Undercover Heat

by LaBue, Danielle

“Ty...”

  “Just drive!”

  Carrie sat on the leather greenroom couch going over her “To Do” list for the third time. Usually her daily lists filled almost a whole legal page, but leaving her sister, Lizzie, in charge of the bed and breakfast required one or two more at least. She gnawed on the end of her pencil, wondering if she should call. If she did, she’d just get a lecture. Lizzie’s usual “stop being a Control Freak” mantra.

  A check of her watch told her the interview was already an hour behind schedule. Not surprising, given the world of show business thrived on always being “fashionably late.” One of the many reasons why she didn’t miss her old career. It made her appreciate the freedom of making her own schedule. One she needed to get back to ASAP. Again, she looked at her watch. At this rate, she wouldn’t be back upstate until after dark.

  She stood up and paced, stopped mid-step when she glanced in the full-length mirror. A short, redheaded antithesis of Hollywood glamour stared back at her. She probably should have let the “Entertainment Now” stylists fix her hair down instead of pulled back like she had it. And maybe the short black tank dress wasn’t the best wardrobe choice. But wearing if felt like a declaration that all the old demons were no longer present. Who cared that her calves looked thick and hopelessly unattractive. It wasn’t normally an issue given her daily attire of baggy overalls and knee-high boots. No need for micro-minis and three-inch heels when you chopped wood and shoveled snow.

  Closing her eyes, she stepped away from the mirror, making a mental note to hide her calves from the glare of the camera.

  “Carrie, are you still in here?” The door flew open, revealing the panic stricken face of Earl Simmons, the Executive Producer and mastermind of “Undercover Heat.” At forty, he looked every bit his age, plus an added ten for stress, and another five for his chubby build and practically bald head. Carrie was glad to see he had given up on the comb-over.

  He slammed the door behind him like someone chased him, and beads of sweat formed on his shiny scalp. “Thank God, you haven’t left,” he panted. “At least I have one star for the interview.”

  Carrie held her hand out to him. His clammy palm stuck to hers. “Earl, you have to calm down. This isn’t good for your blood pressure.”

  “I’m so glad we aren’t live. Can you imagine if it was live? I’d really be in trouble.”

  “Earl, no one is in trouble. It’s just an interview.” She led him to the couch and sat down beside him, trying not to cringe at the pit stains the size of dinner plates, soaking his shirt.

  “Has Ty called you?” he asked, with a whine that could rival a five-year-old’s. “Tell me you know where he is! Tell me he has some incredible excuse why he’s late.”

  “Earl, calm down. I’m sure he’ll be here.”

  “How do you know? Really? Maybe he decided not to show.”

  “Maybe he got stuck in traffic. There was a fire truck down-”

  “Maybe he got stuck under last night’s fling.” Earl put his head on Carrie’s lap and took a pill bottle from his shirt pocket. “This is why I have heart problems. This guy is going to kill me.”

  “Well, even if he doesn’t show, I can do it myself.”

  “I hate working with movie stars,” Earl said. “I’m glad you’re a nobody again, Carrie. You were always so good to me. You’re like a really nice, sexy, babysitter.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Earl.”

  “Really, when I first saw you dance in the Nutcracker, I knew you were a gem. God, you were still a teen when I hired you, but I had a hunch you could act. I have good hunches, don’t I Carrie?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Boy, was I upset when you were sick, even if it did end the show. Who knows, maybe now that you’re better, this release will steamroll into other things.”

  “Maybe,” she said through gritted teeth. Earl had hinted to her over the phone at the possibility of a reunion movie. A two week press tour with Ty was one thing, but being in close quarters for months playing his romantic partner was something she’d had enough of years ago.

  Earl rolled over and looked up with moon eyes. “Carrie, what time is it, honey?”

  She checked her watch. “Ten forty.”

  “Over an hour. God, he better be dead. If he’s not, I’ll kill him myself.”

  There was a soft knock at the door before it opened. “Entertainment Now” host, Sally Hartman, peeked in, extending her hand to Carrie when she saw her. “Well, well, well, Carrie Ann Langley. How wonderful it is to see you again.”

  Carrie took her hand, amazed how Sally’s forehead didn’t move when she smiled. Her blonde hair plastered her head like a helmet, and Carrie made out the faintest purple incision marks right on the edge of her temples. “Good to see you again, Sally.”

  “I’m glad you’re here, but I wish I could say the same about your co-star.”

  “He’ll be here,” Earl said and dragged a handkerchief across his brow. “He signed a contract. He has to be.”

  “Well even so, I’d like to have you on the set in five minutes. I’m doing a piece on celebrity dogs for tomorrow’s show, and I’m due at the ASPCA in an hour.”

  “No problem.” Earl held the greenroom door open for the three of them. “We’re ready.”

  “Great, and if Ty shows up, even better. Now that the divorce is final, I’d like the scoop on the whole ‘Layla-Ty’ breakup.” Sally winked at Carrie. “That’s the biggest story in Hollywood.”

  Carrie followed Sally down the stairs, with Earl lumbering behind her. Taking her place on the soundstage couch, she glanced around the darkened studio. It had been a long time since she’d been in front of a camera. Acting on a TV show was one thing, but unscripted interviews were quite another. Pretending to be someone else offered a strange sort of protection. Any flaws or shortcoming could be assigned to the character. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to hide her fat calves close to the couch. Couldn’t blame Lexie Love for Carrie Langley’s cellulite.

  Sally smoothed her hair and stepped up on to the stage. She took her seat beside the couch and thumbed through her papers. “Okay, you remember how this goes, right? I’ll ask a few questions to prompt you, but otherwise just keep talking.”

  Carrie adjusted herself on the couch, watching the people move around her. Her face powdered, her hair sprayed, and someone set a glass of water on the table beside her. The director said something then stepped behind the camera. A green light suddenly snapped on, alerting Carrie’s attention.

  “Hi, everybody. Sally Hartman with an exclusive. We’re here with two-time Emmy winner Carrie Ann Langley, star of the hit TV show “Undercover Heat.” The DVD release of the series hits stores next week, and we’re glad she’s here to tell us all about it.” Sally turned to her and smiled, touching her arm as if they were old friends. “So TV Weekly has just named you and Ty Hollister ‘The Most Romantic TV Couple of All Time.’ How does that feel?”

  So that’s why Lizzie hid it when it came in the mail. “I’m really flattered,” Carrie said. “We worked hard on the show, and it’s great when the audience responds. I can’t wait to get the cast and crew back together again.”

  “There were mumblings that you wouldn’t participate in the DVD release given your abrupt departure from the show.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of missing it!” Carrie laughed and nudged Sally’s arm for good measure. “That was five years ago, and everyone’s in a different place now.” She congratulated herself for the response. Vague and polite and suitably bubbly that went along with her Lexie Love Persona. Maybe she still had the acting chops after all.

  “What about Ty Hollister? Are you looking forward to working with him again?”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the studio door open. An entourage of people filled in. Security, some guy with headphones and notepads. Crew members whispered and dispersed, meeting the newcomers behind the camera. She turned back to Sally, forgetting she was speaking. “Of cou
rse I’m looking forward to it.” Her voice cracked. “He’s a wonderful actor.”

  “So is there any truth to the old rumors about you two?”

  She took a breath. These were questions she had fielded a million times, but being out of practice they were hard to navigate. “No, not at all. We’re just really close friends. Ty and I worked side by side everyday for five years. We got to know each other very well.”

  “But no romantic connection?”

  In that moment something came over her. A presence. Something heavy and thick that seized her insides. When she looked toward the camera, she knew why.

  Ice blue eyes. Her heart stopped.

  “No, no romantic connection at all.”

  She sensed his gaze on her, and suddenly a rush of memories flooded her mind. Things she had sworn she’d never think about again.

  “Carrie, what about your illness? There was a lot of speculation about your sudden departure from the show. What’s the truth behind that?”

  She thought she was prepared for this, but the tremble in her body told her different. Tucking her legs tighter against the couch, she again wished she’d passed on the tank dress. “I had a health crisis, but I’m fully recovered now.”

  “Some reports said it was cancer. Was it cancer?”

  His eyes had claimed her. Intense. Commanding. What a fool she’d been.

  “No, it wasn’t cancer.” She managed.

  “Stop tape.”

  The sudden baritone echoed in her chest as Ty shoved his way around the camera. He reached down the front of her dress, snagging the small mike from the fabric. “It’s okay, I’m here now,” he whispered. “Just sit tight, and let me take care of this.”

  “Ty, what do you think you’re doing?” Carrie demanded.

  “She doesn’t have to answer these questions.” His voice didn’t invite disagreement. “She’s here to talk about a TV show, not her personal life.

  Earl came behind him and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Are you crazy, Hollister? She was doing a great job.”

  “Why the hell is she up here by herself anyway?”

  “She was here on time. Dressed appropriately. Which is more than I can say for you.”

  Carrie knew from experience that it was easier to let the two men have it out than to try to interject. But part of her was angry. Angry, hell infuriated! How dare he be so arrogant to think she needed him to save her?

  Ty stood with one hand on his hip with the other held in front of her, like a father making a case for a stricken child. His height and his build made him look menacing, but Carrie knew better. The Ty she knew was more apt to stop trouble than cause it.

  “This wasn’t live,” Ty told Earl. “They could have waited for me.”

  “Since when are you such a publicity hog?” Earl asked. “I’d think a gossip magnet like you would be happy for a break.”

  “Carrie is in no condition to do this by herself.”

  “Wait a minute!” She pushed herself off the couch, strained her neck to meet Ty’s gaze. “I am perfectly capable of conducting myself in an interview, and I was doing just fine until you showed up.”

  “But you don’t have to now. I’m here.”

  “So what?”

  “Carrie, I don’t like you getting upset. Everything is okay now.”

  He spoke softly, like he had when she was sick, as if the slightest spook would destroy her. She’d been fragile then, but that was years ago. She was over all that, and over him. “Fine then,” she spat. “If you think I’m so damn incapable, do the interview yourself.”

  She pushed between the two men and bounded off the soundstage as fast as she could in her numbing stilettos. She threw open the studio door and bolted back up the stairs, ignoring the heavy footfalls echoing behind her.

  “Carrie, wait!”

  Maybe agreeing to do this was a big mistake. No amount of money was worth reliving the hell of five years ago. She was beginning to understand why parolees never made a habit of visiting old cellmates they’d left behind. It was easier just to forget they ever knew each other at all.

  “Carrie?”

  He stood behind her in the greenroom doorway. She closed her eyes and kept her back to him, afraid one look would stymie her resolve.

  “Carrie Ann, please look at me. I just thought you’d want company up there.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  She heard him shut the door, and the knowledge that they were alone scared the hell out of her. His large hand slipped over her shoulder, and when she opened her eyes he stared back at her. “Just hear me out.”

  “No.”

  Her brain screamed for her to move away. Somehow her feet wouldn’t budge, trapped in the incredible presence that was Ty Hollister. The sun-kissed complexion, the short dirty blonde hair, a perpetual five o’clock shadow that framed his chiseled smile. No picture in a magazine did justice of the real thing, and his proximity crippled her best intentions. Finally she managed to step back, picking up her jacket and purse from the coffee table.

  “Don’t leave.”

  “Get out of my way.”

  “Carrie, please.” He jumped in her path, his rippled bare chest peeked out at eye level from under his black leather jacket. “Please, not like this.”

  He touched her face. He traced the line of her jaw. Strong but gentle. Her skin tingled like it had a memory all its own. “I really have to get home,” she stammered, hating the obvious tremble in her voice. “I have a million things to do.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for being late, and for how I look. Manny’s finding me a shirt.”

  “Who’s Manny?”

  “He’s my assistant.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know you were counting on me, and I should have been here. I let you down and I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through her hair. Her breath hitched in response. His words were exactly what she wanted to hear.

  Five years too late.

  She drew away from his hand and exhaled, when it dropped to his side with a thud.

  “Hey you two, what the hell is going on in there?” Earl pushed open the door. He had that expectant look, like he was waiting for a tea kettle to boil. “Time is money, folks,” he said. “Can we film now and talk later, please?”

  Carrie pulled her jacket on and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Earl, I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “Okay, so maybe you’re a little out of practice.”

  “Carrie needs to get home,” Ty said.

  “Can I speak for myself please?”

  “People!” Earl wiped his brow with a handkerchief then dabbed the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to yell, but I would just like to remind you that neither one of you would be where you are today if it wasn’t for the money and fame this TV show brought you. I deserve some gratitude. This DVD release means a lot to me. I put up with you people for five years. You can put up for two weeks.”

  Carrie shrugged, and Ty chewed his lip. The usual response to Earl’s scolding.

  “Now, I can get over what happened here today, but you two have to promise me that you can pull it together by Tuesday morning, nine a.m. We are booked for ‘The Olivia Godfrey Show’, so I expect you both to show up happy, smiling and willing to talk by then. Got it?”

  “Got it.” Ty shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “This is Thursday, so that gives you a five day weekend. My suggestion is that you two get reacquainted. Go get some burgers or coffee or something.”

  Earl didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he stormed out the door, pulling a pill bottle from his breast pocket as he went. Carrie moved to follow, but Ty grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get him some water for his pill, and then I’m heading home.”

  “How about you leave him alone and worry about yourself for a minute?” His careful tone had returned. Soft. Warm. Irresistible. “Grab your things,” he said. “How abou
t if we head to the diner a few blocks down. Talk.”

  “Ty-”

  “Come on, Carrie, please? For Earl?”

  His breath hit her already heated cheek, and by God if she didn’t feel herself swoon. “Fine,” she heard herself say as she flipped her scarf over her head. “I’ll go for Earl.”

  Chapter Two

  The noontime traffic was thick as usual. Clouds of exhaust and the stench of diesel mingled with the damp promise of snow. A noxious concoction that was classic winter in New York City. They predicted a decent snowfall overnight, and by the swirl of the clouds converging above that the storm would move in earlier than Carrie had planned. She cursed. It was a good two-hour ride back home, and she wanted to make it in the daylight. North Country white-outs were doubly nasty in the dark.

  Her heels were unsteady on the slushy pavement, so she made sure to walk just out of Ty’s reach. A painful tumble into oncoming traffic would be preferable to having his hands anywhere on her, breaking a fall. She maintained the distance until she hopped the curb in front of Hoggins Diner. He moved in front of her to hold open the door. Ever the southern gentleman, he had impeccable matters. Although she noticed earlier at the studio that he lost his accent.

  When they stepped inside, Ty kicked the snow from his borrowed sneakers. Somehow the move attracted every eye in the place. The clanking of silverware and coffee cups ceased. Lunchtime chatter dulled to silence.

  “What happened to indifferent New Yorkers?” Carrie said through the side of her mouth. “I thought they were used to seeing celebrities out in public.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice,” Ty said. “I thought I’d be pretty incognito looking like this.”

  She lifted her gaze and assessed his newly donned baseball cap and a few-days-old beard. High profile celebrity or not, possibly he drew attention simply because he was that good looking.

  “There, behind that plant.” He gestured toward a vacant booth on the back wall. Pulling the “Bama” cap farther down over his eyes, he nudged her through the sea of patrons. On her way past, Carrie glanced at the clock over the counter. “I know the snow is coming,” he said in her ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re out of here in plenty of time.”