Undercover Heat (19 page)

A sudden bang at the kitchen window drove them from each other
’
s
arms. Ty dragged his sleeve across his mouth and squinted into the
dusk. “What the fuck was that!”

“The hell if I know.”

Ty threw open the sliding glass door and stepped on to the patio. His vision adjusted just in time to see a man with a camera leap over the wall and disappear into the brush on the other side.

“Chill out,” Layla said from the door way. “It’s just the paparazzi.”

“No shit, how the hell did he get in here?”

“Th
ey have their ways, I suppose.”

He eyed his ex-wife in the lamplight. Her tears had dried and her skin had found its color. He took a few steps closer, and he swore he saw her lips fight a smile. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the least bit concerned that a man just snuck on to private property and photographed a moment that was supposed to be just between us?”

“Shit happens.” She shrugged. “Look, I should get going. I told Marcy I’d meet her after.”

Ty cocked his head at her choice of words. She was already half way to the front door when he caught up to her. “Hold on, what do you mean ‘after?’ After what?”

“After meeting you.”

“I thought you said you had no idea I’d be here?” Again, she turned toward the door, but he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “Hey listen. You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you?”

“Give Carrie Ann my regards.” She winked and slung her rhinestone purse over her shoulder before heading out.

The Maserati engine sounded fine to him, when she gunned the thing and squealed out the driveway. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Something told him he’d just played a scene in his ex-wife’s personal performance.

***

Harvey hid in the bushes near the curb. He ran the whole half-mile, no small feat for a guy who still smoked a pack-a-day and was overweight by both Hollywood and surgeon general standards. He’d been waiting for her at least ten minutes and was still panting. By the itch on his butt cheek he was sure he had planted himself on an ant hill.

At least he wasn’t freezing to death like he had been back East. When he got the word that “The Olivia Show” had been re-scheduled for the west coast studio, he wasted no time in booking a flight. Thank God, too. Sweating his ass off in paradise was better than freezing to death in hell. Besides he wanted to give Layla the new
s about Earl Simmons in person.

The roar of a sports engine filled his ears as it approached the intersection in front of him. It lurched to a stop, and the tinted window rolled down, revealing a pale-face blond with pink-tinted shades, expensive enough they allowed vision in the dusk. “Harvey, get in the damn car!” The woman hissed. “Hurry up! The coast is clear.”

With his camera still around his neck, he ran around the front of the car and jumped into the passenger side. They were already moving by the time he heaved the heavy door shut.

“Did you get it?” The blonde asked, tapping her claw-like nails on the steering wheel. “God, please tell me you got that.”

Harvey glanced at her heaving breasts. Damn, he had forgotten how big they were. They pushed over top and out the sides of her shirt, and he swore he saw shadows of her nipples under the cotton. It was weird, but usually the site of jugs like hers made him hard as a rock, but for some reason they didn’t do the job. Carrie’s Ann’s were smaller. They were perky, and he bet they’d fit in his hand much better that Layla’s.

“Hey Jackass, eyes up here!”

She snapped her fingers, and he lifted his eyes to her face. Not a bad one. She was cute enough, but if he had to choose,
he’d opt for Carrie Ann’s lips.

“Harvey
,
the pictures! Did you get them?”

“Yeah,” he said, licking his chapped lips. “I’m sure I got it.” He held up his camera between them. “I just kept pressing the button until my finger fell asleep.”

She clapped her hands and threw her head back in laughter. “That couldn’t have gone any better.
I can’t believe he bought it.”

“So I kept my end of the bargain, and you owe me some money.”

“Of course I do.” She pulled over to the curb and killed the engine. Her nipples brushed across his legs when she leaned over him to open the glove compartment. His dick rose to the occasion, and he almost forgot to count the wad of twenties she dropped in his lap. “Hey”, he said after he thumbed through the stack “This is half of what we agreed on.”

“Well, when you deserve more you’ll get it.”

The little whore. He shifted in his seat, leveling his eyes on hers. “Listen, Lady, without me you never would have gotten the back-story on Ty and Carrie when I followed him and that a
ssistant of his to the diner.”

“So what? The girl had an eating disorder. Who doesn’t?”

“Well, it ended the show. And when I heard Ty tell the story, it sounded like it would be a big deal to her and her family if it got out. And you damn sure wouldn’t know about him buying her prenatal vitamins.”

“If you had gotten a clue sooner, maybe I could have prevented my wayward husband from knocking Miss Priss up in the first place.” She pushed her bangs out of her face, and blew out a breath. “I wonder why she didn’t come out here with Ty anyway?”

Harvey shrugged. “Isn’t there some rule about pregnant woman flying?”

“Maybe, but actually that works out for the best. With her out of the way, I can work my magic.”

“What are you going to do? Tell Ty you know?”

“Of course not. I’m not laying all my cards out on the table. Not yet anyway. Obviously, they don’t want anyone to know about the impending Hollister offspring, so we won’t ruin the surprise. At least not until the time is right.”

“And when will that be?”

“All in good time.” She cocked her head and smiled. “Let’s just say we can do a lot more damage if we keep some secrets to ourselves.”

He understood the sentiment. Harvey looked her in her blue tinted contacts and chewed on his lip. If she wasn’t going to up the ant
e
, neither was he. What he found out from that producer, Earl Simmons, guy was far too juicy. Yeah, Layla was dead on when she said some things were best kept secrets for a while. He’d save it for when the time was right, like if she ever had a problem finding her check book.

“So this plan of yours,” he said, stuffing the cash in his pocket
.
“Do you really think this is going to do the trick? Bullying him hasn’t worked so far.”

“Maybe not, but scaring the shit out of him might.”

Again she laughed in a way that made Harvey think that this woman was a little more off her rocker than he initially thought. He scratched his temple and waited for her to speak. “You really think she’d be that easy to get rid off? She’s having the guy’s kid. She’ll probably stick around, at least for the scratch.”

“We’ll see about that,” Layla said. “Carrie is fragile, and believe me, a woman like her won’t bother to tangle with a woman like me. I want my man, and the money he comes with. She doesn’t have it in her to stand in my way.”

Harvey felt himself salivate. Carrie was hot, but Layla was here, and Christ if her mean side wasn’t sexy as hell. He imagined tossing her in the back seat and giving it to her good. Make her scream and beg him for more, with her nails digging into his back. “So, where’s your friend, Marcy?” He winked and slid his hand over
her shoulder.
“
Y
ou two busy tonight?”

She raised a brow. “Good things come to those who wait, Harvey. And I promi
se, you won’t be disappointed.”

He was hoping she’d say that. An image of two sexy women with huge breasts bobbing in the surf of his hot tub flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes and inserted h
imself into the mental picture.

Chapter Thirteen

Carrie climbed between her flannel sheets and flipped her pillow for the cool side. Opening weekend passed in such an exhausting blur, she barely had time to miss Ty. Of course she managed to fit it in between loads of laundry and stacking the wood he had graciously cut for her. The first few days he was gone, she expected a barrage of phone calls, and most definitely a Thanksgiving Day chat. But here it was over two weeks since he left, and she hadn’t gotten so much as a text message. If it wasn’t for impersonal updates from the “Entertainment Now” broadcasts, she’d think he’d fallen off the planet.

This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. The position of letting Ty in her life. At first it was like a dare, to prove to herself how strong she was and how far she’d come from the needful girl five years ago. But now she’d let her guard down, all her old insecurities came rushing back.

So what would the new Carrie do? The assertive one, who was at peace with herself and prepared to handle whatever life dealt. The one who missed her boyfriend so badly, he was all she thought about.

S
he would call him on the phone.

Tossing the covers off, she snapped on the bedside light and reached for her cell phone. She had yet to award him with a spot on her speed dial, so she methodically punched the long string of numbers and waited. Her heart thumped in her chest. Why did she feel like a nervous school girl? It was just a friendly phone call. She folded her legs under her and
gnawed on a jagged fingernail.

“Hello?”

Carrie checked the display screen when she heard the female voice. “Um
h
i,” she said slowly. “I’m looking for, Ty. Is he around?”

“I think he’s out for the evening.”

“Really.” Carrie pulled at the hem of her nightgown and swallowed. “Excuse me, but to whom am I speaking?”

“Well his wife, of course. This is Layla Hollister. And to whom am I speaking?”

Carrie pressed her eyes shut and mentally cursed. “Layla, this is Carrie Ann Langley.”

A gleeful laugh on the other end drove Carrie’s ear from the receiver. “Oh my God, it’s been so long,” she shrieked. “Ty has been telling me how nice it was to catch up with you. And you must have worn him out. I can’t get him out of bed.”

“Really?”

“Not that I mind, of course. But tonight he said he had a business meeting. I guess he’ll just have to make it up to me later.”

Carrie bit her lip while considering the strategy behind Layla’s game. She was lying. Had to be. This woman was a conniving operator who thought Carrie was as naïve as Layla was crazy. But what if she wasn’t lying? Ty hadn’t called her, and the last time she saw him, he was oddly cold. Either way, Carrie wouldn’t give her apprehensions away. Especially to a woman who
was potentially out to get her.

“That’s wonderful, Layla,
” Carrie heard herself say. “I was telling Ty that he should give things another chance. So this lesbian thing was all gossip, huh?”

“Yeah, well you know the tabloids.”

“I know the lies and innuendos they print. Makes you wonder where they find their lowlife sources.”

“I’ll tell him you called, but I doubt if he’ll have time to get back to you. We’ve decided to take a long weekend at the beach. Sounds like a great place to conceive a baby, doesn’t it? I know it’s premature to talk about stuff like that
, I mean we would remarry first...
”

Carrie’s fingers cramped around the receiver. “Well then have a good evening.” She managed a “good-bye” and flipped her phone shut. How did Layla get Ty’s cell? And God forbid, was anything she said the truth? She pulled the covers back around her and sighed. Ty said they were in this together, and if she were to question his loyalty now, she’d be as gullible as Layla counted on. No, Ty hadn’t called because he was busy. Protecting her. T
o doubt him would be an insult.

The night wind blew against her window, shaking the frame and whistling against the glass. She rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. Suddenly the room seemed colder, and a chill
settled in between the sheets.

***

Layla hadn’t had that much fun on the phone since her days at 976-SLUT. Man, could she still work the charm. She snapped her ex-husband’s cell phone shut and tossed it beside her on the couch. Marcy sat on the floor, flipping through the holiday edition of Canine Life magazine.

“Was that her?” Mar
cy rested her chin in her palm.

“Hell yeah that was her, and it couldn’t have gone any better. You should have heard her voice.” Layla rubbed her hands together and smiled. “God damn, am I good.”

She lay back against the Corinthian leather pillows and slid her feet underneath her. It was a bold move to swipe Ty’s phone. She did it on impulse, when she snuck back into his house yesterday. He was in the shower, and at first she contemplated jumping in with him, but scoring his phone and making a getaway seemed way more fun and potentially useful. She didn’t know how much until she saw his caller ID
flash LEXIELUV.

“So did she buy it?”

“Who cares if she bought it or not
,
” Layla said. “The point is to instill doubt.”

“I don’t get it.”

Could this woman truly be that dense? Layla peered down at her in her army fatigue pants and her mangy green tank, resisting the urge to talk slower for her benefit. “Okay, think of this like a court of law. Just as long as she starts to question herself, and Ty’s feelings for her, she’ll cut her losses and run.”

“But what if she doesn’t? Even if you do leak to the press everything you know about them, what good would that do?”

“Obviously it was important enough to them to keep it secret, and if revealing it to the world can be used against them, I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know.” Marcy shrugged. “You hired this Harvey guy, and I don’t think he’s done that much. All you have so far is that Ty shops for vitamins, and that maybe a long time ago he dated his once-skinny co-star. So what?”

Layla scowled. What exactly did she ever see in Marcy? She was negative and boring and smelled like dog poop half the time. But at least she was agreeable, and right now that was exactly what Layla needed. “Look Marcy, this is Hollywood, and in Hollywood everything is a drama. Sometimes the material might be weak, but if you get a qualified actress to turn in a great performance...” She stood up as if greeting an imaginary audience. “All of a sudden it’s a masterpiece.”

Marcy just blinked at her. “Okay fine,” Layla said and grabbed her purse from the coffee table. “I have some business to take care of. The GPS I had installed on Ty’s car says he’s out on the Strip, and I made sure that a few friends and I meet him there.”

“Don’t forget to take him his phone.”

Layla smiled through clenched teeth and swiped it from the couch. “I won’t,” she growled then headed out the door.

***

“Where the hell is my cell phone?” Ty yelled over Lady Gaga blaring from the woofer above him. “I always carry it in my back pocket, and it’s not there.” He emptied the contents of his jeans pockets onto the bar. Cigarettes, money, wallet. “Fuck, did I give it to you?”

“Your cell phone?” Manny swallowed the last of his Seven and Seven and tossed the bartender another twenty. “What would I want with that?”

Ty put his things back into his pockets and took a long gulp of his bourbon. The hum of the crowd rivaled the base from the speakers, and rainbow colored lights flashed from the dance floor beyond. “Chic” was the name of the joint, and in Ty’s opinion it tried too hard to be just that. It was dark and loud and packed to the walls with every echelon of Hollywood. Actors, models, producers, and anyone in between, who liked to be seen. Ty came here for the exact opposite. He was here to disappear, and he was almost there. A few more visits from Mick, the bartender, would do the trick.

“Jeez, man, lighten up. You probably just left it home.” Manny turned on his stool and gazed out at the crowd. “Now put a smile on your face and du
mp the drink down your throat.”

“Cut the pep
talk man, I’m not interested.”

“No kidding,” Manny scoffed. “You haven’t been interested in anything since we left New York. You’re in bed by ten thirty, you’ve put most of the gossips mongers on the unemployment line. Hell, if it weren’t for the “Undercover Heat” promotions, I don’t think I could drag you out of the house.”

“So I’ve been a little anti-social lately. So what?”

Manny stared into his drink and shook his head. “I knew having Layla around would cramp your style.”

“Layla?” Ty looked at him and chuckled. She was the woman farthest from his mind. “What the hell does Layla have to do with me?”

“Tons, by the looks of it.”

“Please.”

“Which reminds me. When are you getting your locks changed? She lets herself into your house all hours of the day.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh yeah?” Manny shook his head and leaned closer to his ear. “I showed up yesterday morning and she was sunbathing. Topless no less.”

“Where the hell was I?”

“At the gym. And did you know she wears your clothes? I swear I sa
w her in one of your t-shirts.”

Ty tossed a handful of peanuts in his mouth and chased them with a swig from his tumbler. The image of last week’s kiss floated through his mind. He took a long blink in effort to scatter it. “Yeah well, I guess she’s having a harder time with this divorce than I thought.”

“Having a hard time living on a budget.”

“No, really,” Ty said. “She completely lost it the other day. She told me she still loves me.”

“So what if she does? She’s making your life a living hell.”

“
Yeah, well maybe I deserve it.”

Manny set his glass on the bar and spun around on his stool to
face Ty. “Okay, I have to ask.”

“Ask me what?”

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Ty almost fell off his barstool. “Are you fucking crazy? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Chill out man. I was just asking.”

Ty picked up his glass and emptied it. He hadn’t told Manny about the kiss, or the fact that it was possibly captured on film. It had been a week since it happened, and he figured if it hadn’t surfaced by now, it wasn’t going to. No paparazzi would hold on to a hot potato like that for this long. Either they scared the guy off in time, or the pictures didn’t develop through the glass.

“Fish on the hook at ten o’clock,” Manny reported then nodded across
the room. “She's heading over.”

Reluctantly, Ty followed Manny’s nod. Bodies packed shoulder to shoulder moved to the music. Men on the make and girls in huddles drinking drinks as colorful as the lights spinning over them. Fake blondes with even faker tans, and tits the size of their heads.

“See her?” Manny asked. “The one in the tube top.”

“They’re all in tube tops.”

“The one that is making fuck-me eyes at you. I bet she’d make you feel better.”

Ty was not a braggart, but it was obvious that most of the woman were looking at him. All with the same sleepy, overmedicated stare that screamed one-night-stand. The one Manny was talking about wasn’t bad. Tall, dark hair, decent body. He reached around and grabbed his tumbler. Feel better? Hell, he came here to feel worse. “She’s all right.” Ty shrugged.

“All right? Man did you see those legs?”

“No.”

“Well, here’s your chance.”

The girl pushed her way through the crowd and slid between them at the bar. She wore a sequin black mini skirt, too much makeup and rhinestones inlayed in her acrylic nails. With her plump red lips, she dragged a matching colored cherry from a swizzle stick, and struck a pose like a model on a runway. “You’re Ty Hollister,” she purred.

“That’s right.”

She looked him up and down. “Man, you’re even hotter in person.”

He looked the girl in her mud colored eyes and felt nothing. But she had a pulse, and was obviously willing, his two major criteria when choosing a casual companion. They could slip on over to the Roosevelt, crawl all over each other all night, and everything would be better in the morning. Hell, screw the hotel, the bathroom would do the t
rick. “What’s your name honey?”

“Anything you want it to be.”

“Well how abou
t we decide in the VIP lounge.”

She winked, weaving her fingers in his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He followed her through the crowd. People stared, mouths flapped, couples made out in darkened corners. All as pathetic as he was. And this was right w
h
ere he belonged, a step away from hell and a million miles from Carrie, where all he could do was cause her harm.

She led them past the velvet rope that hung across the VIP entrance. Biff the bouncer greeted her like an old friend, and Ty chuckled. She was a regular. What the guys in Alabama used to call A-Beer-on-the-Wall. One that had been taken down and passed around. He’d probably seen this woman a million times before, hell maybe even fucked her. God, is that what it had come to? He had been with every woman in Los Angeles, and now he was starting over? Just how low could he possibly sink?