mother was silent.
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