Undercover Heat

by LaBue, Danielle

  The two moved to a display of ridiculously priced blankets. Carrie ran her hand over the fuzzy pink one draped on the wall. “Wow these are beautiful,” she said. “And so soft. They’re big enough to put on my bed.”

  Ty looked down at her and smiled. “I have a feeling that if you had your way, the baby would spend more time there anyway, than in its crib.”

  “That’s not true!” Playfully, she jabbed him in the ribs. “A baby can’t sleep in an adult bed. They might suffocate. Don’t you know that?”

  He leaned over, meeting her nose to nose. “Well how about this, you get that blanket for yourself, and you won’t have to worry about me suffocating. How does that sound?”

  Harvey’s ears perked up, as their voices lowered. In an instant he had his camera poised, just in time to snap them as Carrie batted away Ty’s kiss.

  “Are you crazy, Ty? People could see us.”

  “Baby, there isn’t a soul around, and even if there was, they wouldn’t know who we were.”

  “Excuse me. May I help you find something?” The dark haired woman pushed her glasses up her nose and smiled pleasantly at the couple. “No, thank you,” Carrie said, taking a step away from Ty. “We were just browsing.”

  They left the store, and Harvey followed soon after. Undetected, like a shadow or a spook. God, was he good.

  Not a smoking gun, but maybe a prelude to bigger things. They were definitely more than old friends, and this scene, combined with Ty’s prenatal vitamin purchase, convinced him. Carrie Ann Langley was pregnant with Ty Hollister’s baby. Everything pointed to that fact. But he had to be sure. No need to get sloppy now and risk a lawsuit because of lack of patience.

  He followed them back to the hotel and through the lobby to the elevators. Just as he did before, he sat on the bench with a copy of the “Times” in his hand, just in case they appeared for dinner. Odds were, they wouldn’t bother. The lovebirds probably wanted some private time. He felt for his camera phone in his pants pocket and started on the evening edition.

  Carrie awoke in the bathtub with a mouthful of bubbles and a crick in her neck. Judging by the icy chill of the water, she’d been in there a while, but despite being cold she was in no hurry to get out. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so at ease. Peaceful. Like everything in the world was just as it was supposed to be.

  And it had a lot to do with Ty.

  The thought drove her eyes wide open. What the heck was she thinking? This was just a fling. She’d never had one, and it seemed very empowering. There was also the added advantage of knowing there was a definite beginning and an end when the press commitment was over. Just like a role in a movie.

  If she kept telling herself that, she might start to believe it.

  Seeing him again was hard, but being with him was surprisingly easy. She could understand Ty’s willingness to forget the past and pick up where they left off.

  She wondered if he’d feel the same way if he knew the truth about her father.

  A knock at the bathroom door startled her, sending the now ice cold water over the sides. She wiped the soapy drops from eyes, and when her vision righted itself, Ty stood over her in a tuxedo.

  “What are you doing in here, woman? I was beginning to think you drowned.”

  “I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”

  “No need to apologize.” He smiled and came toward her. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Besides its good you took a cat nap now. I can’t guarantee you’ll get much sleep tonight.”

  His eyes raked over her, so she leaned against the side of the tub to distort the view. “Where did you get the monkey suit?”

  “Called Barney’s. They hooked me up.” He ran his hands down the lapels. “Told them I had some big plans.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “I promised I’d show you a good time, right?”

  In that tux she could think of plenty of ways to have a good time, without even leaving the hotel suite. “What do you have in mind?”

  He looked at his watch. “Well, we have reservations in forty-five minutes. So that gives you just enough time to get out of there and get dressed.”

  “Forty-five minutes?” She jumped up, grabbing a towel from the brass rack beside her. She wrapped it around her and tucked it under her arm. “Tyler, look at me. How am I supposed to be ready so fast?”

  “Hey, I have no objections to you staying like that the rest of the night.”

  “Pig.” Taking another towel, she flipped her hair over to dry it. “And what do you suggest I wear? I didn’t bring a dress.”

  When he didn’t answer right away, she looked up. Ty stared, smiling. His blue eyes twinkled, as he bit his bottom lip. “Take that towel off.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He took a step toward her and reached for the knot under her left arm. With one agile flip of his fingers, the towel fell in a puddle at her feet.

  The dripping faucet echoed in her ears, and his European cologne teased her senses like the gentle fingers he traced over her breast. “Cold in that tub, was it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well then come over here, and let me warm you up.” He slid his hand around the nape of her neck, bringing her into his chest.

  “Ty, I’m going to get you all wet.”

  “Shhh.” He lifted her chin with his thumb and brought his mouth down to hers.

  There was something very erotic about being naked in the arms of a sexy well-dressed man, and fantasies didn’t come better than Ty Hollister. He raked his hands down her back, cupping her backside and lifting her against him. Her nipples dragged against the rough fabric, urging her stomach into needful knots.

  “Feel better?”

  She moaned in response. The cold chill left her, replaced with damp heat. His hands pushed through her knotted hair, exposing her throat to his mouth. In a heartbeat, his mouth was on her, forcing the air from her lungs.

  “If you want me ready in forty-five minutes, this is not the way to motivate me.”

  “Well would you put a rush on it if I told you I got you a present?”

  “A present? What kind of present?”

  “Go look in the bedroom. It’s on the bed.”

  She scooped up the robe from the bathroom counter and pulled it on, as she headed into the bedroom. A dress bag lay on the bed, with the name of one of the boutiques they had visited, written in calligraphy on the side. “What’s this?” She held it up in front of her.

  “Why don’t you open it and find out.”

  She slipped the plastic over the hanger, revealing the long black dress she had seen earlier that day. The beading sparkled like tiny kaleidoscopes in the low light.

  “I could tell you really liked it when you saw it.”

  “I love it,” she said, running her hand over the silky fabric. “But it’s so expensive.”

  “Darlin’ don’t you worry about that stuff. Now go put it on. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

  She slipped back into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. In five years, she had never indulged this side of her. The girlie-girl that liked to dress up in designer clothes and fix her hair and make-up. Magazines used to call her “sexy,” but the word used most to describe her was “fiery.” Back then, she was naïve enough to think it was in reference to her hair, but she now came to understand it was actually an impression she gave. She remembered one article that Earl read out loud on the set. “Carrie Ann Langley is rare type of vixen that makes a man feel like a man.” She had no clue what that meant, but Ty had told her that it was a compliment.

  As she slipped the fabric over her, she truly felt like a woman. Her curves pushed the dress to its limits, her breasts spilled over the top as if in offering. But she wasn’t inclined to cover herself. She felt good. Confident. Real. She swept her hair up in a loose bun, allowing tendrils to fall around her face. Her makeup was sparse by Hollywood standards. Just a light foundation, some mascara and lip gloss.

&nbs
p; When she came out from the bathroom, Ty lay on the bed with the remote in his hand. He tossed it to the side when he saw her, whistled and motioned with his finger to turn around.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, indulging him with a second pirouette.

  “You’re gorgeous.” He rose to his feet, half laughing. “But as long as you wear that smile you could sport a garbage bag, and I’d still think you were the sexiest woman alive.”

  “Sweet talker.” She stood on her tip toes and reached up for a kiss. “So you said forty-five minutes and I made it in...” she checked her watch “…thirty-two. Are you impressed or what?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. And to reward you for your efforts, you get a bonus prize.” From behind his back, he produced a long leather box. He placed it in her hands and smiled. “Open it.”

  Her fingers trembled, as she pulled the box open. Lying on the white silk lay the largest sapphire she’d ever seen, surrounded by a cluster of flawless diamonds. She stared at them a moment before Ty eased it out of the clasp. “Tyler James,” she stammered. “Goodness, this is beautiful.”

  “The lady said it was vintage. That’s a good thing I think.”

  “Good and expensive,” she said. “I can’t accept this.”

  “What good is money if you can’t spend it? And besides a woman like you should have the best.”

  He spun her around and lifted the necklace in front of her. When the cool gems fell against her skin, she swallowed her protests in a gulp.

  “Now let’s get going,” he whispered in her ear. “The limousine is waiting.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ty lifted the champagne to his lips and took a long sip. He couldn’t remember when he had such a great meal with someone he could actually relax and enjoy it. The restaurant, quiet, dimly lit, had a violinists floating from table to table. He stared at the redheaded beauty across from him and smiled. Couldn’t beat the view either.

  “You’re staring, again.”

  “Was I?” He set his fork down and picked up his napkin. “I was just thinking what I wanted for desert.”

  “I’m surprised you chose a French restaurant. Since when did your tastes get so fancy?”

  “I don’t know. When I was filming in Italy, we had a small hiatus, so I bummed around the south of France for a few weeks. Developed a taste for it, I guess.

  “Well, I’m glad I let you order. I don’t know what I just ate, but it was excellent.”

  “I wish you’d eat a little more of it.”

  Her eyes darted around the room. When they landed back on her plate, she slid her wrap up over her arms. Ty knew both the look and the gesture. She had a thing about her arms. Those and her legs. He swirled what was left of the champagne in his glass and fixed an easy smile on his face. “Carrie, if people are looking, it’s because they can’t help themselves. You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” she said, bringing a small bite of asparagus to her mouth. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out in public with you. I mean in a position where we’re so obvious.”

  “Obvious?” He chuckled. “This is what Manny calls ‘hiding in plain sight.’ Renting out a private dining room would have been obvious. This is two old friends catching up.”

  Again, he scanned the dining room. Earlier today, he swore he saw one of those vulture paparazzi hanging around at some of the places they visited. He hadn’t mentioned it to Carrie, and he wasn’t going to now.

  “Tyler?”

  “What, baby?”

  “I asked you about Manny. Was he mad that we ditched him with Lizzie?”

  When Ty called him earlier, he expected at least a little attitude, but he was surprised that Manny actually enjoyed himself. “No. He said Lizzie was a quick study. They were done long before your father came home. Then he rented some skis and took off to the hill.”

  “That’s good. I was wondering how we were going to explain him to my dad.”

  “Are you going to tell him about us?”

  She looked at him over her water glass “Listen, Ty.”

  “I’m sorry.” He held up his hand in apology. “I know, I’m pushing you. I’ll stop.”

  “You’re not pushing anything. I wouldn’t have come to New York with you if I didn’t want to spend time with you.”

  She shifted in her seat, and from over her shoulder, Ty saw him. He sat at the bar, and now the hostess showed him to his table on the far end of the dining room. Far away, but with a perfect view of their table. Typical.

  “Excuse me, are you Carrie Ann Langley?”

  Carrie set down her wine glass and looked up at the man. “Can I help you?”

  “More than you know. My name is Max Freeberg. I’m casting a show that I think would be perfect for you. I know you were with the New York City Ballet, and your expertise would be an honor for us. I don’t suppose...he took a breath and gave her a once over. “Good Lord, you’re even more stunning in person.”

  Ty stared at the tall, well-groomed man with the wide solicitous smile of a man on the make. He slipped a card from the breast pocket of his well-tailored suit, and handed it to Carrie.

  “Hey pal,” Ty interrupted. ‘Have your people call hers. She's having dinner.”

  Max smiled at Ty, as if just realizing he was there and extended his hand to shake. “Mr. Hollister, it’s an honor to meet you, of course.”

  “Of course. Now get the hell out of here.”

  Carrie kicked Ty under the table, before addressing the man. “I’m flattered you thought of me Mr. Freeberg, but I’m afraid I’m not interested. I haven’t danced in years.”

  “I can see. You do look well fed.” He chuckled. “If it’s the preparation you’re worried about we’d be happy to accommodate you-”

  “Hey! Are you deaf?” Ty tossed his napkin on the table and jumped up from his seat. “She’s not interested. Now can you find the door yourself, or do I have to help you?”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Hollister, is everything okay?” The manager pushed between the two men. Ty shoved him back, still looking square in Max’s face.

  “We were having a quiet dinner before this jerk showed up.”

  “I’m sorry,” the manager said.

  “Yeah, me too.” Ty tossed a wad of cash on the table, and took Carrie by the hand. He hurried her across the dining room toward the front doors, right past the man sitting alone in the corner.

  “Ty, stop it!” Carrie hissed. “You’re making a scene!”

  People gawked and whispered as they passed, but he didn’t care. He wanted to get her out of there before the jerk’s words sunk in too far. Blowing off the coatroom, he headed straight to the limo. He ushered her inside and ordered the driver back to the Waldorf.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Carrie demanded, her head snapping back as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “We’ll talk about it back at the hotel.”

  “Are you crazy causing a scene like that? That’s going to be on every paper tomorrow.”

  “I heard what that guy said to you. I didn’t want you to get upset.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to shatter into a million pieces every time some guy gives me a backhanded compliment.”

  “And how do I know that, Carrie? This is hard for me, ya know. I’m used to taking care of you. Protecting you.”

  “Are you saying that you prefer me sick?”

  “Of course not.” His attention drifted to the bottle of bourbon on the bar in front of him. He poured himself a shot, and brought it to his lips, before Carrie eased it from his hand.

  “Tyler, I’m flattered that you want to look after me. But there’s a difference between treating me like a lady and treating me like a child.”

  “Believe me, I don’t think of you as a child.” He tossed his head back and covered his eyes. “Look, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or anything else. But I guess I’m just used to looking after you, that’s all. Old habit.”

  “I’
m not your responsibility.”

  “Well, maybe I like to think that you are.” He looked out the window and took a breath. “I just don’t want to make the same mistakes I made before.”

  He felt her slide up against him, her fingers slipped under his chin, meeting her gaze with his. Man, those eyes. He could lose himself there. The deep azure pools that turned his insides to jelly were now at odds with his composure. They bore into him like lasers, holding him to his seat.

  “Tyler, you have always mattered to me, and I care about you enough to tell you this. I have forgiven you for any part you had in what happened. But now you need to forgive yourself, because I can tell this is tearing you apart.”

  Five years had done nothing to dull her perception. He felt exposed, like she stared straight into his soul. God, if she only knew. He didn’t deserve forgiveness, not hers or his own. He was a useless liar, and if the girl required protection, it was from the person staring back at her.

  Something tickled his cheek, and when he dragged his finger across it, it was moist. Jesus, was he crying? Nice. Ty Hollister, Hollywood bad boy, had been reduced to tears by a five foot pixy. He shook his head and smiled. “Carrie Ann, I just want a chance. I know I don’t deserve one. But you can’t deny that there’s still something between us.”

  He held his breath. It was like his whole existence depended on this very moment. The glutton in him wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, but the shred of decency still residing within him held him stuck to his seat.

  “I don’t know how much of myself I can afford to give you.”

  “Well then take from me what I’m offering instead. You can’t break a heart that’s already broken.” It was a huge admission, but he didn’t care. Their telepathy would betray him. Again, he reached for the bourbon, but she caught his hand in hers.

  “I want the Ty that I used to know,” she whispered. “The real one.”

  “He’s yours, if you can find him.”

  “Oh, I found him. He’s right in front of me.”

  His body quaked when she kissed him. Hard and long. Crippling. All his defenses failed. He felt it. The impenetrable wall, he had haphazardly constructed, crumbled like match sticks. He had no resistance when it came to Carrie. Somehow, just being with her, she exposed his soul. The places in his heart no one had ever seen. He suddenly realized there really was a difference between the real Ty Hollister and the movie star playboy the world expected. A kind of strange schizophrenia that became his method of self- preservation. Sometimes he wondered if he even still existed. But like a beacon, Carrie had summoned his true self to the surface.