In This Town (12 page)

“Not to me.”

“Like I said, I came to thank you. I thought you might like to
take a break from all of this—” She gestured to the papers on the bed. “Have a
drink since you’re new in town and obviously alone.”

“Are you?” When she looked at him quizzically, he added. “Is
that why you’re here? Because you’re alone?”

Something inside of her shifted, cracking the hard shell she
kept around her heart. She was alone. Increasingly felt alone. Was afraid that
was exactly what she deserved. “Look, I just…”

“You just what?”

“I thought we could hang out,” she admitted.

Brandon was at his dad’s and as she sat in her empty house,
she’d become increasingly antsy. Anxious. Walker was right. She hadn’t wanted to
be alone. But coming here when she was keyed up and restless and, most
frightening of all, feeling so needy and reckless, was a mistake.

She was always making mistakes.

“But since you’re not interested,” she continued, giving him a
sharp grin, her nails digging painfully into her palms, “I’ll have to go see if
I can find some man who is.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
ORI
YANKED
THE
door open and Walker
stepped back in time to save himself from a broken nose. Before he could grab
her arm, hell, before he could even figure out why he would want to try to stop
her, she was gone, her long legs eating up the distance between the motel and
her car.

Good. It wasn’t up to him to keep her from doing something she
might regret. He was nobody’s savior. Had no desire to be.

Walker leaned against the doorjamb, his ankles crossed,
gooseflesh rising on his bare arms as she cranked the engine and drove away. He
wasn’t one of those cops who needed to save everyone, even from themselves. He
did his job, found the truth, made sure justice was served and then moved on.
Tori Mott and whatever had sent her to his room weren’t his problems.

But he could still smell her, he thought as he shut the door.
Her intoxicating, sexy scent lingered in the air, colored his intentions. He
could still see her standing next to his rumpled bed and it was easy, way too
easy, to imagine her in it. Imagine them in it, her golden skin a contrast
against the whiteness of the scratchy sheets.

He kept remembering how crushed she’d looked when her son had
yelled at her after the game. How she’d seemed almost vulnerable standing at his
door.

It was all an act. Part of her illusion. There was nothing real
about her. Was there?

He grabbed his keys, went outside. The cold on his bare feet
reminded him he didn’t have any shoes on. He went back inside, caught sight of
himself in the mirror above the dresser, tried to smooth his hair down, realized
it was no good. It took him fifteen minutes—twenty tops—to shower and change. By
the time he pulled into the Yacht Pub’s parking lot, he wondered if he’d made a
mistake.

Walking into the bar he was sure of it. It was a dive, one
where regulars went. Dark with ancient woodwork and scarred tables and fishing
items hanging on the walls—including a huge swordfish—it smelled of stale beer.
Though it was still early by Saturday night standards, there was a decent size
crowd. He didn’t see Tori as he walked farther into the room. She’d probably
already left. Or had never been there.

He was about to turn around when he caught a flash of color
from the corner of his eye, saw her on the dance floor.

And was so mesmerized by her natural rhythm, the sensual way
she moved, her hips and arms swaying to the beat, it took him a minute to
realize she wasn’t dancing alone. Her partner was tall and lanky and all of
twenty-one, twenty-two at the most. The kid couldn’t take his eyes off Tori,
didn’t seem to mind in the least having her rubbing against him.

Ignoring the curious looks he got from the other patrons,
Walker crossed to the dance floor, walked up to Tori and took a hold of her arm.
“Time to go.”

She startled, her eyes showing her surprise—and even though he
hadn’t taken long to get there, she was well past tipsy and quickly heading to
drunk. But then, as if realizing what he was doing, what he’d said, she tugged
free.

“I’m not ready to go.” She smiled up at the kid, laid her hand
on his chest—and Walker wanted to smack the kid’s sloppy, self-satisfied grin
off his face. “Me and James—”

“John,” the kid corrected, taking advantage of Tori’s position
enough to settle his own hand just above her ass.

More and more that smack seemed like a great idea.

“Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We’re
dancing.”

“Yeah?” Tired of her games, pissed that he’d ignored good sense
and was even there, Walker yanked her against him. She stumbled and fell into
him, one of her damned pointy heels landing on his foot. No doubt purposely.
“Now you’re done,” he ground out, his big toe throbbing.

The kid stepped forward. “Now, wait a—”

“John,” Walker said in a tone that had the kid freezing and
looking uncertain. “Be smart here.”

John was bright enough to realize he’d best be on his way.

“Hey,” Tori called as John walked over to the bar, unable to
follow him with Walker’s strong grip on her arm, “where are you going?” When
John ignored her and started flirting with a girl his own age, Tori glared at
Walker. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Nice. Jesus. “Did you bring a purse?”

“To the Yacht Pub?” She tried to break free of his hold. He
held tight but wished he had a pair of cuffs on him. “What am I, stupid?”

“That has yet to be determined.”

He pulled her out of the bar without any problem. Guess the
clientele didn’t want to get involved.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded,
struggling to keep up with him in her heels, her balance unsteady.

“Saving you,” he muttered.

“What?”

He sighed. Stopped and faced her. “I said I’m saving you.”

“I don’t need saving,” she said emphatically, her words only
slightly slurred. “I don’t want saving.”

“Well, you should. That kid was barely legal.”

Even in the dim parking lot, he could see her blush. “He’s
twenty-five.”

“My mistake,” Walker said, opening the passenger door of his
car. “But playtime’s over. Time to go home.”

She slid him an unreadable glance. “I bet you say that to all
the girls.”

“Only the stubborn ones.”

“Lucky me.”

“Yeah. Lucky you. Get in,” he said, indicating the passenger
seat.

“I’m perfectly capable of driving my own car.”

Walker edged closer, forcing her to back up until she was
trapped between the car and his body. He searched her eyes, noted the
glassiness, the alcohol on her breath. “Don’t make me put you through a field
sobriety test.”

“I only had a few shots.” She frowned as if thinking caused her
great pain. “And a rum and Coke. And then another shot.”

“Uh-huh.” No wonder she was halfway to being completely
toasted. Shots had a habit of doing that. “Get in.”

She hesitated and he’d had enough. He practically shoved her
into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. He slid in behind the wheel
then reached over her to pull her seat belt across her lap, his knuckles
brushing the side of her breast. He wrenched the belt hard enough to have it
snapping loose, clicked it into place and sat back.

“What about my car?” she asked, turning to look out the window
at the parking lot as he pulled away.

“Guess you’ll have to get it tomorrow.”

She slid down into the seat and crossed her arms. “You’re a
real prince, you know that?”

He had no desire to be a prince. At the moment, he was cursing
himself for giving into this hidden noble streak. “How the hell did you get so
much to drink when you didn’t even bring your purse?”

He felt her looking at him. “Do you really think I have to buy
my own drinks?”

Good point. She probably had guys lining up to ply her with
liquor the moment she set foot in a bar.

And he was the one to take her home.

He strangled the steering wheel, not loosening his grip until
he pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine.

“I guess it’s not surprising you know where I live,” Tori said,
unbuckling her seat belt. “Weird, but not surprising.”

“It’s my job to know.”

“It’s still weird.”

He climbed out, circled the front of the car and opened the
door for her. Without a word, without even one of her seductive glances, she
brushed past him and walked up the short driveway. He followed her across a
covered patio and up the steps into a tidy kitchen.

She sat on a chair at the table, reached down to slip off a
boot, wiggling her toes with a soft groan. Repeating the action with the second
boot, she looked up at him. “Your good deed for the day is done so you can go
now. Since you’re not interested and all.”

Oh, he was interested, all right. Attracted. Even when she was
amped up and looking for a fight.

There must be something wrong with him.

“I could make coffee,” he said, searching through her
cupboards.

He heard the second boot hit the floor with a thud. “I don’t
want coffee. I want you to go.”

But she sounded uncertain. And when he turned, she looked so
fragile sitting there, her arms crossed, her shoulders drooping, as if one wrong
word would break her. He realized he didn’t want that. Didn’t want her spirit
broken or even cracked. He just wanted to know her, to catch even a glimpse of
the woman she was beneath her high heels and makeup, beneath her cynicism and
smart mouth.

“I could stay,” he heard himself say.

Just like that, her expression closed. Studying him intently,
she rose, crossed the room until she stood before him. “What for?”

Without her heels, the top of her head only reached his nose.
“We could…talk.”

“Is that what you call it?” she asked, her tone sensual. She
laid her hand on his chest, like she’d done with John on the dance floor. Walker
froze; even his heart seemed to stop beating. She stepped closer and he could
feel her warmth, could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. “Okay,” she
whispered, her breath fanning his chin, her other hand sliding up his arm to
settle at the back of his neck. “Let’s
talk
.”

She rose onto her toes, brushed her mouth against his. Want,
need, unlike anything he’d ever experienced coursed through him, tightening his
body, heating his blood. And he knew if he wasn’t very, very careful, this
woman, this irritating, fascinating, complicated woman, could bring him to his
knees.

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her away from him. Dropped
his hands before she could see they were unsteady.

“What is your problem?” she asked, sounding confused and
exasperated. “Don’t you find me attractive?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said gruffly. Honestly.

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Then there’s no reason to
stop.”

“No reason except that you’re a possible subject in a murder
case—”

“We both know I didn’t kill anyone.”

He didn’t know that, not for certain, though something told him
she was innocent. But was that his gut talking or his desire for her?

“Even if I wasn’t on the job,” he said, “even if you had no
connection to Dale York, you and I would never happen. Not when, fifteen minutes
ago, you were plastered against another man, ready to take him home, to your
bed.” He tugged her forward, bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “Not when
I’m some sort of backup lay.”

Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her, the color drained
from her face. “I want you out of my house, my home,” she whispered.

He should. He absolutely should because he had no right to be
there, he’d had no right to drag her from that bar—even though it was in her
best interest. But he’d put that injured look in her eyes, caused her pain.

He’d only been honest, but he’d hurt her. And he hadn’t meant
to. Hadn’t known he could.

He opened his mouth, but had no idea what to say, if he should
say anything.

“Leave,” she said, before he could speak. “Now.”

Her mouth was set, her body unyielding. She wasn’t going to
listen to anything he said. He would never get through to her, at least not
tonight. A smart man knew when to cut his losses.

And if there was one thing Walker Bertrand was, it was
smart.

“Good night, Mrs. Mott,” he said. Stepping into the dark night,
he swallowed past the apology stuck in his throat, the one that would only cause
more problems, would make it seem as if he cared about her personally. He’d
already stepped up to that line separating his job from his personal life by
tracking her to that bar and driving her home.

One little nudge could push him into dangerous territory.

* * *

T
ORI
’
S
HEAD
POUNDED
. She hadn’t had that much to drink last
night but she’d still ended up with a wicked hangover.

Guess that was what she’d missed out on by getting pregnant so
young. When all of her high school friends had been in college and partying at
bars, she’d been home with her baby and husband.

Thank God. She’d hate to think about what her life would’ve
been like if she hadn’t gotten pregnant. She liked to pretend that she’d have
gone on to college, would have moved away from Mystic Point and had some
fabulous career. But with age came wisdom and hers told her she probably
would’ve stayed in this town. At least this way she had something to pin the
blame on.

The back door opened and Brandon came in. She smiled. She did
love her kid even if he drove her crazy sometimes. “Hey. How was your
night?”

“Good,” he said, not bothering to look at her, avoiding her
touch as he walked past.

She opened her mouth to call him back when Greg and Colleen
stepped inside.

“Tori,” he said, “do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” she said, determined to be pleasant and polite no
matter what. “Come on in. Hi, Colleen.”

See? She was all sorts of friendly.

“Good morning,” Colleen said in her soft way.

They were an odd couple, Tori thought. Greg was still as
handsome as he’d been in high school with thick brown hair and green eyes. He
was average height but had broad shoulders and only the slightest paunch. He
wasn’t as tall as Walker or as handsome.

And why she was thinking of that son of a bitch, she had no
clue.

Shoving all thoughts of Walker out of her head, she
concentrated on her ex. Greg was a good man. Honest and honorable and easygoing.
He’d done his best to make Tori happy, to give her whatever she’d wanted.
Colleen was plain and chubby but good-natured and a little on the shy side. The
complete opposite of Tori.

Brandon preferred Colleen. It ate Tori up.

Greg stood by the counter, seemed nervous, which was unlike
him. Then again, this was the first time he’d stood between his ex-wife and his
current girlfriend in what used to be his home. He and Tori had been together
for so long, at times she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t a part of her
life, wasn’t her partner. Her friend.