Her Secret Life. Tara Taylor Quinn
think you’re beautiful, too. Inside and out.”
With that he was gone.
And she was left with thoughts of him consuming her. All the way back to real life.
MIKE KNEW, AS he put off dinner with his youngest sister and her family to focus on Kacey’s job, that she’d worked him. Just like she worked every single person she met.
The woman oozed charm by nature, not by choice.
He’d fallen under her spell months ago and had chosen to stay there.
Not only did she add a fascinating little sidebar to his satisfying but rather boring life, but he genuinely liked her. She was flirty and dramatic and could act as well as she played the authenticity card, but she had a bigger heart than most.
One she was just starting to learn to live with. To the world she was a star. A rich, successful actress.
To him she was like a fledgling bird, one that would grow into the dove of peace and be able to save the world, as long as her vulnerabilities were tended to and she was treated with care.
She wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either. He didn’t know a heterosexual guy alive who wouldn’t choose to have alone time with her, given the chance.
He was given the chance. And quite happily took it.
For what it was worth. Not for something it would never be.
He wished he had better news for her when seven o’clock rolled around. He’d settled out by the pool with a shot of bourbon in the backyard of his three-bedroom home.
The home he’d owned in a gated community and had lived in, alone, for the past five years, was situated on a golf course he’d never played.
He hated the sport.
But the lush green grass added value to the property and was nice to look at.
Noticing a theme to his thoughts—surrounding himself with things and people who were nice to look at—he took a sip from his glass and set it down on the table in front of him. Opened his computer and booted up.
His phone rang at a quarter after.
He could hear voices in the background. “You still at work?”
“No, I...” She paused, as though listening to someone else. “I’m sorry, Michael. Bo showed up at the studio this evening and surprised me with dinner and tickets to a show I’ve been dying to see. Anyway, I’m in the restroom at the restaurant now, so we can have some privacy. What did you find out?”
Taking another sip of the one whiskey he allowed himself in any twenty-four-hour period, he thought of her hiding in the bathroom to speak to him and grinned as he looked out over the green grass beyond the half wall surrounding his yard.
Of course she’d be out. “Michael?” The concern in her tone sobered him, so he gave her the bad news all at once.
“Someone is not only using your old email address as a screen name, they’ve hacked into your email account, too.”
“Who’s doing it?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve traced an IP address to a physical address not far from your place in LA.” He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her. He sure as hell didn’t want her confronting anyone herself. “I still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, Kace,” he told her. “There’s no evidence that your address has been used for anything other than to register for the account used to post the one photo. I’ve searched deep and I don’t find anything else.”
“But it’s a concern that they used my email address.”
That was putting it mildly.
“The first thing I’d like to do is talk to Lacey...”
He’d met her sister several times, mostly at the Lemonade Stand. Jem, Lacey’s husband, had been in counseling at the Stand for most of the past year. Mike had also chatted with Kacey’s family at several of the Stand’s social functions.
They’d invited him to do more, to join them at their place for dinner a time or two, but he couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk giving anyone the impression that he and Kacey could or should be paired off as a couple. If that happened, things would only grow uncomfortable between them and inevitably have a negative impact on their friendship.
But for business, with Kacey in Beverly Hills, he could stop by her sister’s place.
“No. I don’t want you bothering Lacey with this. She and Jem have been married three months and are only just this next week leaving for a honeymoon in Italy. Mom and Dad are going to be watching Levi for an entire seven days. I don’t want that messed up.”
“We need to talk to her, Kace,” he said. “We need to know who could have had access to her account information. Is it on her computer at work? Could someone there be behind this?”
“I have no idea.”
“I don’t, either, but we need to find out.”
Her pause let him breathe a little easier.
“Okay, but let me tell her about it.”
“Then have her call me.”
“Okay. I’ll call her as soon as we hang up.”
He had a thought about dinner and the show. Wondering how much time she had. And how patient Bo Neanderthal would be.
“I have a lunch meeting tomorrow in LA,” he continued. “I plan to drive in a little early and check out the physical address where the IP address is registered.” Before she suggested she could do it herself, he added, “But in the meantime, I’d like to know how many people actually knew and used this email address.”
“Just Lacey and me.”
“I mean, who might have known it from emails you’ve sent.”
“I have no idea...” Her voice trailed off and he heard a toilet flush. Heard her chuckle and make a muffled comment. “Sorry, someone was in here. We haven’t sent emails or given out the address in years. Not since Lacey went to college. But when we were in high school, our close friends had it.”
“I’ll need those names.”
“Okay, but...should I be calling the police, Michael?”
“And tell them what? That someone used your email account to post a picture of you?”
“A Photoshopped picture.”
“But coming from your account.”
“But it made me look...drunk. Or high.”
“A year ago, from what you’ve said, the depiction would have been accurate, so it would be hard to prove a motive of maliciousness, or even harm.”
“It’s illegal to hack into someone’s email account.”
He heard the tiger in her voice and almost smiled again.
“Yes, it is, but until we have proof that it’s happened, or proof that malicious harm is intended, or any harm, we have nothing to take to anyone. This could be little more than a prank.”
“Do you think that’s what it is?”
He wanted to tell her he did. Simply to ease her mind.
“No. What I want is for you to be careful. Watch over your shoulder, but live your life and let me do what I do...”
“Okay.” She sounded...definite.
“How soon can you get me those names?” He had all night.
“You