Undercover Heat Read Online Free PDF Page B

ice usually formed. Ty hadn’t driven these roads in over five years, more than enough time to forget the lay of the land, but somehow it was etched in his memory. The windmill on the hilltop told him he was minutes from the town proper. “Welcome to Middle Valley ,” he muttered, surprising himself when he heard the Sou thern drawl mix with his words.
    The last time he made this trip it was spring, a few weeks before the show was due for hiatus. Carrie was too weak to leave her bed, and he had been working by himself. He remembered a balmy moonless night, and the two-hour ride from the Brooklyn set seemed longer than usual. It was three in the morning by the time he reached the farmhouse.
    Ty sensed something was wrong as soon as he pulled in the gate. Every light in the place was on, and the front door stood wide open, with just the screen keeping the bugs out. The TV displayed a snowy test screen, the volume turned down to a mute. He remembered calling her name, and the lump in his throat that impeded his words. An inhuman force propelled him though the house to the foot of the back stairs.
    He smelled it first. The putrid metallic scent of an open wound that would tie the steadiest stomach in knots. And then, there was Carrie Ann.
    Sprawled on the hardwood floor, her skin as pale as the satin nightgown that covered her. Above her left eye gaped a deep gash, from hitting the railing, he figured. Blood matted her hair and pooled beneath her. He could tell by the way it stuck to his fingers that it had been there a while.
    When he took her in his arms she felt cool and limp, and at first he thought she was dead. He kissed her purple lips until she opened her eyes, then cleaned her up and carried her to his Blazer. On a referral he secretly scored from a fashion model friend a few weeks earlier, he made the three-hour drive to the hospital in Connecticut in ninety minutes.
    She lost the baby the next day.
    He tapped the brakes when he read the sign that said ‘Whisper Grove Farms.’ The old one had been smaller, with black faded paint on rotting white wood. Now it was majestic, inlaid in stone, and illuminate d by a spotlight placed on top.
    Simp le and classy. Very Carrie Ann.
    He plowed up the driveway in a cloud of powder. If this was one of the most popular bed and breakfasts in upstate New York , it certainly looked the part. The whole damn place had been spruced up. A large addition to the old farmhouse, paint, new windows. Even in the deep snow, it was obvious she’d hired landscapers. He smiled, mentally correcting himself. Never in a million years would Carrie hire anybody to do her gardens. Whatever she could possibly do on her own, she did. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had built the addition with her own little hands.
    He parked beside the east barn, behind Carrie’s pickup, the same place he always parked. There was another truck next to the back door of the farmhouse. His heart stopped.
    Maybe she didn’t live alone.
    For a moment he just sat there, before stepping out of the car. Man it was cold. The moon was hidden, and he smelled a storm in the air, mingling with lingering chimney smoke. The hum of snowmakers from the ski resort across the way competed with the whine of the wind. Very ominous. The snow he’d encountered on his ride up must have just been a p review for the main attraction.
    Spying the light on the back porch, he broke into a clumsy jog. Snow jumped from under his heavy feet, stuck to his face and hung on his lashes. He stopped mid-stride at the foot of the steps, lifting a shielding hand to his forehead. Through the sheet of white, he made out a very pregnant woman standing on the porch steps with an arm full of be d linens tucked under her chin.
    “Lizzie?”
    Ty shuffled toward her and stood in the lamp light. “Lizzie, it’s me.”
    “Ty?” Her brow wrinkled, and he wasn’t sure if it was in surprise or disgust. At least it wasn’t anger. Despite their small