by T. J. Kline
The puppy let out a quiet cough, drawing their attention back to him, and Justin moved him, adjusting his position before tapping on his side again. “What are you doing?”
“This helps loosen the mucus in his lungs. Sort of like when you pat a person on the back.”
Alyssa was relieved for the change of subject. She didn’t want to talk about her marriage, or her plans for the future. There were still too many unknowns that made her stomach twist into a knot of fear and worry. Things she couldn’t explain to Justin, at least not until she understood them better herself. It was better to revel in her newfound independence, to enjoy her time here without putting on a show for anyone. She wanted to find herself again, and that meant learning to relax and have fun. Hadn’t Justin already told her to lighten up?
“We should name him, too,” she pointed out. “We can’t keep just calling him ‘him.’ ”
“That’s probably not a good idea.” Justin frowned. “Naming him will just get you more attached.”
She ignored his warning. “He needs a strong name. What about Buster, or Bruiser . . . no, Brutus. Those are tough names.”
Justin looked down at the too-thin puppy as it rested comfortably again. “Rocky. After one of the best boxers of all time.”
Alyssa’s brows knitted together on her forehead and she tried to hide a condescending smile. “You do realize Rocky Balboa wasn’t a real person, right?”
Justin laughed, the sound deep and rich and warm, heating her from her core outward. His blue eyes met hers and she could see the humor in them, but beyond that, she could see fascination. She cursed her wishful thinking.
“At least now I see your weakness—boxing.” His laughter quieted to a chuckle, and she felt the heat of embarrassment rise over her cheeks. “Rocky Marciano. He went undefeated in his career.” She looked down as he ran a latex-gloved finger over the back of her hand. “I’m glad to see you’re not quite as perfect as you first appear.”
Her heart leapt into her throat and she gave a quick dispassionate laugh. How surprised would he be to find out just how imperfect she actually was? Elijah certainly had no problem reminding her just how far from perfection she fell.
Alyssa’s cell phone rang from her pocket, breaking the intensity of the moment, and she looked up at Justin apologetically. She silenced it quickly as she glanced at the screen. It was Franklin. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Can you excuse me for a minute?”
Justin nodded and she hurried into the hall, peeling off the gloves and dropping them into the trash outside the door. “I told you I’d call you later,” she said as she answered.
“Have you seen the television?”
“What? No, why?”
“Turn it on. You’re not going to believe this.”
“Franklin, just tell me—”
“I’m serious. Turn it on.”
“I’m not near a television.”
“Then turn on a computer.” She heard his voice climbing in pitch as he grew more frantic.
Alyssa put Franklin on speaker and opened up the Internet on her phone. “Okay, what am I looking for?”
“Search your name, I’m sure that will bring it up.”
A cold knot of dread began to grip her lungs. She’d typed only her first name into the search bar when news stories instantly popped up.
Missing actress. Husband devastated. Where is Alyssa Cole? Pregnant actress goes missing.
“What’s going on, Aly? I thought you said he kicked you out.”
“He did.” What sort of game Elijah was playing? Was he insane? Why didn’t he just call her? She clicked on one of the links to see pictures of Elijah standing at a podium, his eyes filled with tears, while the caption read that he was searching for her and anyone with news should contact the Beverly Hills Police Department. She ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know what he’s got up his sleeve, but I don’t trust him. He could have contacted you directly if he wanted to find you. And, why haven’t the police tried your number if they think you’re missing?”
“No one has called.”
“I don’t like this. He’s up to something. I’m going to contact the police department and see what’s going on. Does he know where you are?”
“No, I haven’t talked to him since I left.” She stared at the article again. “The car is about an hour away being repaired, so I have no transportation unless I call my father.”
“Don’t,” Franklin said quickly. “I’ll call and let them know you’re okay, but if Elijah is telling the police you’re missing, he’s probably already contacted your parents. I don’t want him to know where you are. At least, not yet. There’s only one reason for him to do this—to make himself a sympathetic figure and paint you as a villain when it comes out that you drove away. The fact that he kicked you out is your word against his.” She heard papers shuffle and the muffled voice of someone entering the room. “Aly, I need the truth. Has he ever raised a hand to hit you? Did you ever worry about your safety with him?”
“I . . . ” Alyssa opened her mouth to deny Franklin’s accusation. Elijah wasn’t abusive. There were just times when he got angry and overdemonstrative.
That’s abusive.
Alyssa sighed, worried about the consequences of what she was about to say. “He didn’t hit me. There were some times when he would grab me, or push me when we were alone,” she admitted. It was the first time she’d ever told anyone.
“I’m going to file a restraining order. Let’s get that car sold as soon as possible.”
“It’s at the dealership but, Franklin, what if this is just a misunderstanding?”
“What if it’s not? Are you willing to take that chance, Aly? Don’t use your cell at all anymore.”
She heard the uneasiness in his voice. Franklin didn’t get worried. He was as rock-solid as anyone she’d ever known. That equanimity was what had made him one of the best attorneys in Southern California. His lack of composure now had her stomach churning, and she felt as if she was going to be sick.
“Call me with the address from a landline. I’m going to be there first thing tomorrow morning. Be watching for me.”
ELIJAH LEANED BACK and watched the photographer snap several shots in succession of his latest protégé. She wasn’t nearly as pretty as some of his others, but she was willing to do whatever it took to get the roles, as she’d proved to him in the limo on the way over. She was going to go places; he’d make sure of it.
He was a great agent, but he was also a pretty incredible actor if his latest press conference was any indicator. He was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t missed his calling. Several people in the crowd had tears in their eyes when he finished telling them how desperate he was to find his wife and child, how he feared for their safety. By the time his voice choked completely and his lawyer stepped in, he finished the interview leaning on Lillian’s shoulder for support.
She’d offered to remain at his side, would have moved into the house after Alyssa left, but he was keeping her at more of a distance than usual. She had overstepped her boundaries and had no right to go around him to tell Alyssa about their affair. He promised her he would tell Alyssa when the time was right, and she should have trusted him. The fact that Alyssa was nowhere to be found was her fault, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. He knew Lillian assumed that with Alyssa out of the picture, she’d take her place. She was wrong.
No one could take Alyssa’s place. He realized now he’d been too hasty in telling Alyssa to leave. He wouldn’t call it a mistake because he didn’t make mistakes, but she’d put him on the spot, practically challenged him, and he’d reacted without thinking it through. He had no intention of throwing away his marriage. It was over when he decided it. Not his mistresses and not his wife.
He was a little surprised she hadn’t attempted to call him yet, but once she saw his press conference she would. Until then, he had a part to play and a media to ply. By the
time Alyssa resurfaced, and she would have to after this press conference, he’d be the sympathetic figure and she’d look like the vindictive bitch who ran out on him, taking his child with her. He’d make sure of it. When he was finished, she’d have no option but to come crawling home, apologizing to him.
He pulled his cell phone out and called his attorney, wandering away from the crew behind the stage. “Well? Have you found her?” He wasn’t about to waste time on greetings or small talk.
“I’m working on it, Cole. I have eyes on the car and we’re checking with the local hospitals. I’ve had her phone traced. If she makes any calls, the phone company will alert me.”
“And if she doesn’t? The only other people she has are her parents, and they haven’t heard from her.” He was losing patience. Someone had to have seen her, but the tow truck driver told his investigator the car had been empty when he found it, although his investigator seemed to believe the man was lying.
“Her credit cards are flagged. She can’t be too far from where the car was found. We’re searching the area.”
“I want her found and brought back to me.”
“I’m doing my best. Are you sure that you don’t have any other information that might help us? Every little detail matters,” his lawyer reminded him.
“Are you insinuating something? Maybe you should remember who pays your bills. I could find another attorney so fast your head would spin. Find my wife!” Elijah disconnected the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket, clenching his fists as frustration built. His lawyer’s questions were a little too pointed, and he wondered if the man suspected something amiss in Elijah’s story. He ran through the details he’d provided to both his lawyer and the police and confirmed he’d been careful, giving out what they needed without any mention of his affairs or his wife’s demand for a divorce. That was between him and Alyssa.
Elijah wandered back toward the set and saw the photographer flirting with the woman he’d just screwed in his car. His woman. She glanced his way nervously as the photographer leaned in close, whispering something in her ear. Shaking her head at the photographer, she strutted back toward Elijah, a coy smile on her painted lips. He’d reward her for her loyalty. Maybe he’d get her one of those Tiffany charm bracelets women adored. It seemed to excite the last few girlfriends he gave them to. He couldn’t believe none of them realized how many women around town were wearing the same bracelet.
He slid his arm around the woman’s shoulders and furrowed his brow with concern. “Oh, you’re feeling a little meaty. What do you say we go out to lunch and I’ll buy you a salad? It would probably help your chances if you lost five pounds for this role.”
Elijah ignored the hurt that flitted across her blue eyes. He liked his women thin. If she didn’t like that, she could start looking for another agent.
Chapter Eight
JUSTIN SIPPED THE black coffee and grimaced. He hated when his sisters had clients at their houses, because it meant he had to fend for himself. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook. He managed fine, but he missed the laughter and teasing that went on in their kitchens. His was just far too quiet, especially since Bailey hadn’t been by this morning. He’d half expected Bailey to show up unannounced. Then he would apologize and she’d give him a bear hug. They would laugh it off as they usually did. But there hadn’t been any sign of her since her text late last night telling him which path he could take to hell. She wouldn’t even answer his calls.
He’d tried again when he headed into the clinic to check on Rocky but got her voice mail. After a long touch-and-go night, the pup sounded much better this morning. Justin was cautiously optimistic. He still didn’t want to stop and think about why he was willing to go against his gut instincts, not to mention piss Bailey off, just to please Lyssa. She was an A-list actress; it was going to take far more than a poor vet rescuing a stray puppy to impress her. But after hearing what she’d been through the past few days, he’d enjoyed seeing the humor in her eyes yesterday.
He looked up as Alyssa shuffled into the room quietly, catching her in the middle of a yawn. “Morning.”
“Oh!” she yelped and stopped partway through the door. “I didn’t know you were up already.”
He shrugged. “Checking on Rocky.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Better. Lucky is getting antsy to get out.”
She held up the mug he’d set by the coffeepot. “Is this for me?” Justin nodded and watched as a look of pure pleasure slid across her face as she poured the brew into the cup and took a sip. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but if it made her that happy, he’d do it again.
“You want cream? Or sugar?”
“Cream would be amazing.” She gave him a dazzling smile that lit up the entire room.
He rose and pulled the cinnamon creamer from the refrigerator. He only kept it for Bailey, but if it put a smile like that on Lyssa’s face, he’d buy her every flavor he could find. He passed it her way. She poured a dollop inside and took a sip, closing her eyes and sighing.
A jolt of desire kicked him square in the groin as she moaned softly, pressing her lips together. Her reaction sucked the oxygen from his lungs. If she reacted this way for coffee, what would she be like . . . Justin dragged his thoughts, kicking and screaming, back to the present.
“You do realize it’s just coffee, right?”
Pure delight lit her face. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I was allowed to have coffee.”
Allowed? Justin let the comment slide but couldn’t stop his mind from running through the reasons she might have said it.
“So, have you heard from Bailey? Any idea when she might be back?”
He sat back down at the table. “Not since last night, and she’s not answering my calls. If her text was any indication, she’ll be back when my ego downgrades from ‘arrogant prick’ to ‘horse’s ass.’ ”
Lyssa leaned against the counter, cupping the mug between her palms, trying not to smile. “So, it might be a while.”
“Did you just make a joke at my expense?” He grinned up at her, enjoying her light-hearted mood. She blushed as Justin arched a brow. He needed to bring up the news article under his hand, but he didn’t want to ruin this moment. She seemed relaxed, happier than he’d seen her since her arrival. She was just beginning to let her guard down, and he wasn’t in any hurry to turn into the jerk Bailey had so colorfully accused him of being.
“I think we need to talk, Lyssa.” Justin saw the hesitation in her movements as she sat at the table across from him. He tapped his hand on the table and spun the morning paper so she could read the headline. “Something you want to tell me?”
She slid the paper closer, setting the mug aside as she read. He watched the anxiety return to haunt her eyes. “He’s crazy,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
“I know I asked you about the paparazzi last night, but now I’m wondering if I’m going to have police knocking on the door, looking for you.” She reached for the mug again, holding it between both hands and staring into it, as if divining her future. “I don’t think the answers are in there, Lyssa.”
“I really don’t know anymore,” she confessed, her eyes still not meeting his. It was a start but he needed more. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer to his next question, but he had to ask it.
“How did this get to the point that he’s telling people you’re missing?”
“I married Elijah Cole six years ago. He was handsome, charming, attentive.” Justin felt his gut clench with jealousy as she spoke about the man. His only consolation was that her tone was bitter instead of affectionate. “I thought I had it all—the perfect career, the perfect husband, fame—but little by little, everything changed. He changed. He changed me.”
She looked up at him and he could see the fear he’d seen back in her eyes. “He’s been cheating on me for years with my best friend.” Her expression begged him to believe her, but she couldn’t hide the w
orry in her emerald eyes. She brushed back those uncontrollable bangs. “He told me to leave, that he wanted out, and he didn’t love me.”
It was taking every bit of his self-control to refrain from spitting out a few choice words about Elijah Cole.
“Justin,” she said, tapping her finger against the paper, “this is all lies.”
He wanted to believe her. It was easy, staring into her open face as she met his gaze. She might be afraid but she didn’t appear dishonest. She broke eye contact first, and he could see she was trying to hide a smile.
“I guess, technically, it isn’t all lies. I wasn’t supposed to take that particular car.”
“Wait, what do you mean, that car?”
She looked only slightly chagrined, unlike what he’d come to expect from her. “I was supposed to take one of the other cars. Not his brand-new one. But I was so angry that . . . ” She let her words fall away and shrugged. “It was stupid. If I’d known I’d get caught in a storm I would have taken the Hummer, but he loved that BMW.”
There was more to this woman than the sweet, timid beauty she was letting him see. There was a spark of fire in her, and Justin wondered if it was only anger that roused that kind of passion in her.
She looked down at the newspaper again, her fingers trembling as they ran over the picture of her and Elijah Cole at some red-carpet event. “I don’t know why he’s doing all this. He could have called me at any point, but now my lawyer doesn’t want him to find me just yet. Franklin will be here this morning, and I’m hoping he’ll have some answers for me so I can take care of this.” She slid the paper back toward him.
Details were beginning to clarify. The fear he’d seen in her eyes from their first meeting, the way she was constantly apologetic. “You’re running away.” It wasn’t a question and she didn’t deny the statement as fact. “Did he hit you?”
