Shake It Up

by Kenner, J.

  Behind him, the bathroom door opened, and he turned, expecting to find Taylor stepping out to say hi.

  Instead he saw Taylor. All of Taylor. She was looking down as she rubbed a towel over her damp hair, and every luscious inch of her was entirely naked.

  Landon’s brain knew that he should make a sound. A noise. Anything to let her know that he was there. But the rest of him wasn’t cooperating. His mouth had gone dry. His cock was rock hard. His fingers twitched with an almost palpable need to touch those luscious curves. And his eyes…

  Oh, dear Lord, his eyes were looking at heaven. That rich, tanned skin that would feel so smooth beneath his fingers. Those sleek, muscled thighs that could wrap so tight around him as he fucked her senseless. Her perfect round breasts, her nipples tight and teasing, as if begging him to suck hard before falling to his knees, closing his mouth over that glorious, waxed pussy, and feasting on the taste of her.

  He made a rough, raw noise in his throat, and her head snapped up, her eyes wide as he stupidly thrust out his hand, as if blocking her from sight. In one swift motion, she yanked the towel down, turned on her heel, and barreled into the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry!” he called. “Shit, Taylor, I thought you heard me come in.”

  “What the hell! Oh, my God, what the hell?”

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— Shit.”

  A moment later the door opened again and she slipped out, once again wearing that fluffy hotel bathrobe. Her face was bright red, and as he imagined the blush creeping down, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to strip off that damn robe, then follow the line of red down her bare skin with his tongue.

  Down, boy.

  She cleared her throat, then sat primly on the foot of the bed. “Did you find anything about Reggie?

  “Not much.” He told her what he’d learned, and she nodded.

  “So that means it’s probably not him?”

  “Not necessarily.” He sat on the bed next to her, then shifted a bit so that he could look at her more directly. As he did, his knee brushed hers. He saw her stiffen, but she didn’t move away.

  “Why not necessarily?”

  “Every criminal has a first time,” he said. “You might be his.”

  A wry smile played at her mouth. “Yay for me.”

  “When was the first note?” he asked. “Did anything happen right before? With Reggie, I mean.”

  “Like a trigger?”

  He nodded, then watched her face as she concentrated, noting the adorable vertical crease above her nose. Christ, but she was lovely. All of her unique features pulling together to create an image that drew him in and painted a picture on his heart.

  Inwardly, he winced. He had it bad if she was inspiring him to think such flowery, sappy thoughts. Inconvenient as hell, but apparently his attraction to Taylor was his new reality.

  She started to shake her head, but he caught her chin with the tip of his finger. “Go deeper,” he said. “Had you gotten a position in a show that he wanted? Had you cut him off at the soda machine? Did he see you talking with another man?”

  Her mouth opened, those soft lips parting as if readying for a kiss. “Yes,” she said, and for one crazed moment, he thought she was inviting his lips to hers. Then he realized she was answering his question.

  “Another man? Where? Who?”

  “I—I bumped into him. At the Broken Spoke,” she said, referencing an iconic Austin dance hall. “A group of us had gone out after one of the Man of the Month contests. We do that sometimes, but this time Brent was with us.”

  “Unusual for him because of Faith,” Landon said, and Taylor nodded.

  “He was teaching me how to two-step. I saw Reggie across the bar watching us.”

  “When was that?”

  She thought back. “After Parker. So, about two weeks ago. And about a week before the brick.”

  “Hang on.” He tapped out a quick text to Brent, asking if he remembered the night, and if he’d noticed anyone watching him afterwards, or if anything odd had happened to him or his car. The answer was immediate and negative. Brent hadn’t noticed a thing.

  Considering Brent’s training—and his tendency to be extra observant about his home because of Faith—Landon had to assume there’d been no incidents aimed at him. But that didn’t mean the perp wasn’t Reggie. His focus might be narrowed to the woman he coveted, punishing her for her perceived infidelity.

  Assuming it was Reggie at all.

  “There’s something else,” Taylor said. “That’s about the time I started to feel—”

  “What?”

  “Watched, I guess. I didn’t mention it before because it’s just a feeling.” She licked her lips, clearly pondering something.

  “There’s something else?”

  “It’s just … I know you said anyone could quote musicals to me, but that just seems so much more of a Reggie thing. And Beau was eight years and a lot of miles ago. Plus—”

  He cocked his head. “Plus what?”

  But she only shook her head. “Plus it seems so unlikely after all this time that he’d find me. That he’d even try. Doesn’t it?”

  Before Landon could answer, she plowed on, as if determined to convince herself that Beau couldn’t have a thing to do with this. “And he’s not exactly cultured. Or he wasn’t. I mean, he knows I like musicals, but I’m not sure he’d do a good job picking the quotes. I mean, he was the kind of guy who cleans under his toenails with a switchblade. He probably thinks Evita is a soda pop and Sweeney Todd the name of a pirate in those Johnny Depp movies. Quotes from Grease would be more likely.”

  “I haven’t gotten any intel back on him. Not yet. And we haven’t seen him in Austin. But he’s the one you’re scared of.”

  “Of course I’m scared of him. He’s a scary guy.” She stood up and went to the desk, then started to pour herself a cup of coffee.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Taylor?”

  Her back was too him, but as she picked up the cup, he saw that her hands were shaking. “Nothing.”

  She turned, then looked straight at him, long lashes surrounding wide, guileless brown eyes. “Absolutely nothing,” she repeated.

  And he knew without a doubt that she was lying.

  Chapter Six

  In all her years at the University of Texas, Taylor had never been inside Memorial Stadium, the shrine to football that dominated the east side of campus, near the LBJ Library and the Texas Performing Arts Center. But because she’d pretty much lived her entire college life in the PAC, she’d seen the stadium every single day.

  Now, they were walking down the hill toward the drama department, the stadium looming to their left, and Landon’s car parked illegally behind them, an APD placard on the dashboard to keep it from getting ticketed.

  “Cheater,” she teased as they walked side by side, but he only grinned at her like a boy in a candy store. “The job’s got perks. Gotta enjoy them.”

  “Perks,” she said. “Interesting…” She let her voice trail off, not quite believing that she was being so bold. But ever since she’d stood naked in front of him she hadn’t been able to get the expression on his face out of her mind. She’d seen hard, animal lust more than once in her life, but that wasn’t what had colored Landon’s face.

  No, she’d seen desire. Longing. A potent, ripe need. Hell, she’d seen appreciation. And every flicker on his face, every spark in his eyes had been like looking in a mirror.

  He wanted her, too. And though she knew she should back away slowly, the truth was, she didn’t want to. Or maybe she did. She wasn’t sure. And that uncertainty was driving her boldness. Because if she pushed and he answered in kind…

  Well, then the decision would be made for her.

  Not the permanent kind, God forbid. But maybe it would be okay to let herself go with this man, at least for a little bit.

  She cast a sideways glance at him, remembering how it had felt. Not just her reaction to his e
xpression, but the act of being naked in front of him. Yeah, she’d bolted and cried out, but that was more out of surprise than any sort of negative feelings.

  On the contrary, once the shock had worn off, desire had fired her skin. She’d pressed her back to the bathroom door and breathed, fantasizing about what would have happened if she’d simply walked toward him, inviting him to touch her.

  She hadn’t had the courage, though. But now … well, maybe now she wanted to poke at that question and see where their attraction led … and to hope that it led to bed, and to Landon between her thighs.

  “Was that one of them?” she asked, spitting the words out quickly before she changed her mind.

  He paused on the sidewalk, his face a question mark.

  “Seeing me naked. Was that a job perk?”

  His Adam’s apple rose and fell, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he looked boldly into her eyes. “Damn right it was.”

  They stood like that for a moment, simply looking at each other. Then a skateboarder zipped past, and she jumped, and that was it. The spell was broken.

  “Come on,” he said. “That class will be letting out soon.”

  “Right.” She fell in step beside him, cursing whatever idiotic policy let skateboarders on sidewalks—was that even allowed? But then Landon reached for her hand. She looked up, surprised, and saw his cocky grin.

  “We’re trying to bait him, remember. What better way than to look like a couple, right?”

  She nodded, her throat feeling strangely thick.

  A few more steps and they reached the intersection. They were catty-corner to the drama building, and crossed diagonally when it was clear, then entered the building. A common area was just off the main hall, with tables, chairs, and some tattered sofas. Landon led them to a sofa, and even when they were seated, he kept a tight hold on her hand.

  “Did you go to UT?” she asked, when the silence became too much for her.

  He shook his head. “No. I grew up in Austin, but I went to St. Edwards,” he told her, naming a private college located south of the river. “Got my bachelor’s in criminal justice, then joined the Marines.”

  “Really? How long did you serve?”

  “Four years. I went in as an officer, but never intended it to be a career. But my father—well, my foster father—served and I wanted to as well.”

  “But you wanted to be a cop.”

  “I wanted to be a detective,” he clarified.

  “And you are. That’s great.”

  “I like to think so.” He lifted their joined hands and lightly kissed the base of her thumb. Her eyes widened with surprise, but he nodded toward the hall where students were starting to emerge. “Want to play it right. Make him jealous. And who wouldn’t be jealous of a beautiful girl with me, even if I am old enough to be off your radar?”

  She didn’t disagree, even if he was being silly. But as he pulled her to her feet and they started scanning the faces, she asked him how old he was.

  “Thirty-six. And you’re what? Twenty-four?”

  “Almost twenty-five.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and she tightened her grip on his hand, certain that naming the gap between them was going to make him tug free. And they needed to look like a couple. For the act they were putting on for Reggie, she told herself. She was just thinking about their investigation, and he was the one who suggested the whole dating pretense.

  “You think this is a jealousy thing?” Her thoughts brought the question to the forefront.

  “I think it’s damn likely.”

  “But what will we—oh, there he is.” She lifted a hand, catching Reggie’s attention. He smiled, didn’t seem at all distressed to see her, and hurried over, a lanky colt of a guy.

  “Hey, Taylor!” His eyes cut to Landon. “Sorry, if we’ve met. I don’t remember you.”

  “Landon,” he released Taylor’s hand and shook Reggie’s. “I’m not a student.”

  Reggie nodded, but didn’t seem fazed. His attention shifted back to Taylor. “Were you supposed to be in class today?”

  “No, we’re just here because, well…” She looked helplessly up at Landon, not sure how this was supposed to work exactly.

  “To be honest, someone’s been bothering Taylor.” Landon’s eyes were locked on Reggie. So were hers for that matter. As far as she could tell, his reaction was entirely normal—concern mixed with confusion.

  “Bothering?”

  “You know her pretty well,” Landon continued, ignoring Reggie’s question. “Anyone else you can think of who knows she likes Sondheim? Or even just musical theater?”

  “Sondheim?” He blinked, then frowned. “I don’t know. I mean, I think you mentioned it once or twice in class, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. She’d forgotten about that, but she’d talked at length about Into The Woods one class.

  “Have you noticed anyone watching her?” Landon’s questions were rapid fire, and Taylor assumed that was to prevent Reggie from having a chance to think.

  “What’s going on?” Reggie demanded, looking between the two of them.

  “She’s received some nasty notes,” Landon said, taking a single step toward Reggie. Not threatening, but definitely edging into his personal space. “And I intend to stop whoever’s sending them.”

  “Shit, yeah.” He looked over Landon’s shoulder to Taylor. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “So, how else can I help?”

  Landon took a step back, then once again twined his fingers with Taylor’s. “If you think of anything else—or if anyone asks about her—let Taylor know. Or, hell, call me.” He fished a business card out of his pocket and handed it over.

  Reggie glanced down, then back up again. “You’re a cop?”

  “That’s right. But this isn’t an official investigation.” He released her hand and put an arm around her, and without thinking she leaned against him, safe in his embrace. “I’m just protecting my girl.”

  Reggie nodded. “Good. Shit, Taylor, this is wild. I’ll let you know, okay?”

  “Thanks, Reggie,” she said, then watched as he hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder then headed toward the main exit. He was about to push through the doors when he turned back. “Hey, what about that reporter?”

  Taylor and Landon exchanged a glance, then hurried toward Reggie.

  “What reporter?” Taylor asked.

  “This dude from the Daily Texan,” he said, referring to the student newspaper. “An older guy. Said he was a grad student in the journalism department, and that he was doing a profile piece on you.”

  She looked up at Landon, then gave a small shake of her head. She didn’t know a thing about anything like that.

  “Does this guy have a name?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure I can—oh, wait. Buddy. I remember because that was the name of my first dog. And his last name was—give me a sec. Oh, right. Hall. His last name was Hall. I remember because I used to live in Carothers Hall before I moved off campus.”

  Taylor said nothing, but she tightened her grip on Landon’s hand and willed her legs not to turn to rubber.

  “Do you think that had something to do with all this note stuff?” Reggie asked.

  “Oh, I doubt it.” She forced her voice to stay light, but the way Landon was looking at her, she had a feeling she wasn’t succeeding. “I’m pretty sure he’s the guy who left a voicemail for me about an article. That must have been what it was about. But let me know if he talks to you again.” She forced a smile. “If I’m gonna be famous, it would be nice to know what’s going to be said about me.”

  “True that. And will do.”

  They said goodbye again, and as soon as Reggie disappeared through the doors, Taylor sagged against the wall, Landon right beside her.

  “Tell me,” he said, and she nodded.

  “I—yes. Just give me a minute, okay? I wasn’t—I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  He
studied her, those dark eyes seeming to see all the way into her soul. Then he nodded, and took her hand. “It’s turning into a beautiful day. There’s someplace I want to show you.”

  She allowed him to lead her outside, then back the way they came. They headed up the street in front of the stadium, and he surprised her by turning inside.

  “Fortification,” he said, leading her to a Starbucks. “Coffee and conversation.”

  “We’re hanging out inside the stadium?”

  “Trust me,” he said, then led her back outside once they had their coffees in hand. They continued in the same direction until they reached the fountain and the grass-covered hills at the base of the LBJ Presidential Library.

  He took her hand and led her up almost to the copse of trees, then sat on the grass—tugging her down beside him.

  They sat that way for a while, looking at the round fountain below, the Texas History Center to the right, the presidential library in front of them, and the stadium and the full expanse of the University campus off to their left.

  “When I was a kid, I used to come here in the summer, pretend like it was snowing, and ride a piece of cardboard down this hill,” he said. “It was my attempt at having a normal life.”

  “How old?”

  “About seven. Maybe eight.”

  “Your parents brought you?”

  He shook his head. “I’d ride my bike.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your parents let you do that?”

  His laugh was more of a scoff. “My dad would shove me out of the house in the mornings, tell my mother I needed to go out into the world and be a man, and that I could come back for dinner.”

  Since she wasn’t sure what to say, she didn’t say anything at all.

  “He disappeared right before I turned nine. We think it was a gang killing—that was the kind of neighborhood I lived in—but I’ve never known for sure.”

  “So you were raised with a single mom?”

  “Only for about a year. And during that year, the gang life was tugging at me. I mean, really tugging. They knew I’d lost my dad and were ramping up, trying to suck me in.”

  “What did you do?” She tried to picture him, the honorable man she knew him to be as a child trying to find his way.