If she returned…
Of course, she’d come back. Once the publicity surrounding her affair with Owen Fleming died down, she’d be ready to retake Hollywood by storm.
Cassie put a hand to her mouth. Was that it? Was Celeste’s comeback the catalyst behind everything that had happened to Cassie?
What if her cousin had staged the whole charade—exploding boat and all—in order to win back the public’s sympathy? What if Cassie was just a pawn? A gullible, expendable pawn.
Another thought suddenly occurred to her. What if Jack was in on it? What if he’d been playing Cassie, too? Wouldn’t that explain how he’d just happened to be so Johnny-on-the-spot at the restaurant and then when the boat had exploded? And now here at the hotel? He and Celeste could be working together to set her up, but for what?
Cassie had a terrible feeling she was on to something. Celeste was playing her, and she obviously had an accomplice. Cassie didn’t want to believe it was Jack, but his complicity made a certain amount of sense.
But there was also the roommate, Olivia D’Arby. And Ethan Gold. Yes, Gold as an accomplice made even more sense than Jack. He and Celeste had a history, and if they’d been responsible for Alaina Gold’s murder, then…what else might they be capable of?
Cassie went into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and for a few minutes, her nightly routine took her mind off her problems.
But by the time she crawled under the covers, her mind was racing again with all the disturbing possibilities. Folding her arms behind her head, she stared at the ceiling, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep that night.
SHE WAS sleeping like a baby.
Celeste didn’t know if that was a testament to her cousin’s clean conscience or her own stealth, but whatever the reason, Cassie didn’t move a muscle as Celeste approached the bed.
Amazing how similar their facial features were when their personalities could not be more different. Not to mention their bodies, although Celeste supposed there were some men left in the world who preferred a more curvaceous figure. But those men weren’t among the movers and shakers in Hollywood so Celeste had had to learn early on how to play the game.
Poor Cassie. She had no idea what a dog-eat-dog world it was out there. But she was about to find out. The hard way.
Chapter Twelve
“Surprise!” Cher laughed at the look on Jack’s face the next morning when he answered her knock. He was shirtless, and his hair was all messy, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. He was also sporting a night’s growth of beard, which she found pretty damn sexy.
Too bad the guy was a real nutcase when it came to his work, Cher thought as her gaze slipped over him. She supposed his intensity had something to do with his mother’s murder.
Jack didn’t know she knew about that, of course. He never talked about it, but one night the two of them had had one too many margaritas, and to Cher’s surprise, he’d finally opened up to her.
His mother had been killed when the family restaurant had been held up one night. It was after hours, and she’d been closing up alone when two gunmen had come in and shot her dead for the sixty-seven bucks they’d found in the cash register.
Jack and one of his brothers had found her an hour later, lying in a pool of blood. He’d never gotten over it, he’d confided to Cher. He still dreamed about it. Seeing his mother like that was what had made him decide to become a cop and why he was so determined to bring every criminal to justice. Because his mother’s killers had never been found.
That hidden intensity and his slightly neurotic personality would make him impossible to live with, Cher thought. But his quirkiness was also what made him damn attractive.
He scratched his arm. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to greet your personal shopper?” She held up a plastic bag. “I’ve been hitting the resale shops and I’ve found some things I think you’re really going to like. Let’s try them on, shall we?” She teetered into his suite on her four-inch stilettos.
Jack closed the door and turned. “I appreciate your help and all but I’ve already got enough clothes for this gig.”
“Well, then, you can use them on your next assignment.” She started digging in the bag. “You’re not going to believe some of the stuff I found. Theory pants. A Cavalli shirt that’s to die for. You’ve got a whole new career going for you, Jackie, so you have to dress the part. You can’t go tailing rich people into swanky places like this if you look like some kind of bum.”
“Maybe you should have been a little more concerned with the way I looked before you did this to my hair,” he grumbled.
Cher rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just admit that you like it? If you didn’t, you’d have been beating down my door by now to get me to fix it.”
“You said you couldn’t fix it, and besides, I’ve been a little preoccupied with a case, remember?”
Cher tried not to sound too interested. “Oh, yeah, how’s that going?”
“It’s going.” He headed for the bedroom. “I need to get dressed. Just make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll do that,” Cher murmured.
She waited until the door closed between them, then she turned and quickly surveyed the suite. The elaborate furnishings and ornate drapery weren’t exactly to her taste, but she could adjust. Man, could she ever. It was high time she got a taste of the high life.
She opened the bar and glanced inside. Chivas, Cristall. There was even a bottle of Krug. Cher had never even seen a bottle of that stuff in person, let alone tasted it.
“So what are you going to do about my hair?” Jack called from the bedroom.
“I told you, I’ll have to speak to my instructor about it.” Of course, that wasn’t going to happen now because unbeknownst to Jack, she’d dropped out of beauty school. With the ten-thousand dollar check from the National Intruder burning a hole in her pocket, her options had suddenly become a whole lot more interesting.
“By the way, I’ve got enough money now to get my car back from the finance company,” he said. “I won’t have to impose on you for a ride anymore.”
“No hurry,” she said distractedly, still busy taking inventory of the bar. “My brother, Jerry, won’t get off that oil rig for another two weeks.” Of course, if her older brother ever found out that she’d borrowed his precious Corvette, he’d blow a gasket. But it didn’t matter because if everything went according to plan, Cher would be long gone by the time he made landfall and checked his mileage.
Just as soon as the Intruder’s check cleared the bank, she was hightailing it out of there because, truth be told, she was more concerned about Jack’s reaction than she was her brother’s. If he ever found out she was selling information about Celeste Fortune to the tabloids, he’d do worse than blow a gasket. Cher shuddered to think what he might do.
So the minute that check cleared, she was buying herself a one-way ticket to L.A. or New York. Maybe Las Vegas. But first, she might even book herself into this place for a day or two, just to get a taste of how the other half lived.
“Your champagne, Miss Maynard.” She glanced down her nose at the invisible waiter. “Why, thank you, darling.” She accepted the invisible glass and waltzed around the room.
A knock sounded on the door, halting her in mid-step. “You want me to get that, Jack?”
“Yeah, it’s probably room service. I ordered up some coffee.”
“Room service,” Cher muttered as she headed for the door. Yeah, she could definitely get used to this life.
She drew back the door and came face-to-face with Celeste Fortune. Cher almost gasped in surprise. She’d never been that close to a celebrity before, and for a moment, her resentment was overshadowed by her awe. She even felt a prickle of guilt for what was about to hit the tabloids. Actress Stalked by Ex-Cop.
Cher stared openly at the woman, her natural curiosity getting the better of her. She’d seen pictures of Celeste Fortune in
Jack’s apartment, and had even sneaked a peek at a couple of his videos without his knowing. It was true what they said about lighting and makeup. On the big screen, Celeste Fortune was a beautiful woman, but in person…not so much.
Oh, she was attractive, Cher admitted grudgingly, in a more wholesome, healthy kind of way. In fact, she looked…extremely healthy. The girl had packed on some pounds since her last flick.
Celeste looked discomfited by the scrutiny. She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m…looking for Jack.” Her gaze flicked over Cher.
She’s curious about me, too, Cher thought. She’s wondering what I’m doing in Jackie’s suite. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she seems jealous, but then that would mean…
Cher’s jaw dropped in astonishment. That would mean Celeste Fortune had fallen for Jack Fury. That would mean…oh, boy. That would mean she was in for one hellacious surprise when the Intruder hit the stands. Assuming, of course, that Jack still hadn’t come clean with her. And Cher was willing to bet her ten-thousand-dollar windfall that he hadn’t.
Well, now, didn’t this just add a new twist to the story? Cher wondered suddenly how much more the tabloids would be willing to pay for this little tidbit. Celeste Fortune in love with her stalker. If Cher could get photos, the price might go as high as six figures, and then her options would really get interesting.
“Is he here?” Celeste asked.
“Jack?” Cher leaned against the door frame. “He’s in the bedroom getting dressed. Want to come in and wait?”
Celeste’s eyes widened slightly before she glanced away. She really was jealous. This just kept getting better and better.
“No, thanks,” she said coolly.
Cher shrugged. “Suit yourself. Any message?”
“Just that…I’ll talk to him later. No, on second thought, don’t even mention that I was here. It’s not important.”
“Whatever you say.” Cher closed the door just as Jack emerged from the bedroom wearing the new clothes she’d brought over. She gave a low whistle. “Would you look at that? They’re a perfect fit.”
“Thanks.” He tugged at the shirt collar as he glanced around. “No coffee?”
“Uh, that wasn’t room service.”
“Who was it then?” He was still fiddling with his shirt.
“Celeste Fortune.”
He glanced up sharply. “She was here? Why didn’t she come in?”
Cher’s gaze narrowed, taking in every nuance of his expression.
“Did she say what she wanted?” he demanded.
Cher shrugged. “Only that it wasn’t important. You know something?” She paused. “Celeste Fortune doesn’t look at all in person the way she looks in the movies.”
“No, actually, she looks exactly the same,” Jack murmured as he turned toward the door.
CASSIE HAD decided that she was not, under any circumstances, going to ask Jack about the woman in his hotel suite. She didn’t want to sound needy and desperate and jealous by giving him the third degree.
Instead, when she saw him later that day, she tried to play it cool and sophisticated. So he’d had a woman in his room. A very attractive woman with a raspy, alluring voice. Big deal.
But as it turned out, Jack volunteered the information as they drove down to Bayside to pick up Mr. Bogart. Cher Maynard, he explained, was an old friend who’d decided to drop in and surprise him.
Oh, okay.
And by the time they were headed back to Houston an hour or so later, Cassie had just about decided to believe him. Except for one thing. If Jack really was an undercover agent for Interpol, how was it that an old friend had managed to find him so easily?
Unless, of course, she wasn’t an old friend, but a colleague. Maybe Cher Maynard was also an agent, and she’d been assigned to Jack’s case.
Yeah, that worked for Cassie. It made as much sense as anything else that had happened in the past few days. Besides, agent or not, Cher Maynard was the least of her worries.
She glanced at Jack’s profile. He was scowling slightly at the road as they zipped northbound on the Gulf Freeway. She wondered what he was thinking because she could have sworn she’d seen suspicion in those blue eyes the night before. She could have sworn she’d heard hesitation in his voice when he called her Celeste. But she’d seen no evidence of his misgivings today. Whether he’d resolved his own doubts or whether it was all an act, Cassie had no idea. One thing she was pretty sure of, though. Jack Fury had his own secrets.
So what was she doing falling for a guy like that? And Cassie was falling for him. She couldn’t seem to help herself. He was just so interesting. And so attractive. So…quirky. He had all the qualities she found irresistible. And the fact that she didn’t trust him completely, well, that only seemed to add to his appeal.
Tearing her gaze from his profile, she glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Bogart snoozed peacefully in the back seat. Although he and Jack’s stepmother had apparently got along famously, his reaction upon seeing Cassie had been gratifying. He’d made a mad dash for her, wagging his tail furiously and sniffing her ankles. Then he’d done the same to Jack. Cassie had been amazed all over again how drawn the little dog was to him. She knew exactly how Mr. Bogart felt, and she wanted to believe that both their instincts couldn’t be wrong.
Once they were back at the Mirabelle, Cassie clipped Mr. Bogart’s leash to his collar and led him inside. He pranced through the lobby of the elegant hotel as if he owned the place. You had to admire a guy with that kind of confidence, Cassie thought.
No one was around in the lobby. It was late afternoon, too early for Lyle Lester to be on duty, which begged the question of how he might spend his time off. But then, Cassie wasn’t so certain she wanted to know. The man definitely gave off some weird vibes.
After they exited the elevator, Jack walked her to her suite. Cassie couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time he’d done that, and a part of her—a very big part—wanted a repeat performance.
“Would you like to come in?” she tried to ask casually as she inserted her key card into the lock.
“If you don’t mind. I’ve been doing a little research, and I’d like to tell you what I found out.”
Why hadn’t he told her in the car?
Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Cassie.
She closed the door and turned anxiously to Jack. “What?”
He nodded toward the elegant iron and glass table that had been placed in front of the French doors. “Let’s sit first.”
Once they were both settled at the table, Cassie folded her hands in her lap while Jack removed a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “We’ll start with Lyle Lester.”
She’d just been thinking about him. “Lyle? What about him?”
“I had one of my contacts here in Houston run his name through some of the national databases. Lester doesn’t have a criminal record so I decided to Google him. You wouldn’t believe how many hits his name produced.”
“What kind of hits?” Cassie asked in surprise.
“He was an Olympic athlete, for one thing. A gymnast. And for a while, he was with Cirque du Soleil. But he only toured for a couple of years before sustaining an injury that forced him to retire.”
“Wow,” Cassie murmured in awe. Cirque du Soleil. Who would have thought? She loved those performances. Her estimation of Lyle Lester notched up a few degrees. “That explains his grace and agility. I thought he might have been a dancer.”
“It also explains how he would be able to climb down an elevator shaft in the dark,” Jack pointed out.
Cassie gasped. She hadn’t even thought of that.
“I also placed a few calls to L.A.” He flipped through his notebook, then glanced up. “I talked to your landlord. He said that your roommate has been AWOL for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t too happy. Seems she skipped out on a month’s rent.”
Cassie frowned. “But I talked to her just a coupl
e of days ago. She was still at the apartment then. Remember, I told you she said she found my itinerary on the computer. And she said that a man had been around asking questions about me. She even said he’d cornered her in the parking lot.”
“Not in the parking lot at the apartments. At least not according to the landlord, and I don’t think he was lying. The guy seemed pretty upset about that rent.”
“But…why would she lie?”
Jack shrugged. “Probably because she didn’t want you to know where she really was. For all we know, she could be right here in Houston.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. “You don’t really think she’s behind all this, do you? Blowing up the boat, ransacking Gold’s beach house. Why would she do something like that?”
“It’s like I told you yesterday. Resentment and jealousy are powerful motivations. According to her bio, she studied under one the most prestigious acting coaches in New York. He even touted her as the next Meryl Streep, but once she hit Hollywood, she couldn’t land anything but bit parts. And there you were, an unsophisticated girl from nowhere whose star was on the rise. Until you got involved with Owen Fleming, that is.”
Cassie cringed. “I don’t want to talk about Owen Fleming.”
“Then let’s talk about his wife, shall we?” Jack turned another page in his notebook. “What do you know about Margo Fleming?”
“Only that, according to Mrs. Ambrose-Pritchard, she has ties to a Mafia family in Chicago.”
“If she’s connected to the Gambinis, it’s a distant connection at best. But get this. Margo is Fleming’s second wife. She was married to his partner when they first met, and he was still married to his first wife. They had a torrid affair, and the whole thing got pretty nasty. Sound familiar?”
Cassie didn’t say anything, but inside she shuddered. The Hollywood lifestyle was appealing to her less and less.
Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge Page 14