Belonging to Taylor Read Online Free PDF

psychics, he hardly needed his own brother reading his mind. He sent Jason a guarded look; his brother was gazing back with innocently lifted brows. "Never mind Taylor."
    "Why?"
    "Because."
    Jason chuckled. "So she's the one. I thought so, considering the way you carefully didn't mention her much."
    Stirring restlessly, Trevor glared at the face that was a slightly younger edition of his own. "There's no 'one' and nothing to talk about," he said with great firmness.
    Jason made a rude noise.
    "Little brother, you've enjoyed my television set, my couch, my popcorn, my beer—don't push your luck!"
    His "little" brother, who easily equalled his own six-two, pulled on a ludicrously injured expression, which he could still get away with after twenty-four years of perfecting it.
    "Well, if you feel that way about it—"
    "I do."
    Jason sighed. "All right, all right. But I would like to know if you're planning on seeing Taylor again."
    "No," Trevor said definitely. "I don't need the complication of a psychic in my life." And thereby, he realized ruefully, he'd tacitly admitted that Taylor had indeed been "the one."
    His brother quickly mastered the grin and pulled on yet another in his repertoire of devious faces—this one solemn. "You're not going to see any of them again? You have no curiosity to find out what Solomon's kittens look like or if Jack and Jill escape again or what the significance of that blouse for the Reverend is? You don't want to find out if Jessie actually does play the piano and really isn't as psychic as the rest of them, or if Dory really does hide in closets? You don't want to know if Sara actually could topple armies with her eyes or if Luke's really a doctor?"
    Trevor stared at him for a moment. Then, in a long-suffering tone, he said, "I always knew it was a curse to have a brother with total recall."
    "It helped me a lot in college," Jason confided gravely. "I never had to take notes in class. Now, come on, Trevor, you can't tell me you aren't the least bit curious about that nutty family!"
    "Not in the least," Trevor responded, spacing his words for emphasis.
    Grinning openly now, Jason said oracularly, "I'll remind you of those words one day, dear brother. One day soon, I think."
    It would have galled Trevor to admit it to his brother, but had Jason been present, he would have gleefully presented his "reminder" the following day.
    Trevor didn't realize he was restless at first. He played tennis in the morning with a lawyer friend, had lunch with that same friend afterward, then returned to his apartment, planning on a relaxing afternoon by the pool with a good book. But somehow he never quite got into his suit and out to the pool. He did pick out a book he'd been planning to read for months, but he found himself wandering somewhat aimlessly around with no definite urge to do anything else.
    It came to him only gradually, insidiously, that each time he passed his telephone, his hand reached absently for it. Halting by the seductive instrument, Trevor glared at it as if it were a thief caught in the act.
    "I'm not interested. I'm just fine; no need of psychics in my life. I'm great. .. and I am talking to a phone!" He swore irritably. Dropping down into the chair beside the phone, he opened his book and began to read. Tried to read. But something nagged at him, a task needing doing, and he finally reached for the notepad by the phone, jotted down a few numbers with a feeling of relief, then went back to his book.
    Half a paragraph later, he set aside his book with careful attention, picked up the pad again, and stared at the phone number he'd unconsciously written down. In one sense, it was not a familiar number; in another sense, it was very familiar. He realized then that at some point during their preparation of dinner the evening before he had stared fixedly at the kitchen wall phone long enough to memorize Taylor's phone number.
    So much for your indifference! he sneered inwardly.
    "You've