Luxury Model Wife Read online

Leighton smiled. “Just your tax doughnuts and coffee dollars at work, my friend.”

  Steve laughed. “I’ve never seen you eat a doughnut in your life. You’re in better shape now than you were in high school.”

  “I like breaking the suburban cop stereotype. Keeps the citizenry on their toes.” He opened the driver’s side door and got out. “Won’t be but a few minutes. With the windows open you should get enough air to stay cool.”

  Steve sat back in the passenger seat and tried to get comfortable. His ribs still hurt and his muscles ached. Too bad over-the-counter pain reliever couldn’t cure the pain in his heart.

  He thought about Victoria and the night they’d danced together. Her lovely face stared up at him, her brown eyes shining with the first signs of happiness he’d seen in them since he met her. Her smile had made him feel more like a man than he’d ever felt in his life.

  Victoria had told him the most private details of her upbringing that night. She’d shared her haunted and violent past, seeming to expect rejection in return.

  How had he had repaid her trust? Not only had his security system failed, he’d breached her personal space and started a fight with Jimmy inside her house.

  Steve rubbed his face with his bruised hands, feeling worse than he had in a long time. He would do anything for a chance to regain Victoria’s trust. He closed his eyes and remembered her big brown eyes and soft mouth, her arms outstretched to hold him.

  A surge of adrenaline shot through him. He had to see her and make amends. Right now.

  He reached for the door handle.

  As if she’d been conjured from his daydream, Victoria walked down the sidewalk toward the intersections of Chestnut and Market. She was dressed in a sleek, blue cotton skirt and crisp white blouse, red pumps, and matching handbag. In her other hand she carried a large satchel. She stopped at the traffic light and looked up at the pedestrian crosswalk signal. Then she turned to look back over her shoulder, as if she sensed being watched.

  Steve’s heart pounded. He had to talk to her. He unlocked the door and jumped out of the car as the pedestrian light called the foot traffic forward. Victoria stepped off the curb. Steve wanted to run, but he couldn’t abandon the patrol car. The windows were open and he didn’t have the keys.

  He watched Victoria walk away and looked back at the police cruiser. What the hell was he going to do?

  *****

  Victoria Van Orr strode toward the women’s shelter. Her work with displaced women and their children gave her a sense of purpose and would keep her focused. She was sick of men and tired of trying to please them. To hell with them all.

  Her heels tapped a rhythm on the pavement. To hell with men, to hell with men. She sang the song in her head to stop thinking about Steve Carlson. She cared deeply about him, and hoped he was okay, but she needed a break.

  Victoria continued her trek along the stately, tree-lined streets of West Chester. The shelter stood half a block away, wedged behind a flower shop and a bakery in a three-story, brick-front apartment building nearly invisible from the sidewalk.

  The shelter’s address wasn’t posted outside, listed in a phone directory or anywhere online. This was a safe house, designed for anonymity and protection. The women and children who stayed inside rebuilt their shattered lives, broken hearts, and wounded bodies in privacy and solitude.

  A noise from the alleyway on Victoria’s left startled her from her thoughts and she turned toward the sound. A gaunt man with salt-and-pepper hair and rheumy eyes stepped from the mouth of the alley. His sallow skin looked like melted wax. Victoria assumed he was homeless, and let down her guard, while she continued her way. Other pedestrians passed her by.

  The man called out, “Victoria. Don’t walk away from me.”

  She froze. Her heart pounded as fear weakened her knees. Her breathing labored until she could hardly breathe.

  Daddy. She hadn’t recognized him, since time and whiskey, and who knew what else, had ravaged his once handsome face. But his voice was almost the same—cold and commanding, bludgeoning her with its sound. A flood of terrible memories almost sent her reeling.

  Suddenly, she was a little girl again, shivering inside her bedroom closet. Perspiration dotted her upper lip while the inside of her mouth went dry. Her hands trembled and her fingers loosened on to the bag she carried. Fight or flight? She wanted to run, but the weakness in her legs rooted her to the spot.

  All her life she’d hidden from her father. She’d prepared for the day she could strike back, vowing she’d never take another beating outside the boxing ring. She’d become a skilled combatant, in the best physical shape of her life. In his dissipated condition, she could take him down with two solid punches.

  Yet he’d disarmed her with a single command.

  A recent memory flashed. She recalled the man she’d seen with Flynn at the restaurant down the street from Carlson’s. Had he been her father? How long had he been stalking her?

  Victoria staggered toward the nearest parked car. Flight. She gripped the hood and steadied herself against the vehicle, dropping the satchel she carried as a full-blown panic attack loomed.

  Why had he come here?

  The answer whispered through her brain: You know why. He smelled your inheritance from whatever sewer he crawled from. He sent Arnold Flynn to find you. He promised a share of the money in exchange for Flynn’s services.

  Her stomach turned over. Tears of rage and shame burned her eyes. You’d think after all these years I’d be hardened to him.

  He shuffled forward. “You sick?”

  She took a strangled breath. “Go away. Stay away from me.”

  “I jus’ wanna talk.”

  “No. That can’t be true. That’s never been true. Leave me alone before I call the police.” She raised her head and met his bleary eyes. “I have nothing to say to you except go to hell.” She moved sideways along the parked car to stay out of range of Benjamin Franklin Slater.

  “Is that any way to talk to your old man? I’d hoped we’d have a little reunion.”

  Victoria’s skin crawled. “Did you send Flynn to find me?”

  His eyes glinted with malice as he moved closer. “It was easy, once he found your mother.”

  Victoria’s heart hammered, but she fought to keep her voice steady. “You went to see her?”

  “Sure.” He smiled again, showing teeth stained by drugs and neglect. “A few times. The girl’s still got it.”

  “She let you stay with her?” That meant he knew about the monthly checks Victoria sent.

  She wanted to raise her fists or shift her feet into a fighting stance, but she couldn’t move. Her father had bullied money from her mother, and might have hurt her in the process. Now he wanted his share.

  “You’ve done real well for yourself. I know all about the fine life you married into. I’ve been waiting for my chance to talk to you, Mrs. Van Orr.” He gestured like a courtier. “And here you are.”

  He laughed, and the gravelly sound made her blood turn to ice. “You’re rich. I’m your father. It’s only right that you help me out. I’m not asking to visit you in your fancy house. You don’t have to pretend you know me. Just pay me, like you pay your mother, and I’ll stay out of your life.”

  He sucked his rancid teeth and the sound made Victoria wince. “Otherwise, I might just stay awhile. Maybe introduce myself around town.” He coughed and held his fist to his mouth. “All I want is what’s fair.”

  Fair?

  Victoria’s lethargy evaporated as self-preservation, fueled by adrenaline, hit her system. She rushed forward in blind fury and released a series of bloodthirsty screams.

  *****

  Lieutenant Leighton pulled the patrol car to the curb and rammed the transmission into park at the sound of the woman’s screams. Steve Carlson jumped from the passenger seat.

  “Victoria.” He ran toward her. The man she chased in her high-heeled shoes had disappeared into an alley. Leighton sprinted after him.
/>
  Victoria’s fists were raised for combat, but her eyes were glazed, and she failed to recognize him. When Steve wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight to his chest, she tried to fight him off, but he murmured words of comfort until she ran out of steam.

  Finally, when he feared his strength would fail, she gasped for air and her eyes refocused. Her body went limp before her tears broke. She trembled and sobbed against his shoulder.

  Steve caressed her hair, rubbed her shoulders, and ran his hands down her back to calm her.

  She choked out the words, “For years I’ve dreamed about killing him.” She leaned into him. “Instead of giving him what he deserves…I fell apart.” Her chest shuddered against his. “I came unglued…when I should have murdered the bastard.”

  Steve kissed the crown of Victoria’s head. “You’re not murdering anyone. Exorcising a demon, maybe.” He lifted her chin and searched her face. “You’re stronger than he is.”

  Victoria let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, right. I sure proved that.”

  “He’s a coward.”

  The lieutenant emerged from the alleyway. “He’s gone. Seems to know his way around.” He pulled out his pen and a notepad. “Do you know that man, Mrs. Van Orr?”

  She was shivering like a wet kitten. “He’s my father.” Victoria explained what had happened.

  The lieutenant’s lips tightened. “Let us take you home.”

  “I have my car.”

  “I’ll bring it to your house later,” Steve said.

  “Thanks.” She found her keys and handed them over. “It’s parked in the municipal lot.”

  The lieutenant opened the rear door of his patrol car and helped Victoria inside. She climbed into the back seat and rested her head against the upholstery. Steve retrieved her satchel from the pavement, slid into the vehicle beside her, and dropped the sack on the floorboard.

  The car pulled away from the curb and headed toward the Van Orr estate. Victoria closed her eyes and said nothing during the ride. When they arrived at her home, she surprised Steve by inviting him inside.

  “Norm, I’ll see you later, okay?” he said. “I’ll take a rain check on that lunch.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Steve followed Victoria through the front door.

  “Thanks for staying with me.”

  Steve wanted to be nowhere else in the world. “I’ll make a couple of drinks while you change, and meet you in the sitting room.”

  Victoria sighed. “That sounds perfect.” She pointed in the direction of the bar. “Mix whatever you want. Surprise me.” She headed up the staircase.

  Steve found the tequila for margaritas. Victoria would like that.

  She returned minutes later dressed in sweatpants, a matching hooded sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. On her, the outfit looked couture.

  Steve smiled and handed her a chilled glass.

  She sipped the drink and licked her lips. “Ah, that’s better.”

  “Good?”

  She nodded. “You make a mean margarita, my friend.”

  “Hmm. That’s true, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “That I’m still your friend. No matter what’s happened between us, that hasn’t changed. Never will.” He placed his glass on a side table. “You can’t imagine how bad I feel about the burglary.”

  He looked up and their eyes met and held. Victoria’s expression offered understanding for the first time since the incident, washing waves of relief over him.

  “I told my insurance company to issue my compensation check to the James Van Orr Foundation. I’d like to be your first patron.”

  Victoria placed her margarita glass next to Steve’s on the side table. “That’s very generous.” She smiled and the earlier tension in her face disappeared. “And typical of who you are. I should never have blamed you for the crime. I’ve played the scenario over and over again in my head. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  She took his hands in hers and his awareness of her heightened at the intimacy of her touch. He smelled the scents of lavender soap and perfume on her skin.

  “When I thought it through, I realized you were still the right person to handle James’s estate. Or what’s left of it. He would have wanted that.” Victoria squeezed his hands. “But let’s not talk about money right now.” She dipped her head. “That’s all anyone seems to want from me.” She met Steve’s eyes again and her expression softened. “Except you. You’re the only one who keeps trying to give me money.”

  Steve smiled. “And is my plan to win you working?”

  Victoria laughed for the first time since the night they danced. “We’ll see.”

  She startled him by unzipping the front of her hooded sweatshirt. His gaze dropped to her hands as they moved the zipper over her chest, revealing a black sport bra beneath. The swell of her cleavage brought him instantly alert.

  He watched as she pulled off the sweatshirt and tossed it on the chair behind her. Her toned arms and perfectly sculpted abdomen riveted his attention to her magnificent upper body.

  She turned toward him again and tugged the waistband of her pants. Slowly, so slowly Steve thought his lungs would burst from holding his breath, she nudged the pants over her hips and down her tight, smooth thighs.

  Steve’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he could no longer swallow.

  She was stunning in her sports bra and tiny matching shorts.

  Victoria dropped her sweatpants to the floor and stepped out of the legs. She lifted her long, black hair away from her shoulders and let it fall like rain down her back. In one swift movement she lifted her hair again and tied it in a thick ponytail.

  “Want to go a few rounds? I need to burn off nervous energy.”

  “Sounds great.” Though it might take several rounds to burn off the energy stoking him.

  “Afterwards, I’ll make lunch.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Steve was sure Victoria’s plain black bra and spandex workout shorts were the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “You know I like to box when I’m upset. Since I froze when confronted by my worst nightmare, I obviously have work left to do.” She pointed to the adjoining gym. “Let’s get gloves on. Take off your shirt.”

  Though she’d admitted to being upset, she seemed to have regained total control. Steve wondered how often Victoria had forced herself to rebound from adversity. Her resilience gave testimony to her amazing inner strength.

  What was it world heavyweight boxing champion Floyd Patterson once told the press? “They said I was the fighter who got knocked down the most, but I also got up the most.”

  Getting up was the most important part.

  Victoria moved toward the doorway in her form-fitting shorts and bra and glanced back over her shoulder. Her long ponytail swayed, her beautiful eyes made contact with his, and her lips curved in a come-hither smile. She looked like a lingerie model. That pose, coupled with the perfect roundness of her bottom inside spandex, made his adrenaline soar.

  “Your jeans will be okay, but you should leave the boots behind,” she said.

  Steve pulled off his tee shirt and threw it on a nearby chair. He was glad to keep the jeans. “Down boy,” he muttered, while he slid his boots and socks off and left them on the hardwood floor. He padded across the room into the gym.

  Victoria was already pulling on her gloves. “Tie these for me, will you?” She pointed to the box filled with gloves in varying sizes and styles. “I suggest you use a set with Velcro closures. One of us needs to get out of these things without help.”

  Steve reached into the bin and found a pair that seemed right for him. He slid them over his hands, flexed, and admired the feel. He punched the air, getting used to controlling the extra weight.

  Victoria jabbed the sandbag to her right with a quick one-two. She pivoted fast, swung her right leg in a wide arc and slammed the bag with the bottom of her foot, creasing the canvas like
a soda can. The bag sprang back and Victoria hit it again with a left hook.

  “Now you try,” she said. “Be careful not to strike with your wrist locked or you’ll break your hand.” She gestured toward the sandbag with her red leather glove and trotted away toward a speed bag. The sounds of her quick rhythms filled the room.

  Steve repeated the moves she’d shown him the first time he visited her gym. He liked the way the impacts stretched and flexed his muscles. Each shot created an energy surge through his body. His arms hummed like a tuning fork with each solid stroke, and his neck, shoulder, and back muscles burned. His feet began a rhythmic dance. He circled the punching bag again and landed several blows.

  “Do you imagine your father’s face when you box?” Though he pretended his question was casual, he watched closely for her answer.

  Victoria’s pace increased and her expression turned hard. She attacked the speed bag with more force than before. “What do you think?” She controlled the bag with a series of pummels.

  “I think you should come here and vent with me.”

  Victoria did a double take. “Fight you? Why?”

  “Let’s get your basic distrust of men out in the open, once and for all.” He practiced a few upper cuts. “I want you to let it all out.”

  “I am letting it out.” She slammed a glove against the bag and it shot toward the ceiling. “I just didn’t have the guts to do this when I should have.”

  “You told me you’d stopped fighting people in the ring. Maybe it’s time to relearn how it feels to strike back. Maybe boxing with me in a safe environment will help you cope with your feelings of helplessness.”

  He turned and punched air. “You’ve been mad at me, too. Admit it. So take a few shots.”

  Victoria eyed him with apparent misgiving. “That’s the dumbest idea I ever heard.”

  “It isn’t. Come on. Try. You’re afraid of down-and-dirty confrontation. Stop trying to stay rational or act like a lady. Scream, fight, and let the rage out. I can take it.”

  When she refused to budge, he reared up and raised his hands. “If you won’t attack me, I’ll come after you.”

  Victoria flinched, but held her ground.