by Nikki Duncan
“Your attorney?” Tyler asked, following her.
She stopped. Pulling in a long, indrawn breath, she turned and looked up the few inches needed to meet his gaze. “Did I miss a development where my business became your business?”
“Seems to me if you want to prove your innocence you wouldn’t be running off to your attorney.”
“Seems to me if you want to win the hearts of your children you wouldn’t be trying to villainize the woman responsible for raising them.”
“Is that why you’re going to the attorney? Are we no longer working together to figure things out? Are we heading to court? Or are you asking him to help plan your defense because you’re not as innocent as you claim?”
“Sure. The only reasons people see attorneys are underhanded and illegal.” Every pulse point in her body slammed against her skin, fighting for freedom. So many possibilities lingered on the tip of her tongue. None of them were kind. Few were civil.
She’d always thought of herself as calm and easygoing. Even tempered. Tyler brought out a different side of her until all she wanted to do was wring his neck or just kick him in the ass.
Unable to even think nicely, she moved to the door with a parting, “I’ll be home when the kids are out of school.”
Her hands were shaking so much she dropped the keys twice before she got the right one in the ignition. Gripping the wheel, she rested her head against the seat, closed her eyes and counted. When ten wasn’t enough to calm her, she kept going. Twenty came and went. Thirty and then forty. Finally by fifty-five her pulse had slowed down and her scalp was tingling less.
At her attorney’s office, she updated Daniel on her situation with Tyler and the kids. She’d worried the courts would automatically give him custody since he was blood and it hadn’t been his choice to stay away, but Daniel advised her it wouldn’t be that easy. She had a ten-year history to back her up, and while the courts would look at all aspects of the case, they would take her history with the kids into account.
Feeling like she had a pretty good chance of winning if things went to court, she moved on to the next challenge. “He’s investigating a string of art thefts and suspects me of being the thief.”
“Are you?”
“No.” The question didn’t anger her like Tyler’s accusations. Maybe because it was straightforward and Daniel would believe her. Still, she offered more of an explanation. “I need my art to reflect who I am. A painting of a field of poppies doesn’t do it for me. That’s why everything I have has been privately commissioned.”
“Is a poppy painting one of the pieces taken?” Daniel asked as he tapped the end of his Mont Blanc against the pad of paper before him.
“I don’t know. Tyler hasn’t shown me a picture of anything other than a coin. I really think he thought he’d walk into my house and find the walls covered with stolen art.”
“What coin?”
“One of the coins I use in my shows. It was found at the latest scene.”
Still tapping the pen the way he always did when considering potential approaches, Daniel winced. “Maybe it’s not the smartest thing for you to let him stay at your house.”
She sighed. “Trust me, I’ve thought about that, but the kids love having him there, and I’m trying not to blow things up for them.”
“So you can trust him to respect your boundaries and not use his time there to skew the investigation?”
The resounding “yes” she wanted to say wouldn’t come. She didn’t trust it to be the truth. “Of course not. He admitted last night that he’d looked through my files to see if he could find any evidence.”
Daniel used his right index finger to push his glasses farther up his nose while he wrote a note. “Have you checked to make sure nothing is missing from or has been added to your files?”
“No.”
“Do that. If you’re going to allow him in your house, we can’t keep him from making copies of things, but we can stop them from being used if he’s searching without a warrant. Or at least argue that he altered your records.”
She hated thinking the worst of anyone. Even standing on opposing sides of the fight for the kids the same held true for Tyler. She had to be realistic though and prepare for the worst. “I’ll have it to you by tomorrow.”
“While you’re doing that, pull the information on the coins you use. How many you order a year, from where, for how long back and how many you give out at each performance. We may as well start creating a pattern to show they’re as common as poker chips at a casino or matchbooks at a bar.”
“Okay. I offered to give him the itinerary from this last weekend. Do you see any issues with that?”
“Couldn’t hurt, just make sure I get a copy too.”
“Will do.” The time with Daniel was costing her a few hundred dollars, but he was easing her mind. As a result, she felt her anger slipping away. “I’m also giving him the list of people who can corroborate my story.”
He nodded with his Mont Blanc hovering over the legal pad. “Is there anything else I need to know about?”
“My mom is reaching out to her sources to see if she can get a list of the stolen pieces and whether or not they’ve been re-sold.”
“Smart,” he said with a nod. “If it comes down to it, I’ll have to talk to her resources to verify anything she finds. In the meantime, I’ll reach out to the FBI. Maybe I can get a list. If they’re going to come after you, we’re going to be ready.”
“Thank you, Daniel. I feel steadier having a sort of plan in place for all this. I just wish I knew what evidence they had other than the coinciding dates and a coin.”
“That may be all they have. I’m sure they’ve gotten confessions from people based on much less.”
“Well, if it’s all they have, they need to look somewhere else or they’re not going to find their perp.”
“We’ll get you through this.”
“Thanks, Daniel. You’re the best.”
He took his glasses off and laid them on the desk. “Am I good enough to talk you into a do-over?”
“No,” she said with a smile. They’d dated in college for about two minutes until she realized he felt more like a brother to her. And something always made her wonder if he was as into women as he pretended. Still, all these years later and he hadn’t given up trying. “I’m not on the menu these days.”
“Is it the Fed?”
“No.” Even if Tyler was the only person she could see herself kissing he wasn’t an option. “There’s no one.”
“Your devotion to the kids is admirable, Taryn, but you can’t allow them stop you from finding your own happiness. You can’t allow them to be why you don’t have a personal life.”
“But I’m happy with them.”
“Good, but you deserve to be giddy.”
She was still thinking about Daniel’s argument when she pulled up to the warehouse for practice. Kimber, her stage double, pulled up at the same time.
In the years they’d worked together, Kimber had done more than change her hair to look like Taryn’s. She’d adopted her mannerisms and habits, so they very often showed up places at the same time. Even her taste in clothes had become identical.
Some people viewed it as a creepy Single White Female kind of thing, but Kimber was the most down-to-earth person Taryn new. And a great double was necessary for some of her acts. And to be convincing on stage she needed a level of closeness offstage that most would never know or allow. Kimber looked and could act and talk so like Taryn that they didn’t have to hide their faces when doing an act that took Taryn from one side of the room to the other in a blink.
“You look like you’ve recovered from your party the other night,” Kimber said as they walked into the warehouse.
“Yeah. Next time I may have to let you pretend to be me.”
“No.” Emphatic was the tone Kimber always used when Taryn suggested she take her place offstage. An introvert to her soul’s roots, Kimber did not handle c
rowds well. The only reason she managed on stage was because people saw her as Taryn instead of as herself.
“I thought that’s what you’d say. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“You had fun and you know you liked making all those contacts.”
She was smiling over the idea of the contacts as they neared the back where the props lined the wall. Davio greeted them. “Taryns. Good morning.”
Kimber shook her head. “Why don’t you call me Kimber when we’re in here, Davio?”
“Habit I guess.” But he never did, because he claimed it was safer to be in the habit so he didn’t slip in public. He was the only one who worried about slipping, though.
“Where’s Martina?” Taryn asked. “I saw her car out front.”
“Hugging the toilet,” Davio answered with a curl to his upper lip and nose. “I think she’s coming down with something.”
“Why didn’t she call me? We could have taken the day off.” Shaking her head, Taryn went toward the bathroom to check on her stage assistant.
The restroom was a single unit, but she’d put a wall and door around the toilet so they didn’t have to worry so much about someone walking in. “Martina, you okay?”
The toilet flushed and Martina stepped out of the stall a moment later. Her face was much paler than normal for her Hispanic coloring. Her eyes looked miserable.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, moving to the sink to run cold water over her hands and to splash her face.
Taryn passed her a towel and studied her. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Just don’t feed me.”
She’d been a little paler in San Francisco and more tired than usual, but they’d all worked so hard Taryn hadn’t put much stock in it. They’d all looked rougher around the edges than normal. “Are you sick? Is it something you ate on the trip?”
“No.” Martina met her gaze and shook her head. “I have the nine-month flu, though I really hope this doesn’t last for nine months.”
“Oh my God.” Taryn couldn’t stop her grin. “You’re pregnant?”
Martina’s lips curled into a hesitant smile. “Yeah.”
“How excited are you and Mateo?”
“Excited, but this means I have to quit the show.”
“But… No. We just have to come up with a less skimpy outfit.” Ideas turned in Taryn’s head about how fun it would be to come up with something. “You’ll be the sexiest pregnant woman. So voluptuous.”
“Yeah, that’ll be one word to describe it.” She rubbed her hand over her hips. “I’m only a few weeks and I already feel my backside spreading.”
“You’re gorgeous, and we’ll figure it out.” Taryn took Martina’s wet hands in her own dry ones and squeezed gently. “If you really want to quit, I’ll understand, but don’t think you have to for the purpose of how you’ll appear on stage.”
“Okay.” Martina tossed the napkin in the trash.
Taryn was already opening the door. “Let’s go tell Kimber and Davio. I think he’s afraid you’re going to give him a deadly virus.”
The day hadn’t started out with such a great tone, but things were looking up. In a drastically better mood, Taryn decided only to do a couple of runs on the newest act they were putting together. When it was time for lunch, she called an end to the day, telling them she had work to do in the office and that they should enjoy their afternoons. She especially encouraged Martina to go home and nap.
If things stayed on an upswing, she might make it through the afternoon without wanting to strangle Tyler.
Or she might just need to avoid him while she gathered the information for Daniel.
Tyler had logged into his computer and tried to work. He’d managed for a while. Then he’d made the mistake of opening the files on the art thefts. In addition to the coin that was left behind, the latest victim had a motion-activated security system. The crook never looked up, but the slim build and long black hair were evident. Less evident, at first glance to an untrained eye that hadn’t been studying her, was the way she moved—quick and fluid.
Unable to watch any longer, mostly from fear he’d find something else to point to her, he’d turned it off, stripped off his shirt and headed for the pool. His muscles were beginning to feel rubbery from all the laps when he heard the garage door open.
It wasn’t time for Taryn and the kids to be home and she hadn’t mentioned anyone else coming over. At the end of the pool he placed his hands on the side, raised himself up and jumped out.
More concerned with who might be making themselves welcome, he didn’t bother with a towel but he wouldn’t mind his gun being handy. A little water wouldn’t hurt the garage floor anyway.
Instead of an intruder, he found Taryn about to get out of her car. “You’re home early,” he said as he moved toward her door.
With one foot on the ground and one still in the car, she scanned his body before moving her other foot. “You’re doing something other than searching my house.”
His mom used to accuse him of always sounding like he was ready to argue. A new path, or less confrontational one, was more important, so he made sure to modulate his tone to keep the argumentative sound out. “I’m tired of arguing, but I’d like it on record that you told me to make myself at home.”
She grabbed her purse from the passenger seat and stood. He didn’t move immediately out of her way. She didn’t push, but instead spoke calmly. “How’d you feel when Ryder hacked you?”
“Violated.”
She lifted a brow and pursed her lips like she did when challenging the kids to argue. His tone had remained level. His heartbeat suddenly wasn’t because as irritated as he’d been with his hacker it hadn’t been a betrayal of trust. Instead of asking how she managed to make him feel like a two-year-old who’d just stained his mother’s favorite outfit he attempted a lighter tone.
“It’s not like I was playing with your panties, Taryn.”
“I might have preferred that.”
Damn. Why’d she have to go say that? “You know what?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” She stepped aside.
He closed the car door, but still didn’t move. He liked being close to her. He enjoyed seeing the pulse in her neck jump with excitement, and it didn’t seem to matter if the excitement came from anger or arousal.
“I’m tired of fighting you too.” He stopped her with a hand on her wrist, just as he had in her office. “Everything I say comes out wrong, so I’m going to stop talking.”
“It’s about time.”
“And instead, am going to do something.”
She’d said they couldn’t have a repeat, but his want for her was only growing the longer he knew her. Lying beside her in the dark theater and having to keep his hands to himself, fighting with her and seeing the passion sparkle in her eyes had nearly been his undoing. The woman was a walking seduction, so he kissed her.
Unlike the kiss in the office, where he’d kept things slow and tentative, feeling his way through her responses, he knew how her body would respond. Moving his hand from her wrist, he placed one on each hip and pulled her close.
She resisted for only a breath and then molded against him on a sigh. It wasn’t smart to flirt with an involvement, but sometimes the best things came from bad decisions.
He pressed the tip of his tongue against her lips, encouraging her to open. She relented and granted him access. Sweet with the slightest tang, she tasted like strawberries on a summer day.
He moved closer, pressed her against the car, and dove deeper. Her tongue brushed his. Her breath rushed along his cheek. Something hit the ground with a thud, her purse maybe, and a second later her hands were in his hair.
She moaned and arched into him, lifted a leg up the outside of his, taking him higher faster than he’d imagined possible. The water still on him from the pool evaporated beneath her heat.
He wanted her naked beneath him, open for his feasting pleasure. Certain he would starve without he
r, he slid his hands to her ass and lifted her. She answered with a moan as she wrapped her legs around him.
Taking the garage door into the hall outside the kitchen and media room, he turned toward the media room. He’d throbbed, hungered, as he’d lain beside her on those beanbags; he was going to have her on them.
With every step she rolled her hips, pressing herself against him. Still rubbery from the swim, his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. Hustling his step, he made it to the bags and sank to his knees.
The swim could be completely unrelated to his weak knees.
Keeping her mouth occupied with his, afraid she’d argue or tell him to stop, he laid her back and settled beside her. He didn’t have a condom and he doubted seriously that she stocked them in the media room, so he couldn’t go all the way with her. All the way wasn’t necessary for a damn good time.
Just kissing her freed something locked deep inside. He didn’t want to fall in love, and wasn’t willing to think that was what he was feeling, but he didn’t want to stop kissing her either.
Easing her hands from his hair, she slid them along his neck, over his shoulders and down his back until she stopped just above his waistband. Moving in a teasing dance that left a tingling path in their wake her thin fingers moved along his shorts. He craved her touch on every part of him. Craved the freedom she awakened.
Fire, much like what had shot through him when she tugged at his boxers the night before, erupted. For sanity’s sake, and needing some control, he turned his hands into the bag and fisted the foam as hard as possible, fisted it until his arms shook.
She stroked him, moved against him and kissed him, releasing the slightest little moan from time to time.
Dreams were better when they held real memories. He absorbed her, held her and kissed her, committed her every move to memory to relive when he left.
Unsure how long they stayed there, not caring, Tyler finally eased away and lay beside her on the beanbag. Breathing heavily, he lost hope of catching his breath when she rolled to her side and rested one hand on his stomach and propped herself up on the other to watch him.
