Killing Kelly

by Heather Graham

  “Strange, you didn’t drink like a lush on the yacht.”

  She flushed. “I’ve decided I’m entitled to one night of total insobriety.”

  “Because of the whole job thing?” he asked.

  She lifted her glass to him. “Right on. You see, I might have pretended to have a great deal more disdain for the whole thing, pretend that I don’t care in the least since I have job offers coming out the kazoo—except that my friends were all so blunt today. They’re wonderful girls, but they could have displayed a bit more decorum since you are, if you’ll forgive me, a stranger. To them, at least. And to me, as well.”

  “Maybe they know a kindred soul when they see one,” he said. “And honestly, I’m trying not to be too strange.”

  “I didn’t say that you were strange. Just a stranger,” she said softly. “I’m having a third drink,” she said, and swirled around, heading for her kitchen.

  He followed her. The kitchen was nice, too. Warm. Done in shades of blue and white, with some dark wood trim. He leaned on the counter, watching her. “Do you usually drink a lot?” he inquired, oddly touched and amused by her behavior.

  “No,” she said simply.

  He frowned. “Are you that disturbed by being put on an extended vacation? I just assumed there are a million roles you could have and that you might have actually enjoyed the time using it to do something else.”

  She stared at him as if he were utterly insane.

  “Oh, come on! Sure, it’s hard out here, but I take it you’re supposed to be something of an accomplished performer.”

  “Thanks for that vote of confidence,” she said dryly. “And in a way, you’re right. I was just really stunned at the timing and the speed with which I was simply out for the count.” She frowned as she reached for ice and cracked some out onto a kitchen towel on the counter. When she finished preparing her drink, she turned to him. “Honestly, I do have confidence in myself,” she said thoughtfully, then sighed. “I think it’s just that…I’ve thought about leaving the show before—but I didn’t. Now I’m on ‘vacation.’ And I’m furious because I think that I know why I’m really on ‘vacation,’ and it hasn’t a thing in the world to do with being in danger. And the point of my being on vacation so long is so that the character will lose her popularity. And if I’m no longer popular, I don’t have the clout. And then it would make sense to fire me.”

  “You don’t think there’s any possibility that you are in danger?” he asked.

  She hesitated—just a split second—then shook her head. “I play a bitch who manipulates human lives. It’s a role. I’m not that woman.” He wasn’t sure what his eyes or expression said to her then, because she lifted her glass to him, saying, “Honestly! Oh, I know what you were thinking when you met me. Frankly, you’ve more or less told me what you think. I’m a petulant little television star, low on the rung, a soap personality! One who thinks she’s too good for a video. Well, it isn’t that at all.”

  “I know. You’re afraid.”

  “Not afraid. Hesitant. Nervous. All right, a little afraid. But only because I’ve never done anything like this and because…well, like I said before, I can’t dance.”

  “But you can dance,” he told her. “Surely you proved that to yourself today.”

  She smiled ruefully. “I didn’t entirely suck, did I?”

  He laughed. “Do you put that on your résumé? I didn’t entirely suck.”

  Her smiled deepened. “No. I’m quite good, actually. You have to be, you know, in a soap. Most of the time, there’s only one take. We learn our lines in a snap. If you can pull off a soap role without looking like a total lie, you’ve got to have some talent.”

  “But there is more out there.”

  “I know. And I will find it. Tonight, I’m going to feel a little sorry for myself. But the anger has already kicked in. As they say, success is the best revenge. So I’m going to be so good in this video that it’s going to be incredible, and then—” She paused, grinning ruefully. “Then, dammit, if I choose, I’ll move on!”

  “Good for you!”

  “Thanks,” she said regally, inclining her head.

  “Do you think you should have some food to go with that alcohol?” he suggested.

  She thought about that for a minute. “Maybe. It doesn’t matter much to me at the moment.” She yawned suddenly. “Come to think of it, I don’t really want to go out. And I’m not so sure I have the energy to cook. Actually, there must be something in the cupboard.”

  “Do you have any real food? You only picked at a very small plate during lunch.”

  She grinned. “Sure. I have lots of power bars, that kind of thing. There’s a bowl of fruit on the counter. Help yourself.”

  “I would have cooked for you.”

  “Why? I intend to enjoy my misery tonight.”

  “And have a hangover when I have to work with you tomorrow?”

  She stared at him indignantly. “I always work when I need to,” she informed him.

  “You’d work better without a headache.”

  “What makes you think I get hangovers?” she inquired.

  “I’m going on the odds.”

  “If you insist on food for me, just order pizza.” She waved a hand in the direction of the refrigerator. “There are some numbers beneath the magnet.”

  She left him standing in the kitchen. She intended to make a regal exit, walking around him to depart to somewhere beyond the kitchen, but her footsteps weren’t that steady and she sidled next to him instead. She had the pure and total sensuality of a cat. He was forced to catch her. Rum and Coke teetered dangerously. He braced her with one hand on her waist, rescuing the drink with the other. “Three—and you’re this smashed?” he asked.

  She let out a sound of pure irritation. “They were strong. It’s not actually a habit of mine…” She looked into his eyes and started laughing. “Unhand me, stranger. Order that pizza, if you want!”

  “Sure you won’t pass out before it comes?”

  “I never pass out.” Her face was close to his, her lips curled into a defiant smile. Her scent was…absolutely evocative.

  “Pizza,” he said, letting her go. He walked to the refrigerator, where, as she had said, there were several small brochures held by magnets. One number for pizza delivery was beneath a magnet that held a picture of children—a pack of little redheads. So the red hair was genetic and definitely natural.

  He placed an order for a large cheese pie, but when he hung up, she was gone. Sam was in the kitchen, though, staring at him with those huge silver-gray eyes that seemed to speak volumes. The dog’s tail thudded on the floor.

  “Where is she, boy?” he asked.

  As if Sam understood, he barked, thudded his tail again and started to the rear of the bungalow.

  The back area was large and appeared to be something of a family room. She had a computer station set up and had rigged an old-fashioned secretary with a notebook. Nearby, on an old phone stand, was her printer and fax. A massive pool table took up the center of the room, and to the far rear was a sofa and chairs, and beyond them, a large-screen television. Bookcases offered numerous volumes, many of which looked like first printings, and a collection of CDs and DVDs.

  Kelly was stretched out on the sofa, a trail of hair falling over the end, as if she were Rapunzel. He was definitely tempted to climb up that long hair.

  He walked into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs. She had flicked on the television to a news station. Her eyes, however, were closed.

  Sam went to her side, placing his nose on the sofa by her hand. Absently, she gently laid her fingers on his head.

  “Is the pizza coming?” she asked.

  “It is.”

  “Maybe that’s good.”

  “I think it is.”

  “I’m not…feeling so well. Maybe I should have eaten lunch.”

  “Great. I knew all you’d done was move green things around on your plate!”


  “I ordered food.” To his surprise her eyes flew open, falling upon him with accusation. “No, I am not anorexic! I don’t starve myself. I was talking when the food came.”

  He shrugged. “Who are the kids on the fridge?”

  She smiled. “Nieces and nephews. My brother has the two girls and my sister has the two boys. They’re cute, huh?”

  “Yep. Very cute. Do you have any little ones of your own stashed around anywhere?”

  A frown passed over her forehead; she was annoyed with the question. “Of course not! When—if—I have children, they’ll be with me.” She swung around to face him. “What about you? Children stashed anywhere?”

  He smiled, shaking his head.

  “Ex-wives?” she asked.

  Again, he shook his head.

  She lay back on the couch and groaned softly. “I think I’m grateful you’ve ordered a pizza.”

  “You did kind of inhale that booze.”

  She lifted a hand, waved it in the air. “I’m…well, it hasn’t been a good week.”

  Doug folded his hands, watching the way her hair draped over the couch. “Tell me about Matt Avery,” he said evenly.

  She made a face. “There’s not a lot to tell. He’s a total creep and I bruised his ego.”

  “You really think that this whole thing is his way of getting you fired?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But apparently your accident was serious.”

  She sighed deeply. “A few scratches.”

  “But it could have been fatal?”

  “Look, I’m not an idiot. Yes, I could have been killed. I wasn’t. There were dozens of people on that location all day. No night stalker was running around the place.”

  Sam suddenly let out a woof. Doug was startled when Kelly nearly jumped a mile high.

  “Pizza guy, probably,” Doug said softly.

  “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  Doug went to the door, Sam at his heels. “It’s okay, boy, just pizza,” he said. But he looked through the keyhole and assured himself that it was a kid with a box before opening the door. He paid, thanked the teenager, closed and locked the door, then headed back for the family room.

  Kelly had risen and gone for paper plates, napkins and a big bottle of cola. She was setting up on the coffee table when he brought in the pizza. They politely went through the motions of selecting slices and dealing with the gooey cheese.

  “Your turn,” she said then.

  “Pardon?”

  “First, how did you get into ballroom dance? Your folks? Have you done it forever?”

  He shook his head, smiling. “I got into it late. A few years ago. I went to take some lessons for a friend’s wedding.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “You’ve only been dancing a few years?”

  “Right.”

  She winced slightly. “I’ve only got a few days.”

  “You’ve got some background training,” he told her.

  “Tap lessons when I was five. Some dance in college.”

  “And all those Pilates courses,” he teased.

  She lifted her chin. “I like exercise. And you forgot the yoga.”

  “I’m not making fun of you, you know. Those practices are great for exercise. Body and mind, so they say.”

  She frowned. “I’m a little curious…”

  “About what?”

  “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Okay. Why aren’t you dating your partner? She’s stunning. And incredibly talented.”

  Doug lifted his pizza with a shrug. “I dated a dancer once. Actually, I don’t think you could call it dating. We had an affair. I was in way over my head.”

  “So…?”

  “I was having an affair. She was having several of them.”

  “Ah.”

  “And then she was killed.”

  “Killed?”

  “Murdered.” He fought with a tangle of cheese. That was the past; he had learned from it.

  Kelly frowned, obviously sympathetic. “I’m so sorry! Was it an act of terrible violence? What happened?”

  He shook his head. “Far more subtle. A mix of drugs and alcohol. The guilty are dead, and it…well, it wasn’t that long ago but long enough. Anyway, I haven’t thought it a good idea to mix work with pleasure since.”

  She seemed fascinated. Since the pizza had arrived, they were sitting close on the couch. Not touching, but his senses were so attuned to her, he could almost feel her form. He was so tempted to slide next to her that he rose abruptly, pretending to wad up a napkin for the trash. She was different tonight, completely off guard. Eyes like a Caribbean sea, the very subtle scent of her cologne hovering in the air, like an aura of innocence and seduction surrounding her. Her hair was tousled, and she was quick to smile, quick to look at him with an open warmth he’d not even imagined she could offer. The alcohol?

  Warning bells sounded in his mind. Either she was a shining star, feeling a bit tarnished, and still out of his range, or she was a victim, intended for a danger and demise she refused to acknowledge. He needed to keep his distance. Yet…

  It had been forever since he’d felt such a compulsion to come closer. To touch. In a dream world, he would step forward, slip his fingers through that fascinating mane of burning hair, tilt her head and test the fullness of her lips, the endless magic in her eyes. Taste. A sensation of pure fire leaped into his lower extremities. He gritted his teeth, stepped back.

  “More soda?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Can I pour you more soda?”

  “No, I’m fine.” She didn’t actually move away or create more distance between them, but she straightened, as if she had decided she’d been too relaxed, too at ease. As if she, too, must remember to hold on to a certain wariness.

  “I guess I should head on out for the night,” he said.

  She turned away. He wondered if she was disappointed. Or if she was just uneasy. Scared.

  “Yes, well, you don’t live in L.A. I’m sure there’s a lot you’d like to do.”

  “Actually, I thought I’d get some sleep.”

  Her head remained down. He couldn’t gauge her reaction. She looked up. “Your hotel is okay?”

  “It’s great. White, very white. Walls, floor, bedspread.” He grimaced.

  She laughed. “It’s supposed to be chic.”

  “I’m sure it is. It’s also—white. But very comfortable.”

  “I’m glad,” she told him.

  He hesitated. “Want me to take Sam for a last run?”

  “No, no. That’s all right. I’ll take him. You’re the dance teacher, not the dog walker.”

  “I told you, I like dogs.”

  She swept back a massive length of her hair. The red glinted in the light. Her eyes touched his. “You sure?”

  “Lock me out. I’ll knock when I’m back.”

  He took Sam out, but the dog remained interested in the bushes and the same path he had followed before. Had someone been there? Doug let the dog have his way. Sam sniffed, moved forward, and came to the street again, then seemed lost. A cat? A prowler? Or worse? Was he letting his imagination get away with him?

  Once it had been the curiosity alone that had tugged at him. Curiosity and the wonder if he had taken a turn in life too rashly. But now it was Kelly herself.

  He stiffened with resolve. No involvement. It was always a mistake. When he had viewed her as cold, untouchable and affected, he had still seen her as a seductive beauty. But now…hell, now she was the stuff of dreams. The kind that caused tossing and turning. And if something were to happen to her…

  “Sam, time to head back,” he told the dog, but he paused, taking another look around. He’d circled the house several times; if there had been anyone present who shouldn’t have been there, he was long gone. So he walked back to the house, determined to leave, yet loathe to do so.

  Kelly let him in.
“Thanks. That was really nice of you.”

  “No problem.”

  They stood in the hallway. They weren’t touching, but the air all around them seemed electric. He wondered what would happen if he stepped forward. Touched her. Spoke the truth. You’re the most sensual creature I think I’ve ever come across. I’m about dying, on fire, in agony, just being near you.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You seemed…nervous.”

  She laughed. “All those caring people around me are doing a bit of a number on my mind. I’ve had this place for years. Besides,” she said with a smile, “I have Sam. He’d alert the world if there were any trouble, I assure you. I’m fine. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nodded and turned. “Lock up before I leave.”

  She started to turn back into the house, then paused. “I can meet you earlier, if you wish. I’m not doing anything, being here at home. And—” She shrugged ruefully. “I’m not used to not working.”

  “All right. We can start earlier.”

  “Okay.”

  They still just looked at each other.

  “If you don’t have other plans, we could meet for an early lunch…say, about a quarter of twelve.”

  “Sure. Where?”

  “Mirabelle. It’s about five or six blocks from your hotel. Walk out and take a left. It’s a pleasant place with a nice menu.”

  He nodded. “Sounds great.”

  Her smile deepened, and at that moment he mocked himself that he was in love. Or definitely in lust.

  “Good night,” he said again. “Lock up.”

  She went in, and he listened for the bolt. Then he walked to his car and sat in it, staring at the house for long moments before heading back onto the street.

  It hadn’t been at all hard to get her address. Lance Morton sat in his car, staring at the house. He felt a thrill of elation rip through him. Kelly! Kelly Trent. The house was wonderful, just what he had hoped. It was just so…Kelly!

  He hesitated behind the wheel, staring at the front porch. A bright light blazed from it, but the property was surrounded by trees and foliage. He was tempted to get out. No…not now. He could wait.

  He sat in his car a long time. Staring. Thinking. And feeling the same thrill over and over again. Kelly. Kelly Trent.