Free One Tough Cookie by E. C. Sheedy

tentative than he'd ever seen her. "Okay, I'll consider that. Only consider, mind you. But I'll have to be sure how I feel about you. I want to—" She faltered.
    "Make sure your first time is special," he said, "I promise you it will be." Big words. Big mistake .
    She leveled him with a frigid stare. "You must have dug deep for that piece of trite, Monroe." She paused. "But just so you get it. This is not about it being 'special' it's about me being sure it's what I want. That I can handle it. That I don't care for you too much. If I do—there'll be no lift-off. Got that?"
    The next sound was the bedroom door slamming and after that the front door.
     
    Now you're out on the street, girl, where do you go from here? Walk, she told herself. Walk, then walk some more. She set off uphill away from the beach, grateful the rain had let up, although a glance at the sky said that might be temporary.
    You probably just made the biggest damn mistake of all your twenty-six years, Willow Desmond, she thought, quickening her step. You know you're falling for the guy. And you know you don't want that. You promised yourself it would never happen.
    You should run…
    She shuddered when she remembered yesterday, her breasts tingling against the hard wall of Taylor's chest, his green eyes filled with a mysterious promise. Another shiver claimed her, and her step faltered. The hill was steeper here. Good. She needed the workout, needed to clear her head and think sensibly about this.
    The trouble was she couldn't seem to define the problem. Had to be Taylor—the pompous, arrogant, self-satisfied ass. She pictured him bare chested in Dan's rumpled bed. Make it special! he'd said. She'd wanted to wipe that smile off his sexy mouth. She would have, too, if her stomach hadn't been doing aerobics. No, the problem wasn't with him, it was her. She was losing it. Plain and simple. She had to be if she was considering going to bed with a man as potent, as irresistible to her as Taylor Monroe. It wasn't in her plan, damn it. He wasn't in her plan.
    She should have married Jerry. That's what she should have done. Jerry— She thought a minute, then shrugged. So she couldn't think of his last name right away. So what. He'd been a sweet guy, not too conventional, and she'd cared about him. His touch had…stirred her. Not thrilled her, like Taylor's, but at least she'd had a positive reaction. He was exactly what she was looking for—someone she could love without risking everything. With Taylor the risk was limitless.
    Well, there was no point worrying it to death. She had to wait for Dan.
    At the thought of Dan's phone call, a smile lit her face. The cookbook was a go, and she was anxious to get started. The publisher—and the tourist bureau—loved it, he'd said. On the basis of his photographs, and her recipes, they'd agreed to provide some initial funding. Spain would only be the beginning, she was sure of it. Once the first book was published, they'd move on. Portugal, Italy… And Russia! She hadn't been there yet. It would be hard, exciting work, and she couldn't wait.
    Something else she couldn't wait for was seeing Taylor's face when Dan told him about the contract. That should take the wind out of him. Taylor Monroe would definitely be flying back to New York—alone. She sniffed, sloughing off a wave of sadness at the thought.
    "Willow. Is that really you?"
    At the sound of the familiar masculine voice, Willy turned. She met with an exuberant embrace.
    "Peter! What a treat. I didn't know you were in Spain. What are you doing here?" She gave him a fierce hug.
    "Absolutely nothing."
    "You're on a vacation?" Willy cocked her head and smiled. "I don't believe it." Still gripping his hands, she pulled back to give him a closer look.
    The attractive middle-aged man grinned. "Even agents take vacations, you know. We just don't tell our clients. They might think we're earning too much commission."
    "Knowing you, you probably are, bandido. When you