Beth Andrews - Unraveling the Past

A life built on lies?

How do you work for a guy who took the job you wanted? Every time Captain Layne Sullivan runs into Chief Ross Taylor, she struggles with that issue. It doesn’t help that he’s a by-the-book cop who expects everything done his way. It also doesn’t help that he’s hot. Ignoring that little fact is impossible—she’s tried!

Then Layne’s world is turned upside down when human remains are discovered…and the case has a personal connection. Suddenly she’s glad Ross is so thorough, because he’ll get to the truth. And his search brings them closer, fueling the attraction that’s out of control. As secrets and lies from the past surface, Layne’s biggest challenge is fighting for a future—with Ross in it.

She resented his control even as she envied it

“I take it you and your mother aren’t close?” Ross asked.

“If you were from here, you wouldn’t even have to ask that.” And Layne wasn’t about to fill him in.

“You haven’t spoken to your mother in almost a year?”

“September twentieth. Nineteen ninety-three.”

If he was surprised, she couldn’t tell. Couldn’t read him in the best of times, let alone when her emotions were jumbled, her thoughts confused.

She prided herself on her ability to see situations…people…clearly. Being unable to do so with him only served to infuriate and, yes, intrigue her. Damn him.

What if her mother had changed her mind and hadn’t wanted to leave her family? What if Layne hadn’t said those things to her that night? What if she’d tried to stop her mother from leaving instead of telling her to go and not come back?

Dear God, what if her mother was dead? And it was all her fault?

Dear Reader,

Writers are often asked where we get our ideas. The truth is, I have no clue how I come up with my stories. Sometimes it’s from something I see on TV, others it’s a line or two from a newspaper article or even lyrics from a song. All I know is that my books usually start with a character, one who grabs my attention, who has some fatal flaw to get past or an emotional wound that needs healing. Once I have that character in mind, I focus on writing a story that pushes them to grow and change and earn their Happily Ever After.

It wasn’t that way with The Truth about the Sullivans trilogy. As a matter of fact, the premise for all three stories came from one simple quote: The truth will set you free.

It’s a simple concept, but also one that can be very powerful. At least, that’s what I found out when I wrote these stories. I had to know what would happen if three sisters discovered that their mother, the woman they’d thought had abandoned them, had actually been murdered.

The answers surprised me. For Layne Sullivan, the eldest daughter and heroine of Unraveling the Past, discovering what had really happened to her mother meant a complete reevaluation of everything she’d always believed. It also meant facing some hard truths about herself, the resentments she’d held on to all these years and her ability to forgive—others and herself.

I had a great time writing Layne and Ross’s story and I hope you enjoy it, as well! I love to hear from my readers. Please visit my website, www.bethandrews.net, or drop me a line at beth@bethandrews.net or P.O. Box 714, Bradford, PA 16701.

Happy reading!

Beth Andrews

P.S. Look for book two of The Truth about the Sullivans series, On Her Side, available in August 2012.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Romance Writers of America RITA® Award winner Beth Andrews lives with her husband and three children in northwestern Pennsylvania far from the ocean, Boston accents and New England Patriots fans. The middle of three daughters, she knows a thing or two about the

dynamics between sisters—a skill that came in handy while writing The Truth about the Sullivans. When not writing, Beth spends too much time in the kitchen and too little time on the treadmill. Learn more about Beth and her books by visiting her website, www.BethAndrews.net.

For Montgomry

Acknowledgment

Special thanks to Assistant Chief Mike Ward of the Bradford, PA, Police Department.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN JESSICA TAYLOR lost her virginity three months and six guys ago—after fiercely guarding it for fifteen years—she’d been stone-cold sober.

She hadn’t made that mistake again.

Her stomach rolled. From the Jack Daniel’s, she assured herself. She should’ve stuck with beer. It always gave her a nice, mellow buzz without making her want to puke. Mostly because she knew her limit. Whiskey was a new beast, one she hadn’t figured out her tolerance to yet.

But Nate had been so sweet when she’d arrived at the party a few hours ago, teasing her into trying J.D. and Diet Coke, making sure her glass was always full, adding more soda when she choked, her eyes watering at the first taste.

Yeah, he was a real prince.

A cold sweat broke out along her hairline. Her stomach churned again. Because of the alcohol. It had nothing to do with her being on her back in the middle of the freaking woods.

She stared up at the moon peeking through the branches of the trees and pretended she was somewhere else, anywhere else, doing anything except what she was doing. That she wasn’t wasted—yet again. And that Nate Berry, with his floppy, pop-star hair and tight circle of friends, really liked her. Cared about her. That he wasn’t using her.

That she wasn’t letting him use her.

Her skin grew clammy. Prickled with the cold. Nate’s fingers clenched her hips, his face pressed against her neck. He was just another boy. And this was just another meaningless, drunken hookup in what was quickly becoming a long line of meaningless, drunken hookups.

Tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she squeezed her eyes shut. No. No feeling sorry for herself. She had every right to have sex with whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was her body after all. Her choice to give it to some guy or not.

She was in control.

Her back and butt scraped against the rough earth. Her neck was stretched back, her hair caught between the crown of her head and the ground, pulling painfully each time he moved. She just wanted it to be over. Wanted to pretend it had never happened in the first place. Just like all the other times.

Clutching his arms, she lifted her hips to keep from getting the mother of all brush burns, to stop the contents of her stomach from sloshing. She inhaled deeply, breathed in the scent of Nate’s cologne and the pungent smell from the bonfire in the clearing outside the trees. His grip tightened, his nails digging into her skin as he groaned hoarsely and shuddered then finally—finally—stilled.

Thank God.

He collapsed on top of her, surprisingly heavy for a guy who looked as if he’d never heard of carbs, let alone ate any. His heart beat frantically against her chest, his breath hot and ragged against her shoulder. They had connected in the most elemental way. And still she felt alone. Always alone.

Her throat closed. Without a word, without a kiss or a murmured endearment or even an outright lie about how fantastic it’d been, how fantastic she was, Nate climbed to his feet. He turned his back and adjusted his clothes.