“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 her 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?”

Her mouth opened, those soft lips parting as if readying for a kiss. “Yes,” she said, and for one crazed moment, he thought she was inviting his lips to hers. Then he realized she was answering his question.

“Another man? Where? Who?”

“I—I bumped into him. At the Broken Spoke,” she said, referencing an iconic Austin dance hall. “A group of us had gone out after one of the Man of the Month contests. We do that sometimes, but this time Brent was with us.”

“Unusual for him because of Faith,” Landon said, and Taylor nodded.

“He was teaching me how to two-step. I saw Reggie across the bar watching us.”

“When was that?”

She thought back. “After Parker. So, about two weeks ago. And about a week before the brick.”

“Hang on.” He tapped out a quick text to Brent, asking if he remembered the night, and if he’d noticed anyone watching him afterwards, or if anything odd had happened to him or his car. The answer was immediate and negative. Brent hadn’t noticed a thing.

Considering Brent’s training—and his tendency to be extra observant about his home because of Faith—Landon had to assume there’d been no incidents aimed at him. But that didn’t mean the perp wasn’t Reggie. His focus might be narrowed to the woman he coveted, punishing her for her perceived infidelity.

Assuming it was Reggie at all.

“There’s something else,” Taylor said. “That’s about the time I started to feel—”

“What?”

“Watched, I guess. I didn’t mention it before because it’s just a feeling.” She licked her lips, clearly pondering something.

“There’s something else?”

“It’s just … I know you said anyone could quote musicals to me, but that just seems so much more of a Reggie thing. And Beau was eight years and a lot of miles ago. Plus—”

He cocked his head. “Plus what?”

But she only shook her head. “Plus it seems so unlikely after all this time that he’d find me. That he’d even try. Doesn’t it?”

Before Landon could answer, she plowed on, as if determined to convince herself that Beau couldn’t have a thing to do with this. “And he’s not exactly cultured. Or he wasn’t. I mean, he knows I like musicals, but I’m not sure he’d do a good job picking the quotes. I mean, he was the kind of guy who cleans under his toenails with a switchblade. He probably thinks Evita is a soda pop and Sweeney Todd the name of a pirate in those Johnny Depp movies. Quotes from Grease would be more likely.”

“I haven’t gotten any intel back on him. Not yet. And we haven’t seen him in Austin. But he’s the one you’re scared of.”

“Of course I’m scared of him. He’s a scary guy.” She stood up and went to the desk, then started to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“What aren’t you telling me, Taylor?”

Her back was too him, but as she picked up the cup, he saw that her hands were shaking. “Nothing.”

She turned, then looked straight at him, long lashes surrounding wide, guileless brown eyes. “Absolutely nothing,” she repeated.

And he knew without a doubt that she was lying.