Her Secret Life. Tara Taylor Quinn

      “No.”

      “Okay, good.”

      “Why is that good?” she asked him. “Beyond the obvious of me not being drunk.”

      “I now know this was Photoshopped,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it was somewhere to begin. “I’m assuming you want to know who took the picture.”

      “I want to know who posted it,” she said. “And why.”

      “It says right here, posted by K&Ltoget...” It was just a screen name.

      “K&Ltoget didn’t post that,” she said. “It’s on some rag fan site...”

      He saw that now. Recognized the name of a public blog where pretty much anyone could post anything they considered newsworthy. Didn’t have to be true. Or really even news...

      She’d said K&Ltoget didn’t post it. As if she knew...

      “Who’s K&Ltoget?” he asked, in spite of a strong suspicion he’d figured it out. His fingers itched for his keyboard.

      “Kacey and Lacey together forever,” she said. “We never used it as a screen name, but what are the chances of someone coming up with the same exact configuration? It was our first email address. K&Ltoget. At the time, that’s as long as the address could be.”

      Her chin was firm, like she was holding emotions in check. He wanted her smiling. Always.

      “Do either of you still use the address?”

      “There’s no way Lacey would post something like this...”

      “I’m not saying she did. I’m not even thinking she could have. I want to know if either of you still use it.”

      “Only when we’re writing to each other.”

      “When was the last time either of you sent something from that account?”

      She motioned her head toward the phone he still held. “Look at my email,” she told him. “You’ll see.”

      He hit the back button. Scrolled through her inbox, careful to ignore anything that didn’t pertain to the business at hand.

      But he noticed that she’d saved his last several emails to her. She’d saved others, too.

      That was Kacey. All inclusive. One of the things he liked about her...

      “Last Wednesday,” he said, finding what he was looking for. “You sent each other a string of messages last Wednesday.”

      She nodded. “Sounds right.”

      “That’s five days ago.”

      She nodded and he asked, “Mind if I send this to myself?”

      “Of course not...”

      He did so. Quickly. Efficiently. Handed her back her phone. He needed to get back to the office.

      “Michael? That was our private email when we were kids. We never used it for business. No one ever knew it.”

      He nodded, tapped his finger on the table. Then patted a soft rhythm on his thigh.

      “You think someone hacked into our computers or phones?”

      He shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” Which was why he had to get going. “If your email was hacked, you would probably know it. You aren’t getting any new influx of spam, are you? Anything unusual coming through?”

      She shook her head but didn’t seem ready to take off, like she needed to sit with a friend she could trust for a second.

      Part of him wanted to give her that. So he stayed. This wasn’t the first time someone had posted something derogatory about her. That came with the territory. They weren’t dealing with life and death.

      So why did it feel like they were?

       CHAPTER TWO

      “WE MAKE QUITE a pair...”

      Walking beside Michael toward their cars in the run-down parking lot, Kacey wished they had just a little more time together. He was so easy to be with. The only one in her life who never seemed to want anything from her.

      Or need anything. Not that she had a problem with being needed. She didn’t. At all. She’d hate it if her loved ones didn’t need her. Still, it was nice to just be...

      Stopping between his blue SUV and her Mustang convertible, a thank-you gift to her and Lacey for a commercial they’d done and which Lacey hadn’t wanted, she looked up at him—a good five inches up—into his shaded brown eyes.

      “Why do you say that?” she asked, not sure she liked the slightly derogatory tone that had accompanied his pairing them together. Leaning back against her car, she crossed her arms to keep from reaching up to brush his longish blond hair back from the side of his face. The hair wasn’t really long enough to cover what was left of his scars, but the way he held his head, cocked to the side with the damaged side down, looked as though he was used to doing so.

      “You’re the most vivacious, beautiful, outgoing and social creature, and me... If I didn’t have a family that I needed to keep off my ass—and work to do at the Lemonade Stand—I’d happily be a recluse.”

      He didn’t talk about whatever had blown apart his left lower jaw. Or what she assumed had to have been years of surgeries to repair his face. She’d asked him about it once. He’d told her there’d been an accident during his senior year of college. And then abruptly changed the subject.

      But she’d be a ready and willing listener if he ever chose to confide in her.

      “You’re an absolutely beautiful creature, too.” The words were drawn from someplace deep inside her. Completely authentic—and a tad embarrassing out in the open.

      He kind of smiled at her, and she figured he thought she was humoring him. She considered pressing the matter but figured it was wiser to let it go. Used to pushing forward, to going for whatever she thought should be, Kacey held back with Michael Valentine. She didn’t want to lose him.

      “And anyway, there you go, mentioning your family again, and them being on your ass.” Her tone was lighthearted, setting them back into their peaceful place. “Yet, here I am, still not meeting them.”

      As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. She’d just told herself not to push him.

      “Forget I said that.” She reached out to touch his forearm. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

      He grinned, not seeming the least bit bothered, making her feel instantly better. Which was halfway nuts, too, because Michael never seemed bothered by anything.

      “I’ll get some answers for you, Kace,” he said, his tone as even, as soothing, as always. “How late are you working tonight?”

      “I’m only in two scenes this afternoon, so I’m thinking no later than seven.” With all of the changes in recent years, they didn’t film by scene sequence anymore. Everything was shot by set, not in time sequence, in four long days so the actors had three days off and the daytime viewers still had five episodes to watch every week. If she didn’t have a scene on a particular set, like that morning, she didn’t have to be there.

      He nodded.

      “I’ll call you when I get out,” she said—more because of this curious urge to keep talking to him than because she thought he’d have any answers for her that soon.

      He grinned at her. “You’d best get your butt into town,” he said, chucking her on the arm like a brother might do. “You’d really give them something to gossip about if you showed up on set like that.”

      She