Her Secret Life Page 8

  “I understand,” he cut her off, not wanting to get all personal at the moment.

  “No, it’s more than just the picture. I... Bo was a bit...difficult last night. We worked it out and he was really sweet and all, but he wanted us to be exclusive and...”

  “I thought you already were.”

  “We are. I don’t date more than one guy at a time. Just not my style. But he wants to make it, you know, official. As in we’re seriously a couple, not just feeling our way...into something committed, you know...”

  He was pretty sure he knew what she meant. But asked, “He wants to make some kind of public announcement?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you don’t?” He didn’t know why he hoped she’d say no. If it wasn’t Bo, it would be someone else. But...

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think I do. I just don’t like being pressured. Especially not right now while I’m still working on changing my lifestyle.”

  She hadn’t backslid once since she’d made up her mind the previous summer. But if she felt she was on shaky ground, she could be struggling to maintain the status quo more than he realized.

  He knew she wasn’t. He just didn’t want to set her free until she wanted to go. And if she needed the changing lifestyle as an excuse to be his friend, he could live with that.

  For a while, anyway.

  “You said it ended up okay.” He felt like one of his sisters prying the other for information. Was that what he was becoming? A girlfriend to Kacey?

  The thought was not pleasant. At all.

  And he didn’t have the time to pursue it at the moment. So he filed it away to look at later. Maybe. If it reared up again.

  “I told him I saw myself with him, that I was on the same path he was and that my goal was a forever relationship, but that I need to keep things just between us for the time being.”

  “He was good with that?”

  “He was great.”

  Great, meaning he spent the night with her? Mike assumed they were sleeping together. What exclusive Hollywood couple didn’t?

  But he sure didn’t want to hear details.

  “He wants a key to my place.”

  “Okay.” He wanted to support her. It’s what a friend did. “I assume you’re giving it to him?”

  “I don’t know. His request for it was all mixed in with the rest of it and I didn’t really give him an answer to the key part.”

  Shouldn’t she have done so? Without needing to think about it? If the relationship was right?

  And then something else occurred to him. Even though he’d never met Neanderthal, he didn’t like the guy.

  “Do you think Bo could be posting the photos?” he asked, the split second before he realized that the man could hardly have snapped a photo of himself while both arms were filled with a beautiful, intoxicated-looking woman.

  “What? No! Of course not.”

  He didn’t think so, either, and if he’d thought a second longer before speaking, he wouldn’t have asked. But now that he was there...

  “You said that his career has been in a slump these past couple of months.”

  “The sitcom he starred in was canceled. He just hasn’t chosen another yet. He’s had offers. He’s just looking for something that could give him a long run. You know, more than three or four seasons.”

  He nodded. “And getting publicity as the man who saves the beautiful, famous and beloved daytime sweetheart wouldn’t help that along?”

  “Not if it means he’s choosing to hang out with a drunk,” she said. “Think about that. If I’m the media draw, and he’s hoping to make a name for himself on my back, he’d be better served making me look good. The better I look, the more value I’d be.”

  She was right. And he had to get his head on straight.

  No more wandering down forbidden paths lined with jealous shadows.

  “Besides, he doesn’t even know that Lace and I have a secret email address.”

  Mike had left Neanderthal behind. “Were there people on the dock when you came off the boat?”

  Someone had to have taken that photo.

  “Seemed like hundreds of them,” she told him, sounding tired. “They clapped from the time Bo picked me up until he put me back down on the level ground. There’s always a crowd for events like this. You know, folks hoping to see someone famous. Get a photo. Media hounds hoping to make a name for themselves. Paparazzi...”

  “In other words, anyone could have taken that picture.”

  “Yep.” Her voice sounded close and clear all of a sudden. Right in his ear. His body jolted for a second.

  “You’re at the studio,” he guessed. And off her car phone.

  “Yeah. And I’ve got to run, Michael, but...”

  “Go,” he told her, sitting forward. “I’ll see what I can find and we can touch base tonight, when you’re through for the day.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  And he’d be waiting.

  Because he wanted to be.

  Because she’d wait for him, too.

  Kacey was his friend.

  He was hers.

  And as long as no one mucked with that, they’d be fine.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BO WANTED A key to her place.

  She’d made such a big deal about not wanting to go out every night, not partying as a way of life. She wanted a home life.

  He’d been open to all of that, though it meant a complete lifestyle change for him, too. And less of a chance to make contacts with Hollywood’s movers, less of a chance to hear about an audition before it went out to the agencies.

  I want to have dinner waiting for you when you get home after a long day on set. He’d said that when she’d talked to him over her lunch break on Monday.

  Returning his call.

  She’d texted him about the picture—not only because he was her...whatever he was...but because he was in it, too.

  When he’d suggested that he could come by and get her key that afternoon, have a copy made, she’d shamed herself by telling him she was losing their connection.

  What the hell? She’d never been a liar.

  That afternoon when she had a break, she grabbed a tomato and cheese sandwich, ripped off the crusts, peeled off the cheese, and, sitting in a corner of her little dressing room with the door locked, put her head back and closed her eyes.

  She had to slow down, tune out the craziness that was her life in Beverly Hills. The frenetic pace, playing her part on the social scene, prevented her from listening to her heart.

  Or...she could choose not to slow down, to let the loudness of her Beverly Hills life consume her—and never find her heart.

  Shaking her head, Kacey took a bite of sandwich and chewed.

  There was no or. She’d made her decision the second she’d seen what her life had become, how Beverly Hills had blurred anything that was difficult or painful and let her pretend that every minute in every day was glorious.

  Truth was, even the best days in Beverly Hills weren’t glorious. They were good. She loved her career. And liked the events. Liked the excitement.

  But at the end of the day, she wanted a home like Lacey had, with family to return to. And the only way she’d ever have one—and keep it—was to work hard for it. Every day of her life.

  She could do this.

  She knew she could. One thing she was certain of, if she put her mind to something, she could make it happen.

  So she chewed. She swallowed. And in the silence of her mind she thought about Bo.

  The key to her condo.

  She’d feel safer if Michael had been the one asking.

  Kacey spent the rest of her lunch break trying to explain that one to
herself.

  And wasn’t completely sure she’d succeeded.

  * * *

  MIKE WAS NOT in a good mood. All day long, every little thing irritated him. The last straw was being out of his favorite coffee pod late that afternoon when he visited the MV Cyber Solutions’ kitchenette.

  “Diane!” He called for his sister, who was also his office manager. She must have heard something unusual in his tone because she came down the hall at almost a trot.

  “What’s wrong?” Her face wore the half-worried, half-frightened frown that he hated, and that irritated him, too.

  He motioned toward the opened pod drawer. “There’s no dark roast.”

  He was out of line. He knew he was out of line. And he knew he was really going to wish he hadn’t been out of line as she looked from him to the drawer with a completely neutral expression.

  “You drank it all,” she said.

  He’d had help. He wasn’t the only one in the firm who liked strong coffee.

  “Seriously, Mike, there were six pods in there this morning. And Shaun and Blain have been out all day. You three are the only ones who drink the dark roast.”

  Stepping on the foot handle of the trash can, she looked inside. “All six empty pods are right here,” she said. “And this bag is changed every night.”

  By the janitorial service that tended to the entire building.

  He knew she wouldn’t be saying so if she didn’t know for sure. Diane was right pretty much any time she opened her mouth.

  He was tempted to argue with her anyway. He was oldest.

  And the boss.

  “I need coffee,” he said instead.

  “So...maybe you should drive down to the coffee shop and have some. The trip out might do you some good. And maybe, before you come back, you can find the apology that you owe me for the tone of voice you’re using.”

  She’d never speak to him like that if he wasn’t being an asshole.

  It happened about once every decade or so.

  He nodded but just stood there, chin jutting.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  The look in her eyes—brown like his—warmed considerably. “Is it Willie?” The softness in her tone belied the defensive set of her chin and shoulders.

  Diane wasn’t shy about letting Mike know that she thought he spent far too much time taking responsibility for their baby brother. She thought Mike coddled the kid too much and that someone had to let Willie pay for his mistakes so he’d learn from them.

  She didn’t know the kid like he did. Wasn’t privy to his inner thoughts. Or his apologies.

  She also didn’t know how many Saturdays Willie spent doing penance—the type of punishment chosen by Mike—for whatever crime he’d committed. That was between him and Willie. When the others got involved, as well meaning as they might be, Willie’s defenses went up and all hell broke loose.

  “Willie’s fine,” he said now. “He aced his biology test.”

  “Mom says he was suspended for cheating and that you got things straightened out. Why you don’t let him pay the price for—”

  “He didn’t cheat.”

  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, everyone’s relieved that he’s back in school. Lord knows we’re all holding our breath for the next two months to go smoothly and praying that he actually graduates, but...”

  “He didn’t cheat.”

  His sister studied him. “He really didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” He didn’t need to explain that he’d had the teacher quiz Willie and listened while his brother correctly answered every question. Or that their little brother wouldn’t lie to him.

  They’d never believe that last part. With good reason. Willie lied to the rest of them on a regular basis.

  “If you guys would have a little more faith in him, it would help,” he said now, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter and faced his sister.

  Diane’s blond hair was short, darkening. She wore little makeup and her jeans were faded. But she was still every bit as pretty as she’d been when she was crowned prom queen in high school.

  And she was still in love with her date from that long-ago night, too.

  “It’s a little hard to have faith in someone who constantly lets you down.”

  He got that, too.

  “He thinks you all think he’s a loser.”

  When Diane said nothing, his heart dropped a bit. Willie acted out. They lost faith in him. The more faith they lost in him, the more he acted out.

  It was a vicious cycle.

  Because Willie couldn’t stop blaming himself—couldn’t stop believing that everyone else still blamed him—for a mistake he’d made as a seven-year-old kid.

  “He’s been breaking the rules since he was seven years old,” Diane said now, compounding Mike’s frustration. Willie wasn’t all wrong in his belief that his family blamed him for Mike’s changed life. At least two of them did—his sisters.

  The family had been through it all multiple times—at home and in counseling—and while they all loved each other, and managed to coexist in a mostly peaceful fashion, they lived with a huge elephant in the room.

  “Any word from your doctor?” he asked now to change the subject. And because he cared.

  She shook her head. “No news is good news.”

  Diane and her husband, Ben, had undergone genetic testing to determine if there was a medical reason she’d miscarried twice in a row. She’d already been through a barrage of tests herself and been told there was no discernible reason she shouldn’t be able to bear children.

  “I’m sorry,” he said now. “About the coffee.”

  She nodded. He felt better. He figured he could get another couple of hours work in when she said, “You never told me what’s got you so uptight today.”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just work.”

  “You love your work.”

  True.

  “The more challenging, the more you like it.”

  True again.

  “And since I have my nose in every billable account we have, I also know that there’s no out-of-the-ordinary problems hanging over us.”

  True yet again.

  “So if it’s not Willie, that means there’s something going on with you that I don’t know about.”

  “I’m thirty-one years old, sis. I should have things you don’t know about.”

  “Not if they make you bite my head off because you drank all the coffee. Twice the amount you normally drink in a day, I might add.”

  Just once, it would be good if she was wrong.

  Even half-wrong.

  Truth was, there was nothing wrong.

  “Don’t you ever just wake up in a pissy mood?” he asked. He wished he’d never brought up the damned pod. A bottle of water sounded better than coffee, anyway.

  “Sure. When I’m PMSing. Did you sleep poorly?” She took a step closer, studying his face. “Is the bone causing you pain again? Or the nerve going up to the eye? Does that hurt?”

  “No.” Not anything he couldn’t ignore.

  “Did you have another nightmare?”

  God save him from a pair of sisters who’d nursed him through more surgeries than he cared to count and knew far too much.

  “No.”

  If she asked him if he was constipated, he was going to walk out on her.

  “So what gives?”

  A damned key.

  And if he told her that, she’d ruin his life in her exuberance to help him. She’d ruin everything trying to make more out of things than would ever be there. Then he even wanted to be there.

  He tried the silent treatment. O
n a normal day it would work.

  “Mike?”

  He tried harder.

  “You want me to sic Charlie on you? Or Mom and Dad? Because you know I will if...”

  His cell phone rang. Pulling it off his belt, he glanced at the screen.

  Kacey.

  “I have to take this,” he said to his sister. “This is Mike.” He used his usual greeting when speaking to a client.

  Diane let him go, but he knew he hadn’t heard the end of their conversation.

  Still, Kacey had saved the day. She’d bought him time to come up with an explanation that would satisfy his nosy sister when they next spoke.

  As he’d known all along, Kacey’s friendship was good for him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU SOUND TENSE,” Kacey said the second she heard Michael’s voice. She’d called his cell. He’d have known it was her before he picked up.

  “My sister was just after me for the same thing,” he told her, and she wasn’t sure if he was irritated with her for nagging him, as he often got with his sisters, or if he was using code to tell her he was with his family.

  Maybe he was feeling cozy enough with her to think of her as one of his sisters. She was pretty much good with that, except for the fact they annoyed him at times. She didn’t want to be an irritant in his life.

  “Diane?” she asked as thoughts spun through her mind.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re at work?”

  “Yes.” Okay, so maybe it had been code.

  “You need me to call you back?”

  “No. I’m in my office with the door shut.”

  Well, then... “Why are you tense?”

  “We were out of coffee.”

  “There’s that shop on the corner. You like their coffee.”

  “Diane pointed that out to me, as well.”

  “So...I’m annoying you like your sisters do.”

  In her dressing room again, wearing an aqua-colored silk robe and nothing else, she lounged on the couch, waiting for the knock on her door that told her it was time to get dressed. One more scene and she could leave.

  She was really quite happy right where she was.

  “Of course not,” he told her. “And her pointing out the coffee shop didn’t irritate me. To the contrary. I was being an ass. In her kind little sister way, she pointed that out to me. What bothers me is when they hover like they don’t trust me to manage my own life. Like they think I’m somehow incapable of doing so.”