The Sex On Beach Book Club (7 page)

H
olly turned from Helene's freshly slammed front door to smirk at Wes. “I know Helene, I'm sure she'll talk to me,” she mimicked. “What did you do to put a bug up her ass? Why is she invoking lawyers?” Bringing lawyers into any conversation always made Holly suspicious.

Wes looked puzzled. “I have no clue. Maybe she's mad because I told the police that she dated Cullen?” He shook his head.

Oh man, he looked so bewildered that it was hard to hold onto her tough girl game. But she managed with, “Get lost, Brockman. Let's see if Helene will talk to me.”

He didn't budge. “Maybe I can talk to her, find out—”

Holly shook her head. “She's mad at you. Now skedaddle and let the professional work here.” She was so enjoying this. She'd told him yesterday that she worked alone, but no, he had to tag along and already he was causing trouble. She loved it!

He cocked his head, amusement softening his features. “Having a good time, Hillbay?”

“Wonderful. Best time all week.” She pulled her keys out of her purse and dangled them. “Go get my car washed for me. Or you can just drive around the block a couple times. Take your pick.”

He closed his fingers around her wrist and pulled her closer. “Payback's a bitch, Hill
baby
. You might want to remember that.” He snagged the keys from her fingers and walked toward the car.

Her smirk flattened into a tight line of annoyance. “I have a gun,” she reminded his back. Hill
baby
. No one called her that. It was…yuck. She ignored Wes's soft chuckle as he headed toward her car and pounded on the door to get Helene's attention.

Helene pulled open the door. She wore tan pants, a shell-pink top, and an air of importance. “If you bother me again, I will—”

Holly stepped into the doorway to stop a replay of the Dramatic Door Slam and talked fast. “Knock it off, Helene. That little scene might have worked with Wes, but I'm not buying it. You're trying to scare him off, why?”

Helene didn't soften her stance, but she did answer. “Simple. I don't want to get involved in a murder investigation. I don't want to be called as a witness and I don't want my name associated with a man who is being investigated for a murder in his bookstore. I'm building a business in Goleta and I don't want my name dragged through the mud of Cullen's murder.”

That kind of reaction wasn't uncommon. Holly said, “But you dated Cullen. Surely you want his murderer caught.”

She tilted her head, her carefully cut hair swinging around her face. “That's not my problem. I've already told the police what I know, which is next to nothing. Now get out of my doorway.”

Holly didn't move. “Where were you last night after you left the book club?”

Helene's eyes widened in amusement. “Isn't that adorable, just like the PIs on TV. I was with friends, which I told the police. I have an alibi. Now why don't you move your ass out of my doorway and go ask Wes where he was?”

Hmm, this woman had some serious ice in her veins. Holly was impressed. “Care to tell me the names of your friends and where you went?”

“Now where's the fun in that for you? I'm sure you'll be able to find out that information using your investigative skills. In the meantime, I have work to do and I'm done being polite.” She started to swing the door shut.

Holly might have blocked the door, just on principle, but her cell phone rang. She stepped back and watched the door close while she pulled her phone out of her purse. She didn't recognize the incoming number. While walking to the curb, she answered, “Hillbay Investigations.”

“Holly? Hi, uh, it's me, Tanya. You told me to call today. You know, about a job?”

Holly spotted her white Maxima parked a few houses down. She walked to the passenger side of the car while remembering her disgusting moment of weakness after Tanya had attacked her. “Right. I'm out in the field right now, Tanya. I haven't been to the—” She pulled open the door and stopped as her brain shifted into gear. Tanya was the last one to see Cullen alive aside from the murderer, and she might have answers. “That is, I'd like to meet with you. Where are you?”

“At a friend's house. Do you want me to come to your office? I could be there in, like, twenty minutes. But I'm not dressed up for a job interview or anything.”

She folded herself into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “It's not a job interview. I thought we could talk about your qualifications and what kind of job you're looking for. I'll see if I can help you find a job. But I need a favor, too.”

There was a few seconds of silence. “What?”

“We'll talk about that at the office. See you then.” She hung up, stuck her cell back in her purse, and finally realized where she was—in the passenger seat of her own car. Turning to Wes, she said, “Switch places with me, I'm driving.”

He flashed a grin at her and started the car. “Too late, you gave me the keys. What did Helene say?”

She debated kicking his butt right out of her car, but decided it wasn't worth the effort at the moment. She yanked the seat belt over her chest and said, “Helene refuses to get involved in the investigation into Cullen's murder, and she's dropping her membership in your fan club. Drive back to my place so you can pick up your car and be on your way.”

Wes put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb. “You're slick, Hill
baby
. Luring Tanya with a job to cross-examine her.”

Clenching her jaw, she took a breath. “Do. Not. Call. Me. That.”

He looked over at her. And smiled. Big, huge, bare-assed grin.

“Stop that.” He was worse than her brothers. “And get off your moral high horse, Brockman. I do what it takes to get the job done.”

“Which is why I hired you,” he said mildly.

She studied his profile. Who was he? Where did his money come from? A bookstore did not usually generate the kind of income that allowed for a nice beach house, and the ability to double a private investigator's salary at will. What did he really think about her, and her methods?

And why did she care what he thought? Annoyed at herself, she said, “I want you to call me the second you hear from your two clerks. We need to find out if one of them gave Cullen, or maybe even the killer, the key to your bookstore.” Turning to watch the road, she realized where they were. “You're almost to my office. I told you to go back to my house.”

Wes did that wide grin again. “I know you're after my body, but we have to work first.” He turned onto Hollister. “What did you think of Helene?”

He was an amusing guy with a very hot body. She had no problem admitting she wanted to get naked with him, to herself anyway. Turning her mind to business, she answered, “She seems strong-willed, determined, and focused as a business-woman. She didn't let me intimidate her. And she amuses herself with her wit. She did tell me she was with friends and had an alibi for Cullen's murder.” She knew Wes would enjoy the next part more than she had. “But she told me I could use my investigative skills to find out the details.”

“Did she slam the door?” He glanced over at her with a half grin, then turned into the parking lot. He found a space close to her office.

“No. Which is a good thing since I was standing in the doorway. But she did start shutting it to force me to move.” Holly got out of the car, took the keys from Wes after he locked her car, then strode up to her office door.

“So I guess she didn't confess to murder, huh?”

Unlocking the door, she went in and held the door for Wes. Recognizing frustrated sarcasm for what it was, she touched his arm. “We're just getting started, Wes. It takes time to develop and follow the clues.”

He nodded.

She dropped her hand from his arm and flipped on the lights. Then she went into the small kitchen and started making coffee.

Wes followed her. “What does AP stand for? Your brothers kept calling you that last night.”

She pushed the button to start the coffee brewing and turned around. Wes stood at the archway between the kitchen and her large, bedroom-sized office. “Family joke.”

She went to the refrigerator next to him, pulled it open, and brought out the orange Tupperware. She opened the lid and held the container out toward Wes. “Want a candy bar?”

He snatched the Tupperware container from her hands. “What does AP stand for?”

Damn him, he was fast. “Give that back!”

He held it up over her head. “When you tell me what AP means.”

She could just slug him—then he would drop the container. But she'd already lost one candy bar to violence last night. “Anti-Princess. Now give me my candy bars.” She grabbed it as soon as it was in her reach, stepped back, and took out a Milky Way bar. “You don't get any.”

He grinned at her. “Anti-Princess, huh? Fits you. What about your parents? Your dad's a cop, right?”

She went to the fridge to hide her stash. “My dad's a retired cop.”

Wes shook his head sadly. “What, is being a cop your family business or something?”

Holly closed the door and studied Wes. “You don't like cops much, do you?”

“Haven't had much use for them, I guess.”

Yeah? What was that about? “What did your dad do for a living?”

His green eyes had a challenging gleam in them. “Journalist.”

She knew he was being purposely vague. It was time for her to do some serious background on Wes Brockman. She was sure he hadn't murdered Cullen, but what if his money came from a career that cops frowned on and that was why he had no use for cops? Damn it, her hormones were overruling her common sense. “Where?”

“I grew up in Los Angeles. I didn't follow my father's footsteps into journalism.”

Holly leaned against the refrigerator and studied him. “What is your degree in?”

He put one hand on the wall over her head. “What makes you think I have a degree?”

She laughed. “Come on, book boy, you have education and money stamped all over you.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “Okay, I'll make you a deal. I'll answer this one and then it's your turn. I majored in business.”

She knew she'd been had somehow. Holly opened her mouth to figure it out but Wes cut her off.

“My turn. What about your mom? Is she in your cop family business?”

Holly froze for a second, her shoulders going tense. Then she forced herself to relax. “She's not a cop.” Ducking beneath his arm, she unwrapped her candy bar and headed for her desk. “I have to get ready for Tanya.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her in the kitchenette. “What does your mom do?”

“Dances.” She bit into the Milky Way and turned to slide by Wes.

He let her go. “Professionally?”

Holly felt better once she settled behind her desk. It made her feel real and valuable. “My mom teaches dance. Now drop it, I have work to do.” She pulled out a pad of paper and started making a list of questions to talk to Tanya about.

A cup of steaming coffee slid in front of her. “Is your mom here in Goleta?”

Wes had obviously found the cups. She sighed to reveal her annoyance. “Why do you care, Brockman?”

He sat down in one of the two chairs facing her desk. “Because you went all icy-tough on me when I asked.”

“And you tricked me when I asked you about your degree,” she shot back.

He did his smug smile. “Nope, it's the truth.”

Wagging the pencil at him, she asked, “How many degrees do you have?”

He shook his head. “It's my turn. Is your mom here in Goleta?”

She dropped her pencil to pick up the coffee and take a sip. “My mom left when I was seven. She moved to San Diego, married a rich guy, teaches dance, and belongs to the important clubs. She has two daughters and they can both dance. They are one big happy family. End of story.” She set the coffee cup down, downed the last of her candy bar, and picked up her pencil. She got real busy starting a list of questions for Tanya.

What the hell had she told him that for?

Ignoring the silence, she focused on the questions.

“I have a law degree.”

Startled, she looked up, meeting his green eyes across her desk. She could hear the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. She could feel her blood pumping in her ears. He was a lawyer? But he didn't practice? Hell, that explained the money. And if he had been a defense lawyer, they made entire careers out of destroying cops, so maybe that explained his apparent dislike of cops.

But all of that was background noise in her brain. What was real, vibrant, and taking up all her breath, was the way he'd told her. It had cost him something to tell her, she didn't know what, but she had heard it in his voice. And he'd done it in return for her little speech about her mom.