“What time is it?”
The soft, groggy voice jolted him from his thoughts. He pushed through the sea of red hair until he found her sleepy eyes. “Very early,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Too late. I’m awake.” She yawned and slid her arm around him. “I should get up and get to work. We open Thanksgiving weekend, and I have a ton of things to do.”
“Carrie Ann, that’s two weeks away. If you had to open tomorrow, you’d be more than prepared. Go back to sleep.”
She looked up at him and smiled, her fair complexion ghostly against his darker chest “You look tired. Didn’t you sleep well?”
“What I got of it. Hard to think about sleep when you’ve got a beautiful naked woman beside you.”
She raised a brow. “You say it like it’s a rare occasion.”
He tossed a pillow at her, and she tossed it back. It wasn’t every woman you could have a pillow fight with at the ass-crack of dawn. But right now he wasn’t interested in horsing around. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her back under him.
“Let me up.” She giggled.
“Say please, and I’ll think about it.”
“Tyler, really. I have so many things to do. I need to get an early start.”
“Well how about if we hired more help,” he said in between nibbles of her earlobe. “Like a college kid on break, or a friend from Church or something.”
“We?”
Is that what he’d said? He wouldn’t be surprised. He was right where he wanted to be, with the woman he wanted to be with. “We” seemed as natural as breathing.
“Ty, ‘we’ would rather not spend the money.”
“Well, I don’t mind. Seems worth it to me, if it frees up some of our time.”
“Our?”
He did it again. Possessive pronouns. Which seemed perfect to him because that was exactly what he felt. Possessive.
She slid out from under him and sat up. The sheets fell away exposing her perfect breasts. He reached for them, but she batted him away. “Ty, I’m flattered that you’re interested in helping me, but I really don’t feel comfortable using your money.”
He lifted his gaze, her eyes being the second favorite place to stare. “My check book is in my bag. What if just this one time-”
“Tyler, stop!”
He clamped his mouth shut when he saw the look. The pink puckered lips, the narrowed eyes. Her “giving notes” face. A term used between actors when critiquing a performance, and if his memory served him, that was exactly what she was about to do. He lay back down on his pillow and prepared himself for the lecture.
“First of all, I’m not one of your ‘women’. Second, I’m not interested in your money, and third, the words ‘us’ and ‘we’ don’t flatter me.”
He frowned. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“Yesterday, Manny called me one of your ‘women’ and now you offer me money.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shrugged. “I’m not a groupie.”
He folded his arms behind his head, trying like hell not to smile. God damn, he had missed her. His little firecracker.
“I just don’t want you to think that spending the night with you means more than it does. We were comforting each other, and I’d like to just leave it at that.” She shrugged. “You know, like a one night stand.”
That caught his attention. “I’m sorry, what?”
She took a breath and tucked the sheet under her arms. “I’d like to approach this as two co-workers who just happen to enjoy each other’s company-naked. No strings attached.”
He felt like he’d been socked in the gut. This was the opposite conversation than he was used to having. Usually the woman irked him by using words like “we” and “us” or making cases why they were perfect for each other. He’d never been on the other side.
He didn’t like it.
“Darlin, I just thought that after last night-”
“Last night was last night, Ty. You can’t just assume things are different.” She moved to get up, but he pulled her back.
“Last night had to mean something to you, Carrie.”
“It doesn’t have to. We were emotional that’s all.”
Again she moved away, and again he pulled her back. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Really, why are you acting like this?”
“I’m not acting.”
“You’re giving me the bums rush, Carrie Ann, and I want to know why!”
The sudden flush of her cheeks told him she was upset, and the glaze of her eyes warned tears. This time when he reached for her, she didn’t resist. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his neck. “I guess after last night, I’m a little scared.”
The admission told him more about her feelings for him than anything else. He pulled her closer, brushing his lips against her temple “No, it’s my fault. When I offered you money, I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“Let me make it up to you.”
“And just how do you plan to do that?”
He kissed her forehead before meeting her gaze. “Well, we have to be in the city early tomorrow for “The Olivia Show.” What if we went in today and bummed around. Just you and me.”
“Yeah right,” she said, with a laugh. “You don’t see the million and one things that are wrong with that idea?”
He shrugged. “Like what?”
“Didn’t I just finish telling you about all the things I have to do around here? And what about the paparazzi? We’re already front page news.”
“So? We’re two co-stars catching up on old times. Besides it’s good to be seen. That way no one thinks there’s anything to hide.”
“I don’t know, Ty.”
“Well, how about you let me talk you into it?” Gently, he brought her under him, pressing against her with obvious purpose. He kissed her then dragged his lips down the slope of her throat. She tasted sweet, with a hint of spice that was so incredibly sexual, he was sure it could make him come all on its own. “How am I doing?” he asked, his breath teasing a needy nipple. “You coming with me, or what?”
“You’re making a pretty good case.”
The strain in her voice excited him. What was it about this woman that he craved? The hell with foreplay. He couldn’t wait. He needed her. Fast, hard and right now. “Where’s that condom stash of yours,” he stammered.
“I think there’s only one left.”
Her voice was as soft and as seducing as her body beneath him. His mouth went further down her belly. “Well then let’s put it to good use, baby.”
He pushed himself up and dove into the bedside drawer. “Aren’t you Little Miss Resourceful. You got your own little condom stash.”
“Mine?” She laughed through a sigh. “What would I be doing with condoms? Those were yours. When I unpacked them I put them in the drawer.”
“My condoms?” He pulled it out and looked at it twice.
These weren’t his.
He knew for sure he was out when he left New York, and Manny packed his bag when he left. Suddenly it dawned on him. That girl Angie, left them in the bathroom.
“Ty, is something wrong?”
“There will be if he doesn’t get off of you!”
The sound of Lizzie’s voice drove them to opposite sides of the bed. Ty cleared his throat and pushed his hand through his hair, wishing he’d thought to close the bedroom door the night before.
“Lizzie!” Carrie yelled, pulling the sheet up around her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh my God, you’re still here!” Manny leaned on the doorframe, and panted like he‘d just run a marathon. He held his hand over his heart, and flakes of snow frosted his pink hair. “Why are you still in bed? You have a brunch meeting in the city at ten thirty with those indie film producers.”
Ty looked at his watch. “Manny, where the hell did you come from, anyw
ay?”
“The weather was too iffy to drive back last night,” he said, while he scanned the room. When he spotted the suitcase by Carrie’s side of the bed, he jumped to retrieve it. “I stayed a couple miles down the road. I would have spent the night here, but I didn’t think you wanted me around.”
“You could have stayed here,” Carrie said, reaching out to his neon head. “I wish you would have asked.”
“Jeez, darlin,’” Ty said. “The guy just burst into the bedroom unannounced. Why are you even talking to him?”
“You’re right. She should be talking to me.” Lizzie stood with one hand over her eyes and the other in the air for emphasis. “You do know, Carrie Ann, that this is asking for trouble.”
“Oh, please. I know what I’m doing.”
“Save it for Dad. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.”
Ty watched the color drain from Carrie’s cheeks. “He’s not home, is he?”
Lizzie sighed and dropped her hand from her face. “He called this morning. He said he’d be home in a few hours, and tomorrow night he’s taking us all to the city to have dinner.” She scowled at Ty. “I didn’t tell him about your visit.”
“I think you caused enough trouble,” Manny told Ty, already stuffing clothes in his leather duffle. “Let’s get moving. We need to get on the road if you want to make your appointment.”
“And Carrie,” Lizzie added. “You have to show me how to work that new reservation data base.”
Carrie brushed the hair from her face and tightened the sheet around her. Her cheeks blushed, but he could tell by the twitch of her lip it was from amusement and not embarrassment. She drummed her fingers against the mattress. In the past, the trick was a weird sort of subconscious habit she did when she was highly focused. Preparing for a scene or getting into character. He wondered if that still applied.
“Wait a minute!” Carrie suddenly blurted, flinging her hand in the air in protest. “What are you guys talking about? Don’t you remember about the change in plans?”
The drumming stopped, and Ty smiled as the room came to a halt. He had read her right. Lexie Love was up to something.
Everyone looked at one another. Confused, annoyed. Ty smiled and eased himself back against the headboard. This was her scene. He was happy to play the supporting role and fade into the background.
“I thought everyone was clear on our plans today,” Carrie said. “Ty and I have some appointments this afternoon.” She turned to Ty, her eyes twinkling. “Isn’t that right?”
“Huge.”
“And Manny, remember you agreed to stay here in my place, helping Lizzie?”
Manny stood up, sending an armful of clothes tumbling to the floor. “Pardon me Carrie, but what the hell are you talking about?”
“You agreed to help Lizzie while Ty and I went to New York. That’s why you stayed overnight, isn’t it?”
More headshaking and raised brows. Ty wasn’t worried. Carrie was unflappable in tense scenes. Breaking character was something he did, never her.
“That was really nice of you to offer to straighten out our new database,” Carrie said to Manny. “I’m sure you’ll make quick work out of it.” She turned back to her sister. “Manny has a management degree from Harvard.”
“Yale.” Ty prompted.
“Yale. And he said he was really looking forward to organizing our reservation files and making the menu calendar. Right, Manny?”
Manny looked at Lizzie then at Ty. “Well--”
“So it’s settled.” Carrie clapped her hands together and smiled. “Ty, we should get moving if we want to make our appointments. “Lizzie, thanks for the heads up on Dad. Manny, thank you so much for filling in for me. My sister will show you everything. And remember if you have any questions you can just refer to the list I faxed you.”
Manny scratched his temple. “I’m sorry Carrie. What list?”
“The list I faxed to you at your hotel last night.”
“I didn’t get a list.”
Carrie shook her head. “Well that’s what happens when you stay in second rate places. I guess I’ll just make up another one.”
Ty smiled with pride. This was precisely why she was a two-time Emmy winner. The woman had talent. No doubt about it.
“Great,” Carrie chirped. “Now that everything is straightened out, we’d like to get dressed.”
“Fine,” Lizzie mumbled. “Although the first order of business is to clean up in here and change the sheets. Manny, I’ll meet you in the computer room in fifteen minutes.”
Her sister followed Manny out, slamming the door behind her. When Ty looked at Carrie, she smiled, and his heart swelled with pride. He raised his hands and clapped, once then twice, coaxing her smile to a laugh.
“And scene,” she breathed, bowing her head dramatically. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
Harvey squinted through the frost-covered windshield when Carrie and Ty piled into the yellow hummer. He had been staked out in the ski resort parking lot for hours, waiting for nothing in particular. He had a hunch he’d be rewarded for his patience. And what a reward it was! His instincts were dead on. Ty and Carrie made their move.
He rubbed his frozen hands together and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered then roared, discharging a huge cloud of exhaust. His bald tires skidded when he turned out to the main road, but he gunned the gas anyway. Moments later, he was a few cars-lengths behind them, following like he’d seen it done in movies. Hell, like he’d seen Hollister do himself.
He turned on the defroster, and it hissed to life, slowly pushing the fog from his view. Looked like they headed toward the city. Was this a business trip? As far as he knew the duo didn’t have an appearance planned until tomorrow. No. This was for pleasure. Every instinct in his body told him so. His hands tightened around the wheel. There was a story about to unfold. He could feel it.
They reached the city about noon. Heavy traffic, pissed off drivers. Usual lunchtime bullshit. The sun shined, and Harvey realized he hadn’t seen it in days. He counted it as a good sign as he followed them to the Waldorf.
He hit the lobby just in time to see Ty check in, while Carrie hung back in the gift shop. A few minutes and a few hundred dollars later, Harvey secured a room just below their penthouse suite. With any luck they wouldn’t spend much time there. He bought a paper and parked himself in the lobby, directly across from the elevators.
A few minutes later, they emerged, both in a change of clothes. They wore jeans, but Ty had a thick, black winter jacket and an “I Love New York” baseball cap over his eyes, and Carrie sported a yellow parka and matching ski hat. They breezed out the door with more than a few arms-lengths between them. A casual observer wouldn’t even think they were together. But Harvey knew. They were together all right. In more ways than one.
Harvey dropped the paper and followed them out the door, hanging a few yards back. The day was a blur of window shopping and aimless walking. Even the stroll through Central Park didn’t produce anything juicy. They behaved like old friends, throwing snowballs and laughing. The highlight came when Ty eased an arm around Carrie to help her over a snow bank. So what? Certainly nothing worth a front page photo op.
After a hot chocolate, they ended up on Fifth Avenue, hitting the overpriced boutiques. In one shop Harvey had a good view as Carrie eyed a long black gown that cost more than a small house. She held it up against her, and Ty smiled with approval. When Carrie’s back was turned, he motioned to the manager, and slipped her something from his pants pocket. A wad of cash probably. They came out of the store moments later, but they left the dress behind.
Big Deal.
As night fell, Harvey, discouraged, cold and angry, figured he wasted the day. But he reminded himself why he was a journalist. He was a warrior on a mission, and just like any good soldier on a special operation, waiting was a big part of the game. His diligence would be rewarded. It had to be.
A hundred yards ahead, the
duo entered another store. Harvey followed half interested, daydreaming about a decent bacon burger, and the pot of hot coffee he’d order from room service. But that was forgotten when he read the name of the store front. Leslie’s Layette. His eyes narrowed, and through the cloud of his breath, he saw the merchandise in the window.
Baby clothes.
Hot Damn!
He pulled his collar up around his neck like he’d seen undercover agents do on T.V. It was ballsy to actually follow them into the store, but he couldn’t help it. The possible rewards were simply too great. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the door, the bell on the knob alerting his entrance. The smell of talcum powder and some sort of flowery baby scent invaded his nose. He held back a sneeze, and smiled at the proprietor, who was folding blankets in the back.
“Can I help you sir?”
“No thanks,” he said. “Just browsing.”
Harvey looked around, peeking through clothes racks and between crib railings. The place was empty except for his pair. Mumbles came from somewhere in the back. He followed the sound until he spotted them huddled near the newborn clothes. Harvey stood behind a tall teak wardrobe, his ears poised in their direction.
“Aren’t these the cutest little dresses you’ve ever seen?” Carrie cooed, holding one up for Ty to see. “I can’t believe how small they are. And I can’t decide if I like pink or purple. Which do you like?”
“Either one.” He chuckled. “But don’t you think we’re jumping the gun a little? We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“You’re right, I guess.” She put the dress back on the rack, before snagging a tiny pair of shoes from the counter. “But look at these little boy sneakers. God, I could get a dozen pairs.”
“Wait a minute, darlin’. I think we should think more gender neutral.”
Carrie frowned. “Fine, but that’s not nearly as fun.”
Darlin? Harvey thought. When the hell did Ty develop a Southern accent?
Undercover Heat Page 12
