Desperate Play

by Barbara Freethy

  She'd stoked the fire between them with her show, with her hushed voice spinning tales of dreams and impossibilities.

  She was absolutely an impossibility for him, but he wanted her anyway. He wanted what little he could get. Actually, he wanted as much as he could get, so he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, savoring the soft moan that escaped her lips.

  It just wasn't enough.

  He wanted more.

  So much more.

  Too much more.

  He broke the kiss, then framed her face with his hands as he gazed into her brown eyes that were lit with desire. "Beautiful," he whispered.

  She put her hands on his face and smiled. "So handsome. Even with this scar," she added, tracing the thin line that ran across his jaw. "How did you get this?"

  "I don't remember."

  They stared at each other for a long minute, and he had the crazy feeling he could look at her for the rest of his life and never want to look away.

  Her gaze grew serious. "What are we doing, Wyatt?" she murmured.

  It was a good question.

  And he had no good answer.

  He wasn't supposed to be messing around with Avery. He was on a job. Hell, he was lying to her, and when she realized that, she'd be hurt and angry.

  But they wouldn't have time to fight about it, because he'd be moving on to the next job, and she'd find out that he was just another man who had let her down.

  He really didn't want to be that man.

  Avery was too sweet, too open, too honest. He couldn't be the one to hurt her. He had to put on the brakes.

  "Wyatt?" she pressed. "There's an awful lot going on in your eyes."

  "Well, there's a lot going on in both our lives right now. And this should probably not be part of that." He let go of her and stood up, breaking the connection between them. "We should get back to business."

  "Yes, I guess we should," she said, getting to her feet, a troubled look in her gaze.

  "If you're done here, why don't we go back to the hotel?"

  "That's a good idea. I want to change clothes before the party."

  "Is this dinner formal?"

  "Not formal, but I'm going to put on a dress. Men will be in slacks, nice shirts, but no coats or ties required."

  He was relieved to hear that. "I can do that."

  She nodded and then let out a sigh.

  "What was that for?" he asked.

  "I just have a feeling you're going to look really good, Wyatt, and I'm going to want to kiss you again—business or no business."

  He smiled at her candor. "You're going to look good, too, Avery. We're screwed."

  "So, I'm not in this alone."

  "You're not, but…" He forced himself to say the words. "This isn't a good time for our own personal trip to another galaxy. It's not that I don't want to, because I do. Believe me, I do."

  She smiled back at him. "You talk like that, and you're going to make it harder for this space geek to resist you. But you're right. There's a better time."

  He grinned. "I'll keep that in mind…when we find our better time."

  Fifteen

  She was right. Wyatt looked deliciously sexy after he'd showered and put on gray slacks and a light-blue dress shirt. His hair was thick and wavy, his cheeks freshly shaven, and he smelled like musk and man, and it was all Avery could do not to throw herself into his arms and find that better time right now.

  Despite the immediate guilty feeling that followed, a part of her wondered why they should wait?

  Life was ridiculously short. Noelle had been eating cotton candy one minute and dying of a stab wound the next.

  Maybe she should start living like there might not be a tomorrow, especially in view of how much danger she was currently in.

  But there was no time to act on her reckless thoughts. They would be late for dinner and this dinner was turning out to be about more than her dad's fifty-sixth birthday. Still, she couldn't help smiling under Wyatt's appreciative gaze. "What?" she asked, sensing he wanted to say something, or maybe she just wanted him to say it.

  "You look beautiful, Avery."

  She smoothed down the sides of her short, clingy black dress, glad she'd put on high heels and had a chance to pull herself together. Wyatt had seen her at her worst so far. This might not be her best, but it was quite an improvement. She'd left her hair down, put on some makeup, even spritzed herself with some perfume, and Wyatt's words made her feel even better about herself. "Thanks. You clean up well, too."

  His eyes sparkled with warm humor. "Glad you think so."

  She really did, and a gnawing hunger in her gut had nothing to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten in hours. It was all about this man who had appeared out of nowhere and had somehow become her constant companion. But they were in dangerous territory, alone in this hotel room, and she couldn't handle any more danger, no matter how sexy it might be.

  "We should go," she said. "Whitney hates when people are late. Not that she's ever on time."

  "One-way street, huh?"

  "That's Whitney." She put a silky wrap around her shoulders that would do little to keep her warm, but the only jacket she had in her suitcase had Noelle's blood on it, and that wasn't going to work.

  Within minutes, they were in the car and on their way to her father's house in Calabasas, an upscale suburb north of Los Angeles, on the other side of the Malibu Canyon. He'd purchased the house a few months ago when he and Whitney had moved in together, choosing the location because all the Tremaines had homes in the area and the hillside community offered views of the mountains and the beach.

  Opting to avoid the freeways, Wyatt took the northern beach route, heading up the Pacific Coast Highway, turning off just past Malibu to drive through the Santa Monica Mountains to Calabasas.

  "I am not looking forward to this," she muttered as Wyatt weaved his way through the unusually heavy traffic. Apparently, a lot of beachgoers had decided to take this route as well.

  "I can understand that."

  "On my best day, a dinner like this would not be high on my list of things to do, and this is nowhere near to my best day. But it is my dad's birthday, so I really can't skip it."

  "It might be a good distraction."

  "I doubt that, although it will give you an opportunity to get up close and personal with the Tremaines."

  "I'm looking forward to that. I've had brief conversations with Jonathan and Kyle, but I've never spoken to Whitney. I did see her at Hamilton's house once, but she didn't come in to say hello."

  "You were at Hamilton's house?" she asked with surprise. "He doesn't invite many employees to his home. It took me a year to get an invite. You seem awfully close to Hamilton for someone who has only worked at the company for a month. Did you bond over Marine stories?"

  "We did, but our connection actually started when I saved Hamilton from being robbed and carjacked."

  "What? When did that happen?"

  "Right before I was hired. It was at the beach. Hamilton likes to surf in the mornings. I happened to be walking by when two thugs attacked him."

  "His driver wasn't around?"

  "He'd gone to get coffee. Anyway, Hamilton was grateful. We got to talking, and eventually he offered me a job. He's a good man—much more down-to-earth than I would have expected from a billionaire."

  "Hamilton is very generous, and he talks to everyone. He's not class-conscious."

  "That was one of the first things I noticed about him."

  "Whitney, on the other hand, is very class-conscious. When you were describing your mother to me earlier, she reminded me of Whitney. My father's girlfriend is very into her women's groups and her charities. She dresses extremely well, always has her makeup on, her hair done, and she spends a lot of time working out."

  "You don't like her," he said, shooting her a look. "Just because of her relationship with your dad?"

  "Well, I don't love that, but even before they got involved, I wasn't a fan, an
d Whitney has never cared for me. She doesn't like Hamilton's friendship with me, or that we share a common love of astronomy. It seems to make her jealous in some way. But since she started seeing my father, she pretends to like me. It's not genuine, but that's fine. We do not have to be friends."

  "Does your father want you to be friends?" Wyatt asked, as he turned off the highway and headed into the hills where there was a lot less traffic.

  "Yes. He keeps telling me that Whitney has changed since she took his class on living your best life. She's now in tune with her emotions and is seeking peace instead of material goods and personal recognition. I don't believe that for one second. But I want my father to be happy. And I know how much Hamilton cares about Whitney's happiness, so I try to be friendly."

  "It's a tangled web."

  She blew out a breath, twisting her fingers together. "Yes. And if there's some kind of conspiracy going on at Nova Star that involves one of the Tremaines, I think things are going to get more complicated."

  "You mentioned that you and your father reconnected several months ago?" Wyatt asked.

  She frowned, having a feeling she knew where he was going. "Yes."

  Wyatt glanced over at her. "Don't want to talk about it?"

  He'd obviously heard the restraint in her voice. "I know what you're going to suggest—that my father reaching out to me to put him right into the Tremaine inner circle."

  "Well, it did, didn't it?"

  "Yes, but that was all by chance."

  "Was it?" Wyatt countered. "You're a scientist, Avery. Is that what the data tells you?"

  "Don't play the science card. We're talking about my father." She settled back in her seat as Wyatt concentrated on the traffic. She didn't want to consider the fact that her dad could be involved in anything, because that seemed completely unbelievable. "My dad wouldn't have access to proprietary material. It's not like Whitney works at the company. She's rarely even at Nova Star."

  "You're probably right."

  She wondered if he really believed that. Despite the fact that they'd gotten closer, there was a part of Wyatt that she couldn't quite read. Even when he seemed to be in a sharing mood, he still held back. She was quite certain that there were things he knew that she didn't. But she believed he wanted to find Noelle's killer. And at the moment, that was the most important thing.

  Twenty minutes later, Wyatt stopped at the guard house for the gated community her father lived in. She leaned over and gave her name to the female guard, Jessica, who she'd seen several times before. "Hi," she said. "Family dinner."

  "I heard," Jessica replied. "Have fun."

  The guard gate went up, and they drove into the complex and up several hilly streets before reaching her dad's home. They snagged a spot in the driveway and then made their way to the front door.

  "This is nice," Wyatt said, his gaze scanning the house and surrounding area. While there were nearby neighbors, tall trees and shrubs prevented them from being seen. "It's not quite as large as Hamilton's home, but it's very luxurious."

  "My father likes luxury. And even when he didn't have as much money as he does now, he wanted to appear successful. We always rented nice homes and my dad wore expensive suits, even when he was just job hunting. He said success breeds success, and I can't say he's wrong. He turned a book without a particularly original idea into a huge motivational enterprise. People actually use him to improve their lives." She shook her head in bemusement, still not clear on how her dad had made that happen.

  "People will believe anything if you hit them at their weak spot. We're all just looking for the secret to life, right?"

  She gave him a thoughtful look. "Are you looking for a secret?"

  "No, not me. I've already found it," he said lightly.

  "You have? Please share."

  "The secret is there is no secret. You live your life as best you can, enjoy what makes you happy, and that's it."

  "Sounds very simple."

  "Isn't it?"

  "Peace and happiness seem much more complex to me. But I tend to make things more difficult than they are. At least, that's what Noelle used to say." She drew in a breath. "She keeps coming into my head."

  "That's normal. She's on your mind. You don't want to let her go."

  "I know I have to let her go. Maybe it will be easier once we know what really happened to her."

  "I hope so," Wyatt said somberly, as he reached for the bell. "Ready?"

  "Or not—here we come," she murmured.

  * * *

  Brett Caldwell looked exactly like the cover of his book jacket, Wyatt thought. He was tall and attractive, with dark-brown hair and eyes, and a charming, boyish smile that inspired trust. But Wyatt knew too much about him to be sucked in.

  Brett gave Avery a smile and a hug. "I'm so glad you came, Avery. I know this is a terrible time for you and the last thing you want to do is come to a party."

  "Well, I wouldn't miss your birthday, Dad."

  "I appreciate that. I've been worried about you. I've sent you several texts. When you didn't answer, I even called your mother to see if you were all right and caught her on the beach in Maui. I guess if you weren't all right, she wouldn't have gone on her trip."

  "I'm doing okay, hanging in there as best I can. Sorry about the messages. I just haven't felt like talking to anyone."

  "I understand. Your mother said that Kari can't pay for Noelle's funeral. If you need financial help, I'm happy to contribute."

  "I'll figure it out." She stepped back from her dad. "This is Wyatt Tanner. I hope you don't mind an extra guest for dinner."

  Brett's gaze swung to his, becoming suddenly sharper and more assessing. "Of course not. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tanner."

  "Happy birthday, Mr. Caldwell."

  "Are you and Avery—"

  "We're friends," Avery said quickly, before he could offer an explanation for his presence. "Wyatt works in security at Nova Star. He's been very supportive since Noelle was killed. And he's staying on top of the investigation."

  "Good," Brett said with a nod. "We need some answers. Noelle was a sweetheart. What happened to her is tragic."

  "I completely agree," he said.

  "Avery," a woman said, appearing behind Brett.

  "Hi, Whitney," Avery said, giving the other woman an impersonal hug and an air kiss. "It's good to see you."

  Whitney sidled up closer to Brett, as if needing to remind Avery that she and her father were together. They did make a striking couple. Whitney had straight blonde hair and deep blue eyes with an hourglass figure that probably had had some help from a plastic surgeon at some point.

  "I've been thinking about you a lot since Friday night," Whitney said. "If there's anything I can do, I hope you'll let me know."

  "Thanks. I appreciate that," Avery said politely.

  "Mr. Tanner," Whitney said, turning to him with a speculative gleam in her eyes. "I saw you at my father's house a couple of weeks ago. I didn't want to interrupt your meeting. It appears that you’re his new favorite friend at the company."

  She didn't make that sound like a compliment. "I like and respect your father a great deal. And it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

  "I sincerely doubt my father has told you a lot about me," she said, an edge to her voice. "But come in, come in. We are having drinks out on the terrace. My father is already here with Larry Bickmore and his wife, Karen, and Tawny Spellman and her very boring husband, Walter. Oh, and another old friend of Dad's is here, whose name I forget."

  "Are your brothers coming?" Avery asked.

  "They're supposed to be. Jonathan is coming solo. He and Stephanie are having a few problems, not that they've publicly stated that, but she seems to come down with a headache or some other germ every time we get together," Whitney said. "Kyle and Liz will be here, as far as I know."

  "Any friends of yours, Dad?" Avery asked Brett, as Whitney moved ahead to speak to one of the caterers.

  "It's a Nova S
tar and Tremaine night tonight," he said with a smile. "Family time."

  Wyatt had a feeling that Avery was biting back a reply that had something to do with the fact that the Tremaines weren't his family, but she remained silent.

  As they walked through the house, he made note of the expensive furniture, paintings, and carefully designed décor, all in keeping with what Avery had told him earlier about her dad's taste for the finer things in life. But it was the spectacular floor-to-ceiling windows and the deck off the living room that really impressed. Not only did Brett's home offer a stunning view of the hills they'd just driven through, but also the Pacific Ocean in the distance.

  They followed Brett out to the terrace where a bartender was serving drinks, and a server was offering appetizers to the group of men and women.

  He had previously met both Larry Bickmore, senior counsel, and Tawny Spellman, senior vice-president of manufacturing and production, but neither meeting had gone beyond perfunctory conversation and brief security updates. While he knew little about them personally, professionally they were well-respected by their employees and colleagues. They were both also very close to Hamilton.

  Larry's spouse Karen wore a very low cut, clingy dress, showing off her breasts. She already seemed to be well into cocktail hour. Tawny's husband Walter was a balding, older man, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

  While Avery said hello to Tawny and Walter, he snagged a crab puff off a silver tray, he had to admit this undercover gig was certainly better than most of his jobs. Usually, he was inserted into some drug dealing cartel. But his good feeling vanished when he saw the man standing closest to Hamilton Tremaine.

  It was Vincent Rowland, a former FBI agent, the father of his friend Jamie, who had died during a training assignment at Quantico, a man who knew exactly who he was and what he did for a living.

  He drew in a sharp breath, hoping Vincent wouldn't blow his cover. He would soon find out.

  But it wasn't Vincent who greeted him first; it was Hamilton, whose bright-blue eyes seemed to have dimmed the past few days.

  "Wyatt," Hamilton said, coming forward to shake his hand. "It's good to see you. I'm glad Avery brought you. I hope we can find a few moments together."