Read Online Five's A Crowd by Kasey Michaels - Free Book Online Page B

cookie. Although you might want to send him a three-pound, raw porterhouse steak. His eye was already beginning to swell up before he hit the pavement.”
    Holden closed his eyes and chuckled. “He’s been asking for that for years. And every wonderful bit of it got caught on camera. I guess that will put the kiboshto all that talk about my arm. Sid will be on the phone from Maui pretty soon, screaming that I just threw a million-dollar punch and raking me over the coals for blowing the lid off his little scheme to keep the owners in the dark about what I’m doing.”
    “Boy, Masters,” Taylor said, shaking her head, “when you’re wrong, you’re wrong. Uncle Sid called while you were in the shower. He says your price just went up, and that three other teams have already called, wanting to join the bidding. And there’s more, Holden. Fast on his feet, Uncle Sid is. He also wants you to put your arm in a sling, then blame Newsome for your new injury.”
    Holden jackknifed to the edge of the couch. “He said what? I don’t believe that guy! I’m just lucky if The Nose doesn’t decide to press charges.”
    “Don’t worry. I talked uncle Sid out of it. And Newsome isn’t going to press charges. He’s going to crucify you in his column, just like he always does—or so Uncle Sid says. Now,” Taylor said, rising from the couch and walking over to lean her hip against the massage table, “how do we call off this so-called engagement? I mean, we don’t need this charade anymore, do we?”
    He looked at her for long moments, moments during which she was grateful the massage table was there to support her suddenly shaky legs. “Can’t do it, Taylor. Not yet. Newsome let everyone know your occupation, remember? If we tell the truth now, thewhole world will be jumping down our throats, knowing I was trying to hide this injury. Damn Sid and his big ideas!” He dropped his head into his hands, stabbing his fingers through his dark hair. “Why do I feel like we’re in a bad sitcom?”
    “Because we are, I suppose,” Taylor told him sympathetically, forgetting for a moment just how angry she should be with him. “However, if you think we have to keep up this charade until the beginning of August, you’d better have a small talk with Thelma. She’s not buying a word of the story Sid put out to the press. She said, and I quote, “I know how many beds I’m making up each morning.’“
    “Beds? What do beds have to do with—oh.” Holden grinned. “And I thought our dear, sweet Mrs. Helper was a proper chain-smoking old lady who wouldn’t have such thoughts.”
    “She watches daytime soaps, Holden,” Taylor replied, feeling her own mood beginning to lighten. “There’s nothing Thelma doesn’t think about. Oh, and she wants a raise, retroactive to her first day on the job. She said Sam would expect her to ask for one, and she wants the money for some new clothing and to get her hair done, just in case the cameras come back. So how does it feel to be blackmailed by one of the senior set?”
    And that, Taylor would remember later, was probably the moment she fell unwittingly, carelessly, unreservedly in love with Holden Masters. Because helistened to what she had to say about Thelma and then collapsed against the back of the couch, his long, straight legs splayed out in front of him, and laughed until tears rolled down his face.
    H OLDEN WAS SITTING on the rooftop deck looking up at the stars, listening to the waves crashing on the beach a half block away—and wondering how a nice guy like him ever got caught up in a mess like this—when Woody found him around ten o’clock that night.
    His stepbrother looked like a character out of some cartoon, only his whiter-than-white teeth, blond-streaked hair, the whites of his eyes and the glowing green face of his wristwatch visible in the pale light coming from the street lamp as he sat down on the cool roof, his legs crossed, his elbows on his knees. “Had