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you call all your women sweetheart?”

“No, because I don’t have any women. I’m sorry, it was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Apology accepted.”

He couldn’t tell Sonja that his father had always called his mother sweetheart and she probably would’ve thought it creepy that he was doing the same thing to her. As a young boy Taylor had been confused because he’d thought her name Elise, and when he’d asked Conrad why he’d called her that he said it was because she was the sweetest woman he’d ever known and he’d given her his heart.

Taylor recalled the time when he’d first come to live with Conrad and Elise Williamson and found their behavior strange. He’d watched Conrad stare at his wife with what he would interpret once he entered adolescence as longing and lustful stares. Conrad would rest a hand at the small of her back, and when he suspected no one was looking, his hand would slip lower to cradle her hips. Blushing, Elise would whisper in his ear and he would remove his hand. He’d known his parents loved each other unconditionally and that love was transferred to the children they’d fostered and then legally adopted. Elise had always professed she would fight like a lioness protecting her cubs if anyone attempted to harm her children, and it was apparent her attitude was the same when she professed her displeasure toward Patrick’s fiancée.

“Tell me about your parents,” Sonja said after a comfortable silence.

Taylor wondered if Sonja could read his mind. “They were insanely in love,” he said quietly after a moment. “I never heard my father raise his voice to my mother even when he was angry. He would walk away, leaving her talking to empty air. Then they would be lovey-dovey, acting as if nothing happened.”

“Is that why you don’t yell?”

“Yes, Sonja. Yelling and screaming never solves anything. What it does is make a bad situation worse and can only lead to unwarranted hostility.”

Sonja locked eyes with him when he came to a stop at a red light. “Are you talking about me and my uncle?”

“Yes. I think you misinterpreted what he’d said to me. What if I were a psychopath masquerading as an engineer to lure young women to a place where I’d torture and kill them?”

Sonja laughed. “It’s apparent you watch shows depicting kidnapping, murder and mayhem.”

“Don’t laugh, Sonja, because it happens every day in every large and small city around the world.”

“The difference is you’re not a psychopath, and if you were then my former NYPD uncle and my active duty Special Forces brother would bypass the legal system and take you out.”

“You wouldn’t know that if you were dead. And maybe it was because your uncle was a cop and had taken the pledge to protect and serve that he felt the need to say what he did to me.”

Sonja wanted to tell Taylor that he was being an alarmist, that she had nothing to fear from him. But when she thought about what her uncle had said to Taylor, she realized it was the first time Nelson had seen her with a man since she’d moved in with him and his wife. She hadn’t revealed the intimate details of her failed marriage to anyone except Viola. She had trusted her friend to be neutral, unlike her father and brother, who probably would’ve confronted Hugh and made a bad situation worse. She’d told her parents that her marriage wasn’t working because she’d felt like more of a daughter than a wife to her much older husband, and decided to file for divorce.

“You’re probably right about my uncle.”

“I know I’m right.”

“I suppose I should call him and apologize.”

“I agree.”

“There’s no need for you to act so smug, Taylor,” she countered. “I’ll have to call him later because I put my cell phone in the carry-on bag.”

Taylor tapped the navigation screen. “My number is synced to Bluetooth. You can call him from here.”

She tapped in Nelson’s number. It rang twice before he picked up. “What’s the matter?”

Sonja registered fear in her uncle’s strident query. “Nothing is the matter, tío. I’m using Taylor’s cell because mine is in one of the bags. I’m calling to apologize for screaming at you. I’m sorry I overreacted.”

“There’s no need to apologize, muñeca. I’ve forgotten about it.”

“Well, if you have, then it is the same with me. Te quiero.”

“Yo también te quiero.”

“What does muñeca mean?” Taylor asked after she’d ended the call.

“Doll. My uncle has always called me that.”

“Would it bother you if I called you muñeca?”

“What happened to sweetheart?” she teased, smiling.

“What if I use them interchangeably?”

Sonja sobered because she felt they were about to embark on something neither needed nor possibly wanted. Especially not her. She couldn’t afford to become involved with someone she had to see and work with every day. Taylor Williamson was too potent a man for her to completely ignore. There were times when he looked at her and she felt as if he could see beyond the wall she’d erected to keep men out of her life; that her lips professed one thing while her celibate body screamed for her to sleep with a man, if only to assuage the frustration she’d denied for far too long. She’d filled her spare time with work, reading romance novels and watching television programming dedicated to love and romance. And she’d been successful until coming face-to-face with her best friend’s brother.

Even if she was able to dismiss his gorgeous face and body, it was his soothing and calming voice, intelligence and down-to-earth personality that drew her in and refused to let her go. And his wealth never factored into the equation that he was a certified trifecta.

At that moment Sonja realized she was tired. Tired of pretending that she did not need a man, when she wanted a relationship where she was treated as an equal and not an ornament or trophy taken out and put on display whenever it suited her partner. Taylor had

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