The smell of coffee brewing woke Taylor up early the next morning. The sun shone through the sheer drapes in her room and flowed easily on the light comforter covering her bed. Her body ached as she slowly got out of bed and stretched. She went to the mirror and looked carefully at herself. Her face was sullen, her hair dull, and her eyes puffy. She lifted her shirt and gazed at the lightening bruises on her stomach and chest. They weren't sore anymore, just a fading reminder and nothing more. Sighing as she lowered her shirt, she decided to take a quick shower.

Half an hour later Taylor went downstairs and into the kitchen, unsure of what to expect from Nick after last night. She wasn't sure why she did it. She tried to find a reason but none came. It was an inexplicable attraction to this boy, something she couldn't resolve. Different thoughts ran through her mind. Nick was a client first, not to mention the fact that he was almost a decade younger then her. But there was something deep inside that was drawing her to Nick, telling her it was safe, telling her it was right. Her head, however, was telling her it was wrong. For now her head won, just as it always did, and she promised herself she was going to fight this attraction.

Surprised that Nick wasn't in the kitchen, she poured herself some coffee and decided to sit out on the porch with her cup. She sat down in a deck chair and stared out at the gulf, lost deep in her own thoughts.

It wasn't long before she felt a shadow come over the back of her chair. She turned around to see Nick standing there and watched as he moved around to sit in a chair opposite her own.

"Good morning. . ." he started.

"Morning. . ."

"I thought maybe later we could take the boat out or something?" Nick stared down at his feet as he spoke. "Picnic lunch or whatever."

"Shouldn't we be getting back soon?" Taylor said dryly, attempting to change the tone of the conversation.

"Well, Kevin said he wasn't planning on getting back until late tonight. He wanted more time to work things out with Jamie."

"Oh, well then. . .maybe. . ."

Nick reached over and lifted Taylor’s chin to look at him. "I think we need to talk about last night."

"No Nick," she spat out, throwing his hand away from her face, "I don't want to talk about it, really there is nothing to talk about. I was wrong, it was a mistake. I'm sorry, but you need to get over it."

"You know Taylor, you should get 'I don't want to talk about it' tattooed somewhere, it seems to be your favorite phrase."

Taylor looked at him, fuming. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. You know, some people actually say what they're thinking instead of hiding everything. By admitting it and saying you're sorry, you seem to think that it makes everything go away. That's not true Taylor and you know it." By this time he was pacing between the two chairs. "We felt something last night, something different. I don’t have a clue what it was, or what it is, but I do know that we need to try to sort this out, at least talk about it."

She laughed viciously, attempting to hide her fears that he was right. "You have no idea what you are talking about Nick, you're just a child."

"Oh really?" Nick looked at her, his blood boiling as well. "Well then doesn't that make you a pedophile? Or is what you did last night just standard procedure with all of your clients?"

He saw it coming but didn't flinch as her hand fell hard against his cheek.

"Fuck you Nick Carter," she said through gritted teeth as she turned to walk back into the house.

Nick yelled after her, "I would but I don't think I could afford the fee!"

Taylor flinched as she heard him but kept walking away, hoping he wouldn't see the real pain in her eyes.

As Taylor crawled back into her bed, she heard Nick rummaging around downstairs. Apparently, he was slamming doors and throwing things around. A few minutes later she heard the back door slam shut and then the faint sound of the boat engine starting.

"Well at least I won't have to face him for a while," she thought to herself.

Taylor decided that she needed to get a grip on herself. This little situation with Nick was spinning out of control and driving her crazy. "And all for what," she asked herself, "for some little blond pop-star kid?"

"I don't need this, I definitely don't need this," Taylor thought as she heard her cell phone ring and reached down in her bag to grab it.

"This is Taylor. . ." she said, clicking on the phone. "Yes?. . .Yeah Tom, that’s fine. . ." she said to her private investigator. "We’ll all be at Kevin’s house first thing in the morning. . . Did I give you that number?. . . Great. I really appreciate this Tom, thanks for everything. . . Yeah, I’ll talk to you in the morning."

Taylor grabbed a small notebook from her bag and started scribbling notes on the little bit that Tom had given her. This was what she needed, to refocus on the case. The trial was quickly approaching and she and Jamie had yet to map out a clear strategy. Forgetting about Nick as a person and focusing on him as a client was exactly what Taylor needed to do. Armed with a fresh game-plan and an old attitude, she grabbed her briefcase and went to Nick's office to work. "Finally, maybe there is something we can use at trial."

Nick let the boat drift aimlessly out to sea. He wanted to be as far away from Taylor as possible. What in the hell was going through her mind, he wondered. Something in her had closed off long ago which made her bitter, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. He had known this woman less than a week and she was already under his skin, driving him insane. She couldn't be worth it, no woman was worth this much anxiety.

Nick let the ocean and the warm sunlight calm him as he dropped anchor and laid down on the deck. His mind was reeling but he reconciled himself to not thinking about Taylor; he had more things to worry about right now.

He started thinking to himself, "What if. . .no. . . nah. . ." He stopped himself and looked for his cell phone. He stared at it for a minute before dialing what used to be a familiar number.

"Hi, its me. . .
"Yeah, I know I shouldn't be calling, but I just. . .
"Don't worry. . .no, it's not about that. . .I just wondered why you haven't. . .
"Are you sure?. . .
"I don't know what to think. . .I mean, it's just so. . .
"No, I'm fine, I guess. . .just nervous. . .okay. . .
"I won't call anymore. . .yeah, you too."

He closed his eyes as he flipped the phone off and put his head in his hands. He thought about all of things that happened recently and how things needed to be resolved quickly, before anything else blew up in his life. With a nervous sigh, he laid back down on the deck and fell asleep.

A couple hours later, Taylor had finished her trial outline. She was comfortable with it for now and any changes would be the result of Tom's information. She reached over to the phone and dialed Jamie's cell phone. Hearing the voice mail pick up, she left a message for Jamie that they needed to be back at Kevin's first thing in the morning. Tom was going to call with all of the information he gathered on Molly and then they needed to follow it up and finish preparing for trial.

She ended the message with, "Don't worry about me, I'll meet you all there."

Taylor organized all of her work, put it back into her briefcase, then went back to her room to pack.

It was late afternoon when Nick finally got back to the house. It was eerily quiet and he wondered for a second if Taylor was even still there.

His question was answered when he saw a note taped to the fridge:

Nick –

I'm making it easy on us, I rented a car and drove back to Orlando. I'll be in a hotel tonight and at Kevin's first thing in the morning. Already called Jamie and left a message for them to be there early, please do the same. The private investigator called and will give us his full report in the morning.

Taylor Brett,

your attorney (and nothing more)

"Damn she can be cold sometimes," he thought to himself. "I wonder how much that investigator found out. . ." Nick shivered a little at the thought and went to take a shower.

Nick dried his hair with a towel as he walked out of the bathroom to hear his phone ringing.

"Yeah. . ." he said, picking it up.

"Nick, it's Kev. . ."

"Hey Kev, what's up? How's things with you and Jamie?"

"Great, really, but listen, is Taylor there? Jamie got kind of a cryptic message from her on her voice mail and now Taylor's not answering her cell phone."

"No man, she's gone. She rented a car and drove back to Orlando sometime this afternoon."

"Why did she do that?"

"I am not totally sure, but I have some idea. But listen Kev, it's a long screwed up story, we'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Try telling that to Jamie . . ." Kevin's voice faded as Jamie all but ripped the phone out of his hands.

"Nick, what the hell happened?" Jamie spoke firmly.

"Jamie, she's fine, I'm sure. She just headed back to Orlando early."

"I don't believe you. You know I know her, something set her off didn't it?"

"What do you mean 'set her off'?" Nick asked hesitantly.

"Did you two have a fight or something?" she asked point-blank.

Nick flinched, "Well now that you mention it, kind of, yeah we did."

"What did you fight about?"

"Well, it's kind of complicated."

"Oh never mind," Jamie sighed. "Damnit. I hate when she goes off like this, she just freaks out and runs away." There was a pause on Jamie's end, "There is a good side though. . ."

"Oh really?" Nick said sarcastically, "And what's that?"

"When she runs, she works. She's probably thrown herself into your case and worked out some trial strategy. It's her way of dealing," another pause, then dryly, "well denying things."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's for the best."

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, we'll see you at Kevin's in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah Jamie, I'll meet you guys there." Nick hung up the phone, dreading what the next morning might bring.