The heather graham bundl.., p.82
The Heather Graham Bundle, page 82
pizza,” he said. But he looked through the keyhole and assured
himself that it was a kid with a box before opening the door. He
paid, thanked the teenager, closed and locked the door, then
headed back for the family room.
Kelly had risen and gone for paper plates, napkins and a big
bottle of cola. She was setting up on the coffee table when he
brought in the pizza. They politely went through the motions of
selecting slices and dealing with the gooey cheese.
“Your turn,” she said then.
“Pardon?”
“First, how did you get into ballroom dance? Your folks? Have
you done it forever?”
He shook his head, smiling. “I got into it late. A few years ago.
I went to take some lessons for a friend’s wedding.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“You’ve only been dancing a few years?”
“Right.”
She winced slightly. “I’ve only got a few days.”
“You’ve got some background training,” he told her.
“Tap lessons when I was five. Some dance in college.”
“And all those Pilates courses,” he teased.
She lifted her chin. “I like exercise. And you forgot the yoga.”
“I’m not making fun of you, you know. Those practices are
great for exercise. Body and mind, so they say.”
She frowned. “I’m a little curious…”
“About what?”
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“Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
“Shoot.”
“Okay. Why aren’t you dating your partner? She’s stunning.
And incredibly talented.”
Doug lifted his pizza with a shrug. “I dated a dancer once. Ac-
tually, I don’t think you could call it dating. We had an affair. I
was in way over my head.”
“So…?”
“I was having an affair. She was having several of them.”
“Ah.”
“And then she was killed.”
“Killed?”
“Murdered.” He fought with a tangle of cheese. That was the
past; he had learned from it.
Kelly frowned, obviously sympathetic. “I’m so sorry! Was it
an act of terrible violence? What happened?”
He shook his head. “Far more subtle. A mix of drugs and al-
cohol. The guilty are dead, and it…well, it wasn’t that long ago
but long enough. Anyway, I haven’t thought it a good idea to mix
work with pleasure since.”
She seemed fascinated. Since the pizza had arrived, they were
sitting close on the couch. Not touching, but his senses were so
attuned to her, he could almost feel her form. He was so tempted
to slide next to her that he rose abruptly, pretending to wad up
a napkin for the trash. She was different tonight, completely off
guard. Eyes like a Caribbean sea, the very subtle scent of her co-
logne hovering in the air, like an aura of innocence and seduc-
tion surrounding her. Her hair was tousled, and she was quick
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to smile, quick to look at him with an open warmth he’d not even
imagined she could offer. The alcohol?
Warning bells sounded in his mind. Either she was a shining
star, feeling a bit tarnished, and still out of his range, or she was
a victim, intended for a danger and demise she refused to ac-
knowledge. He needed to keep his distance.Yet…
It had been forever since he’d felt such a compulsion to
come closer. To touch. In a dream world, he would step for-
ward, slip his fingers through that fascinating mane of burn-
ing hair, tilt her head and test the fullness of her lips, the
endless magic in her eyes. Taste. A sensation of pure fire
leaped into his lower extremities. He gritted his teeth,
stepped back.
“More soda?”
“Pardon?”
“Can I pour you more soda?”
“No, I’m fine.” She didn’t actually move away or create more
distance between them, but she straightened, as if she had de-
cided she’d been too relaxed, too at ease. As if she, too, must
remember to hold on to a certain wariness.
“I guess I should head on out for the night,” he said.
She turned away. He wondered if she was disappointed. Or
if she was just uneasy. Scared.
“Yes, well, you don’t live in L.A. I’m sure there’s a lot you’d
like to do.”
“Actually, I thought I’d get some sleep.”
Her head remained down. He couldn’t gauge her reaction.
She looked up. “Your hotel is okay?”
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“It’s great. White, very white. Walls, f loor, bedspread.” He
grimaced.
She laughed. “It’s supposed to be chic.”
“I’m sure it is. It’s also—white. But very comfortable.”
“I’m glad,” she told him.
He hesitated. “Want me to take Sam for a last run?”
“No, no. That’s all right. I’ll take him. You’re the dance
teacher, not the dog walker.”
“I told you, I like dogs.”
She swept back a massive length of her hair. The red glinted
in the light. Her eyes touched his. “You sure?”
“Lock me out. I’ll knock when I’m back.”
He took Sam out, but the dog remained interested in the
bushes and the same path he had followed before. Had some-
one been there? Doug let the dog have his way. Sam sniffed,
moved forward, and came to the street again, then seemed lost.
A cat? A prowler? Or worse? Was he letting his imagination get
away with him?
Once it had been the curiosity alone that had tugged at him.
Curiosity and the wonder if he had taken a turn in life too rashly.
But now it was Kelly herself.
He stiffened with resolve. No involvement. It was always a
mistake. When he had viewed her as cold, untouchable and af-
fected, he had still seen her as a seductive beauty. But now…hell,
now she was the stuff of dreams. The kind that caused tossing
and turning. And if something were to happen to her…
“Sam, time to head back,” he told the dog, but he paused, tak-
ing another look around. He’d circled the house several times;
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if there had been anyone present who shouldn’t have been there,
he was long gone. So he walked back to the house, determined
to leave, yet loathe to do so.
Kelly let him in. “Thanks. That was really nice of you.”
“No problem.”
They stood in the hallway. They weren’t touching, but the air
all around them seemed electric. He wondered what would
happen if he stepped forward. Touched her. Spoke the truth.
You’re the most sensual creature I think I’ve ever come across. I’m about
dying, on fire, in agony, just being near you.
“Are you going to be all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seemed…nervous.”
She laughed. “All those caring people around me are doing a
bit of a number on my mind. I’ve had this place for years. Be-
sides,” she said with a smile, “I have Sam. He’d alert the world
if there were any trouble, I assure you. I’m fine. Go on. I’ll see
you tomorrow.”
He nodded and turned. “Lock up before I leave.”
She started to turn back into the house, then paused. “I can
meet you earlier, if you wish. I’m not doing anything, being here
at home. And—” She shrugged ruefully. “I’m not used to not
working.”
“All right. We can start earlier.”
“Okay.”
They still just looked at each other.
“If you don’t have other plans, we could meet for an early
lunch…say, about a quarter of twelve.”
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KILLING KELLY
“Sure. Where?”
“Mirabelle. It’s about five or six blocks from your hotel. Walk
out and take a left. It’s a pleasant place with a nice menu.”
He nodded. “Sounds great.”
Her smile deepened, and at that moment he mocked himself
that he was in love. Or definitely in lust.
“Good night,” he said again. “Lock up.”
She went in, and he listened for the bolt. Then he walked to
his car and sat in it, staring at the house for long moments be-
fore heading back onto the street.
It hadn’t been at all hard to get her address. Lance Morton
sat in his car, staring at the house. He felt a thrill of elation rip
through him. Kelly! Kelly Trent. The house was wonderful, just
what he had hoped. It was just so…Kelly!
He hesitated behind the wheel, staring at the front porch. A
bright light blazed from it, but the property was surrounded by
trees and foliage. He was tempted to get out. No…not now. He
could wait.
He sat in his car a long time. Staring. Thinking. And feeling
the same thrill over and over again. Kelly. Kelly Trent.
Uneasily, he looked around the street. It was quiet, dead
quiet. Lance rolled up his windows, turned on the CD, listened
and imagined. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts take him
where they would. He gave in to the deepest desires of imagi-
nation, listening to the music, seeing in his mind’s eye. Feeling.
The music came to a crescendo. So did he.
He swallowed, looked around and remembered that, quiet
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as it might be, he was on a public street. He’d been an idiot.
What if a cop had come by? But he lingered still, just another
moment. Kelly… There would be time for them. Plenty of time.
He just had to wait. The right moment would come.
CHAPTER 11
Kelly was pleased to discover Doug already at the restaurant
when she arrived. He was wearing a polo shirt and casual jacket,
and had a large knapsack at his side. He rose as she walked to
the table, and waited for her to sit.
“Thanks,” she murmured. She noticed his glass.
“Iced tea?”
“The drink of the South,” he murmured.
“Sounds good.”
She wondered why she felt a little awkward. It wasn’t a date,
for heaven’s sake. But she still found herself looking at the menu
with the determination that she wasn’t going to order anything
messy. It wasn’t a date, but she was ordering date food—some-
thing that came in bite-size pieces, that didn’t dribble down the
chin. No pasta.
He didn’t seem to have the same problem. He was having the
shrimp linguini. She opted for the fruit plate.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
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He nodded. “Surrounded by white. I dreamed I was in the
clouds.”
“Really?”
“No. I had a peaceful, dreamless sleep.”
She smiled, toying with the condensation on her glass.
“How about you?” he asked.
“Well, I definitely went out like a light—with Sam sleeping
at my feet. So, did you do anything this morning?”
He shrugged. “Walked. Went to the record store. Looked up
whatever they might have on Kill Me Quick.”
“And?”
“They’ve released one album. I bought it. They are good,
more than a garage band. Lance Morton apparently went to
Juilliard.”
“How did you find that out?”
“Well, I can’t swear it’s true, but it’s in his résumé.”
“He’s given you a résumé?”
“I looked him up on the Web.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “He seems okay.”
“Yeah. So far. He hasn’t been arrested for anything, anyway.”
“You looked that up, too? On the Web?”
He hesitated. “I did some research on him and the group.”
“And what else did you learn?”
“They were all music majors at some kind of an accredited
school. Hal Winter, the guitarist, was with a gospel group for a
while.”
“From gospel to Kill Me Quick, interesting,” Kelly mused,
smiling.
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KILLING KELLY
“Aaron Kiley has played backup for a number of important
groups. He’s keyboard.”
“Aha!”
“And the drummer, Ron Peterson, was considered to be
something of a genius. Graduated head of his class at seventeen,
chose to take off and tour Europe, came back and worked with
a stomp group, then met up with the rest of the fellows. They
played coffeehouses, school gigs and weddings. Then they were
picked up by a label for their first album. After that, apparently,
they were seen by Marc Logan, who decided to make an invest-
ment in the guys.”
“And what do you really think of them?” Kelly asked.
“I think they’ve definitely got talent. I like what I’ve heard.”
She hesitated. “Do you honestly think this is going to be a
good career move for me?”
“Yes, I honestly do—if my opinion means anything.”
“I asked you for it,” she reminded him.
Their entrées arrived. She carefully skewered a strawberry.
“Are you always so thorough?”
He had a talent for winding linguini. If she’d chosen the en-
trée, she’d be trailing long strands with every bite.
“So thorough?”
“Yes, you looked up the entire band.”
“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
She laughed. “Did you look up my résumé as well?”
She was startled when he appeared to f lush slightly. “Actu-
ally, I looked you up last night. An Emmy, huh?”
“One.”
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“One is more than a lot of actresses ever acquire.”
“True. I’m grateful.” She played with her glass. “What would
happen if I were to look you up?”
“I don’t have a Web page.”
“But you’re a professional dancer.”
“I don’t have a Web page.”
“Maybe mine has a lot of lies on it,” she murmured.
“I don’t know why, but I’m doubting that.”
“A Web page can be all hype.”
“Yours is too modest.”
“Not enough hype?”
He didn’t answer. He was looking past her shoulder, and
she realized they were being approached by a man. For a mo-
ment she tensed. Then she saw who was coming and eased,
smiling.
“A friend?” Doug queried lightly.
She nodded. By then, Liam Murphy had reached the table.
He bent to kiss her cheek. “Hey, kid.” He nodded to Doug.
“Sorry, excuse me.”
“Liam, sit, please!” Kelly said. “Doug, this is Liam Murphy.
Serena’s husband. Liam, this is Doug O’Casey, my dance in-
structor for the video.”
The two men nodded to each other in acknowledgment.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just saw you here, kid,” Liam said.
Kelly groaned softly. “I’m inching toward the thirty mark and
you’re still calling me kid.”
“You’re not interrupting. Can you join us?” O’Casey said.
“I’m meeting a friend in a few minutes, but sure, if you don’t
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mind.” Liam pulled up a chair while sizing up O’Casey. “I hear
we’re having a dinner party tomorrow night.”
“Yes, thanks.”
“Glad to have you,” he said, then turned to Kelly. “I heard
about the video.”
“And the ‘vacation’ I’ve been put on?” Kelly said.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Liam told her.
“Liam is a private investigator,” Kelly explained.
“Right, so I remember Serena saying,” Doug said. His atten-
tion was on Liam. “So, you do think it’s a good idea that Kelly
is off the set.”
Kelly groaned.
“Yes,” Liam said. “Being safe is always better than being sorry.”
“I take it you have a lot of friends on the police force?”
O’Casey said to Liam.
“Yes.”
“What was the final report after Kelly’s accident?” O’Casey
asked.
“Hey! I am here, you might have asked me,” Kelly reminded him.
“I’d have gotten a different answer,” O’Casey said.
Liam shrugged, grinning as he glanced at Kelly. “Accident—
as far as the official report went. But I know some of the guys
who were there. They were baff led, so, unofficially, there was
no concrete decision. There was an investigation. No one saw
anyone tampering with the mound. It was raw earth at a build-
ing site, supposedly in solid shape. The area hasn’t really been
opened yet—the houses up there that are completed are on the
market.” He lifted his hands. “There weren’t any clues to follow.
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People had been over the place all day. No one saw anything.
