"I wouldn't know." She leaned against the edge of the desk. "This is my first hotel."
"Really?"
She only shrugged, not wanting to dig into the details of her rough background.
He was studying her, his head cocked as if she'd surprised him. Considering most people her age had stayed at a hotel--even if it was just a Disney vacation when they were little--his surprise was probably justified.
"Well, you'll have time to enjoy it. I figure two days. We'll get security installed at your apartment, then you can stay there. Tomorrow we'll go grab you some clothes and essentials, and we can talk to your manager."
She nodded, a little numb that things were moving so fast. Fast was good. But it was making her mind spin.
"So how come you're here? Not that I'm ungrateful, but I got the impression from Brent that I'd see you tomorrow. Assuming I saw you at all."
"Was there really any doubt?" He took a step toward her, and she realized that she was trapped between him and the desk. "You honestly thought that I'd say no?"
"I--" Her heart was pounding in her chest. "I guess I wasn't sure. You don't really know me, after all."
The corner of his lip twitched, and his eyes stayed locked on hers. "No? Well, I guess we can remedy that now. And as for helping you, that's what I do, remember?"
"Sure. Right." Her head was spinning. On the one hands, his words suggested he'd come specifically for her. On the other, he was talking as if she was just one more case on his docket.
Instead of pondering that more closely, she deflected. "What about Mina? She's probably on her way over right now."
"I told her I wanted a chance to talk with you first. That you'd text her when we were done."
"Right." Taylor nodded, then cocked her head. "So is this the part where you take my statement, Detective?"
He lifted a brow, his gaze skimming over her. It suddenly struck her that those words sounded more than a little like a come on, and some naughty part deep inside wondered how he'd react if she put her hand back on his chest, and whispered, Maybe you need to frisk me, too.
Stop it.
Maybe there was a mutual attraction and maybe there wasn't. But he was in this room to help her, not to take her to bed. And right then she needed help one hell of a lot more than she needed an orgasm.
So get your damn libido under control and stick with the program.
With those strict instructions ringing in her ears, she moved past him to take a seat on the sofa. She started to tuck her foot under her, remembered she was wearing a bathrobe, then pressed both feet to the floor, her legs tight together and her hands resting on her knees.
She cleared her throat. "All right. Interrogation time. What do you want to know?"
"Everything." He perched on the side of the bed opposite her. "I heard it from Brent. Now I want to hear it from you."
"Right. Of course you do." She'd told Brent. She'd told Reece. Pretty much all she did was talk about how she was in trouble. But she dutifully repeated the whole thing to him. He didn't interrupt, but seemed to take it all in, nodding slowly throughout.
"And now we're here," she said, finally wrapping up.
"Okay. Now tell me more about Reggie."
"Oh." She frowned. She'd repeated the story so many times with so few questions, she hadn't been prepared to go deeper. "Well, I don't know much."
"You said he told you that he'd been working up the courage to ask you out, and you turned him down when he actually managed that."
She lifted her brows. "You're making me sound like a bitch."
"What? For not going out with a guy you weren't interested in? Definitely not a bitch. You did him a kindness. Unless he's a psychopath," he added, amusement flickering in his eyes. "In which case, you just triggered him into stalking you."
She bit back a laugh as she rolled her eyes, immediately feeling better. She hadn't realized how tense she'd been until that tiny bit of laughter loosened her up.
He flashed a mischievous smile, and that time she couldn't help it. She laughed out loud.
"Did he try to ask you out again?"
She shook her head. "Nope. That was it."
"Have you seen him with other girls since?"
She thought back, trying to picture the common area near the entrance to the drama department. "Yeah. I think so. But I'm not sure if he was dating any of them."
"And his full name?"
"Reginald Carter."
Landon tapped something onto his phone, then met her eyes. "We'll talk to him tomorrow, okay? Do you know when he'll be on campus?"
"Sure. Dr. Bishop's class meets tomorrow. I'm not scheduled to help him out, but we can go by."
"Good. That's step one of our plan. I'll see what I can find out about Reggie in the meantime."
A loose thread on her robe caught her attention, and she started to twist it around one finger. "Do we have a step two?"
"There's always a step two. This time it centers on you."
"On me?"
He nodded. "Anyone else come to mind?"
Taylor looked down, saw that the tip of her finger was purple, and sighed. She wanted to stay quiet--because God knew she didn't want to invite those ghosts into her life--but at the same time, she wasn't an idiot.
And the ghosts might already be there.
"There was a guy. Beau. He--well, he had a pretty intense crush on me about eight years ago."
"That's a long time." He leaned back, studying her. "The guy must be dangerous if he's still on your radar. Or if you're still on his."
Her mouth went dry. "Very. He's done time. He's--well, he's not a nice guy. And he wasn't happy when I, um, didn't return his affection. And he knows that I like musicals. I've liked them my whole life. So he could fit with the notes."
"He's here in Austin?"
"No, that's the thing. This was in Arkansas."
"You don't have an accent."
"I worked hard to lose it. Watched a lot of movies and tried to copy the stars' voices." She smiled, sliding into the memory. "I liked the idea of being someone else."
He cocked his head, his expression gentle. "That bad?"
"I--" She licked her lips. She hadn't meant to give so much away. "Yeah. Yeah, it was that bad."
Slowly, he nodded. "Me, too."
Their eyes met, and for a moment, it was just the two of them. No victim. No detective. Just Taylor and Landon and this thing between them that they shared.
She shook herself, forcing the moment to evaporate, then cleared her throat and pushed on. "Being in Austin made it that much easier to lose the accent. Not much of a Texas twang here."
A brief hesitation as he watched her, then he inclined his head, as if acknowledging the change in tone. "And yeehaw to that, little lady."
She laughed, feeling better.
For a moment, he studied her. "Okay, Beau is on the list. What's his full name?"
"Beauregard Clement Harkness."
He double checked the spelling with her, then typed that into his phone. When he looked up at her again, his expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it. "I want you to make me a list of anyone else you think it could be. Could. I want comprehensive. You're in theater. You like theater. Anyone who knows you, knows that. Which means anyone might use the theater references."
"Okay." The task was daunting, and not one she wanted to undertake.
"Don't worry about ranking them." He pushed off the bed and stood. "We'll talk about that later."
"You're leaving?" She heard the panic in her voice and wished she'd kept her mouth shut. She stood, then continued, hoping she sounded calmer. "That's all we need to talk about?"
He reached out, his fingers closing on a fold of the robe. There was no physical connection, and yet she felt it. Felt him.
"You're safe right now. And I need to get to work. I've got calls to make before we visit Reggie tomorrow."
"Right. Of course. I just--"
He released her robe, but took a si
ngle step closer. "Do you want me to stay?"
Yes. Oh, dear God please, yes.
She shook her head, the potency of that thought freaking her out. "No," she blurted. "I have Mina, right? We're going to wallow in a girls' night."
"Just like college girls do."
She lifted a brow. "In case you missed the memo, Mina's out of school. I'm in grad school, and I'll be done at the end of this semester. Then me and my adult ass are hightailing it to LA, where I'm going to make a huge splash in Hollywood. And not as the next Black Dahlia, thank you very much."
"Because I'm going to nail his sorry ass for you."
"Damn right."
He held out his hand, and she took it without thinking, with no time to prepare for that overwhelming sense of connection. That intense craving, like a wild hunger curling inside her.
"Give me your key." His voice sounded husky to her, and she blushed. Not because of the heat in his voice, but because she'd so completely misread the purpose of his extended hand.
"I--why?"
"Nobody but me comes in without a code word. Do you understand? Room Service, friends, nobody."
"A code word?"
"You give it to them when you call. They say it to you when they arrive."
"Oh." She drew a breath, then slowly released it. "You really do think I'm in trouble, don't you?"
He touched her face. "I think I'm not taking any chances with you."
Chapter Five
"How?" Mina asked, tossing her head back and moaning dramatically. "How did we finish off an entire pitcher of margaritas?" She flopped back on the bed and sighed. "I'm going to be so ridiculously hung over tomorrow."
"I'll be right there with you," Taylor admitted.
"But it was worth it, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Taylor agreed. They'd gone into the evening intending to watch something silly and fun and girly, like Bridesmaids or Girls Trip. They'd ended up watching Magic Mike, because Mina had said it was like a theme, what with the Man of the Month contest, and since Taylor had missed tonight's contest...
"Are you saying I missed that level of strutting?" Taylor had teased.
"Funny. Now pass the remote and the chips."
Now, hours later, they were both paying the price for their evening of debauchery, and as they stretched out on the bed in a margarita haze, Mina sighed, rolled onto her side, and said, "Okay, spill."
"What?" Taylor was pretty sure she knew, but was willing to feign innocence as long as it took.
"Don't give me that. Detective Hottie. Landon. What's the deal?"
"No deal," Taylor said. She opened her eyes, noticed that the ceiling was moving counterclockwise, and shut them again.
"Oh, please. I've known you since high school."
"Only since senior year." Nobody knew her before senior year. She'd been a long way from Austin in more ways than one.
An unexpected shiver cut through her. One person knew her before senior year--Beau. But surely he wasn't here.
Please, let him not be here.
Mina continued on, unaware of Taylor's shift in mood. "Senior year or not, the point is, I know you. And I've seen you watching him every time we've seen him at The Fix."
"Why wouldn't I? He's gorgeous."
"Agreed," Mina said. "But so are a lot of the guys who hang out there, and you don't slap your eagle eye onto them."
"I don't do that!" Did she? The possibility was positively mortifying.
"You do. But there's good news, too." Mina pressed her lips together, looking smug. And obviously staying quiet until Taylor begged.
"Okay. I give up. What's the good news?"
Mina shifted sideways on the bed so that she could shoulder bump Taylor, and when she spoke, it was in a low, secretive whisper. "I've seen him watching you, too."
The statement awakened a flurry of butterflies inside Taylor. "Really?"
She could hear the hope in her voice and wanted to kick herself. Not only for revealing too much to Mina, but also because she was being ridiculous to even think about something with Landon.
Mina nodded, looking pleased with herself.
"Not that it matters," Taylor said, hoping that saying it out loud would drill that reality into her. "Nothing's going to happen."
"It might," Mina chirped as she sat up. "What? That would be a bad thing?" She frowned as she studied Taylor's face, her brow crumpled in confusion. "I mean, it's not like you have to marry the guy. But why not see where it leads?"
"Maybe," Taylor said, wishing that she could. Wondering if it would work. But how could it? Him being a cop, and her being, well, her. "I'm just--"
"What?"
Not like other girls.
Too damn attracted to the man.
Scared.
"Not in the mood to talk about it." She snatched the remote and aimed it at the television. "We need more girlfriend time," she said, scrolling to Girls Trip. "Okay?"
To Taylor's relief, Mina flopped back against her pillow. "Hell to the yes. And we need another pitcher. Time to really get this party started, right?"
"Absolutely," Taylor said, reaching for the phone. But it was a lie. Because right then, the only way she wanted to party was with Landon. And that simply wasn't going to happen.
* * *
Landon was up before dawn hanging the newly painted cabinet doors in his kitchen. A silver-gray that caught and reflected the light from a wall of windows overlooking his tiny East Austin backyard, making the small kitchen seem bigger. The work was harder than it looked, requiring him to balance the heavy solid wood doors as he lined up and reattached the hinges.
But he was grateful for both the physical labor and the concentration needed. He'd barely slept an hour, and dammit, he needed to burn off some excess energy. Plus, he needed something other than fantasies of Taylor filling his head.
Not that he'd spent the whole night fantasizing. He'd got in some work, too. Before he'd tried to catch some sleep, he'd practically burned up the phone, calling in at least a half-dozen favors.
He'd learned that Reggie was as clean as a whistle. Not that his lack of a record exonerated him, but if the guy had psychopathic tendencies, experience had taught Landon that there'd probably be something there, even if it was a sealed juvie record. But there was nothing.
He was still waiting to hear about Beau. He'd tracked down a friend of a friend who had connections in Arkansas. So far, he hadn't heard back, and that was making him antsy.
Taylor had told him about the guy, which was good, but Landon knew damn well she was keeping something back. He assumed they'd had a relationship and that Beau had abused her, and that she either didn't want to admit that she'd been a victim, or he'd scared her so badly that she was truly afraid that talking about what happened would make it worse.
He'd find out, though. And then he'd take great pleasure in making the motherfucker's life a living hell.
By six, every cabinet door had been rehung, and a pleasant ache permeated his arms. By seven, he was showered and changed.
And by eight, he was walking through the front door of The Winston Hotel.
He used the key he'd taken from Taylor last night to access her floor, then reached her room right as the room service guy arrived with a tray topped with a pot of coffee and a bowl of fruit.
"I can take that for you," Landon said, then used his key to open the door. He pushed it open a few inches with his hip, then took the tray, calling, "Taylor? Mina?" before stepping inside.
He got no answer, but heard water running, so he continued inside, calling out, "Hey, I'm here," as he walked past the closed bathroom door to set the tray on the desktop.
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 h
er 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?"