by Beth Andrews
But there was one truth he couldn’t deny.
“You could’ve walked away,” she told him. She held up her bottle, tipped it toward the back door. “You still can.”
* * *
YOU COULD’VE WALKED AWAY.
And that was what pissed him off the most, Ross realized. He hadn’t been able to walk away. Hadn’t been able to resist her. Instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he was blaming her.
Hell. When it came to her, he couldn’t think straight. He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “Do you want me to walk away?”
She regarded him warily, her hair a tangled, dark mass around her face. The delicate skin around her mouth was pink from his whiskers. She was all rumpled in her wrinkled shirt, the buttons mismatched, the material thin enough to remind him she wore nothing underneath.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she finally admitted. “Do you want me to regret what happened? Because I don’t. But I am sorry if you do.”
Regret it? He wasn’t sure about that any longer.
“I want you to tell me what’s going on.” She averted her gaze, took another drink of beer. “You said you didn’t want to be alone,” he continued, walking toward her. “Is that all this was?”
She lifted a shoulder. “What do you think?”
He closed the distance between them, set his hands on the counter on either side of her waist. “I think you could have your pick of any number of eligible men. And that you chose me.” It confused him. Humbled him. “I think something’s got you all turned around in here—” He tapped his finger against her temple. “And in here.” Sliding his fingers down her cheek, her neck, he rested his hand over her heart.
She shuddered. “I…I told her I hated her.” Her words came out in a rush, her voice unsteady. “My mom. The last thing I told her was that I hated her.”
“You were angry. Upset. And you were just a kid. Kids say they hate their parents all the time and don’t mean it. Hell, Jess tells me on an almost daily basis how much she can’t stand me.”
Not that she’d said it to him lately seeing as how she hadn’t spoken to him since he’d made such a mess of things at the café.
“Oh, I meant it,” Layne said, picking at the label on her beer. She met his eyes. “I meant it because I knew about the affair.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I thought no one knew until after Valerie and Dale disappeared.”
“No one else knew. At least, not that I’m aware of.”
“Did she admit she was leaving your father for Dale?”
“Not in so many words. When she told me she was going to stay with Celeste, I called her a liar and told her that I’d seen her and Dale together.” Reaching to the side, she set the bottle on the counter. “How I’d come home early one afternoon because volleyball practice had been canceled.” Her mouth flattened. “They were in her bedroom, in the bed she shared with my father.”
“She didn’t see you?”
“Oh, she was way too busy to notice me,” Layne said sardonically, but her eyes were miserable. “When I told her I knew she was going to be with her lover, she didn’t even try to deny it. She told me that sometimes you had to do what was best for you. That when you wanted something, you had to reach out and grab it and not let go. And that’s what she was doing. She was grabbing ahold of the life she wanted. And that one day, I’d understand.”
Layne pushed away from the counter and he stepped aside. She crossed to the chair where they’d made love, sat and took off a shoe. “I still don’t understand it,” she said, rubbing her foot before taking off the second shoe, letting it dangle by the strap from her finger. “Tonight, at the memorial, with all those people offering their sympathy and Dad being so heartbroken after all these years and Nora insisting that Mom hadn’t really left us, that she would’ve come back…” Layne sighed. Raised her head. “I had to get away. And then my night got even crappier when I saw Griffin, looking so much like his father, acting like such an ass…”
“So you called me,” Ross said, thinking he understood her a bit better now. “Because you didn’t want to be alone.”
“I didn’t want to be alone,” she repeated, getting to her feet, “but more than that, I wanted to see you. I wanted to be with you.”
He hadn’t been able to walk away from her before when it would’ve been the smart, the safe thing to do. And he couldn’t do it now. He opened his arms and after a brief hesitation, she stepped into them. He kissed the top of her head, pulled her closer and hoped like hell he hadn’t inadvertently given his heart to this woman.
* * *
SATURDAY NIGHT, Layne felt Ross arrive at the café before actually seeing him. Seated at a table in the back, she raised her head. Yep. There he was, standing just inside the door, scanning the room, his handsome face unreadable, a white bakery box in his hand. His gaze landed on her. She straightened, lifted her chin. She may be avoiding him but that didn’t mean she was going to hide.
Besides, it was too late to hide. He was making his way over to her.
“Layne,” he said when he reached her table.
She twirled pasta onto her fork but didn’t lift it. “Chief.”
His eyes flashed. Yes, she was back to calling him Chief, despite the fact that they’d had sex, that he’d held her after she’d told him she’d known about her mother’s affair. Despite her then taking him by the hand and leading him up to her bedroom where they’d made love again, slowly that time, before he’d gone home.
He was still her boss, though. And they were in public. Except she wasn’t worried about people getting the wrong idea about her, about her reputation.
She was worried about his. About his position at the police department.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked when it was obvious she wasn’t going to extend the invitation herself.
“Go ahead. But if you’re looking for dinner, you might be too late. I think they’ve already closed the kitchen.”
“I’m not here to eat.” He set the box off to the side as he sat across from her. “I see you’re keeping yourself busy during your time off.”
She paused, a bite of pasta halfway to her mouth. “Doing my best.”
Setting the fork back down, she instead sipped from her glass of ice water. The day after her mom’s memorial service, Layne had called the station and asked to take the full week allotted for her mother’s death. She’d claimed it was to help her father settle her mother’s affairs, things that had been left in flux for far too long. But she suspected Ross knew the real reason she hadn’t wanted to return to work until she had to.
She was a coward. But she wasn’t ready to face him every day. Not when her feelings were so mixed up when it came to him.
“What’s in the box?” she asked, not really caring but needing to say something, anything, to fill the silence.
“A cake.”
“You know, they sell desserts here. You don’t have to bring your own.”
“It’s for Jess. Today’s her birthday.” He pushed the corner of the box so that it lined up with the edge of the table. Looked uncomfortable. “I thought she might like it if we had cake here since she seems to be making friends with the other waitresses.”
“That’s actually kind of sweet,” she said, earning herself one of his flat looks. She bit back a smile. “But Jess isn’t here.”
He frowned. “She told me she was working tonight until eleven.”
“She’s talking to you again?”
“Bits and pieces. Enough for me to know she’s still pissed.”
And he was still making the effort, trying to do something nice for his niece. He may not know what he was doing when it came to Jess but it was clear to Layne he cared about the kid. She just wasn’t sure that was clear to him—or Jess—yet.
“I’ve been here for over an hour,” Layne said, “and I haven’t seen her. Keira,” she called when the redhead cam
e out to clear a table. “Could you come here?”
“Hi, Chief Taylor,” Keira said with a sunny smile when she reached their table. “I’m sorry but the kitchen’s closed. I could get you a drink, though.”
“Where’s Jessica?” he asked.
“Don’t growl at her,” Layne told him in exasperation when Keira’s smile faltered. “Was Jess scheduled to work tonight?” Layne asked.
“I’m not sure,” the teen hedged.
“Seeing as how I can walk into the break room and check the schedule myself,” Layne said, “why don’t you save me a trip and just tell us?”
Keira shifted her weight. “I don’t want to get her into any trouble…”
“Why not?” Ross asked dryly. “She’s so good at it.”
Layne kicked him under the table. Shooting her a death glare, he rubbed his shin.
“She’s not supposed to work until tomorrow,” Keira said quickly—probably afraid she’d be next on Layne’s kick list.
“Do you have any idea where she is now?” Layne asked.
“Probably with her boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Ross repeated in his best hard-ass cop tone. “What boyfriend?”
Keira’s eyes were wide. She stuck her thumbnail in her mouth. Chewed. “Uh…maybe he’s not her boyfriend. I mean, she never said he was…”
Layne patted the back of the girl’s hand. “Relax. Just give us his name so we can straighten this all out.”
“It’s Anthony,” she said around her nail.
Oh, crap. “My Anthony?” Layne asked, sitting up straighter.
Please say no. Please, please say no.
Keira nodded.
And crap once again.
“Okay,” Layne said with a sigh, knowing instinctively that Anthony had no idea who Jess really was. How old she really was. “Thanks.”
“Who the hell is your Anthony?” Ross asked as Keira hurried off.
“My cousin.”
“You think Jess is with him?”
She thought Jess was lying to him and could possibly get him into a boatload of trouble.
“Only one way to find out,” she muttered, speed dialing Anthony’s number on her cell phone. After two rings, it went to voice mail. She hung up. “He’s not answering.”
Ross pulled his phone from his pocket, called a number and held it to his ear, his scowl darkening with each passing second. “It’s me,” he barked into the phone, obviously leaving his niece a message. “Call me. Now.” He drummed his fingers on the table then pushed out of his chair. “I’m going to find her.”
“And how are you going to do that when you have no idea where she is?”
“I’ll drive around. She’s probably at another party.”
Layne could let him go. He’d be wasting his time but that wasn’t any of her concern. Plus, she didn’t want to help him. She wanted to keep her distance from him, especially when it came to personal matters.
But he’d bought the kid a cake. He’d shown up there wanting to surprise his niece on her birthday and she’d lied to him. And Layne had a feeling Ross wasn’t the only man she was lying to.
“Here’s the deal,” Layne said as she stood. “I have a pretty good idea where Jess could be.”
“Where?” he demanded.
“I could tell you,” she said, grabbing her purse and tossing enough cash onto the table to cover her bill and tip, “but in this case, I think it’d be much better if I just showed you.”
* * *
SITTING IN THE BUBBLING WATER of Anthony’s family’s hot tub, Jess’s eyes drifted closed as he kissed her. She linked her hands around his neck, her fingers in his damp curls. His lips were firm, his hands on her bare shoulders, his fingers splayed across her upper back. He kept playing with her hair and sliding his finger along the strap of her bikini top where it tied behind her neck. His kiss was warm, seductive. And when he lightly traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, she gasped softly, opening for him.
He kept the kiss slow and lazy until her brain felt hazy, her head heavy. He caressed her upper arms, trailing down to her elbows and back up again leaving goose bumps in his wake. And still he continued to move his mouth over hers in that mind-numbing way.
He was a grade-A top-notch kisser, that was for sure. He was sweet and funny and he’d cooked for her. She still couldn’t believe it. His parents were out of town and he’d invited her to his house and made her dinner. Okay, it was just steaks on the grill, baked potatoes and a salad, not exactly the most difficult meal to make. But he’d put in the effort. And no one had ever put in the effort when it came to her before.
His hand went to her upper chest, his thumb at the base of her neck, his fingers spread against her collarbone. Her heart thumped wildly and she opened her eyes to see if he noticed. But his eyes were still shut and the way he looked when he kissed her only made her heart race faster. Made her hands tighten on his strong shoulders.
He groaned and deepened the kiss, pressing her back against the smooth edge of the hot tub. Water sloshed. The scent of chlorine mixed with his cologne. His other hand went to her waist, his fingers trailing across her stomach. Her muscles quivered, she tensed but he kept his touch light as he smoothed his palms up to her ribs, around to her lower back and then across her stomach again.
Usually when she made out with a guy, she let him set the pace, kept her hands mostly to herself. But with Anthony she couldn’t stop from running her hands down the hard muscles of his arms, across his upper back. He slid his mouth across her jaw, down the length of her throat and back up to settle behind her ear. He kissed her there, his whiskers scratching her in a way that made her stomach flutter, his tongue slipping out to trace the shell of her ear.
She knew what he wanted. Sex. It was what all guys wanted from her. Just because Anthony had been nice to her, had listened to her when she’d told him her dreams for the future, had talked with her for hours on the phone, wasn’t any reason to think he was different.
But she wanted him to be different. Wanted to be different with him.
His hand crept up over her rib cage, his thumb skating across her skin, just beneath her top. It felt…nice. Everything he did to her felt good, like how she imagined it was supposed to be when you were with a guy. Almost as if they were meant to be together. So why shouldn’t she let him do what he wanted? Why shouldn’t she, for once, be with a nice guy?
He shifted closer, his erection brushing her thigh.
“Wait,” she gasped, pushing against his chest with both hands.
His hand stilled as he leaned back. “What’s wrong?” His voice was deep, concerned. He couldn’t be faking that, could he? “You okay?”
“I…” She licked her lips but her heart was beating so fast, she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. “I like you,” she blurted, her face heating.
His blue eyes warmed. He smiled and touched the ends of her hair. “I like you, too.”
She exhaled. Okay, good. That was good. “I just…I don’t want to do anything to mess this up.”
Like lying about her age, going to college and being a normal teenager with a normal family. Guilt lodged itself painfully in her chest. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Not tonight. But she could tell him part of it.
He covered her hands on his chest, squeezed gently. “What is it, Jess?”
God, he was so sweet. So much more than she deserved. “I’ve…done some things…I’m not proud of, been with guys so they’d like me—”
“Hey,” he said quietly, “I don’t care about your past. None of that matters to me.”
“It matters to me. For the first time ever, it matters.” She inhaled deeply, met his eyes. “I want you to like me for me, not because I…because we…”
“You want to slow down?”
She rolled her eyes, felt like a complete moron. “Guess I could’ve just said that, huh?”
“You could have,” he agreed with that grin that made her stomach feel all t
wisty inside, “but I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you told me how you feel.”
“You’re not mad?” she asked then held her breath. Was she going to lose him?
“I’m not going to lie. I want to make love with you,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes heated. “But I’m not in any hurry, Jess, and I’m not going anywhere.” He traced a finger down her cheek. “I’m willing to wait for you, for as long as it takes.”
Tears burned her eyes, her throat. She swallowed them. She wanted to see him clearly, to etch this moment, his face, his words, in her memory. Because she knew, better than most, that perfect moments like this didn’t last.
So she’d just have to make the most of this one.
She kissed him, let her lips linger on his and poured her heart into that kiss. When they broke apart, she smiled.
“I never get tired of that,” he murmured.
“Kissing?” she asked lightly.
“No.” But he pressed another kiss to her mouth. Then the tip of her nose before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Your smile.”
She laughed, unable to hold back the pure joy bubbling inside her. Flinging her arms around him, she smiled against his mouth. “I don’t see why I can’t do both.”
He held her head as they kissed, his hands on her ears. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the gate open, didn’t realize they were no longer alone until her uncle growled, “Son, you need to take your hands—and your mouth—off my niece.”
Anthony jerked upright and for a second, Jess worried Uncle Ross had finally lost it and had yanked him away from her by the hair. But her uncle stood in front of the double doors leading into the house, his arms crossed, his legs apart, his expression scary mad, even for him.
She squeezed her eyes shut but when she opened them, he was still there. Worse, Layne was next to him looking at Jess with such disappointment, she had to avert her gaze.
“What’s going on?” Anthony asked, looking so confused. “Layne, what are you doing here?”