Undercover Heat (17 page)

“I know.” She stared at her uneaten food. And was suddenly reduced to her familiar role as unfortunate victim. The one who always needed to prove herself. The dreamer. The pretty face with the simple mind, who got obligatory smiles and polite headshakes when she shared an idea or opinion. The one who mattered only when the situation was perfect.

When she was perfect.

She dropped her napkin to her plate and shoved the food away.

Lizzie looked at her and picked up her fork. “Carrie Ann, you can’t possibly be finished. You haven’t touched anything.”

“I don’t suppose you’d believe it, if I said I already ate. Listen, I’m tired, and I think I’m going to take advantage of my room at the Plaza and get a good night sleep.”

Heads turned as she stormed out of the dining room, in recognition or curiosity she wasn’t sure, and at that moment she didn’t care. Her things were still in Ty’s suite, but she’d figure that out in the morning. Right now, she was much more concerned about getting the hell out of there.

Frozen drizzle whipped around her in a gust, when she stepped out to the curb. Not the best night to stand outside in a strapless dress. The seemingly sympathetic doorman rushed over and hailed her a cab, but before she could get in, someone grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Carrie, wait!”

Her sister stood with her jacket draped around her, and her purse held in front of her face to guard the wind. “Come back inside,” she said. “There’s no reason to leave. Dad’s just being Dad.”

“I’m not going to sit there and let him throw darts at me all night. My relationship with Ty is none of his business.” Carrie climbed into the cab, but before she closed the door, her sister followed. “What are you doing?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. What the hell do you mean
your relationship
?”

“What do you think I mean?”

Lizzie stared at her, her mouth hanging open. “You do realize that this is the man that broke you
r heart into a million pieces.”

“Yes.”

“Then what makes you think he won’t do it again?”

That was precisely the same question she’d been asking herself, from the moment she agreed to the press event. But she couldn’t help her feelings, and every instinct told her to follow them. “Look, do me a favor. Ty is staying here at the Waldorf, and it would be really nice if you got Dad out of here. I don’t need the two of them running into each other in the men’s room or something stupid like that.”

Lizzie scowled. “Can you at least
promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I’ll be fine.” Carrie smiled and placed her hand over Lizzie’s. “I’ll see you at home tomorrow after
‘
The Olivia Show
’
okay?”

Carrie watched the doorman help Lizzie across the slush to the front doors. She hated upsetting her, but her desire to please others was what got her in trouble in the first place. What would please her
right now
was to sneak back inside to Ty’s suite. She could spend the night with him, and wake up with him in the morning. But if things were going to be different this time, why bother sneaking around. They should just parade arm in arm right through the lobby for everyone to see, or better yet do it right there on the counter! See how her
d
ad would like that one!

Yeah right. She wasn’t that brave. Even Lexie Love would think that one through a little more. She sat back in her seat and se
nt the cabbie back to the Plaza.

Chapter Eleven

Ty sat on the couch of his suite in a t-shirt and jeans, his eyes fixed on the repeat of the entertainment news. It was close to midnight, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the hour sober and alone. Manny was out at the clubs. It would probably be a while before he made his way back. Figured. Ty wanted to send him back to the Plaza with Carrie’s things. He figured she’d be trapped for the night. Hell, if her family had their way, they’d chaperone her entire stay in
New York
. He smiled to himself and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Deacon
Langley had no reason to worry.

He took a sip on his warm beer. The news was the usual tabloid fare. Lindsay Lohan’s latest police run-in, Jennifer Anniston’s fitness regimen du jour. And his of course, the breaking story of Layla’s new beach house in
Malibu
purchased with his money. He turned up the volume when they mentioned the “Undercover H
eat” release.

Ty stared at the sexy redhead making fuck-me eyes at him on the wide screen. God was she beautiful. In less than a week, he had gotten back in the habit of spending time with her. It was just like it had been before. Easy. Natural. And being without her now was just as painful. Like a part of him had been removed.

His heart.

At the next commercial, he snapped off the TV and headed for the bedroom, but a knock at the door interrupted him. Chucking his beer can in the garbage, he headed toward the foyer. He felt like a lovesick school boy when he turned the
knob and pulled open the door.

The face on the other side felt like a dousing of cold water. He stared into
Langley
eyes, but no
t the Langley Ty wanted to see.

“Hollister. We meet again.”

The man was shorter than Ty remembered. His salt and pepper hair was now a silver grey. His face wrinkled around his mouth, like he’d never made a habit of wide smiles. And he certainly didn’t look happy now.

“Deacon Langley,” Ty greeted through clenched teeth. He made a point to look him straight in the eye. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You mean you weren’t expecting me?”

“Should I?”

“I told you if you ever bothered my daughter again, you’d hear from me.” His dark eyes sharpened in a challenge. “I’m a man of my word, Hollister. It would serve you well to remember that.”

Ty wasn’t Catholic or even religious, but he was sure that when people thought of a man of the cloth, this incarnation was the exact opposite of the gentle, understanding vision one conjured. Colder than ice, and just as rigid. Ty was also aware of his capabilities of deception.

“I thought you and I could have a chat,”
t
he deacon said. “How about a nightcap? I’m sure a man like you has some brandy hanging around, unless you’ve already gone through it of course.”

“Stone cold sober.” Ty leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded against him. “You pay a visit just to get your digs in, or you have something worthwhile to say?”

“Why don’t you let me in and find out.”

Ty fisted his hands and took a deep breath. He led him into the sitting room and
poured two brandies at the bar.

“This place is large for just one person.” The Deacon assessed, looking around the sitting room. “You people sure know how to waste money.”

“I didn’t pay for it.” Ty handed him a half-full tumbler. “But I’m sure you didn’t come here to discuss economics.”

“Carrie told me she’d seen you. Says you came up to
Middle
Valley
.”

Ty took a sip of his drink then licked the sweetness from his lips. “Really? When did she tell you that?”

“Dinner this evening. I thought you and I had an understanding, Hollister. You’re supposed to stay away from her, and I’d holster my shotgun.”

“I have.”

“Obviously not far enough.”

Ty followed him with his eyes, as the Deacon wandered around the room. He looked out the window and spoke to the reflection in the darkened glass. “You know Lizzie almost had me convinced I was overreacting when I cut my retreat in
Vermont
short. But now I’m glad I did. I see that my daughter is still as naïve and as easily swayed. She’s weak, Hollister. You know that. Traipsing around a heartless city with a renegade like you isn’t right for a girl like her.”

“You’re still playing the same scene, aren’t you Deacon? The do-good, upstanding father. Tell me, do you think Carrie would still feel the same about you if she knew the truth?”

He turned, his brow wrinkled in a scowl. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

“She wouldn’t believe you.”

“Maybe not.” Ty leaned against the back of the couch and took a deep breath. “I admit even I would have a hard time believing it, if someone told me my own father was responsible for my child’s death.”

Langley
scoffed. “I suppose given the business you’re in you enjoy melodrama. But really, technically speaking--”

“Technically speaking, you don’t practice what your church preaches.”

“There was a lot more to it than that, and you know it. I had to make a decision.”

“What I know is, I brought her to that hospital, and the baby was still alive. They sedated her, and stuck a feeding tube in her, and the baby was still alive. When you and Lizzie showed up the next morning, the baby was still alive.”

“Barely, and you know that!”

“I left for an hour,” Ty spat, stalking toward him with fists clenched. “I had to go make phone calls, to put out fires at work so no one would find out what going on. And when I came back, Lizzie told me Carrie had gone into labor, and that the baby didn’t make it. The next thing I know Russ is in my face, kicking me out of the hospital.”

“Whatever happened, it was for her own good. She fell down stairs. She would have probably lost the baby anyway. And she couldn’t even nourish herself much less a fetus.”

“I would have taken care of her.”

“And a fine job you had done so far.”

Ty lunged at him, fisting his hands, but resisting their use. “I had been running interference for months to keep it from affecting work and getting to the press. She was worried about you, and how it would affect your job with the Church. I kept telling her she should worry about herself.”

“Then you see. It was for the best.”

“So how did you do it?” Ty demanded. “Come on, tell me. What did you do, bribe a doctor? You probably paid him off using Carrie’s own money!” The anger was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. Ty stalked around him, his heart raced in his chest. “I kept quiet because I didn’t see how knowing the truth would serve her. I kept it from the press to save your family the shame, and you your job. All because Carrie would have wanted it that way. Tell me, what exactly did you ever do for
her?”

“I saved her life!”
Langley
bellowed, with all the fire and damnation that he channeled from the heavens. “I did what I had to do to. Protecting my daughter is my first responsibility. Don’t question my methods when they’re obviously in her best interest.” He went to the bar and poured another shot. Ty marveled at his steady hand. “You know, what surprises me is that you’re angry about this now. Back then you took off without a fight. All of sudden this matters to you?”

“Don’t stand there and judge me, Langley.”

“I don’t have to. T
he facts speak for themselves.”

Heat rushed to Ty’s face.
Langley
was exactly right. The whole reason he had left Carrie in the first place was because he couldn’t bear the guilt of what happened, and telling her the truth would only hurt her more. He made a mess of her life, and ultimately drove her to a hospital bed
. Leaving her was for the best.

Wasn’t it?

“Suppose you did tell her the truth now. What purpose would that serve? She’d hate me, and she’d know you kept it from her all these years and hate you too.”

He closed his eyes. Again,
Langley
was dead on, and here he was in the same dilemma that had presented itself five years earlier. “You really expect me to just walk away from her all over again?”

“I’m not convinced she means that much to you in the first place.”
Langley
walked back around the couch, a smile snaked across his pencil lips. A white lace bra was draped over the side, and he picked it up with a spindly finger. “And maybe I should stick to my own conclusions.”

Ty’s throat constricted, and his insides churned like a storm. His first inclination was to tell him the truth. That the bra was Carrie’s, as was the bag by the door, and the panties on the floor in the bedroom. But what for? It wouldn’t change the situation, and it would only cause Carrie grief. Instead, he let his silence answer. He took a swig of his brandy and set the
empty tumbler back on the bar.

“You son of a bitch.” The Deacon seethed. “I suppose you have one waiting in your bed right now.”

“I’m sure you were hoping that was the case when you came up here.”

“I just sat at dinner and listened to my daughter tell me you were worth her time, and you’ve got whores waiting in the wings
.
”

“That’s not true.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After all the things I’ve heard about you these days. So not only are you a heartless, selfish bastard who left a poor sick woman defenseless, you’re a womanizing degenerate who can’t keep it in his pants.”

“Now wait just a fucking minute!”

“Don’t you raise your voice to me!”
Langley
spat, pointing a damning finger in Ty’s face. “Carrie may have forgiven you for what you did, but I never will. And if you ever had a shred of feeling for my daughter, I’d think you’d never be able to forgive yourself.” He gulped the last of his bourbon and slammed his empty glass on
the bar on the way to the door.

“How about you, Jordon? Have your forgiven yourself?”

He stopped cold, his hand on the knob. His body heaved with a deep breath, before he turned around. “Look Hollister, a piece of garbage like you has no place with a woman like her. You’re poison, Ty Hollister, and you’re killing her slowly.”

The door slammed behind him, and for a moment Ty thought about going after him. That would have been the right minded thing to do. But instead, he found himself buying into the Deacon’s assessment, and eyeing his wallet and room key lying on the foyer table.

Manny was probably at the Zero club. It was a private party those film producers told them about. He knew he was expected early at the studio, but somehow it didn’t matter. He stuffed his wallet in his jeans pocket before heading out the door.

***

In all his days as Executive Producer of ‘
Undercover Heat
,” Earl Simmons had never dreamed things between Carrie and Ty were serious. They were close, in a friendly brother-sister kind of way, but never did they act “physical.” Reporters drilled them all the time about it. As far as he was concerned, they did their jobs well. Who they shared thei
r beds with didn’t concern him.

He didn’t mean to overhear what he had. In fact, he wished he hadn’t. All he was doing was dropping by to say “hi” to his old friend, Ty Hollister, and here he was blindsided by tragedy, hiding behind a plant outside his suite. Carrie’s father almost ran him over on his way out. Earl had only met him once at a network Christmas party, where he complained about the mini
-
skirts on the waitresses. Yeah, he didn’t like that
Langley
guy very much, and after what he just heard, he had better reasons. Ty, a baby, and lying about everything in between. God, he couldn’t write a script more convoluted than that.

Maybe he should have known. Maybe he could have helped. And poor Carrie. She was so young and naïve when he hired her. Ty looked out for her though, and he always respected that about him. Earl ripped off his glasses and wiped a tear from his nose. They probably would have been pretty good together. God, just like freakin’ Romeo and Juliet.

He checked his watch, and glanced at the elevator. Ty had been gone for over ten minutes, and he must be out for the night. The coast was clear. He could step out from behind this fichus, and forget the last hour ever happened. Besides, he had work to think about. He promised a reporter from “It” Magazine an interview, and he was expect
ed in the bar in a few minutes.

Pushing the plants leaves aside, he staggered to his feet. He had to pull himself together. These people weren’t his children, they were grown-ups with lives. They made their own decisions. Managed their own problems. He tried to remember that as lumbered down the hall, pulling out his pill bottle as he went.

***

“The Olivia Show” green room was known for its over-the-top morning craft service table. Pastries, bagels, fruits, juices. Anything the heart or stomach desired. Carrie fully expected to have to barricade Earl from inhaling the whole thing. But so far, he did nothing but sit on the couch, every few minu
tes asking her if she was okay.