"Do they work in the aerospace industry?"
She almost laughed at that question. "No. Jenny is an assistant manager at a clothing boutique and Lindsay is a dental hygienist. We went to the Montage Hotel, gossiped about old times, and had a few glasses of champagne. That was it. Nothing mysterious about it."
"What about Carter?"
"What about him?" she countered. "You met him today. What did you think?"
"That he was self-absorbed, more concerned about his reputation and the police's interest in him, than his girlfriend's death."
"I felt the same way, but he did seem genuinely upset. Maybe he's just processing everything. I hate to judge him on a day like today. I'm probably not acting exactly right, either." She tapped her fingers on her legs, feeling restless and impatient. "I want to do more than wait around for something else to happen. I know I should be feeling calmer after my margarita, but I'm amped up. I don't know what to do with all the emotion."
"We could go for a run."
"After that really excellent but huge burrito? No thanks. But I have to say going back to the hotel and staring at the walls doesn't sound appealing, either."
"I have an idea," he said slowly.
"Oh, yeah?" she asked, a fluttery feeling in her stomach. "What's that?"
"It's better if I show you."
Her nerves tightened, and her lips went dry.
If Wyatt made a move on her, she'd say no. He was very attractive. He stirred her senses, but that was just because her senses were already stirred up. And she didn't do hook-ups. That was Noelle. That wasn't her. She was careful, cautious, boring.
So, she'd definitely say no—wouldn't she?
Nine
"You want me to scream?" Avery asked doubtfully, as Wyatt parked the car at a vista point overlooking a beach, just north of Malibu. "Here?"
"Not exactly here. Come on." He got out of the car, pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight to show a dirt path going down the bluff to the sand. Then he extended his hand.
"This seems like a bad idea," she said, but still she slipped her hand into his.
"Well, you can tell me later if it was."
He led her down the path, helping her over some boulders as they reached the bottom. The tide was out, and they had at least fifty yards of sandy beach. With the bright moon overhead and thousands of stars in the night sky providing just enough light, Wyatt put his phone in his pocket.
"It's cold," she said, as the wind whipped her hair. "But I like it." She also liked the fact that he was still holding her hand, even though she knew she should let go.
"Me, too," he said, squeezing her fingers. "Perfect weather for screaming. There's no one around for miles—no houses, no people, no one to judge you."
"Except for you. I can't believe you have ever come out here and just screamed into the wind. That does not sound like a Wyatt Tanner move. You're very calm, cool and collected. You let frustration go, because tomorrow is another day, right?"
"That is my usual mantra. But screaming into the wind worked really well for someone else I know, someone who was bottling things up, afraid to show how scared and unhappy and sad she was, because she was terrified of giving up control, letting loose of her emotions."
"Who was that?" she asked, curious to hear the answer.
"My sister-in-law. When my brother went to jail, she had a three-month-old baby at home. She was trying to hold everything together, but their assets were frozen, her friends were deserting her, her parents were embarrassed, my parents had their own problems, and she was trying to be a good soldier. But inside she was raging. One day, I put her in the car, and we drove to the beach—not this one, but another one. And I told her to scream. She was reluctant at first, but after the first half-hearted effort, she got into it."
"Did you scream with her? Because you must have shared some of her feelings of frustration and anger. Your dad ripped your family apart."
"I was angry, and on that day, at that beach, I let out the loudest yell of my life. It was the first time in my life I just let it rip. I felt better. So did my sister-in-law. I think you will, too."
She frowned. "I'm just not a screamer."
"Never? Not even…"
At his laugh, her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. "I wasn't talking about that."
"I know. You're easy to tease. You have a sweet quality about you."
She wasn't thrilled with that adjective. "Sweet doesn't sound awesome. In fact, it sounds close to boring. Noelle told me many, many times how boring I was."
"I don't think you're boring at all. I also don't think you see yourself the way others see you."
"I see myself just fine, thank you. And Noelle wasn't the only one to suggest I could lead a more exciting life."
"Excitement is a relative thing. You have a passion for what you do."
"I do," she agreed, waving her free hand toward the night sky. "Look at all those stars. There's so much out there we know nothing about. How can anyone not be fascinated by the universe?"
He smiled. "I don't know. You're certainly making me more interested."
As his fingers tightened around hers, and the moonlight played across the strong planes of his face, she had a feeling he was far more interested in her than the stars, and she sucked in a quick breath of nerves and anticipation. She didn't know exactly what he saw when he looked at her, but she knew what she saw when she looked at him: a man of power, drive, strength, courage, compassion, and remarkable kindness. He was rough around the edges, guarded and cryptic at times, but there was something about him that encouraged her trust. Maybe it was the personal story he'd shared over dinner, the fact that he'd opened himself up, revealed a side of himself that she doubted he showed many people. Maybe that's why she couldn't let go of his hand. Or maybe it was the incredible physical pull she felt toward him.
As his gaze clung to hers, the air seemed to sizzle between them. "I don't know what you want from me," she said finally. Even though what she should have said was that she didn't know what she wanted from herself.
"I want you to let go of the emotions that are making your head spin. I want you to be whoever you want to be—the woman who holds it all in, who hangs onto control with utter desperation, or the woman who lets it all go. There's no judgement here."
"Are you sure no one can hear us? Because I really don't want the cops to come running."
"There's no one around for miles. And this doesn't have to be about yelling. Just talk it out. Say what you're feeling."
"I'm numb."
"You were numb. You're not anymore."
That was true. "I'm angry."
"Louder," he encouraged.
"I'm angry," she yelled, feeling a bit ridiculous and yet liking the sound of her voice on the wind. The waves crashed on to the beach in front of her, almost in answer to her statement, as if the ocean was in turmoil, too.
"Why are you angry?" Wyatt challenged.
"Because it's not fair. Noelle was too young to die."
"Say it again," he ordered.
"She was too young to die. It's not fair," she said more loudly.
"And what's happening to you—is that fair?" he asked. "Should you have to hide out? Should you be afraid to go home? Should you be planning the funeral of your best friend? Is that fair?"
"No, it's not fair." She let go of his hand and turned toward the sea, screaming into the wind, into the onrushing waves. "It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair!"
The words ripped through her again and again, louder and louder, and then she felt the last bit of her control snap like a branch in a storm.
The tears she'd been holding back streamed down her face. Sobs erupted from deep in her chest. She could barely breathe. A moment of panic hit her. This was why she didn't like losing control, because now she was floundering, breathing too fast, not able to rein anything in. She was drowning in a sea of feelings, and she didn't know how she could get through it.
But then W
yatt turned her around and pulled her against his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around her, tucking her head under his chin, and she held on to him like he was a lifeboat in a stormy sea.
He wasn't going to let her drown, and as his strength surrounded her with warmth and courage, she started to feel the ground beneath her feet again. The fear receded.
Her sobs slowed down, as did her tears. She was able to breathe again.
"You did good," Wyatt whispered in her ear.
She lifted her head, wiping the tears from her face as she stepped away from him. "I feel like a fool."
"A less stressed fool?" he asked with a hopeful smile.
She couldn't help but smile back. "Maybe the screaming did help. I bet you weren't expecting the waterworks show, though. That took me by surprise. I'm not really a crier."
"I know. You hold everything in."
"I had to after my dad left. My mom was so sad. My tears only made things worse, so I stopped crying."
He nodded in understanding. "When my father's crimes became publicly known, my mother was also a basket case. She wasn't just worried about my dad, but also about my brother."
"And you had to be the strong one."
"I did. But my relationship with my mother didn't get better because of that."
"Really? I would have thought she would have leaned on you, that you would have been the good, shining light in her life."
"She didn't think I helped enough. She thought I could have been more outspoken, more loyal, especially with the press. She basically wanted me to help her hide the crimes, but there was no way to do that."
"It wasn't your job to make their mistakes seem better."
"She didn't see it that way. We weren't that close before it all went down, and we became strangers afterwards. She was much tighter with my brother."
"Do you see her at all anymore?"
"No."
"Not ever?"
"Not in a long time. And it's fine. You don't need to suggest I look her up," he warned.
"I wasn't going to," she said. "I wouldn't want someone to tell me what to do about my family, either."
"Exactly. We're two of a kind."
"I don’t know if I'd go that far but, thank you. Not just for making me let go, but for sharing something so personal with me. I'm not sure why you did."
"I'm not sure, either," he admitted. "I don't usually share, but there's something about you, Avery."
"There's something about you, too, Wyatt. I don't know how we went so fast from not trusting each other to telling our secrets. I've gone out with men for months who know less about me than you do right now. I don't understand it. It doesn't make sense, but we're connected."
"Not everything makes sense."
"I prefer it when it does."
He gave her a small smile. "I know you do. But there's no set time period to connect with someone. And not all moves are thought out in advance, Avery. Sometimes you've just got to go with the current."
He moved closer, his hands settling on her waist, and the heat of his gaze triggered a new set of emotions that had nothing to do with sadness and anger and everything to do with desire and recklessness.
"What is your next move?" she asked, feeling like that current might turn into a riptide.
"I know what I want it to be."
"So do I." Throwing her innate sense of caution into the same wind that had heard her screams and released her anger, she put her arms around Wyatt's neck, pressed her body back against his and touched her lips to his mouth.
She'd never felt so hungry for a man, and kissing Wyatt touched off an explosion of heat and desire, of real, honest, soul-stirring passion. There was no holding back, no tentative exploration. It was everything all at once. She wasn't on the sidelines. She wasn't hiding in dark corner while everyone else had fun. She was in the arms of an attractive and sexy man, whose hard body was sending tingles of desire to every part of her body.
Wyatt ran his hands up under her jacket, and she could feel the heat through her light-weight sweater, sending all sorts of ideas through her head of the two of them tearing off each other's clothes, lying down in the soft sand, and making love in the moonlight, under the stars…
But Wyatt was pulling away. His ragged breath curled up in a cloud of heat that she wanted to throw herself back into.
As she took a step forward, Wyatt grabbed both of her arms.
"Hang on," he said tightly. "We need to stop."
"Do we?" she asked. "Aren't you the one who said I should live in the moment?"
"Yes," he conceded. "But not…not tonight. You've had a long day."
"You're really saying no?" she asked in surprise. "Okay. I guess I misread—"
"You didn't misread anything," he said quickly, his fingers biting into her arms. "What happened just now—that was crazy good."
"It was, wasn't it? So why…"
"Because you're running on emotion. And I cannot take advantage of that."
"You're not taking advantage, Wyatt. I know what I want. And I want you."
"A man you met earlier today? A man you're not sure you can trust?"
She didn't appreciate the reminders. They were making her think again, when all she wanted to do was feel.
"I want you, too, Avery, but not like this. I want you to choose, not just fall into something… You'd regret it. And I don't want you to have any regrets."
"You don't have to protect me from myself. I'm a grown woman. If I get hurt or have regrets, that's on me."
"Okay. Then maybe I'm protecting myself."
She didn't know quite how to take that. Was he implying she could hurt him? She could break his heart? That seemed unlikely.
"It's been a rough day," he continued. "Let's go back to the hotel."
"To our separate but connected rooms?"
His jaw tightened. "It could be a long night."
"I don’t know what to make of you, Wyatt."
"I know. There have been some mixed signals tonight. I'm not happy about that. Chalk it up to your extreme attractiveness."
"You do realize this might have been your only chance, and you just said no."
"God, I hope not," he said with so much sincerity, she couldn't help but smile, the tension breaking inside of her.
"I guess we'll see."
"Let's walk back to the car."
As she followed him up the path, she decided to torment him just a little more. "You know when we were talking about secrets? There is one secret I haven't shared with you yet."
"What's that?" he asked warily.
"I don't like pajamas, so I don't always wear them."
He groaned. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "Just saying…"
* * *
Was he a complete and utter fool?
That question plagued Wyatt all the way back to the hotel in Marina Del Rey.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd said no to a beautiful and willing woman who'd stated quite bluntly that she wanted him. In fact, he didn't think that had ever happened before.
But something about Avery's sweet sexiness had sent off warning bells in his head. She might think he'd opened up to her with the story of his family, but he was still holding back a lot—a hell of a lot. He was living a lie, and she didn't deserve anything but the truth.
He needed to remember that in the upcoming days—make that hours, since he'd now have to spend the night wondering if she was really sleeping in the nude or had just said that to pay him back for calling a halt to things.
As they neared the hotel, he forced his brain back on the job at hand, which was keeping Avery safe, not taking her to bed. Fortunately, they were able to park and make their way up to their rooms without incident.
He checked the small traps he'd set up around the room and everything was exactly as he'd left it. He was very happy about that.
"Everything okay?" Avery asked, as she tucked strands of her wind-blown dark hair behind he
r ears. Her dark eyes stood out against her pale skin, and there was noticeable red around her eyes and nose from her breakdown at the beach. Her haunted beauty made him glad he'd ended things before they'd really started. She had enough emotion to deal with. While some sweet release could go a long way in situations like these, there was always a morning after.
"It's all good," he said briskly. "But I would like to leave the door open. I promise not to peek."
She gave him a tired smile, and he had a feeling the adrenaline was wearing off.
"Get some sleep, Avery."
"I think I will sleep. I'm suddenly exhausted."
He nodded and moved toward the door to his room.
"Wait, Wyatt."
He looked back at her. "Yes?"
"I'm glad you took me to the beach. You were right. I needed to scream, to let out my emotions. I'd been holding everything in since Noelle died. I'm just sorry I cried all over you."
"Don't worry about it. Now you know what to do when you feel like you're about to snap."
"Yes. But there's one more thing." She paused, giving him a serious look. "Kissing you was separate from that. I feel like you should know that. Anyway, goodnight."
"Good-night."
Walking into his room took a lot of willpower. He'd crossed a line that he shouldn't have crossed. He couldn't let it happen again. Not until this job was over.
Hell, who was he kidding?
Once this job was over, he'd disappear like he always did. He'd move on to the next assignment.
Avery didn't need another man in her life who would turn into a ghost.
So, he needed to keep her close—but not that close.
Ten
Avery thought she might have fallen asleep before her head hit the pillow, and when she woke up, the sun was streaming through the sheer drapes. She got up, smiling to herself as she pulled her T-shirt down over her PJ bottoms and walked to the window. She hadn't actually lied to Wyatt about sleeping in the nude, but last night she'd felt cold, and had wanted the extra warmth when she'd gotten into bed. But hopefully, she'd given him something to think about.
It was a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, the ocean sparkling in the distance several blocks away. The beautiful view made her feel a little sad that Noelle wasn't alive to see it. She'd always loved the beach, whether it was in the hot summer or the windy spring or the cold winter.
Desperate Play (Off the Grid: FBI Series Book 3) Page 11