CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Taylor scrubbed a handthrough his hair as he stopped pacing before the kitchen sink. He’d searched his carry-on again, searched his room—searched the entire house. He couldn’t find it.Did I leave it at Bertie’s house?
“Mom, have you seen my cell phone,” he called out to his mother, who sat placidly in the living room flipping through Hollywood magazines.
“No darling, what happened? Have you lost it again?” she called back, still flipping through the magazine.
Taylor walked into the living room. “I don’t think so. I had it when I returned from Massachusetts. I couldn’t find it when I was on the plane to LA. I can’t remember where I put it down.” He stood in front of her, his hands fixed on his hips, trying to get her attention.
When she neither looked up nor responded to his last statement, he threw up his arms and went outside to the driveway where Alex was polishing the Escalade.
“Alex, did I leave my phone in the car?”
Alex stopped, chamois in hand. “No, I cleaned out the car while you were gone. Didn’t find anything.”
“Taylor!” his mother called from the house. “I found your phone.” She waved it in the air at him from the kitchen door.
He jogged over, took the phone, and nestled it between his palms before slipping it into his pants pocket. “Thank you. Where was it?”
“Um, between the cushions on the living room couch.”
“Thanks, never thought to look there. In fact, I don’t remember sitting there either before or since I got back.”
“Ah well, these things happen,” she said flatly before disappearing into the house.
He tried to punch up Roberta’s cell phone number, but it had disappeared from his phone’s contacts list. A scowl creased his face. Hours later, the trill of Taylor’s phone stopped him in his well-worn path on the living room carpet. He recognized Roberta’s number now that he saw it on the screen. It was a text. Thank God. He hadn’t heard from her in hours.
His free hand raked through his hair before gripping it as he read the text.Why is she asking me to meet her at Bel Amore Restaurant?It didn’t make sense. It was too unlike her, too out of character. She’d been gone for a day and now wanted to meet at a restaurant? Out in public? They had never met out in public like that, much as they would have liked to. They were keeping their relationship secret. He didn’t want her hounded by the paparazzi, and he didn’t want Laurel’s wrath. It didn’t make any sense at all.
But so much happening was unexplainable. First, the house problem, the dognapping, and the mysterious phone call to fly out to LA only to discover there wasn’t a screen test. Flying back to Pittsburgh, and now this unusual text from Bertie.
Taylor dialed Roberta’s number, hoping to speak to her, but the phone rolled over to voice messaging.
“Hey, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll meet you at Bel Amore Restaurant. Make arrangements to meet me in a back room or secluded booth. I’m on my way. Call me when you get this message.” He walked through the kitchen, where Alex, his mother, and one of the bodyguards sat, enjoying a rare feast of Chinese food spread across the table. Alex snatched at his napkin and wiped his mouth as he rose.
Cognizant of the few times Alex actually got a hot meal, even if it was takeout, Taylor waved him down. “Relax, I’ll drive and bring Dominic with me,” he said.
“Darling, what’s going on?” his mother asked as she also pushed aside her plate and rose to her feet.
“Not sure. I have to go meet someone,” Taylor said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Sounds like good news, dear. Take care and let me know what happens.” As she settled back down in her chair, smiling, Taylor thought her response was odd. But he didn’t have time to question her about it. Roberta was waiting. In minutes, Taylor’s black Escalade roared down Burgess Lane with Dominic riding shotgun as bodyguard.
Taylor parked in the alley behind the restaurant. Dominic accessed the back-alley door to the restaurant’s kitchen and cleared the way for Taylor to enter through the kitchen to a private dining room the maître d’ indicated, off the main dining area.
On entering the dimly lit room, Taylor was startled to see a familiar silhouette but not the one expected. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as his gut clenched.
“Melissa! What are you doing here? Where’s Roberta?” Broad, quick strides had Taylor beside her in seconds. He scowled down at her as she grinned back at him.
“Taylor, darling, have a seat and let me explain everything for you,” she said, patting the empty chair beside her. She kept her smile despite the arctic chill emanating from her ex-boyfriend.
“You’re supposed to be in California. I have a restraining order against you. What can you possibly say I’d want to hear?” Taylor balled his fists and held his arms taut, ready for action should she lash out.
“Trust me, Taylor, you’ll want to hear this, or you’ll be very sorry.”
“Don’t threaten me. You have nothing to say I want to hear.” He turned on his heels and stalked back to the door.
“Au contraire, my love, I have plenty. But first, let me say, it is so convincing, your friend Roberta took one look at it and left town. Up and left.” She pulled a manila envelope from her oversized handbag.