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Could he have imagined whatever had been growing between them? Could he be that blind? That stupid?
Or had Beth simply thought to sweet-talk Halifax into relinquishing custody?
But Halifax would use this evidence against her.
Growling in frustration, Landon scraped a rough hand down his face, then he and the detective exchanged a glance that spoke volumes. “Did my wife leave with him?” Landon asked.
“No. When I exited the restaurant, she was getting into her own car.”
But not before they’d kissed!
Rage stiffened his muscles, gripped his throat, made it hard to speak. Beth’s pretty profile in the photo blurred as his vision went red. Halifax. Once again, the bastard thought he could take his wife away from him.
And Beth had gone to him. Despite Landon’s warnings, despite how delicate the situation was.
She’d run to the enemy and cast Landon into a role he’d sworn never to be cast in ever again: the fool.
Beth was waiting in the living room, listening to the patter of rain while the dogs slept by the dark fireplace, when she heard Landon’s car pull up in the driveway.
After chewing most of her nails off wondering how to describe her encounter with Hector, she felt so glad to see Landon walk through that door, his hair wet, rivulets sliding down his jaw, tiredly dropping a portfolio at his feet, that she flung herself against him and eagerly pressed her mouth to his. “Thank God you’re home!”
Stiff and unresponsive, Landon set her aside and commanded the dogs to back off.
Stunned, Beth watched him carry his portfolio over to the desk where he kept his agenda. He set it down on the surface with a thump. “Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Beth?”
He trapped her gaze, and her already-wrung heart seemed to die a sudden death.
She sensed something was wrong.
All around Landon—her husband, her lover, her new best friend—was a wall, emitting a signal to stay away.
The romantic fantasies she’d been entertaining, the ones of kissing him and loving him before she confessed she’d seen Hector, were destroyed by this harsh reality.
Landon was as closed to her as she’d ever seen him.
Tight-lipped, he retrieved a folder from the inside of the leather case. With an impenetrable look in his eyes, he went to the small bar and prepared a drink. “Cat got your tongue?” he prodded, file in one hand as he poured with the othe
r.
“What’s wrong with you…?” Beth asked, confused and wide-eyed. “And what’s with the file?”
As he brushed past her, he put the folder in her hand. He fell into the chair behind a small desk with his drink in hand, and said, “Open it.”
Beth’s hands trembled as she obeyed.
It wasn’t the tone he’d used, icy with contempt, or the way he held himself unapproachable as he sat there that unnerved her. It was the look in his eyes.
He knew.
“Recognize the woman in those photographs, dear wife?”
She stared at them and almost keeled over.
The images were staggering, images of her and Hector, speaking and arguing and kissing. The bile rose to her throat as she tossed the photos aside. “It’s not how it looks, Landon.”
Landon smiled, deceptively. Beth opened her mouth to explain more but was dazzled by the gleam of his eyes, stormy with something raw and masculine. Storming with jealousy.
Beth could almost hear the trust between them shattering like glass.
