L.A. Confidential (12 page)

His voice was firm, almost too firm, as if he were trying to convince himself as well as her. Her eyes welled, and she blinked back tears. Until now, she hadn't fully fathomed the depths to which she'd wounded him. But she knew Ken, knew he wanted her, knew he was enjoying this time with her. But something—pride, anger, revenge—wouldn't let him admit it.

“Ken?” She looked up at him, not certain what she wanted to say. “Whose room?” Her voice was too casual, and she was certain he could hear the tiny bit of hope in her tone.

For a moment she thought he would cave. She could see it in his eyes. Real desire. As much as she did, he wanted to ditch his plan, take her to his room, and make love to her until they were too tired to do anything but
phone room service. The thought made her tremble, and she fisted her hands, hoping he'd give in to desire.

But then she saw his resolve fall back into place, and she knew it would be another lonely night. She wanted him, he wanted her. But he'd fight it forever.

Damn.

“Ken?” she asked, sure she already knew the answer.

He nodded. “Our separate rooms.”

Her lips pressed together, and she considered the wisdom of arguing. Throwing caution to the wind, she stared him in the eye. “You can't hold out much longer. You want me. And I'm going to be just one narrow hallway away.”

“I've resisted temptation before.”

“You remember I sleep in the nude.”

He swallowed, and she chalked up one point for her on her mental scoreboard. “Well, that should give me something to think about until tomorrow night.”

She quirked a brow. “Tomorrow?”

“Our next date.”

She nodded. Of course. Another night of exquisite torment.

He moved closer and she could smell the lingering scent of the ocean on his body. “And, sweetheart, about tomorrow?”

She nodded, her mouth dry, her body tingling. “Yes?”

“Wear that damn red dress.”

“Y
OU SON OF A BITCH
!
” Alicia shouted the second Ken stepped through the doors.

She'd been waiting for him just inside the restaurant all morning, her fury building with every second that ticked by.

“Good morning to you, too.” He stepped past her, barely sparing her a glance, and that infuriated her even more.

She moved sideways, blocking his path.

With a sigh, he stopped, rubbing his hands over red, tired eyes.

“Long night with the little whore?”

Immediately he tensed. Good. Maybe her guess wasn't far off base.

“What do you want, Alicia?” Ice laced his voice, and she shivered, her nerve temporarily fading.

No.
Straightening her shoulders, she pulled herself up to her full height—five foot ten in heels—and looked him in the eyes. “I want to know why I can't film one tiny segment of a talk show in your precious restaurant,
but some bimbo from New York flits down here and you offer her the entire place on a silver platter.”

“Who have you been talking to, Alicia?”

“I'm a reporter, remember? I never reveal my sources.”

Suspicion flashed in those Paul Newman eyes. “Dammit, Alicia, what the hell have you heard?”

“Come off it, Harper. Don't play innocent with me. I know all about your arrangement with the little whore.”

“Watch yourself, Alicia.” His voice was firm, but his smile was a little too tight, and she knew she'd hit a nerve. Despite her initial fury, she'd never really pegged Ken as the type to go all gaga over a woman who offered herself up as part of a business trade, but considering his frosty reaction, she wondered if that wasn't exactly the case.

The possibility was intriguing, and it certainly had the kind of prurient appeal that attracted viewers. If she could nail Harper on this, Gavin would be thrilled.

After a second he turned away, heading for the kitchen with her on his heels.

“No comment, Kenny?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

She reached out and grabbed his elbow, stopping him before he disappeared into the kitchen. “Then let me refresh your memory. Winston Miller. Movie. Blond bimbette who struck a tidy little deal with you.”

Once again his face was calm, almost passive, and she realized why he'd done so well in the business world. The man could be ice when he needed to be.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “We don't have any
thing to talk about, Alicia. I think maybe it's time for you to go.”

“Nothing to talk about? I think sex for services sounds like a hell of a story.” She held her hand out in front of her face, ostensibly checking her nails. “Just the kind of thing that pulls in those killer ratings.”

“There's no story, Alicia.”

“On that, we'll have to agree to disagree.”

A flash of anger marred his features. “You publish one disparaging thing about me or Lisa Neal, and you'll regret the day you met me.”

“Touchy, touchy.” And interesting. She'd known Ken for about a year, and she'd never seen him quite this worked up before.

“I mean it, Alicia. Watch yourself.” With that he headed into the kitchen, leaving her standing in the dining room staring after him.

She'd watch herself, all right. If there was one thing Alicia was good at, it was making sure her ducks were in a row. And she was absolutely certain there was something up with Ken and the lovely Lisa Neal.

And she intended to find out exactly what that was, even if she had to follow them for a week to do it.

 

K
EN WATCHED HER LEAVE
, not relaxing until he was certain she'd left the building. Then he dropped into the nearest chair and rested his head on the table. Dammit all to hell. He'd gone and suggested this foolhardy sex-for-revenge scheme to get Lisa out of his system, and all he'd done was put her in jeopardy.

He banged his fist against the table, wishing he didn't care. Wishing he could take it all back. Hell, wishing
he could stop. But they'd gone too far, and he wanted to see it through.

Besides, he wasn't certain Alicia had proof. More likely she was grasping at straws. Only two people knew the full nature of his arrangement with Lisa, and that was him and Lisa. He hadn't said anything…and he couldn't believe Lisa would.

She'd already been embroiled in a drug scandal. Surely she wouldn't have told Winston his exact conditions for opening the restaurant to the crew. She wouldn't risk a sex scandal. Not in Hollywood, where sex sells and the tabloids know it. No, more likely she told Winston that Oxygen was locked in—and Alicia had got wind and jumped to her own conclusions.

And that meant two things to Ken. One, he had a grasping, spurned reporter to deal with. And two, Lisa really did intend to see their deal through to the end.

The second idea thrilled him. The first concerned him. Because an hour ago, Alicia'd only had a theory. But there'd been a look of triumph in her eyes when he'd flinched. Which meant she now thought she was hot on the trail of a story.

He'd have to make sure he watched his back—and Lisa's. The last thing either of them needed was a pissed-off reporter breathing down their necks.

 

“I
CAN'T GET A HANDLE
on what he wants.” Lisa sipped her Starbucks latte and eyed Greg's reflection in the storefront window they were peering through. She'd just finished giving him a rundown of the last two nights with Ken, and she was hoping for brilliant insight. Or at least a shoulder to cry on. “He's driving me insane.”

“What do you
think
he wants?”

She turned, looking at him instead of his image. “I
think
he wants me. But he seems determined to not have me.”

“Punishment?”

She shrugged. “Seems so. And let me tell you, it's working.”

“Getting a little frustrated, are we?”

“I don't know about
we,
but I'm about to go out of my mind.”

“I guess he's giving your libido a run for its money,” he said, moving down Rodeo drive to the next extremely fashionable and extremely overpriced boutique.

She fell in beside him. “That's the understatement of the year.”

“Is it?” His tone was more inquisitive than playful, and held just a hint of challenge.

She stopped, then waited for him to notice and turn to face her. “What do you mean?”

His face was all innocence. “I don't mean a thing. I'm just wondering if it's really just your libido.”

Scowling, she pushed her sunglasses higher up on her nose, then started walking again. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He matched her step for step. “Maybe it's not just your libido. Maybe there's still something between the two of you.”

Her immediate reaction was to deny it. Loudly. Emphatically. But she couldn't, and she ended up shrugging, not sure she was comfortable examining the roller coaster of emotions she'd been experiencing these past few days with Ken.

“Lisa…” he prodded, probably reading her mind.

“It's just…I don't know. I guess I went into this
thinking I'd simply do whatever Ken wanted. You know, anything for the cause and all that. Whatever it takes to get a crew into Oxygen.”

Greg eyed her quizzically. “I'm not following. Are you saying that's not what you're trying to do now?”

“Not exactly.” She frowned, trying to put her thoughts in order. What had started out simple—quid pro quo, as Ken had said—was turning out to be incredibly complicated.

She took another sip of her drink. “I'll still do whatever it takes. Nothing's changed there.”

“But
something's
changed.”

She nodded, stupidly feeling on the brink of tears. Even now, so far away from him, Ken was in her thoughts, had permeated her being. Turning away, she realized they'd stopped in front of the jewelry store simply called Fred. She stared vacantly into the window, barely even conscious of the incredibly beautiful but too-pricey-for-words diamond-and-emerald choker on display.

In the reflection, she saw Greg move up behind her, his face concerned. She tried to smile, hoping to reassure him silently that she'd be fine. But the truth was, she wasn't sure she would be fine.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don't think so.” She closed her eyes and counted to ten, hoping to keep some semblance of rationality.

“Lisa…” He propped a hand on his hip and flashed her a typical Greg look. “Come on, girlfriend. This is me. Remember? The guy who helped you survive Tyrell.”

She ran her hands through her hair. “It's not you.”

“No, it is. Really.” He patted himself down. “No alien abduction. No Stepford Greg. It's me.”

She laughed, clamping a hand over her mouth as she shot him an annoyed look.

He cocked his finger. “Gotcha.”

Shaking her head, she tried to not look as amused as she felt. “It's not you. It's me.” A wave of frustration washed over her, and she twirled around, as if the motion would somehow expel the confused jumble of feelings that had been building inside her. “I'm not sure I can explain what I'm feeling.”

“Can't?” His look was knowing, and she smiled in response. He really did know her well.

“Maybe not
can't.
” She scowled, trying to find the words. “The trouble is I'm not even sure what I'm feeling.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and parked her on a bench. “So let's figure it out.”

“What? Suddenly you're Dr. Freud?”

“Ya.”
He spread his arms, draping them over the back of the bench. “Seriously. Tell Dr. Greg all about it.”

“You're not going to leave me alone until I spill everything, are you?”

“Nope.”

She tried to keep her face stern, but a smile kept threatening. “Fine.” What the heck. Maybe he could help.

“I know things have changed. I mean, it's been five years—of course they've changed. And I know Ken has an agenda. He's told me as much.”

“Sex for services. Sounds like a typical L.A. deal.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Be serious.”

He passed a hand in front of his face, his expression
changing from comical to expressionless, then back again with a second pass.

She rolled her eyes, but continued. “The thing is, even though he's trying his damnedest to torment me—and doing a good job of it—still, the old Ken keeps poking through the cracks. The Ken I knew. The one who loved me and would never have played games. Who never would have even thought of it if I hadn't hurt him.”

“And you're still in love with him.”

She pressed her lips together, not willing even to examine that question. “I don't know. It doesn't matter. Even if I am, it doesn't matter. I'm not looking for a relationship right now. I'm focusing on my career. That's not a secret, Greg. Not to you, not to Ken.”

“How do you know you can't do both?”

“Because I know
me.
” She ran her hand through her hair, thinking of her mom, who could have made millions if she'd never left New York, and her sister, stuck in Idaho snapping pictures of toddlers. “I've got one chance to make up for the whole Tyrell fiasco. One. And I'm not going to blow it. Besides,” she added, “whether or not I'm in love with Ken Harper is the least of my problems. My problem is sex.”

“Welcome to the new millennium.”

“I can see
you're
going to be a lot of help.”

“Sorry.” His expression shifted to contrite, and she rolled her eyes again. “Really. Tell me about it.”

She lifted a shoulder. “It's driving me crazy. It's like every time I catch even the slightest glimpse of the way things used to be, my resolve weakens.”

“Your resolve?”

“When he suggested—” she waved her hand in the air “—this whole deal, I didn't hesitate. I mean, I'll do
whatever it takes to get access to Oxygen. I have to—my entire career is on the line.”

“And you have. So how's your resolve weakening? What's the problem?”

“The problem?” She stood, paced in front of the bench, then sat back down again. “The problem is, he's not lacing his quid with any pro quos.”

“You lost me.”

“He's just teasing me. He's dangling sex in front of me like a carrot in front of a mule. I keep chasing after it, but I'll never get it.” Her voice rose, and an elderly woman coming out of Fred glanced her way. Her cheeks burned, and she studied her hands in her lap.

“But if you only have to do what he wants…”

“I know.
I know.
I
should
be thrilled.”

“Ah. But you want to get laid.” He took her hand. “And that means you're not thrilled at all.”

A renegade tear trickled down her cheek and she brushed it away, feeling like a fool. “No. I'm not.”

“You want him.”

“So much it sometimes hurts to breathe. And twice now he's left me high and dry.”

“So?”

“So?” Her voice squeaked. “So? If this were happening to you, you'd be running around the apartment complaining about blue balls or some such nonsense.”

“So, buy a vibrator.”

She tried to swallow a giggle. “Oh, thank you. You're very helpful.” She glared. “I don't
want
a vibrator. I want—”

She clapped her hand over her mouth, both shocked by the onslaught of desire and fearful another elderly lady had overheard her.

“Look, kid. I'm no expert on male-female relationships, but it seems to me that two can play his game.”

“I've tried.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Honey, considering everything you've told me you two have done, if you haven't managed to actually do the deed yet, then you haven't tried hard enough.”