Undercover Heat by Danielle LaBue Page A

Magazine lying at the far end of the long table. Somehow they had ended up with it after their visit to the grocery store. The corner picture showed a dark-haired model in a string bikini, hanging on Ty at some European beach. She bit her lip and regarded Ty sitting across from of her. “You know, Ty, you’re used to sharing the screen with beautiful women. I would think you’d want me to look my best.”
    He dragged his napkin across his mouth, and his forehead wrinkled in the center. When he spotted the magazine, he dropped his fork to his plate. “Okay, that’s it. I think we need to clear the air here.”
    “Oh yeah, about what?”
    He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. His pursed lips told her he chose his words carefully. “Okay, I know it may be your intention to lose a few pounds, but I don’t trust you can leave it at that.”
    “That’s not fair.”
    “Oh no? Look at your track record.”
    “And don’t you think I’ve learn ed my lesson?”
    “I don’t know, Carrie Ann. You tell me.”
    She wasn’t sure if she was offended by his boorishness or grateful for his patience. She looked down at her plate. The sight of the gravy turned her stomach, so she closed her eyes and took a breath .
    When she felt his hand caress the side of her head, she flinched. “Can I ask you something?”
    “What?” she croaked.
    “Remember we had our little ritual? Can we do that?” The palm of his hand slipped across her cheek, his thumb brushing her chin. “Please.”
    At first the idea of doing something so intimate scared her, and then it angered her that he had the audacity to ask. Confusion swam inside of her. What would a stronger woman do?
    If it meant proving she was okay, there was no reason to balk. Her decision made, she lifted her fork, and with painstaking effort took seven bites of each food. Minutes felt like hours as the food stung her mouth, pushing down her throat in a tasteless lump. She felt defeated and weak. Her palms moistened, and her breath thinned. Again, she closed her eyes, this time to steady herself, and when the last bit of food passed her lips she took the glass of wine Ty offered.
    When she pushed the plate away, her heartbeat slowed to a gentler pace. She followed Ty’s shadow across the floor, and when he stood next to her, he offered his hand. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch. She rose and forced one foot in front of the other until she found herself in the great room, with Ty standing beside her in the darkness.
    The outbuilding lights across the yard hit Ty at his back. It reminded her of standing on a soundstage, the stillness of the room, the silence collecting around them. In front of them, the gigantic stone fireplace. It was the only one in the house still not equipped with a gas insert, and the sweet scent of smoldering oak swam around them like a spell. The embers little more than a glow, and he released her hand to add another log to the fire.
    When the flames danced to life, he brushed the dirt from his hands and straightened the long mirror above the mantle. He turned back to Carrie, his fingers lingering at the top button of h er shirt. “You ready for this?”
    His breath hit her in the face, a nd her lips parted in response.
    “Open your eyes,” he whispered. “You know the rules.”
    He smiled down at her, the firelight twinkled in his azure eyes. She heard each button release with a snap, the sound deafening in her ears. Sliding his hands to her shoulders, he pushed the fabric to the floor. The sudden rush of air brought a hiss to her lips. He chuckled and ran his han ds over her goose-pimpled skin.
    “You’re shaking.”
    “I’m cold.”
    “You’re scared.” He touched her face, his thumb running down her throat. “Don’t be scared, baby. It’s just me.”
    That was precisely the problem .
    Holding her by the hips, he slowly turned her toward the mirror. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but just as