Читать книгу Her Secret Life - Tara Taylor Quinn - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“UH-HUH. YES.”

Mike Valentine listened unabashedly to the half he could hear of his lunch companion’s phone conversation the first Monday in March.

“I know. Mmm-hmm.” Her tone was more flirty than not. Glancing at Mike, Kacey rolled her eyes. And then mouthed, Bo.

A guy she’d been talking to in LA for the past several months. She said she wasn’t in love with him, but she liked him a lot. He fit her life in the city. She’d never, ever bring Bo to Santa Raquel, which was where Mike lived, and where he and Kacey volunteered at a local domestic violence shelter, the Lemonade Stand. Bo was part of her Beverly Hills life. And, Mike assumed, her sexual partner.

A subject that had nothing to do with Mike.

“Okay, tomorrow night. But only if it’s just a few of us. I meant it when I told you I don’t want to go clubbing.”

While she listened, she ate a French fry. Or as much of one as she’d allow herself. Just the tip. Off Mike’s plate.

She fell for the wrong guys. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Besides, she’d told him so herself.

“No, I’m not going to change my mind...” Her tone of voice changed from playful to deadly serious.

While she couldn’t seem to control her propensity to date the wrong types, she was determined to make serious changes to her life and had already.

Like the drinking. She still did it. Socially. She might have been teetering on being a drunk, but she wasn’t an alcoholic. Her body didn’t have a chemical dependency on the stuff. And she hadn’t been drunk in ten months, not since she’d made up her mind to change her life. He knew...because she’d told him.

“I do want to be with you! It’s the clubbing I don’t want.” She was smiling now—not at Mike. She’d never smiled at Mike that way.

For which he was utterly thankful. That smile...it was the one reserved for the disposable men in Kacey’s life. The ones who were part of the soap opera star’s Hollywood life.

He’d take friendship with her any day. Getting her inside scoop was a whole different kind of intimacy. A more lasting one.

“No, I can’t do Thursday night. I have a class to teach Friday in Santa Raquel...”

At the Lemonade Stand.

She frowned. “Of course I can. I just don’t want to. The class is important to me, Bo.” Her lower lip got that pouty look—the one that had made her famous on The Rich and Loyal. “You know that.”

Mike lowered his gaze and ran straight into the ample cleavage showing above her skintight cotton top. It wasn’t that she was an exhibitionist, she’d just spent her life in front of a camera and was used to making the most of her assets.

That cleavage made him uncomfortable. He might value the friendship between them—and know that he wouldn’t change things for anything—but he was still a guy. A healthy guy.

In the prime of life.

Feeling like a creep when his body reacted to the eyeful he’d helped himself to, Mike glanced out the window. There wasn’t much to see. A bit of cracked asphalt, two commercial-size Dumpsters, one brown and one blue, side by side, and the chipping brick of the building next door. The old diner was...off the beaten path.

The owner was a decent chef, and left them alone—which was why Little’s Diner had become Mike and Kacey’s hangout, if you could call it that. Partway between LA and Santa Raquel—in a small inland town that had seen better days—Little’s had become the place they met when she was in LA and needed a friend fix.

He was the one who’d suggested the place. He’d found it by accident several years before when he’d needed to get out of the house but had had enough compassion for other diners not to expose them to his grotesque face. He’d been driving aimlessly on roads less traveled, and the diner’s half-broken sign had caught his attention, along with the Open sign and the lack of cars in the lot. He soon learned that the diner packed in folks during shift changes at a local manufacturing plant. After a “Wow, you look gross, man,” Lou Fancy, Little’s owner, had shrugged and shown Mike to a seat in a narrow alcove, facing away from the room.

He’d been coming back ever since.

“Of course you matter. And I want to meet your family. It’s just...”

She’d turned away from the table, but not before he’d seen her stricken expression.

“I know, you’re right,” she said next. And then, “Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Mike could hear the other man’s voice but couldn’t make out the words as Kacey sat forward in her seat again. She was smiling. And hung up shortly afterward.

He raised an eyebrow at her. She could talk. Or not.

He was good either way.

“His parents and little brother are in town Thursday night, just for the night. He wants me to meet them.”

He’d known that she couldn’t continue living two lives. They’d talked about it. If she wanted to work in LA and have a room in her sister’s home in Santa Raquel, she could probably pull it off. But this living two parallel lives—work, friends, social life—in both places just wasn’t healthy.

Or natural.

“You’re a volunteer at the Stand, Kace,” he reminded her. Not because he wanted her to choose LA, but because he believed that enough of her heart was there that she should pursue what a Beverly Hills life without the drinking would be like. “You don’t have to be there every week...”

The women she helped—all victims of domestic violence—benefited from the gentle way she showed them how to enhance their outer beauty with fashion and makeup advice, makeovers and impromptu fashion shows. But they’d been surviving and healing for years without her.

And there were others who knew about fashion. And makeup. Maybe none as famous as Kacey, but he’d learned one thing a long time ago—life went on.

“Of course I’m going to be there,” she said, frowning at him as she took another bite of her cranberry-something salad. “I’m helping. I’m just going to have to get up early Friday morning and drive up. It means I won’t get to spend the night with Lacey and Jem, get my Levi fix, or my walk on the beach...”

Because she had a thing to attend in Beverly Hills Friday night—something for the show, something to which Bo would be escorting her—and would have to drive back to the city after her class at the Lemonade Stand. She’d already told him as much.

“You coming back Saturday?” he asked her now, more for reference than anything else. He didn’t expect to see her.

“I hope so.”

With such an innocuous response, he didn’t think so. It wasn’t like she spent every weekend in Santa Raquel. But more often than not she stayed from Thursday night until at least Saturday. Sometimes she even made it through Sunday.

“You said you had a favor to ask,” he reminded her. It wasn’t all that unusual for them to meet like this, but when she’d called that morning, just three days since he’d seen her at the Lemonade Stand, she’d said that she wanted to talk to him in person.

She’d sounded...wary.

So unlike the Kacey who charged into life with a smile on her face and all lights blazing. Full of energy and ready to spend it.

He’d been much the same back when he’d taken life—and everything he had—for granted.

“Someone’s posting stuff about me on the internet,” she said, leaning forward. “I need you to help me figure out who it is.”

Right up his alley. He sat forward, too, his hands resting on the table beside a half plate of French fries. The Philly steak sandwich he’d ordered was long gone. When he visited the place alone—for old times’ sake—he finished the fries. But when Kacey was there...

She picked one up. Put it to her lips. Took the tiniest bite. And dropped it on top of what was left of her salad. She had to work that afternoon, her call was at two, she’d said, and she was a bit fanatic about not having a potbelly show on camera.

Her words.

She’d have to have one to have it show.

Even if the camera did add pounds. She’d still have to have one to have it show...

While Mike was busy trying not to think of the numerous glimpses he’d had of Kacey’s tanned, completely flat stomach over the year he’d known her—a result of the short shirts she wore with low-waisted jeans and shorts—she was busy flipping through something on her phone.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “My agency sent this over this morning.”

Her sudden frown got his complete attention. He’d thought they were dealing with a minor issue—an excuse for them to have lunch together since she had a late-call day.

As owner of MV Cyber Solutions, a successful-beyond-his-imaginings private IT investigative firm with clients in law enforcement—meaning they offered investigative work involving computers and the internet to law enforcement and lawyers—Mike was his own boss with trusted employees. And he could pretty much always squeeze an hour out of his day for Kacey.

He read the email warning her of something that had popped up on the internet over the weekend.

“The agency has someone who watches over us,” Kacey was saying. “Part of her job is to search the internet on a daily basis for any media hits, good or bad, on their clients. And they had us all set up Google Alerts, as well. I just don’t generally pay attention to mine.”

He looked over at her. Didn’t like that she was still frowning. Kacey’s smile lit up the world. Not his world specifically—but whatever space she occupied. He’d been around her enough to be ample witness to that fact. It didn’t matter who she was with, from women with damaged spirits to her five-year-old step-nephew—people gravitated to her. Responded to her...

“I didn’t know talent agencies did that,” he said, scrolling slowly down to see whatever had Kacey concerned.

“Maybe most don’t.” She shrugged. “I’m just glad mine does.”

The photo wasn’t sexy in nature, which was what he’d feared. It was more of a head shot. She looked...questionable. Her eyes were shadowed, half-shut. Her mouth was hanging open.

“When was this taken?” He wasn’t relaxed anymore.

“I’m not even sure,” she said. “It doesn’t show what I’m wearing. Could have been anywhere. But I know it was after Christmas.”

He looked at the photo again. “You’re wearing the earrings Lacey got you.” They were a set of three diamond studs for her three ear piercings. Her identical twin shared the same physical traits with Kacey, but Lacey didn’t effervesce like her sister did. Kacey had been feeling guilty about the fact that her sister had suffered for being in her shadow. Lacey wanted her to know that shining was her gift.

“Yeah,” Kacey said now, watching him. He didn’t see the long golden curls. Or the kissable, full lips that the world associated with her. He saw the almost hunted look in her big blue eyes.

He read the caption. “‘America’s daytime sweetheart knows how to tie one on at night.’”

Studying Kacey kept his emotions in check. Focus came naturally to him. He’d spent years training himself not to react to stimulus in front of him. “Have you been drunk, or otherwise under the influence, at any time since Christmas?”

The unmistakably hurt look in her eyes nicked his barriers. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

He was her...sponsor...albeit secretly, unofficially and probably unnecessarily, too. But she’d wanted someone she’d have to be accountable to if she ever felt like slipping back into her old ways. Someone without undue investment in the outcome.

“So, no?” He forced himself to remain completely noncommittal. She needed help, not judgment. He had to know whatever she could give him before he started building his investigation.

“No.”

“Okay, good.”

“Why is that good?” she asked him. “Beyond the obvious of me not being drunk.”

“I now know this was Photoshopped,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it was somewhere to begin. “I’m assuming you want to know who took the picture.”

“I want to know who posted it,” she said. “And why.”

“It says right here, posted by K&Ltoget...” It was just a screen name.

“K&Ltoget didn’t post that,” she said. “It’s on some rag fan site...”

He saw that now. Recognized the name of a public blog where pretty much anyone could post anything they considered newsworthy. Didn’t have to be true. Or really even news...

She’d said K&Ltoget didn’t post it. As if she knew...

“Who’s K&Ltoget?” he asked, in spite of a strong suspicion he’d figured it out. His fingers itched for his keyboard.

“Kacey and Lacey together forever,” she said. “We never used it as a screen name, but what are the chances of someone coming up with the same exact configuration? It was our first email address. K&Ltoget. At the time, that’s as long as the address could be.”

Her chin was firm, like she was holding emotions in check. He wanted her smiling. Always.

“Do either of you still use the address?”

“There’s no way Lacey would post something like this...”

“I’m not saying she did. I’m not even thinking she could have. I want to know if either of you still use it.”

“Only when we’re writing to each other.”

“When was the last time either of you sent something from that account?”

She motioned her head toward the phone he still held. “Look at my email,” she told him. “You’ll see.”

He hit the back button. Scrolled through her inbox, careful to ignore anything that didn’t pertain to the business at hand.

But he noticed that she’d saved his last several emails to her. She’d saved others, too.

That was Kacey. All inclusive. One of the things he liked about her...

“Last Wednesday,” he said, finding what he was looking for. “You sent each other a string of messages last Wednesday.”

She nodded. “Sounds right.”

“That’s five days ago.”

She nodded and he asked, “Mind if I send this to myself?”

“Of course not...”

He did so. Quickly. Efficiently. Handed her back her phone. He needed to get back to the office.

“Michael? That was our private email when we were kids. We never used it for business. No one ever knew it.”

He nodded, tapped his finger on the table. Then patted a soft rhythm on his thigh.

“You think someone hacked into our computers or phones?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” Which was why he had to get going. “If your email was hacked, you would probably know it. You aren’t getting any new influx of spam, are you? Anything unusual coming through?”

She shook her head but didn’t seem ready to take off, like she needed to sit with a friend she could trust for a second.

Part of him wanted to give her that. So he stayed. This wasn’t the first time someone had posted something derogatory about her. That came with the territory. They weren’t dealing with life and death.

So why did it feel like they were?