Read Online Swag Bags and Swindlers by Dorothy Howell - Free Book Online Page B

line.
    My mom had tried to reach me several times but I hadn’t answered her calls. Really, there was no rush. If there’d been an actual family emergency someone other than Mom would have called me.
    Mom’s a former beauty queen. Really. She’s not great in a crisis. Believe me, she’s the last person you’d want to depend on if something major went down.
    I couldn’t put off contacting her any longer—yet I knew how to do it without actually talking to her. Right now, at this very moment, was Mom’s standing appointment with her hairdresser. No way would she answer—even if it was a real family emergency.
    I pulled out my cell phone and called her. When her voicemail picked up I left a quick message.
    I inched forward in line and called Detective Shuman. I figured that if anybody could root out the names of the Hollywood Haven employees that Vida had mentioned, whom Derrick had fired for minor rule infractions—making them possible murder suspects, something I could use more of—it would be Shuman. He hadn’t caught the case but surely he could contact Detectives Walker and Teague and find out what was going on with the investigation.
    Shuman didn’t pick up, so I left a message explaining what I needed.
    The line moved forward. I pulled up to the window, paid, grabbed my mocha Frappuccino, and took a long sip. I desperately needed the boost because now I had to call Ty.

C HAPTER 8
    T y had a large corporation to run on two continents, thousands of employees, millions of dollars at stake, and four generations of ancestors breathing down his neck. He was busy, super busy. He made no secret that his commitment to Holt’s Department Stores came first.
    So as I pulled away from the Starbucks with my frosty cup of I-desperately-need-the-boost mocha Frappuccino in hand and activated my Bluetooth, it didn’t occur to me that Ty would answer my call. Before the second ring finished, he picked up.
    â€œHaley?”
    I nearly ran up on the curb.
    His voice sent a shiver through me, reminding me of all the times he’d whispered my name in our most private moments, when he’d called to me because he wanted to share something he thought interesting, when he’d laughed at an outlandish thing I’d done.
    And when he’d said good-bye to me that last time when we’d broken up.
    We’d seen each other twice since that day. Once was when we’d run into each other on the street.
    Let’s just say I hadn’t handled it well.
    The second time was at a wedding we’d both ended up attending—long story.
    From the voices I heard in the background on Ty’s end of the call I knew he was in his office in downtown L.A. with subordinates crowded around his desk, or he was in a meeting. I’d heard that racket often when we were dating and I’d tried to talk to him about something.
    Surprisingly, a few seconds after Ty answered my call the chatter ceased abruptly and I heard a door close.
    â€œHaley . . . I’m . . . I’m glad you called. Really glad,” he said. “How . . . how are you?”
    â€œI’m—”
    I didn’t know how to answer. I’d had a tough time immediately after things ended between us, stuck in breakup zombie land for a long time. But now I was better. I was good. Great, really.
    Or so I’d thought until I heard Ty’s voice.
    I swung into a parking lot and pulled crossways across four spaces.
    â€œI’m good,” I forced myself to say, but really my heart was racing and my palms were sweating, and I didn’t know how I felt at the moment.
    A long silence stretched between us. I couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, and neither could he.
    I guess I should have planned this call better.
    Maybe I should have planned a lot of things better.
    â€œSo, uh, what’s up?” Ty finally asked.
    Time was precious to Ty. He always had a tight schedule and he