L.A. Confidential (6 page)

Her stomach was already growling as she pulled into a parking space behind the restaurant. She sat in her rental car for a moment, gathering her courage. This was it. In an hour, she'd either have Ken's help or she wouldn't.

And if he turned her down, she didn't have a clue what she was going to do. Maybe pick up a copy of
Daily Variety
to see if she could find a job doing grunt work on a low-budget film.

No!
She pounded her fist against the steering wheel, then quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed the whacked-out woman in the blue Honda. She needed this job, was terrified of failing once again, and she was going to convince Ken to help her—no matter what the cost.

With a deep breath, she slid out of the car, then started walking toward the front entrance. A dozen or so people loitered near the door, newspapers in hand, as they waited for the hostess to take them to a table. The inside wasn't any better. The crowd was so thick, Lisa could barely fight her way to the hostess station.

“I'm sorry,” the hostess said after Lisa explained she was meeting a friend. “We're only seating full parties right now. If you don't see your friend, you're probably here first.” She poised a pencil above a yellow pad. “Name?”

“Neal,” Lisa said. With a sigh, she slipped away, then leaned against the wall. She'd intentionally showed up a little late so she wouldn't seem overly eager. So much for that little scheme, since Ken wasn't even there yet.

A warm hand closed over her shoulder. “Lisa,” Ken said.

A bone-deep warmth flowed through her, and she trembled. His voice alone made her pulse burn, igniting long-forgotten passions that she had absolutely no business letting rekindle. She was over him. They were history. And she'd do well to remember that.

She turned to face him, hoping her smile was professional, and that it didn't betray the riot of emotions raging inside her. “I didn't realize you were here,” she said. “We should tell the hostess. The wait's forever.”

His self-assured grin was devilish. “Not a problem.” He took her arm and steered her into the dining area, neatly passing the hostess, who didn't even give them a second glance.

When he slowed in front of a not-yet-cleared table with coffee, orange juice, a half-eaten croissant and a folded newspaper, Lisa dug in her heels.

“Problem?”

“You're just going to grab some dirty table?”

He pulled out a chair and motioned her to sit down. “
Our
dirty table.”

“Our…” She blinked. “Of course. The fabulous Ken Harper doesn't have to follow the rules. He gets seated even before his entire party arrives.”

“Professional courtesy. I'm a regular. Plus, I've been here for an hour.”

“An hour.” She quirked a brow. “You must have been anxious to see me.”

“I was. I am.” He smiled, and her insides twitched in response.

As soon as he was seated, the waitress glided over in a fit of extreme efficiency. Starving, Lisa ordered the pumpkin pancakes and a latte. She waited for the waitress to disappear out of earshot before facing Ken directly across the table.

“Well?” Silverware clattered as she released it from the napkin. She twisted the cloth in her lap. “Have you thought about what I asked?”

His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “Oh, yes. I thought about it.” His eyes softened, and she fidgeted under his steady gaze. “That's about all I did last night.” His eyes roamed over her face, a silent caress, until his eyes met hers again. “I just thought about it.”

She looked away, thrown off-balance by the feeling that he'd been thinking not only about her proposal, but about
her.
And even more disconcerted to realize she liked the feeling. “So, um, what did you decide?”

In her lap, she crossed her fingers. Tight. And she held her breath.

“I decided it wasn't quite a fair trade.”

Resisting the urge to close her eyes, she slowly exhaled. “A trade? I—I don't understand. I asked for a favor.”

“I know you did. But I didn't get where I am today by giving away something for nothing.” He draped one arm over the back of his chair and took a sip of orange juice. The morning light streaming in through the window glistened in his rich brown hair, and he looked perfectly at ease. A Los Angeles version of an Olympian god, totally male, totally powerful. Totally sexy.

With some effort, she got her wandering thoughts
under control. What the hell was she doing there? And what the devil had possessed her to come crawling back to Ken Harper? She was in over her head.

“I'm talking about quid pro quo,” he said, then smiled, the image of a man completely comfortable with his place in the world.

She swallowed. Way, way over her head.

“Understand?” he asked.

“Of course.” She spoke calmly as her mind raced. She didn't have one damn thing to bargain with. Winston hadn't given her a budget, so she couldn't offer Ken money. He'd get a film credit, but if he wasn't interested in filming in his restaurant, the enticement value of a credit was probably nil. Basically, she had bupkiss—which, of course, he knew.

“You know I don't like that kind of cheap publicity, so at first I considered just saying no.”

“At first?”

He shrugged, took a sip of orange juice. “I could tell this was important to you.”

“It is,” she whispered, suddenly sure he was going to help her. The question was, what would it cost her?

He nodded. “So I thought, what's the one thing I've always wanted, but never had?” His voice rolled over her, low and dangerous. The voice of a man she didn't know—had
never
known. She ran her teeth over her lower lip, wondering if she'd made a mistake, but knowing that she had to stick it out, no matter what.

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath against her skin and smell the musky scent of his cologne. The hairs on the back of her neck popped up, and she fought the urge to look away.

“I asked myself, what's the one thing Lisa can get for me if I do her this favor?”

She knew the look in his eyes, she'd seen it before, years ago…on nights when he'd come within a hair-breadth of breaking his own vow to not sleep with her unless they were married. It was a look she used to cherish. Now it scared her, made her wonder if she shouldn't catch the next plane back to New York.

Slowly she shook her head. “I don't have anything to offer, Ken. I'm sorry, but I don't.”

“Yes, you do, sweetheart.”

She licked her lips, afraid she knew the answer even before she asked the question. “What, Ken? What have I got to offer?”

His smile just about stopped her heart. “You. You want my restaurant. I want you.”

“M
E?” HER VOICE SQUEAKED
, so she tried again. “You want me?” Oh, Lord. It was exactly what she'd imagined, but until he'd said it, she hadn't really believed it. And now, faced with the proposition, she wondered if she could agree. For years she'd told herself she was over him. But if she…if they…

She'd always wondered what it would be like to make love to Ken. But not now. Not when there was nothing left between them but memories and hurt—a hurt she'd caused.

“Lisa?”

The trouble was, the attraction was still there…and that made the offer damned enticing. Licking her lips, she regarded him. “Sex? We're talking about sex?”

He chuckled. “Say it a little louder. I don't think they heard you in the back of the restaurant.”

She sat up straighter, trying to hold on to her dignity. “I, uh, just want to be clear on what it is we're negotiating.” Her logical side knew she should be indignant, even angry. But somehow the anger wasn't there. Instead there was just a hollow feeling in her stomach that she
recognized as guilt. She'd hurt him. Now he wanted her to pay.

The corner of his mouth curved as he leaned forward to take her hand. The warmth of his skin enticed, and she couldn't deny the little surge of adrenaline that shot through her simply because of the physical contact. Disconcerted, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held fast, not answering, but also not letting go. Instead he was just looking at her in a way that suggested he could read her mind—and the possibility completely unnerved her.

For too long he sat there, simply staring, his slight smile highlighting the dimple on his left cheek. She tried to not squirm as she waited for him to answer, but darned if she was going to ask the question again. He'd heard her, and she could wait it out as well as he could.

After another agonizing minute Ken slipped his hand away from her, the caress giving her shivers, then he moved closer and lightly traced the tip of his forefinger down her cheek, barely making contact. “What do you think?”

“I think you're playing games.” He'd thrown her off balance, taken the upper hand, and now she grappled for some control, trying to convince herself that he hadn't rattled her completely. “Games two can play as well as one.” With a deft movement, she caught his hand and pressed it against her face. His skin was still rough, masculine, just as she remembered it, and the sensation of skin against skin set her head to spinning.

Trying for a sultry smile, she moved her head ever so slightly until her lips grazed the side of his hand. She pressed a light kiss there, wondering if the touch was
stirring in him the same memories that were dancing through her head. “You didn't answer my question. Are we talking about sex?”

She'd pitched her voice low and was rewarded to see him swallow.

“Not just sex. Decadence. A wild time the likes of which we never got to have before.”

Because you left.
The unspoken words rang in her head, both an invitation and an accusation.

“Do you think I owe you?” Her mind was all twisted up.

Again, she wasn't sure if she should be angry he was using her, or flattered he still cared. Her sensible side said she should be angry, but the rest of her—the part that had never completely got him out of her mind—was intrigued. He was the man she'd wanted more than anything—except, of course, for her career.

Still, to use sex as the bargaining chip between them… She gnawed on her lip, unsure what to do or how to react. Unsure, for that matter, if she really believed her ears.

Five years ago Ken had been such an innocent. The media may have pegged him—rightly—as a go-getter, but newspapers had a way of focusing on the sensational. No interview or article had ever shown a hint of the sweet, small-town boy Lisa had loved. His Texas charm had meshed with his business savvy, and the combination was potent. It had certainly knocked Lisa off her feet.

But he'd always been the one to back off from moving too fast. She might have been the wild, small-town girl turned loose in the big city. But Ken had never lost himself the way she had. He'd always been focused, sure
of what he wanted, and confident he could get it. But he was never untoward, and he never played dirty.

So for him to be suggesting a night of sin and sex…well, the whole thing was a little unnerving. Of course—since she was being honest—she had to admit it was also extremely titillating. Small-town Ken playing sex games. Had he really changed that much? Or was the scent of real desire in the air?

She didn't know. Maybe Ken truly wanted her—wanted to have a taste of what they'd lost when she'd left. More likely, he just wanted revenge—the opportunity to show her what she'd missed out on, to tease and to torture her with sex and seduction. Lord knew, he'd had his share of women, at least according to the papers. In the eyes of the media, Ken Harper was an accomplished lover.

“Lisa?”

She gnawed lightly on her lower lip. What other choice did she have? Without Ken, her plans would completely fall apart. He was her best chance, her last chance. And maybe she owed him. After all, she was the one who left him.

His slow grin held all sorts of erotic promises, and she closed her eyes to block a tremble. Who was she kidding? She wasn't agreeing because she
owed
him. She was agreeing because she wanted him—had wanted him for years.

But she had her price, too, and she sat up straighter, trying to focus on the fact that she was in Los Angeles for work, not to sleep with Ken Harper. “Yes,” she said, with one curt nod of her head. “But on one condition.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back, the epitome of
the cool negotiator. “And what condition might that be?”

She flashed what she hoped was a saucy grin. “More help, of course.”

To her relief, he laughed. “Okay. I'll bite. With what?”

“The other locations.” She glanced down at the tabletop, then back up at him through her eyelashes. “If you're the Casanova the media makes you out to be, surely you can help me find a few sexy locations.”

He didn't admit or deny, and she realized she was disappointed. She'd wanted him to say he wasn't a Casanova, that the media had done a typical hype job, and he was still the same old Ken. But he was silent, just sitting there with his chin propped on his clasped hands as he watched her.

Finally he nodded. “It's a deal.”

“It is?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh.”

An amused smile danced on his lips. “Disappointed? You didn't think I'd say no, did you?”

“No…I…” Flustered, she decided it was better to just stay quiet. The truth was, she wasn't disappointed at all. Quite the opposite, and the feeling unsettled her.

“In fact,” he continued, leaning closer, “I think this may work out just fine. Who knows? Maybe we can even explore my side of the bargain while we're checking out those locations.”

She couldn't answer, could only nod and wonder what she'd gotten herself into.

Because the truth was, though she wouldn't admit it
to Ken, not in a million years, she'd been thinking that exact same thing.

 

“H
OMEWORK
?” T
IM ASKED
from the doorway.

Startled, Ken looked up from tourist map of Los Angeles he'd been studying. “Sort of. I'm taking Lisa out tonight, and I'm trying to decide where to go.”

“A real date?” Tim's voice rose with interest. “I guess I was wrong. I thought you had some decadent little plan worked out.”

“No comment,” Ken said. His plan was in place, all right—a plan forged in the fire of revenge. And now he wasn't sure that putting it into motion was one of the brighter things he'd ever done. He'd spent less than two hours with her that morning, and he could still smell her scent on his clothes, could close his eyes and picture every line on her face.

“Well, now I'm curious.” Tim folded himself into the chair opposite Ken's desk, his long legs out to the side. “Spill it. What are you up to?”

Ken hesitated only a second, but Tim was his best friend. He'd never kept a secret from him, and he didn't intend to start now. “I told you she was here scouting locations, right?” At Tim's nod, he filled in the rest of the story. “So I said I'd help her find some locations.”

Tim's brow lifted. “In exchange for finding her in your bed?”

“Something like that.”

His friend shook his head slowly. “You're in over your head.”

“I don't think so,” Ken said, even though he'd thought exactly that only moments before.

“No?”

“I've got it under control.”

“Then why
are
you doing this?”

Ken stood, not sure he wanted to examine his motives, afraid of what he'd find in his heart if he looked too closely. A mishmash of emotions washed through him as he stalked to the window. Looking down at the street below, he tried to sort out his feelings, but they were too wild, too raw. Finally he turned back to Tim. “It's something I need to do.”

“I never pegged you as the revenge type.”

Nor had he. But Lisa got under his skin. When he thought about her, his blood boiled, the pressure building until he craved release. He needed something from her, he just wasn't sure what. Revenge? Or something else?

Tim was looking at him, a curious expression on his face.

“What?” Ken demanded, trying to relax.

“I'm just wondering if it is revenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“The lady's special. You've always thought so. And now you have the chance to show her what she missed out on. So maybe you're not doing it to torment her. Maybe you're doing it with the hope that she'll stay.”

“That's ridiculous,” he said automatically.

“Is it? Remember who you're talking to, buddy. I'm the one who roomed with you while my condo was being renovated. Maybe you can pull a fast one on someone else, but I'm the one who knows you still keep her engagement ring in a box on your chest of drawers.”

Ken's heart twisted as he wondered if Tim was right, even as he desperately hoped he was wrong.
When he faced him, he knew his expression was clear, emotionless. “I don't have any illusions. I'm fine.”

But he wasn't so sure. The fact was, Lisa had managed to edge her way into his life again. He had a sneaking suspicion that his original intention of making her weak with lust was going to backfire. And at the end of the day, he'd be the one with his heart hanging out to dry once again.

Mentally, he shook his head. He had a plan, and he was going to see it through. He was going to show her what she'd missed out on. He was going to make her pay in all sorts of decadent and erotic ways. And he was going to get her out of his system once and for all.
Finito.
Kaput. End of story.

Determined, he slipped behind his desk, then leaned back in the chair. “Do you want to sit there psychoanalyzing me all night, or do you want to help me?”

For a second he thought Tim was going to leave, but then he shifted in the chair, settling in more comfortably. “I'm game. What do you need?”

“Locations. I'm supposed to help her find places to film. How the hell do I know what's sexy in L.A.?”

“Ken, my man, you've come to the right place.”

Ken stifled a chuckle. “Glad to hear it. But what makes you such a connoisseur?”

“Chic magazines.”

Ken made a swooshing motion over his head. “Come again?”

“When Melinda left, she didn't forward her subscriptions. I've been getting all these damn magazines for months.”

“Okay.” He held his hands out in confusion. “And…”

Tim half shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. “So
I figured I'd read them. Maybe get some insight into the female psyche. Figured if I did, maybe the next girl would hang around longer.”

Ken bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he pictured Tim—six-foot-three and two hundred and twenty pounds—sacked out on the sofa reading
Cosmopolitan.
“Is it working?”

“Nah. You just can't figure women out, with or without a guidebook. But these magazines do have some interesting articles. One of them's been doing an article every month about fabulous places to do the wild thing in various big cities.”

“Los Angeles?”

“Last month's issue.”

“Must be karma.”

“I'm not so sure,” Tim said. “If this thing backfires, I sure as hell don't want it on my conscience that I gave you the roadmap for seduction.”

 

L
ISA KNEW
she should be working, but somehow she couldn't concentrate. Ever since breakfast she'd been on edge, wondering what Ken had in store for her that evening. After Hugo's, she'd driven around the city. She told herself she was looking for exotic, erotic locations, but somehow she ended up on Melrose Avenue in front of the trendy boutiques that lined the famous street.

She didn't need a new outfit; she couldn't afford a new outfit. Yet somehow her credit card seemed to take control and steer her into a brightly lit shop with a flirty red dress in the window.

A bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, and a salesgirl with magenta hair and a stud through her nose bopped over, gum smacking. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, no. I'm just looking.” Lisa glanced around. Everything in the store was just as cute as the red dress. Considering she was broke, this was going to be torture.

“Take your time. There's more in the back.” She pointed vaguely toward the rear of the store, then flounced back to the cash register to ring up a sequined purple tank top held by a woman in a tailored business suit.

Each rack seemed to hold a minimum of one truly bizarre outfit, balanced by another outfit so cute and perfect that Lisa mourned having been out of steady work for so long. She had her eye on a green silk shorts set with a matching jacket and tank top, when the salesgirl came back over.