In This Town

by Beth Andrews

  His father looked stricken. “Why don’t we all go sit down?” he asked in that calm, unruffled way. “Talk this through?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Anthony said. “It won’t change anything. It won’t change what you did.”

  “Nothing can change what I did,” Ken said wearily. “All I can do is apologize. But if we work together, we can get past this.”

  Anthony shook his head, filled with disgust for his father, for the man he thought he was, the man he’d looked up to his entire life. “That’s just it. I can’t get past it.”

  He met his mother’s eyes. She stood next to her husband, but they didn’t touch, weren’t a strong unit like they were before the truth came out. And as much as Anthony wanted to pretend that everything would someday return to normal, would go back to being the way it was before, he couldn’t.

  “How can you pretend it never happened?” he asked his mom.

  “I’m not pretending anything,” Astor insisted. “But whether or not your father and I stay together is between Ken and me. We’ve been through good times and bad times, we’ve raised two incredible children together, have been incredibly blessed.”

  “He ruined it,” Anthony said. “All of it.”

  Her expression softened and she reached for him. He didn’t back up, let her take a hold of his hand. She felt small and delicate to him, not the strong woman he’d always seen her as and that, too, was his father’s fault. He’d made her weak and vulnerable. He’d hurt her.

  “Your father made a mistake.” She looked at Ken. “One I’m working really hard to forgive.”

  “How can you?” Anthony asked, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Because I love him. I’ve lived with him, loved him, for all these years of marriage. And that, more than anything, more than any mistake, matters more to me.”

  Disappointed and angrier than he’d ever been in his life, Anthony stepped back so that her hand fell away. Then he did something he’d never done in his entire life.

  He turned his back on his parents.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE ANSWER WAS there, Walker knew, right in front of him, but for some reason, he couldn’t see it.

  Rubbing his burning eyes, he picked up a picture, this one of Dale’s body as it’d been found. Walker wasn’t sure why Taylor had gone to the trouble of documenting the scene when he’d had no reason to suspect foul play had been involved, but Walker was glad he did. He studied the photo—Dale’s body on the bed, his mouth and eyes open in death. A lamp, a bottle of whiskey and a half-full glass on the bedside table. He flipped through the other pictures. No sign of struggle, nothing out of place.

  Nothing to prove that Dale had been murdered.

  Walker crossed to the minifridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Took a long drink. Lowering the bottle, he frowned at the contents on the counter. Ice bucket. Coffee, sugar and powdered creamer packets, coffeemaker, two coffee mugs, two glasses…

  Two glasses.

  He practically leaped across the room, tore through the pictures again, then did another, slower search. One glass. There had only been one drinking glass in Dale’s room when his body had been found. Walker thought back to every hotel and motel room he’d ever stayed in. There were always two glasses.

  He picked up his phone only to set it down again. Who would he call? What would he say? Even if he could prove there had been two glasses in Dale’s room, he had no proof that someone had been with Dale the night he died. That someone had murdered Dale and taken the glass.

  He was back to square one.

  Someone knocked on the door. Pulling his wallet from his back pocket, he opened it but it wasn’t the pizza he’d ordered. It was Tori, looking like some walking fantasy in snug dark jeans and a low-cut top the color of plums.

  Damn, but he’d always liked plums.

  He leaned back. “This is a surprise.” He just wished he knew if it was a good one or one that was going to bite him in the ass.

  “Is it?” she murmured as she sashayed into the room, making it seem smaller, more intimate than it was. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “Late for a visit.”

  “I guess that depends on the reason for the visit.” She sat in the chair at the desk, crossing her legs, much as she had the first time he’d seen her when it’d felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  He hadn’t been able to catch his breath since.

  Tori leaned forward, scanning the pictures he had scattered across the desk. He quickly gathered them together, shoved them into the folder.

  She smiled. “Working on the case? Gathering all the facts to prove my sister is a dirty cop? Or maybe you’ve discovered my other sister is really some murdering mastermind?”

  She was acting different. Oh, she looked the same, beautiful as always but that sexy grin seemed strained, her gaze wary and, if he wasn’t mistaken, nervous. Maybe even sad.

  There were so many facets to her, so many nuances. He’d always considered himself the type of man who preferred things black or white but with her, he found he liked knowing there were many things yet to be discovered.

  And that’s why he’d kept his distance these past few days. Because when he was around her, he forgot about the job. Lost sight of why he was there. Lost sight of who he was.

  “Actually,” he said, tidying up the mess he’d made on his bed, “I was just finishing up.”

  “Am I allowed to ask how the case is going?”

  “You’re allowed to ask anything you want.” He put the reports into his briefcase and snapped it shut. “It’s whether or not you get an answer that’s the question.”

  She swung her leg idly. “Will I get an answer?”

  “I guess that depends on why you’re asking.”

  He wanted her to be straight with him, to admit the truth and show a part of herself that she kept hidden from everyone else. Wanted her to share something real with him. Was afraid if she did, he wouldn’t be able to pretend his initial view of her hadn’t changed.

  “I’m curious as to what you’re going to tell the D.A. about my sister,” she admitted. “But I’m also wondering how close you are to being done.”

  “Eager to get rid of me?”

  “No.” Her gaze dropped, her throat worked. “And that’s the problem.”

  Her voice was quiet. Unsure. It about did him in.

  “I’ll tell the D.A. the truth,” he said roughly, but damn it, she had no right to come here, to mess with his mind, to tempt him when all he could think about was her.

  She rose gracefully to her feet and sort of glided over to him, not stopping until she was a mere hairbreadth from him. He could smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her body.

  “What if I asked you to make sure that report was favorable to my sister? Would you do that one little thing for me if I asked, really…” She laid her hands on his chest. “Really…” Slid them up to link behind his neck and stretched that glorious body of hers against his. Lowered her voice so that it was a breathy purr. “Really nicely?”

  Disappointment flowed through him, the strength of it, the depth surprising and staggering. He placed his hands on her waist, tortured himself by sliding his hands up her sides, dragging the material of her top up. She was warm, the shirt was soft but he knew her skin was softer and that thought was even more torturous.

  “If you put it that way,” he said, not having to feign the hoarseness in his voice, “then I’d definitely fail this little test you’ve got going on.”

  She settled back, would’ve stepped back, he knew, if he hadn’t tightened his hold on her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do.” Watching the emotions flicker across her expression was fascinating. She was fascinating the way she tried to hide her true self all the time when that was the most interesting part about her. “This is one of those tests you like to give people, make sure they’re worthy of you or that they’ll stand by you or do exactly wha
t you want. Except even when they pass, you don’t believe it, don’t believe in them.”

  “I prefer to believe in what I see,” she said tightly as she slid her hands out from around his neck to fist at her sides.

  She was so adamant, so goddamn beautiful even as she lied to herself. Lied to him. He wasn’t sure he could trust her, not with anything, especially not with his heart, but that was okay. He wouldn’t give it to her. Not fully.

  “Now you’re lying to yourself,” he said, surprised to find himself enjoying how her eyes narrowed, her body stiffened against his. But she still didn’t pull away because that would be a sign of weakness and the all-powerful Tori Mott never backed down from a man, from a challenge. “You only trust what you can control, not what you see. You don’t trust what’s right here, right in front of you,” he continued softly. “I think the real reason you don’t go after what you want isn’t because you’re afraid you won’t get it. But that you will.”

  Now she moved, stepping away from him. “Oh, believe me, I like getting what I want. I like it just fine.” She tossed her head and struck a provocative pose, one he couldn’t help but think was contrived. “And you have some nerve, judging me, Detective, when you don’t go after what you want, either.”

  She was baiting him. He knew it, recognized it easily, just as he recognized his reaction to it. He wanted to prove her wrong, wanted to show her he was the type of man who didn’t sit back waiting for life to happen to him.

  But that was what she was counting on. And he couldn’t do it.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked softly. “The truth, Tori.”

  Her mouth thinned but her expression turned sultry and she sent him one of those looks she liked from underneath her lashes. “You know why.”

  He shook his head. “I want you to tell me.”

  She laughed but it was harsh. “Now who’s playing games?”

  “It’s not a game. It’s not a test. That’s what you do because you’re afraid to trust in what you see. So, I’ll ask you one more time. Why are you here?”

  Silence filled the room, heavy and loaded. And he knew she wouldn’t tell him, wouldn’t open up to him that much, not enough. Not fully. And that’s what he wanted. All of her. Even if it was for just one night.

  Someone knocked on the door. The pizza. He went to open the door.

  * * *

  TORI FELT LIKE an idiot. She mentally rolled her eyes. Make that was an idiot.

  She stood in the middle of Walker’s hotel room. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she rubbed her skin but it did little to warm her. To soothe her. Not even the warmth of her humiliation could do that, she thought as Walker spoke with the pizza delivery guy, exchanged money for the food.

  From the way the pizza guy’s face lit up, Walker had added a big tip. A generous one.

  Guess he had a little bit of nice guy in him after all.

  He wanted her to rip herself open for him, to bare her soul. She couldn’t. Once people saw who you really were, they turned their backs on you. They realized you weren’t good enough, weren’t smart or kind enough.

  Walker shut the door and carried the pizza and the paper plates that the delivery guy had given him to the small, round table in the corner. “I’d invite you to stay for a slice,” Walker said, “but I think it’d be best if I didn’t.”

  Tori’s jaw dropped. She blinked. “What?”

  He straightened, watched her with that patient look in his eyes, the one that said he’d wait for her but she knew that would change. No one waited. Not for her.

  “I think you should go,” he said, his impassive tone so much more hurtful than if he’d been cold.

  Her throat constricted. “You’re…you’re kicking me out?”

  She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He was a man, wasn’t he? He was definitely interested. She wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been positive of that. Even now she saw it in his eyes. The attraction.

  “Do you know how many men in this town would love to be in your shoes right now?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “How many men want me?”

  They all wanted her. It was her blessing. Her curse. It was who she was, all she knew. It gave her a sense of control over her life.

  Walker set a slice of pepperoni pizza onto a plate. “They don’t want you,” he said as calmly as if they were discussing Tom Brady’s quarterback rating. “They want your body, that face of yours. They want you to remain voiceless and nameless. They want to use you, sleep with you then set you aside like they would any other plaything.” He bit into his pizza and shrugged. Swallowed. “If we were to be together, I’d want more.”

  Fear coated her mouth. She knew that. God, didn’t she know that? It was what terrified her. “I don’t have more in me to give.”

  “I think you do,” he said, not sounding too happy about it. “I think you have more in you than you could ever imagine.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. She ducked her head and blinked them back. Damn him. Damn him! Why did he have to do this to her? Why couldn’t he be like every other guy and just take what she had to offer without wanting, without expecting more? Couldn’t he see he was wrong about her? She couldn’t trust what she saw when she looked at him, couldn’t believe he was everything he seemed. No one was. Everyone had their secrets. She couldn’t share hers.

  She sneered. “Well, I guess it’s your loss, then.”

  “I guess it is.”

  But she wondered if she wasn’t the one losing.

  She stalked to the door, opened it. Hesitated, gave him time, plenty of time to call her back, to rush over and stop her. To make the decision for both of them, to make it easier on her. But there was only silence behind her.

  Her fingers tightened on the door handle and she stepped outside, found herself whirling around, facing him. “I told Brandon he could live with his father. That I wouldn’t fight for custody of him if that’s what he wanted.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.” She twisted her fingers together. “A few hours ago when I dropped him off at Greg and Colleen’s.”

  Walker approached her, his steps slow, his gaze intense. “That must’ve been difficult.”

  Difficult? It’d broken her heart. “I wanted him to say he’d changed his mind. I wanted him to choose me,” she whispered.

  “He loves you.”

  She nodded. “He does. I guess…I guess that’s going to have to be enough.”

  “What you did, letting him go, that was very brave.”

  “I don’t feel brave. I feel…empty. Alone. And I…I thought maybe you could help. With that last part.”

  Shutting his eyes, he exhaled heavily. “Tori, I—”

  “I’ve never been with another man except Greg.”

  Her words, blurted out in a desperate rush, hung in the air between them. One of her secrets, one of many, out in the open for him to see. To judge. One he could use against her.

  “What?” he asked, sounding as if the word was strangling him.

  She swallowed, lifted her chin. “Greg was my first. And I haven’t been with anyone else.”

  “Shut the door.”

  Tori looked down, realized she was holding the door open. She shut it, her heart racing as Walker came closer, and closer.

  “You’ve only been with one man?” he asked, not sounding so much disbelieving as everyone in town probably would be, but more intrigued. Curious.

  She tried to play it cool. “We met when we were sixteen,” she pointed out. “Dated for a year before we went all the way.”

  “And when you were older?”

  “I was faithful during my marriage.” She’d had no desire to be otherwise. Had known she could’ve cheated, could’ve been with any number of the men who’d flirted with her but she’d had no interest. She’d respected Greg, had cared for him enough not to betray him that way, not to hurt him.

  In that way, she was her mother’s complete opposite.

  Walker shook his hea
d, standing so close now she had to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. “I meant after. Since the divorce.”

  Though she wanted to hide behind her usual sexy persona, wanted to be flippant and flirtatious, she didn’t, couldn’t. Not with Walker. Not tonight. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “There’s been no man I’ve wanted to be with. Until now.” Her palms grew damp. “Until you.”

  His eyes darkened, his expression turned fierce and possessive. She wasn’t someone who could ever belong to a man, couldn’t give herself fully to someone. But she could give her body to Walker tonight.

  He edged closer, trapping her between the door and his solid body. Leaned toward her, his hands on her waist. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded in a gruff tone.

  She licked her dry lips, saw his gaze follow the movement. “You,” she told him clearly. Confidently. No demure whisper, no purr of sensual words. Just the truth. “I want you, Walker.”

  He nodded once as if satisfied and then he kissed her, a hungry, demanding kiss, one so heated it felt as if her bones were melting. The hunger in him, the heat, ignited an answering flame inside her and she kissed him back just as hard, just as eagerly.

  His hands skimmed over her as if unable to decide what to touch first, as if trying to smooth over every inch of her. Tori held his head, her hands above his ears. His hair was soft, his kiss a bit rough. He stroked his tongue inside her mouth and she sucked on it, causing him to groan low in his throat.

  He scooped her up in his arms, his hands under her ass. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he straightened, flipped the lock and then kissed her again as he carried her to the bed, set her down with enough force that she bounced. She laughed but the sound died when his hands, sure and hot, went to the button of her jeans.

  Her stomach contracted, her breath held as he undid them, dragged the zipper down then shimmied them off, his knuckles brushing against her skin. He tossed them to the carpet, trailed his palms up her sides, dragging her shirt up her rib cage, pulling it over her head.

  He stared down at her, his eyes glittering, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing. “You’re perfect,” he said, skimming his gaze from the top of her head to her feet.