Undercover Heat by Danielle LaBue Page B

they did, they clouded with tears. She turned her head against his chest, grabbing his shirt in her fists. Gently he released her, his long fingers running circles on the nape of her neck. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “Just look at yourself. Tell me what you see.”
    She gawked at her own image in the mirror. The white lace bra and panties looked virginal, and considering who was next to her, it seemed silly and embarrassing. Her hair held loosely bound, and tendrils curled around her face. People liked to describe her as a nymph, and while she couldn’t say that she thought it was inaccurate, nothing else really came to mind. She had the hips and breasts of a woman, but on a childlike frame. In Hollywood , she wasn’t voluptuous enough, and as a ballerina she was too big. Never just right. And that’s how she wanted things.
    “Work in progress,” she mumbled.
    His mirrored reflection dropped his head to hers, and he gently kissed her temple. “Come here.”
    He led her to the couch and laid down with her in spoon fashion. Her head rested on the inside of his thick arm, her cheek tingled as his breath teased her skin. The heat of the fire hit her face, but d espite the warmth she shivered.
    “Relax.” He brushed his fingers though her hair. “I’m right here.”
    They were the exact words she had dreamed of hearing for years after he’d left, but tonight they offered more confusion than comfort. There had been so many things she’d wanted to say if ever she was given the chance, but at this moment there was only one think she could think of. “Everything is different now,” she whispered. “So different.”
    “Hush, darling.’” He pulle d her closer, his southern draw thick against her ear. “It’s all over. The past is the past.”
    “If I could change things I would. You have to believe me when I say I would never do that to myself twice. I’m stronger now.”
    “You were always strong, Carrie.” His fingers splayed against her belly, teasing the edge of her panties.
    “Ty really, I mean it.” She rolled over on her back so she could look him in the eyes. “Running this place has been like a weird therapy. I make my own decisions, and live how I want. Plus, I get to take care of people instead of everyone taking care of me. It gives me a sense of control.”
    “I’m glad, Carrie.”
    She took a deep breath, suddenly realizing she’d let her mouth run off. “Sorry, sometimes I go all pop psychology.”
    “I remember.” He chuckled and laid his head on her chest. “Keep talking, darlin’ , Lord knows I could use some.”
    She touched his face, her fingers running over the dark stubble. In her whole life the only person she had ever been completely honest with was Ty. Even at times when she lied to herself, Ty knew the truth. It wasn’t until that moment she realized how much she had missed that, and how much she needed for that to still be the case. “My weight is something I can control, Ty. Even if other things around me I can’t. This whole thing with the show, and seeing you, and worrying about my dad and the press.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t have much control over any of it, and I just want you to know that I know that.”
    “You don’t have anything to prove, Carrie Ann. Leave that to me.”
    She felt his hand run the length of her body, down her side, over her hip. It felt good. Almost right. She let her body ease into it. “Do you remember when we used to lay here and run our lines?”
    A puff of air tickled her breast. “Sure.” Ty chuckled. “Earl was always impressed with how well we knew our stuff. At least the love scenes anyway.”
    “I miss your piano playing. No one has touched that thing since you.”
    “I only played for you,” h e said in his deep gravel voice. “We were good together , Carrie Ann. So good.”
    Her body tensed when she felt his mouth on her neck. Kissing her gently, scattering her thoughts and assaulting her better judgment.