She spent a long time after castigating herself and thinking about what could have happened if she’d run into another car as opposed to a telephone pole. No, she’d decided then and there she didn’t want to spend her life in and out of rehab. She was better than that, or at least she knew she could be.
So why then was she waking up beneath cool white sheets in a stranger’s bed and with a massive hangover? She sat up slowly, so as not to exacerbate the elephant popping and locking inside her head, and that’s when it started coming back to her.
Finding Mabel’s body the morning before, flying out to Montana, deciding to use a little Dutch courage to get through taking off her makeup for the first time in over a decade. And then…nothing. What happened after that?
“You’re awake,” a male voice said.
And she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a very tall and ridiculously handsome man sitting in a wooden chair near the foot of her bed. (Or was it his bed?)
She’d slept with someone, too? She couldn’t believe it. Roxxy hadn’t slept with anyone in years. Literally years. In fact it’d been so long, she was almost certain she had cobwebs down there. Dealing with her neuroses when it came to intimacy had been frustrating, to say the least. It used to be alcohol and occasionally a hard drug had been the only things that helped her calm down enough to hook up with a guy, which meant when she swore those off, she’d pretty much committed herself to a life of celibacy.
“I can’t believe we slept together and I don’t remember it! You’re so cute. What a tragedy,” she said, then slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she’d spoken out loud. There must’ve still been some alcohol in her system. Usually when Roxxy woke up with a guy she didn’t know, all she cared about was getting as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. But this was…different.
Tall and Handsome gave her a quizzical look. “We didn’t sleep together. You passed out and I brought you back here.”
Oh. She looked around. “Here” was a bedroom with a large bed, a stone fireplace, and pale yellow walls adorned with framed photos of horses and what she assumed were Montana landscapes. The surroundings were completely foreign to her, yet perfectly cozy.
“Sorry for passing out,” she said. “I’m assuming I did some equally embarrassing stuff before that.”
He got up, poured her a glass of water from a metal pitcher sitting on the rustic wood nightstand beside the bed, and handed it to her. “Well, only if you consider throwing up on my favorite pair of boots embarrassing.”
She did. She most definitely considered that embarrassing. “Sorry about the throwing up part, too.” She took several large gulps of water.
He sat back down but didn’t say anything, just watched her drink. She didn’t feel the usual panic set in, but she began to become uncomfortable beneath his steady gaze. To the point that she immediately refilled her glass as soon as the first one was finished, just so she’d have something to do with her hands.
“What are you doing here, Layla?” he asked before she had a chance to refill the glass a third time. Apparently, he had caught on to her delay tactic.
Why did he keep calling her “Layla?” Had she given him a fake name last night? Then she remembered what Mr. Kass had said on the plane, about sticking to her cover story no matter what. Was this the name she was supposed to be going by?
“So, I’m Layla. And this is one of your guest cabins?” she said. “You’re the guy I came here to meet?”
Again with that quizzical look. “Not exactly. This is a bedroom in my house, which, yes, is a duplicate of the other houses on the ranch. Since it’s prime vacation season, none of the other houses or cabins are available right now. And yes, I’m assuming I’m the guy you came out to meet, or else why would you be in Montana?”
That should have cleared it up, but he still had that confused note in his voice. “Listen, obviously I was not at my best last night. Can we just go over my cover story one more time?”
He frowned. “You want a cover story?”
She put down her glass on the nightstand. “I’m assuming that’s what we discussed last night, right?”
He shook his head. “Actually, we didn’t really discuss anything last night. I found you wandering around drunk in the parking lot, and then you threw up and passed out.”
“My sexiest performance yet,” she couldn’t resist joking, though she was aware he wouldn’t get it since he don’t know who she really was. “So we just met? You don’t know anything about…”
She stopped herself, remembering at the last minute how Mr. Kass had expressly warned against telling anybody, even this Andrew guy, that she was a rock star who was currently trying to stay low until her stalker was found.
Andrew crossed his arms. “No, I don’t know anything about what happened between you and Nathan or why you’re here. But you don’t need a cover story. You know my policy on honesty. We’ll stick to the truth. You’re my sister-in-law and you’re visiting me.”
She looked at him, confused. “But I’m not your sister-in-law.”
He sat forward, a series of emotions darting across his face. “So it’s true. You and Nathan have divorced, and it’s official.”
She was wildly confused and had no idea how to answer this. “Um…”
“Okay, you don’t want to talk about Nathan. Then do you want to talk about why you decided to come to me, as opposed to one of your girlfriends?”
And that’s when she began to understand. “Layla” wasn’t her cover story, she was somebody real, and this guy thought Roxxy and Layla were one and the same.
Roxxy resisted the sudden urge to roll her eyes. She had nothing against white guys, especially ones who looked as good as this one, but she’d lost count of how many times she’d been mistaken for her closest rival, a rapper-cum-singer who also dressed in outrageous outfits and probably wouldn’t be recognizable without makeup or her infamous butt (which was rumored to be prosthetic) even though they had totally different body shapes and Roxxy was about ten shades darker.
Some white people just couldn’t distinguish between black women, and apparently this guy had mistaken her for his sister-in-law, who she assumed was the only other black woman he knew.
Roxxy was just about to open her mouth to inform him she wasn’t who he thought she was when quite suddenly, talking no longer became an option. One moment the guy was in his chair, the next he was beside her on the bed, pulling her into his arms and covering her mouth with his.
And boyo, this guy might not be able to tell the difference between black women, but he kissed as good as he looked. Everything in her body lit up like a Christmas tree and it felt like the nerves leading directly to her sex were waking up from their long slumber. It didn’t even occur to her not to kiss him back. When you’d gone as long as she had without feeling anything but dread when it came to hooking up, you didn’t question it. You just thanked your lucky stars and went with it.
And Roxxy went with it with gusto. She threw her arms around his neck, and opened her mouth wider, letting his tongue delve further into her mouth as she ran her fingers through his silky, wheat-colored hair. She even unfolded her legs so she could wrap them around his waist. It was like every part of her body needed to touch him, even her feet and toes wanted in on the action. Not to mention the part between her legs. It was on fire and throbbing, so frustrated with the layers of clothes that kept it from touching this guy that Roxxy felt a wild urge to tear off her skirt and underwear if it meant getting him inside her faster.
Apparently Andrew had the same idea. He pushed up her skirt and dug a hand past the waistband of her lace panties to cup her naked sex in his warm palm. Roxxy groaned with gratitude, even though her vagina was already telling her his big hand wasn’t enough, not nearly enough…
“Oh God, Layla,” he moaned.
Then he leaned forward and started to push her onto her back. And that’s when the familiar fear spiked in her chest, and she shoved him away, saying, �
�No! Stop!”
Andrew immediately put his hands up in the air and backed away. “Sorry,” he bit out.
Shame coursed through her entire body, hot and bitter. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I have some issues,” Roxxy mumbled.
She had sung in front of twenty thousand people just two nights ago without even a mild case of the butterflies. But she couldn’t bring herself to look at her host or open her mouth to explain things, she was so embarrassed.
“Issues?” he repeated. Then his face grew hard. “I’m assuming you mean Nathan.”
Once again, she didn’t know how to answer.
But before she could even begin to concoct some sort of response, he said, “No, I’m the one who’s sorry, Layla. I know you probably came here because I told you I’d be here for you if you ever came to your senses and broke up with Nathan. But that was then, and to tell you the truth, I thought you and my brother were going to go the distance.”
Now Roxxy did look up at him, her eyes wide as saucers. He had been hitting on his sister-in-law, even though she was married to his brother? That was pretty messed up. And she’d thought her life had all sorts of drama. No, it looked like she’d walked right into a full-on soap opera with this one.
“Let me get this straight. You were in love, but you’re not anymore?” she asked, wanting to hear the full story without giving anything away.
“Yes. No.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I chose to give you up. I chose to move on, because I thought you were happy with Nathan.”
Her eyes narrowed. She lied for a living, and this guy was not doing a very good job. “Just so you know, that kiss didn’t read “totally over the girl” to me.”
“Dammit, Layla. I have a girlfriend.” He slammed his hand down on the back of the chair. “I can’t do this with you, because I have a girlfriend, okay?”
“Okaaay,” Roxxy said carefully, not quite knowing what else to say at the moment, considering how angry he seemed to be at both himself and her/Layla.
“She’s really nice. And she’s simple, and she’s what I need. I’m not going to give her up for you.”
Roxxy shook her head. “I’m not asking you to give up anything or anyone for me.”
That seemed to calm him down a little bit. “Good. You can stay here as long as you want. But we can’t…”
Roxxy was beginning to feel more than a little annoyed by this line of conversation, even if he was really having it with this Layla person, not her. “I get it,” she said. “No you and me. I’m totally cool with that. I’ve been trying to simplify my life, too, lately.” She came up with the plan as she spoke it. “I tell you what, I’ll just lay low and stay out of your way. I promise. I don’t want to come between you and your really nice girlfriend.”
He smiled, his mouth crooking up at the edge. “Same ol’ Layla. Of course that’s what you’d say. I should have known. You always take the high road.” He sounded more disappointed than complimentary when he said this, though.
Roxxy had to work to keep her expression neutral. She only took the high road when it suited her purposes, or when she wanted to look good for the press. But apparently this Layla was the kind of girl who would come all the way to Montana to snag a guy and then let him go as soon as he said he was already dating someone. Curious.
But she shrugged it off and got down to the brass tacks of their agreement. “So I’ll stay here. It might be a while but I’ll pay you back for my room and board, I promise.”
“You don’t have to pay me back. We’re still friends, even if we’re technically not family anymore. Like I said, stay as long as you want. I’ve got a lot of things to take care of before I go to the East Coast on business in a couple of weeks, so we probably won’t be seeing each other much anyway. But if you get lonely, I’ve got a housekeeper who comes in to clean up and make lunch and dinner every day. She’ll be happy to show you around or get you anything you need.”
Good. That was great. She had a place to stay where no one knew who she really was, just like Steve Kass wanted.
So why then did she have to fake a smile when she answered, “Perfect, that sounds just perfect.”
CHAPTER 6
STEVE Kass had given her his boss's number but hadn’t given her his own. He’d also said on the plane that he’d stick around until the end of the week to help her get acclimated, but now he was nowhere to be found. What was going on?
As soon as Andrew was out of hearing distance, she pulled the D.A.’s business card out of her purse, which she found waiting for her on top of the dresser drawer.
“You know, you’re really not supposed to be calling me, especially not from an easily traceable landline,” the D.A. said after she told him who she was.
“I know, sir,” she said. “But something weird has happened.” She quickly ran down the whole story.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” he said after she finished. “You’re exactly where Steve was planning to plant you, but you’re not happy about your cover story?”
“That’s just it, I don’t think it is a cover story. This guy, Andrew, is acting like I’m really his sister-in-law, some girl named Layla. I’ m pretty sure he thinks we’re the same person. And I’m not staying in a guest cabin like I was supposed to. He has me up in his house. It seriously feels like I’ve walked into an episode of Days of Our Lives.”
“So you’re saying you got drunk, woke up at the place where you’re supposed to be laying low for the next few weeks anyway, and this guy basically dropped a cover story into your lap?”
“But it’s not really a cover story, because he truly believes I’m this other girl.”
“Sounds like a cover story to me. I say go with it.”
“It’s not that simple—“
“Listen, it is that simple. Lay low with the story you’ve been given and let us do our job,” he said, sounding more than a little irritated. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got about a dozen other high profile cases on my desk right now.”
“But what about Mr. Kass?” she asked. “Aren’t you worried about him?”
“If he doesn’t report in or show up in forty-eight hours, then I’ll worry. Until then, I’m getting back to work, and I suggest you work on committing to this cover story you’ve been given.”
“But—“
“No more buts, and don’t call here again unless it’s a true emergency. Especially not from a landline.”
And then he hung up, leaving Roxxy to wonder exactly how such a cranky guy managed to get elected into his position in the first place.
She took a shower and found a white silk robe on the back of the bathroom door emblazoned with the words “Sinclair Ranch” across the left breast. Perfect. She’d wear this until she could wash her clothes and figure out how to ask her former “brother-in-law” for some money to buy clothes.
After coming back into the bedroom, she tried to keep herself busy, but there wasn’t a television or even a radio, just a bunch of magazines and brochures, detailing all of the amenities at Sinclair Ranch which apparently consisted of horseback riding lessons, clay shooting, and even a weekly cattle drive. It was all very interesting, but it took her less than an hour to get through every piece of reading material in the room. And since she didn’t have her phone anymore, she couldn’t even amuse herself with one of the games she used to pass time when she was on the road.
Her stomach grumbled, and she realized she was starving. She headed downstairs to see if she could find anything to eat. But when she arrived, she found a short, brown woman with streaks of gray running through her otherwise jet black hair, bustling around the large, open-plan galley kitchen right off the wood-paneled living room.
The woman jumped about a mile high when Roxxy walked up to the living room side of the breakfast bar and gave a tentative, “Hello.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Roxxy found herself saying to yet another person that morning.
But the little Latina
woman waved the apology away. “No, it is I who am sorry, Mrs. Layla. Mr. Andrew didn’t tell me he was expecting guests.”
But if he hadn’t told his housekeeper she was here, how did she know her name? “I’m sorry, have we met before?”
“No, no we have not met.” The woman wiped her hands on the dish towel with a guilty look. “But I saw your picture on the T.V. when you and Mr. Andrew were all over the news, you know, after what happened with his dead wife and before you married his brother.”
Then she crossed herself.
Roxxy had to clamp her lips together to keep her mouth from dropping open. And only five minutes after deciding to full on pretend to be this Layla person, she had to fight the urge to break cover so she could get the full back story on her and Andrew. Maybe she really did look a lot like Layla if even Andrew’s housekeeper could mistake her for the other woman. Moreover, if she was interpreting what the woman was saying correctly, Andrew was a widower, and something crazy had happened between his dead wife and Layla, so crazy it had landed them both in the news before Layla married his brother.
“I must say I am very sorry about this terrible thing that happened to you. I know Mr. Andrew was very guilty about it afterwards. He is such a kind man, and how could he not feel bad? But our God is in all things, and everything worked out. So we will not speak of it anymore. You are hungry, si? Sit, sit, I will make you a sandwich.”
She said the last bit as if a sandwich was a cure-all for all manner of past traumas, and indicated Roxxy should sit on one of the brown leather stools at the breakfast bar.
Roxxy did as she was bid, her mind spinning. Andrew had a dead wife? And she hurt Layla in some way? And hold up, why had the housekeeper called him kind?
The Wild One Page 4