Ty slid into the booth across from her. He took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair before jamming the thing back on. A nervous habit of his. Good. At least she wasn’t the only uptight one. “Again, I’m sorry about the audience,” he said. “I really thought we’d go unnoticed.”
Fat chance. Two women giggled over French fries in the next booth. One whipped out a digital camera from her purse and took aim. “God, how can you live like this all the time? Don’t you get sick of it?”
“I’m used to it by now.” He cocked his head and scratched his chin with his thumb. “Forced myself to get used to it, I guess.
“Better you than me.”
“Come on, don’t tell me fans still don’t stop you on the street.”
“Not in Middle Valley. Up there I’m just the same Carrie Ann who shovels her own driveway and drives an old pickup. Celebrity doesn’t hold much credence.”
He nodded. “Don’t forget, I grew up in a small town, too. I know what it’s like. And you don’t have to sell me on Middle Valley. I liked it up there. And now you’ve put the place on the map with that bed and breakfast of yours.” He reached across the table and brushed his fingers across hers. “I’m proud of you. Really.”
The tone was back. The one that reeked of pity. She tugged her sleeves down over her hands and sat back in her seat. When she looked up, she noticed him staring, a curious smile straitening his lips.
“You look beautiful, Carrie. I noticed at the studio. Good and healthy.”
The added weight of his deep blue eyes somehow made her all the more self-conscious. She cast a sideward glance around the diner. A thin-haired man with a mangy goatee lifted his coffee cup and smiled.
“Why don’t you take your jacket off? It’s warm enough in here.”
Her gaze shifted to the linoleum table. “I’m okay, still a little chilled from the outside.”
“Carrie-”
“I told you. I’m fine.” She couldn’t fool him. His scowl told her as much. Acting came naturally to her, hell she had the awards to prove it. But she couldn’t lie, and no part of Ty bought her lame attempt to do so.
“There he is. My favorite semi-regular!” A waitress with long dark hair and unnaturally tinted contacts popped her bubble gum as she approached their table. When she touched Ty on the shoulder, he startled at the intrusion. “Ty Hollister! Boy have I missed you.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, then placed the menus on the table.
“Hey Stacey.” He winked and flashed a red carpet smile. “How have you been, honey?”
“Better now that you’re here. How long has it been two, three months?”
“That’s about right. I’ve been on location. In Italy.”
“At the gym it looks like.”
“Played a boxer. Had to put on some mass.”
“No kidding.” Stacey slid her fingers down his arm, and made a show of squeezing his biceps. “Is that why you’re strutting around in the dead of winter with no shirt on under that biker jacket of yours? Showing off?”
“I was in a hurry this morning.”
“Well, let me speak for my whole gender and tell you, we don’t mind.” She pulled a pencil and pad from her apron pocket. “So, how long are you in town? Maybe we could catch up, you know what I mean?”
Carrie did. It never ceased to amaze her how women blatantly threw themselves at him, any time any place, even in mixed company. She chuckled and buried her nose in the list of lunch specials.
“Wait a minute! Is that? Are you? It is! Carrie Ann Langley!”
Carrie peeked out from behind the menu. Stacy looked at her, red-faced with her hand covering her mouth like she’d seen the Ghost of Elvis. “Oh my God,” the girl gushed. “I love you so much. Really!”
“Thank you,” Carrie said in a polite whisper, a tone she hoped Stacey would emulate. No luck. Instead she squealed and did a strange little dance that looked almost like a seizure.
“God, and your show ‘Undercover Heat’ is my number-one favorite ever. You two were so good together. It was like you really were madly in love.”
Ty smiled. “We were that convincing, huh?”
“Oh yeah. I love the episode when you guys are being chased by those drug dealers, and you end up hooking up in that refrigerator thingy.”
“Um, I think it was a meat locker.” Carrie corrected, surprised she suddenly didn’t mind the stroll down memory lane. “That was Ty’s method acting stage, and he insisted we actually do the scene in a gigantic freezer.”
“Yeah, and I was sick in bed for a week after that.”
“I told you it was a bad idea.”
Ty leaned across the table and smiled. “I didn’t mind. I may have been in bed, but I did have pretty good company.”
The waitress had slipped away, but Carrie was sure any idiot could tell by her blush that they weren’t talking about the weather. The spell was broken when a shutter clicked on a high speed camera. Ty scowled at the table beside them. “I’m a top story now,” he grumbled. “They follow me like flies on shit.”
“I know. The whole Layla thing is pretty big news. I’m sorry, by the way. That must be hard to go through something so personal so publicly.”
“What can I say? I do my best to keep the world entertained at all costs.” He tilted his head to meet her gaze. “Come on, Carrie. Don’t tell me you’re surprised. You were the one who warned me about her.”
“Where did you meet up with her again anyway?”
“Vegas. At one of those burlesque shows. After she left her assistant job at ‘Undercover Heat,’ she worked at one of the hotels out there. Anyway, we met up one night. A few bottles of wine and a drive-thru chapel later, we were married. Eight months after that she left me for Marcy the dog walker.”
“Wow. That must be hard to deal with.”
“Yeah, I miss the dog like crazy.”
He tweaked the bill of his cap and sat back in his seat. Flippant had never been Ty’s style, especially about something like marriage. Although it was obvious the man in front of her was a variation of the original. His eyes looked tired, his shoulders hunched. His smile looked like he worked at it. What a sharp change from the charismatic man she remembered.
A burst of winter air followed a breathless man through the door. He held a white t-shirt in his hand and scanned the room, before jogging to their table. “I found you a shirt. I stole it from wardrobe at Entertainment Now.”
“Hey Manny, this is Carrie Ann Langley. Carrie, this is my assistant, Manny Pipher.”
“The Incredible Carrie Ann is more like it. An honor to meet you.” He extended his hand and smiled.
Ty stood up and slipped off his leather jacket. A collective female gasp filled the diner when he revealed his incredible tanned physique. Carrie averted her eyes. No need for her to look. Every inch of the man’s body was etched in her brain. Even so, seeing him in person instead of her dreams was something she wasn’t prepared for. Again, she referred back to the lunch specials.
“I brought two of your usuals.” Stacy slid a tray full of burgers and fries in front of them. Soda sloshed over the sides of the plastic cups when she caught a glimpse of Ty’s sculpted pects. “You need anything else, give me a holler.”
“Thanks.” Manny snagged Carrie’s plate and scooped the burger to his mouth.
“Hey, what the hell did you do think you’re doing?” Ty shoved him on the shoulder, knocking the bacon clear from the bun. “That was for her.”
“It’s okay.” Carrie insisted, pushing the plate closer toward Manny. “Go ahead. I had a big breakfast.”
“Carrie, I’m ordering something else for you.” Ty signaled for Stacey across the diner. “It’s a long ride back to Middle Valley, and I want something in your stomach.”
“But...”
“How about a piece of pie? Apple’s still your favorite, right?”
“Ty.”
“How about some ice tea. Lemon and sugar?”
“But
it’s not necessary.”
“Damn it, Carrie. Yes, it is!” His fist landed on the table, knocking the silverware to the floor. Something flickered behind the whites of his blood shot eyes. A strange variation of anger, maybe fear, even sadness that had her glued to her vinyl seat. Manny too, it seemed, had appeared to have stopped chewing mid-bite.
The roomful of people probably still stared, but it didn’t matter. The world always seemed to fade away when she was with him. She opened her eyes wide, daring him to blink. Who would back down? Not her, and stalemates were not their style.
“Hey Ty,” Manny mumbled. “You have big plans this afternoon, and Carrie Ann seems to have stuff to do to. Maybe we should wrap this up.”
“Damn it, Manny, I’m having lunch with an old friend here.”
“No, he’s right.” Carrie refused to look away first. “I need to get going. And I don’t want to wreck your schedule. I’m sure you have other things to do, business meetings, appearances. Right, Manny?”
Manny took her cue and whipped the Blackberry from his pocket. She watched his fingers flip over buttons until relief registered across his face. “You’re already late for a lunch date about a film project across town. Then MTV has you later on this afternoon, after which you’ll catch a quick dinner, and then back to Manhattan for the Late Show.”
“And I know how you are about keeping commitments, and I don’t want to mess you up.” Seeing a quick out, Carrie picked up her purse. “I’ll see you next week, Ty. Good to meet you, Manny.” She wound her scarf around her and slipped out from the booth.
“Carrie, wait!”
She squeezed through the crowd, shoving harder and moving faster when curious eyes focused over her shoulder. When she pushed opened the door, horns blared and cars raced by, tossing sprays of slush into the swirling air.
“Hey, Carrie!”
This was precisely the kind of scene she wanted to avoid. People would speculate and reopen old wounds. Why did she think it would be any different? The heavy footfalls echoed behind her, urging her strides to a jog. Her shoes skidded on the pavement.
“Carrie Ann, slow down!”
The cement dipped at the crosswalk and her heel caught in the groove. She stumbled and braced herself for the fall, but fingers laced around her arm before she hit the ground.
“Don’t take off on me like this.”
Her eyes met his, and a jolt of anger zipped through her. She was taking off on him? Again her feet gave way, and again he caught her, this time slipping his hand around her waist.
“Stay with me tonight.”
“What?”
“Call Lizzie. She still lives up in Middle Valley, right? Tell her to watch the place.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Please?”
Back then he could talk her into anything. He had. He would. But not anymore. She slipped away from his grip and eyed an idling cab across the street. Her pickup was parked only a block away, but the taxi offered a quicker getaway. She’d drive around the block if she had to. Anything to get off the sidewalk.
Mercifully, the traffic stalled, and she bolted from the curb to the crosswalk. She knew he still watched when she jumped into the taxi, leaving him in a cloud of exhaust.
She leaned against the window, the cool glass stinging her blushed cheeks. Tears welled in her eyes so she pressed them shut, right after she saw the slimy man from the diner snap her picture from the sidewalk.
***
Gigantic snowflakes zinged out of the darkness like darts bombarding the windshield of Ty’s borrowed Hummer. His back was sore from leaning forward in his seat, and his eyes felt like they’d been dragged in sand from the strain. But he could crash and be torn into a million pieces, and he wouldn’t care. That was the nice thing about self-loathing. Dying didn’t seem that bad, when existence was the bleaker alternative.
That’s what Carrie had done to him.
A quick check of the dashboard clock told him it was close to eight p.m. In a few minutes, he was supposed to talk music videos with the deejays at MTV. Manny nearly cried when Ty announced his change in plans. Blowing off the whole teen demographic for a joy ride upstate was what Manny called “a poor business decision” and in a snowstorm as bad as this, an even worse one. But in truth there was no decision to be made. Ty was a selfish bastard, who couldn’t help wanting to share the space with the one woman he had no business wanting. Hell, after what he’d done, he deserved to be bashed with a shovel and buried in a snow bank. If she was half as smart as he knew her to be, she would do just that, and at that moment, giving her the opportunity to do so seemed a lot more important than yukking it up with pre-teens at MTV.
Again the back tires fishtailed. He skimmed the roadside ditch before righting himself. His absent mind allowed a heavy foot, which was especially risky between Hanson’s cornfields where black ice usually formed. Ty hadn’t driven these roads in over five years, more than enough time to forget the lay of the land, but somehow it was etched in his memory. The windmill on the hilltop told him he was minutes from the town proper. “Welcome to Middle Valley,” he muttered, surprising himself when he heard the Southern drawl mix with his words.
The last time he made this trip it was spring, a few weeks before the show was due for hiatus. Carrie was too weak to leave her bed, and he had been working by himself. He remembered a balmy moonless night, and the two-hour ride from the Brooklyn set seemed longer than usual. It was three in the morning by the time he reached the farmhouse.
Ty sensed something was wrong as soon as he pulled in the gate. Every light in the place was on, and the front door stood wide open, with just the screen keeping the bugs out. The TV displayed a snowy test screen, the volume turned down to a mute. He remembered calling her name, and the lump in his throat that impeded his words. An inhuman force propelled him though the house to the foot of the back stairs.
He smelled it first. The putrid metallic scent of an open wound that would tie the steadiest stomach in knots. And then, there was Carrie Ann.
Sprawled on the hardwood floor, her skin as pale as the satin nightgown that covered her. Above her left eye gaped a deep gash, from hitting the railing, he figured. Blood matted her hair and pooled beneath her. He could tell by the way it stuck to his fingers that it had been there a while.
When he took her in his arms she felt cool and limp, and at first he thought she was dead. He kissed her purple lips until she opened her eyes, then cleaned her up and carried her to his Blazer. On a referral he secretly scored from a fashion model friend a few weeks earlier, he made the three-hour drive to the hospital in Connecticut in ninety minutes.
She lost the baby the next day.
He tapped the brakes when he read the sign that said ‘Whisper Grove Farms.’ The old one had been smaller, with black faded paint on rotting white wood. Now it was majestic, inlaid in stone, and illuminated by a spotlight placed on top.
Simple and classy. Very Carrie Ann.
He plowed up the driveway in a cloud of powder. If this was one of the most popular bed and breakfasts in upstate New York, it certainly looked the part. The whole damn place had been spruced up. A large addition to the old farmhouse, paint, new windows. Even in the deep snow, it was obvious she’d hired landscapers. He smiled, mentally correcting himself. Never in a million years would Carrie hire anybody to do her gardens. Whatever she could possibly do on her own, she did. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had built the addition with her own little hands.
He parked beside the east barn, behind Carrie’s pickup, the same place he always parked. There was another truck next to the back door of the farmhouse. His heart stopped.
Maybe she didn’t live alone.
For a moment he just sat there, before stepping out of the car. Man it was cold. The moon was hidden, and he smelled a storm in the air, mingling with lingering chimney smoke. The hum of snowmakers from the ski resort across the way competed with the whine of the wind. Very ominous. The snow he’d enco
untered on his ride up must have just been a preview for the main attraction.
Spying the light on the back porch, he broke into a clumsy jog. Snow jumped from under his heavy feet, stuck to his face and hung on his lashes. He stopped mid-stride at the foot of the steps, lifting a shielding hand to his forehead. Through the sheet of white, he made out a very pregnant woman standing on the porch steps with an arm full of bed linens tucked under her chin.
“Lizzie?”
Ty shuffled toward her and stood in the lamp light. “Lizzie, it’s me.”
“Ty?” Her brow wrinkled, and he wasn’t sure if it was in surprise or disgust. At least it wasn’t anger. Despite their small stature, the Langley girls had tempers. Even a guy the size of him feared to be on the wrong end of it.
She exhaled in a sigh, her breath clouding the night air. “God, I feel like I just saw a ghost.”
“Tell me that’s a good thing.”
“Tell me why you’re here.”
Lizzie meant no harm. She was protective of her younger sister, and he suspected more so since their mother had died two years before. She had the same red hair as Carrie, but shorter, and darker eyes that Ty always thought made sense. She was world-weary and practical. The opposite of the naive dreamer Carrie Ann was. In the past, Lizzie had been his biggest fan. She was the one who secretly corresponded with him when Carrie was in the hospital, even after the fiasco with her father. He thought if anyone would be half-way happy to see him it would be her. So far he wasn’t getting that impression.
“Listen, do you have some gloves or maybe an old winter jacket lying around? I’m not dressed for winter in upstate New York.” He rubbed his hands together, then did a little cold-man dance for affect. Maybe playing pitiful and hypothermic would pull at her heartstrings.
“You should have called first.”
Or not.
“You know, we’re not open to guests for another week or so. Carrie likes to close down the few weeks before Thanksgiving to prepare the place for the winter season. But you do look like you could use some coffee.”
Undercover Heat Page 3
