“And with me?” He trailed his fingers up my arm. “What is it with me?”
“Exciting,” I said, and saw the pleasure bloom on his face.
“And you do like an adventure.”
“Yeah,” I said, thinking about the night. “I guess I do.” I liked him, too. And more than just for sex. He felt like he fit, and the feeling was somehow both scary and very, very sweet.
He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me close. “But that’s not too much of a discovery for you, is it? No one becomes a cop for the paperwork.”
“Excitement in the field isn’t the same as excitement in bed.”
“Point taken. I know how I got you in my bed. How did you get in the field?”
I cocked my head, not understanding.
“I mean, Detective. Why did you become a cop? And don’t just tell me you wanted to serve truth, justice, and the American way. I want the deeper reason.”
“It’s in my blood,” I said, giving him a true answer, though not the real one. “My dad’s been in law enforcement since he got out of high school—me, too,” I added.
“All right. I’ll buy that. But what else?”
“What makes you think there’s something else?”
“I don’t think,” he said. “I know.”
“Oh?”
He held me close as he looked at me, his hand sliding beneath his T-shirt to stroke my back. “I know how to see into people, Sloane. It’s a skill I learned a long time ago. How to know when they’re telling the truth. When they’re lying. When they truly care about something, or when they’re just faking it. It’s an art, reading people, and it’s one I’m especially skilled at. One that’s paid off for me over and over. And when I say that someone is holding back on me, I promise you can take it as gospel.”
“Those sound like the kind of skills a grifter would develop. A con artist. A swindler.”
“Or a businessman who wants to read his competitors. To judge their offers and have an edge in negotiations.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Or are you saying that all businessmen are swindlers?”
“I’m saying that you’re very good at what you do. Whatever you do.”
“I’m flattered. And I’m still curious.” He pulled away from me, making me feel cold and suddenly alone, then took my hand as we continued walking through the park.
“What are you not telling me? Please,” he added gently. “I would really like to know.”
I drew in a breath. The truth was, I wanted to tell him. Yes, I knew that I would have to walk away from this man eventually. And yes, I knew that it would be all the harder if I shared my secrets, my fears, my emotions.
But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a question of smart, but a question of heart. And I wanted Tyler to see into mine.
“Have you heard of Harvey Grier?”
It took him a moment, and then he nodded slowly. “I think so. Baseball player, right? Found shot right as his career was really taking off.”
“He was my stepfather.”
“I see.” Two simple words, and yet they suggested so much. And I both feared and hoped that he really did see. “Did they ever find who killed him?”
“No,” I said. “No, they didn’t.”
“He beat you,” Tyler said softly, and I saw understanding bloom in his face. “Tied you up and beat you.”
I looked away, not ready to see the pity in his eyes. “No, not me. My mother. Well, he tied us both up,” I explained, my voice flat. “But he never beat me. He just made me watch. He said my time was coming.”
“You must be very glad he’s dead.” Tyler’s voice was low and hard. “If I’d known you then, I would have killed him myself.”