The Sex On Beach Book Club (15 page)

He reached past her to get the drinks and took them to a quiet spot at the end of the bar. After handing her the beer, he said, “You're too smart to let your old boyfriend goad you like that.”

Holly looked into Wes's gaze and felt something move inside of her. Maybe if she told him the truth about her breakup with Brad, he'd understand. She wanted him to understand—and that scared her. That kind of emotion with a guy led to desperation and trying to be something she wasn't. She lifted her chin and said, “Weren't you paying attention, Brockman? That's why he dumped me.” She drank some of her beer and looked around. The large knot around the dance floor was breaking up. Many of them looked her way. She saw Maggie talking to the Evans family, probably trying to smooth things over.

“Cut the shit, Holly. You're just giving Knoll exactly what he wants when you lose your temper like that. He's trying to embarrass you.”

She settled her gaze on Wes. “I'm not embarrassed. If you are, then that's your problem. You hired me to find a killer, not be your escort to snobby events.”

He thunked his glass of scotch down on the bar. “I'm not embarrassed, Hillbay.” He leaned closer. “In the old days, I destroyed people like Knoll before breakfast. But he's distracting you from the job. And that is what I'm paying you for.”

Shit on a stick
, that hit home. She hated feeling vulnerable. She had been an embarrassment to her mother and nothing more than a means to law school for Brad. And after her last experience with Brad, she had decided to accept who she was and never again pretend otherwise. She would never again try to get a man to accept her. The pain and price were just too high. But she had been acutely aware of Wes standing there when Brad mouthed off. She took a deep breath. “You're right and it won't happen again. Nothing will distract me from the case.” She shoved down on the hard knot of emotion welling beneath her breastbone.

He reached for her. “Holly, I didn't mean…”

She stiffened. “Yes, you did. You want your life back, and my job is to solve this murder so you can get on with it.” She turned and nearly collided with Rachel Evans, the bride-to-be.

Wes stepped up next to her and smoothly said, “Hello, Rachel.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” She turned and smiled at Holly. “Hi. I'm Rachel. I was impressed with the way you handled that problem back there.”

Was she serious? “Hi. Congratulations on your engagement.” She judged the woman to be in her mid-twenties. She had her brown hair swept up on her head, intelligent brown eyes, and a pleasing face. Her dress was black and tasteful.

Rachel turned to order a glass of wine from the bartender, then looked back at Holly. “Thank you. It's nice to meet a woman who has the guts to speak her mind.”

Shrugging, Holly sipped her beer. “I was a cop for over five years. Some things just stick.” Like taking control of a confrontation immediately. And sounding like you meant it when you gave a command. For a woman, that often meant deepening her voice and increasing the volume.

Rachel directed her gaze to Wes. “You hired her?”

He nodded. “She's the best. I always hire the best. After all, I hired you.”

Rachel turned to Holly. “I designed the Web page for his bookstore.” She sipped her wine and seemed to study Holly. Then she added, “This whole mess with Cullen Vail being murdered in Wes's bookstore is awful. Then the lawsuit…” She sighed.

Holly's mind jumped around. “Did you know Cullen Vail?”

Rachel's brown eyes measured Holly. “I met him once at a party. He wanted me to design a Web site for him that would showcase his talents. I declined.”

What was Rachel trying to tell her? “You didn't like him?”

She had a very professional smile. “Not much. I never did find out exactly what kind of Web site he wanted, but he had told me the Web site would make him famous. My impression was that he thought he could seduce me and get me to design his site for free.”

Had he? So Cullen had a Web site? Holly hadn't found it using his name as she knew it. “Did he ever have a Web site designed? Do you know what he called it?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. I didn't think about him again until I read in the paper that he was killed in Books on the Beach.”

Holly shifted to let a group of people by. Rachel seemed talkative so she decided to try to get as much information as she could. “This is a lovely party. Did Maggie arrange this, too?” Holly had seen Rachel and her mother in Maggie's office. Would she remember?

Nodding, Rachel said, “You didn't look like you were there to hire her yesterday.”

She did remember. “No. I had some questions for Maggie.”

After a beat, Rachel said, “People don't like to get involved. Professional women have to be especially careful. That's why Maggie and the others went on the offensive and hired a lawyer.”

A very greedy offensive, Holly thought. “Painting themselves as women who were silly enough to sleep with a man who sexually harassed them is their strategy?”

Rachel smiled. “It's better than being considered a murderer. And they are going to belabor the point that if it's okay for men to satisfy their sexual needs, why can't women?”

That was a truth not everyone wanted to hear. “No arguments from me. Have you known Maggie long?”

“She's done work for my dad. He's an investor in various things. Parties like this”—she lifted her wineglass to indicate the room—“these are business opportunities for him.”

Okay, Holly was seeing the kinds of problems that a professional woman like Maggie might face when she was linked to a murder. Being a sexually active female was okay; being involved with a murder would kill off her business. Word of mouth was how she stayed in business.

Which also meant that if Cullen had something on Maggie, something that he kept on his computer, then Maggie had a pretty good motive to kill Cullen and steal that computer. “Did Maggie ever say anything to you about Cullen?”

She crossed her arms, careful of her wineglass. “No. I see someone I need to say hello to. Enjoy the party.” She headed off.

Holly watched her walk away in her stunning black gown. “What was that about?”

Wes said, “Support. She was showing her public support and she really wants to help.”

Holly could still see people covertly watching them. Not rudely staring, but watching just the same. She ignored it and thought about the case. “So Cullen probably had a Web site. I didn't find it in any of my searches.” Maybe the Web site was connected to the disappearance of his laptop? She couldn't make the connection in her mind.

Wes touched her bare arm.

Startled, she looked up at him. His fingers on her arm were warm and sensual.

“Dance with me, Holly.”

“What the hell for?” Recovering from the surprise, she shook her head. “Not gonna happen, book boy. I don't dance.” To keep from seeing his expression, she lifted her beer and drank. She hated dancing.
Hated it.
Her mother had forced her to go to dance classes when she was a little girl. It took her mom a couple years to figure out that her daughter was not a dancing princess.

Then her mother had left.

Wes skimmed his palm up and down her arm. “You don't embarrass me, Hill
baby
. In the last few days, you've made me feel more alive than I have in three long years. You're right, I do want my life back. And I want you in it.”

He had to be drunk. “Look around you, book boy. This is your life. Money, power, fancy parties…” She returned her gaze to him. “My life is work and beer. We had great sex, but it was just sex, not a relationship. You can pick one of these Barbie babes for that once we find the killer.” She set her beer down and turned to leave.

Before she took a step, she caught sight of two sides of beef in suits striding her way, followed by Maggie Partlow. Holly recognized security coming to toss her out. Guess Rachel's show of support hadn't worked. She lifted her chin, acutely aware of Wes behind her.

The two men stopped, assuming the wide-legged tough-guy stance while Maggie slid around them. She appeared confident and competent in her long gold skirt paired with a cream top, and holding a very official-looking walkie-talkie in her hand. “You both are no longer welcome at this party. Please leave now.”

Holly quickly scanned the room. From different spots, Brad, Helene, and Nora watched. Bridget was busy fawning over Phil, not yet realizing that he was going to be seriously poorer once Holly was done with him. But Brad, Nora, and Helene were part of this tossing-out ceremony. What was the deal with them?

“I'm going to have a word with Frank Evans,” Wes said.

Maggie glared at him. “I don't think so.” She looked over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, please see these two out.”

Considering her options, Holly decided to retreat. “We're going.” She took a step, forcing one of the security guys to move aside and bringing her next to Maggie. She turned and looked into the woman's eyes. “I have what I need anyway. All this over a Web site? Is it really worth it?”

Maggie's voice was cool and efficient when she said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

H
olly adjusted her seat belt and kept her gaze on the road while her mind tumbled over the night's events.

“What was that about a Web site?”

She looked over at Wes's profile as he drove through the night toward her house. “Shot in the dark. Remember Rachel said Cullen asked her to design a Web site?”

He nodded.

“His boat was broken into and his laptop appears to be the only thing missing. Someone wanted that laptop, most likely for what was on it. So I thought maybe Cullen has a Web site and it's connected.” She couldn't quite put it together. The pieces of information in her brain just wouldn't line up in the right order. Biting down on her frustration, she said, “I took a shot to see if I could ruffle Maggie.”

“Didn't look like it worked.” His jaw tightened. “Doesn't seem like anything ruffles her.”

She wasn't so sure about that. “Her left eye twitched.”

“Really?”

She smiled. “Oh yeah, I got to her. But I don't know why. A Web site—what would Cullen put on a Web site? He wanted to be a shock jock, or that's what he said to Tanya. What could he put on a Web site? His resumé? No, that wouldn't make him famous.” She shifted in her seat. “What would make a woman desperate to kill him and steal his computer?”

“Blackmail?”

She frowned as she considered that. “You think he was blackmailing the women? Like what? Threatening to tell Tanya's husband about their affair? But she would have told me that, I'm sure of it. She wouldn't have had anything else to lose since her husband already knew she was sleeping with Cullen.”

“He had just seen Tanya the night he was murdered. I doubt he'd had time to blackmail her yet.”

She saw his point. “Okay, then what would he use to blackmail the other women?”

Wes slowly took his eyes from the road and looked at her.

Even in the dark night, she felt his gaze.

Then he said, “Pictures. He could have been taking naked pictures of them, or pictures of them during sex, and threatening to sell them.”

Her heart started pounding. “Like digital pictures on a computer.” She used a digital camera. It was possible. She looked out the front windshield, thinking. Would one of the women kill to stop Cullen from selling the photos or putting them on his Web site?
Maybe.
“But why kill him in your bookstore?” Was there a connection, or had it just been sheer opportunity?

Wes tapped the finger of his right hand on the steering wheel. “I don't know, but…” He shifted his glance to the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

Holly twisted around and saw the flashing red and blue lights behind them. “Were you speeding?”

He shook his head and pulled over to the right. The headlights from the police cruiser lit up the interior of Wes's car as the cruiser pulled up behind him.

“Keep your hands out where the police can see them.” Holly left her purse on the floorboard. Cops were very cautious with traffic stops. They never knew when some thug was going to pull a weapon and shoot.

Wes rolled down the window then kept his hands on the steering wheel.

“Good evening, sir.” The deputy moved his flashlight around the interior of the car. “Holly,” he said in surprise.

“Yes, Parker, it's me.” She'd known him for years. He was in his thirties and a career cop. “What's the problem here?”

“I'm going to need you both to step out of the vehicle,” Parker answered.

Not good, she thought. “Okay. Just so you know, I have my gun in my purse at my feet. I'm going to leave it there and step out.” She got out and went to the back of the Range Rover, where another deputy waited. She stood there while Parker directed Wes to turn off the engine and get out. They both walked back to the front of the cruiser. The cruiser's headlights provided light. “Parker, what's this about?”

“An anonymous tip about a weapon in the car. We're waiting for a search warrant.” He looked at the other officer. “No need to put them in the car. Holly is an ex-cop.”

A trap. It had to be. Had someone planted the murder weapon in Wes's car? She looked over at him. His face was tight, and in the cruiser's headlights she could see the frustration and anger in his eyes.

Parker's radio crackled. He walked away and took the call. Then he came back with his cop face on. “A judge signed the warrant and Rodgers is on her way.”

Wes shrugged. “Go ahead, search it.”

The deputies got to work.

Left alone between the two cars, Wes said, “They're looking for the gun used to kill Cullen, aren't they?”

“That would be my guess.” She dragged her gaze from the car to Wes. “Someone is seriously out to get you.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Thank you.”

Huh?
“What for?” The warm feel of his hand around hers was comforting. Which was just stupid.

“Believing in me.” Keeping hold of her hand, he turned to watch the cops search his car. “Let's hope whoever did this didn't plant the gun, or I'm going to jail.”

Ten minutes later, they still stood in the same place when Parker walked up. Holly snatched her hand away from Wes.

Parker didn't seem to notice. “Mr. Brockman, we're finished.”

Wes said, “No gun?”

The deputy shook his head. “No. I'm sorry for your inconvenience but we have to follow up on these tips.”

Holly was relieved that the gun wasn't in the car. But Parker had obviously found something. “What's that in your hand?”

“Just an old magazine.” He lifted his hand to give it to Wes. “It slid down the side of the backseat.”

“That's odd.” Wes reached for it, then angled it in front of the car headlights to see the magazine.

Holly saw shock briefly blank his face before he tightened his jaw and looked up. His voice was casual. “I guess I left it in my car. Any other problems?”

Parker shook his head as another car pulled up behind the cruiser. “No. That's Detective Rodgers. I'm going to go talk to her, then we'll be on our way.”

The two deputies walked around the cruiser to where Rodgers parked. “Come here,” Holly said, and walked to the passenger side of the Range Rover. Whatever it was, she didn't want to chance Parker thinking something was wrong. She opened the door so the dome light went on, then she looked at Wes. His face was pale and tight. “What is it?”

He lifted his gaze to her. “It's an old surfing magazine.” Holding the spine of the magazine in one hand, he used his other hand to flip the pages until it fell open to an article. He held it in the light so she could see. “That's Michelle.”

Holly saw a picture of a young woman with dark hair and vivid green eyes in one shot. In another shot, she was surfing. “Your sister? The article is about your sister? Is this your magazine? Did you forget about it?”

He shook his head. “No. I bought this car after I moved here. Anything I have on Michelle is in a safe deposit box. And look.” He turned the page and showed Holly a sentence marked with yellow highlighter that read:
My brother Nick taught me to surf.

Anger brought color to his face and made his eyes flash. “Someone planted this in my car then called in that tip. Whoever it is knows who I am, and who my sister is.”

 

It was well past midnight when they got to Holly's condo, after going to the police station with Detective Rodgers. They had showed Rodgers the magazine and told her their suspicions. Rodgers was going to have it dusted for prints, but Holly knew that wasn't going to turn up anything but Wes and Parker's prints. Whoever planted the magazine was smarter than that.

She undid her seat belt and said, “No need to come in. I'm going to do some research tonight then we'll get an early start in the morning.”

Wes leaned across the seat, lifted her, and pulled her toward him.

She sucked in a breath in surprise. “What are you doing!” Why did she keep forgetting how strong he was?

He settled her across his thighs. “I want you in my lap where I can talk to you and touch you at the same time.”

Wes had stripped off his coat and tie, and rolled up the sleeves of his expensive shirt, yet he still looked like Mr. GQ. But his eyes didn't look rich and sophisticated, they looked hot and a little desperate.

It was that desperation that tugged at her.

She shoved it away. “You're thinking about sex again.”

He dropped his gaze to her breasts. “Hell, yeah, I've been thinking about sex since I first saw you tonight.” He put his right hand on her bare shoulder and ran his palm down her arm.

The intensity of his touch, of her reaction, startled her. It was as if she craved his touch, craved his nearness. Her body wanted to lean into him, to snuggle up to his incredibly strong chest…

What was wrong with her? She didn't
snuggle
. She wasn't a cuddly woman.
Ick.
She was a tough, hard-assed kind of woman who took what she wanted, and on her terms. “Fine. You want a quickie, let's do it.”

His mouth twitched. “Maybe I just want to touch you.”

Damn it, this was some kind of power struggle she didn't understand. “Your hard-on says different.” She wiggled her butt around just to torment him. And herself. Already, she was growing wet and swollen for him. She'd gone too long without sex and now her hormones were doing a little sex-me-now dance every time she saw Wes.

He leaned his face close to hers, while dragging his fingers back up her arm, across the halter strap of her dress and into the V of her breasts. “Hill
baby
, you do live dangerously.” He used his free hand to pull her mouth to his.

Holly tried to take control. She angled her mouth to drive him crazy, then slid her tongue along his. When he made a deep sound in his throat, she knew she was gaining the upper hand.

Wes lifted his head and looked down into her face. At the same time, he dipped his thumb and first finger into the cup of her dress to grasp her nipple. He pressed gently, with just enough pressure so that her nerves screamed,
Yes!
She resisted the urge to lean back and give him better access. Returning his stare, she said, “I have to go in. My brother is staying with Jodi and Kelly until I get in there.”

He tightened his arm around her back. “You aren't running away from me this time. I want to know everything about you, Holly.” He stroked her nipple back and forth. “Like why you don't dance.”

She tried to follow his question, but he was making her hot and restless with lust. “I don't like dancing. We should stop. Somebody might come by and see us.”

Wes withdrew his hand from her breast.

Holly had the sudden urge to slug him. Or grab his hand and put it back. Obviously she must be tired and frustrated from the case and it was making her too needy. She started to scramble off his lap.

Wes held her fast. “No one is around. And no one is going to see me touching you.” He put his hand on her thigh.

She took a breath, blew it out, and faced him. “Wes, let me go.”

He studied her face. “First tell me why you don't like dancing.”

She didn't know what he wanted. But she did know his long, warm fingers were sliding up her thigh. She could stop him, she was sure of that. But the blunt truth was that she didn't want him to stop. When Wes touched her, it drove away the deep feeling of loneliness for a while. His touch made her feel whole, sexy, and very female. To remind herself of who she was, she answered, “Because dancing is stupid.”

His green eyes heated with tiny yellow dots. He brought his hand to the hem of her dress and drew circles on the skin of her thigh. “Lying will cost you, Hill
baby
.” He lowered his face. “You know you want me to touch you. You want to spread your legs and let me move aside your panties. Then I'll play with your clit until you're squirming and begging. You'll be so wet, I'll be able to thrust two fingers inside you. Maybe three fingers. And then, just when you can't take it, I'll slide my thumb over your clit and you'll come.” He kissed her nose. “Unless you keep lying to me.”

He was taking her breath away. Confusing her. She squeezed her thighs together. “What makes you think I'm lying?”

He drew his finger up the seam of her pressed-together thighs. “You told me your mother teaches dance. And you looked like you had bitten into a rotten apple and found a big worm when you said it.” He softened his voice. “I want to know.”

It stunned her how much Wes saw about her, and that he even remembered what she had told him. Especially with the trip to hell in a handbasket his life was taking. And in the faint light from the parking garage, she didn't have the strength to lie. “My mom forced me to take dance classes when I was little. I hated them and I sucked at it. According to her, anyway. I just wanted to go play with my brothers. Cops and robbers was my favorite.” She shrugged. “That's it.”