Entangled Hearts (7 page)

“Pleasure to meet you, Kenya,” Noah replied. “Stay here. I'll go get Max.”

 

The sexy cowboy was gone for a few minutes, giving Chynna enough time to collect her wits.
What the hell had just happened?
Had she just told him she was her sister? But what else could she have done? She couldn't exactly tell him who she really was, a runaway pop star trying to find herself. She doubted he would believe her. Then again, did cowboys like him even listen to the Hot 100 on the radio? He probably had no idea who she really was, which wasn't a bad thing. Anyway, she'd told him she was Kenya. She'd made her bed, and now she was going to have to lie in it.

He returned several moments later with the reins of the thoroughbred firmly in his hands—strong, calloused hands from what she could see. These were hands that would know what to do with a horse ... or a woman's body, for that matter.

Now that she wasn't so blurry-eyed from the crash, she could really take her time and assess just how handsome the cowboy was who had rescued her.

Noah Hart was classically handsome with warm brown skin, a strong chin and jaw, closely cut hair, a permanent five o'clock shadow and a disarming smile that when he chose to bestow one caused a warmth to spread through her loins. He was dressed simply in casual jeans and a jean shirt.

“Do I pass inspection?” Noah asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Chynna blinked several times. “What was that?”

Noah motioned to the sky that had turned overcast all of a sudden and was turning darker instantly. “Storm clouds. We need to get a move on if we want to make it to the ranch.”

“Do you think we'll make it there in time?” Chynna asked as he gave her a lift onto the back of the horse. He didn't seem to mind, placing his hand on her bottom and hoisting her over.

“Just enough,” Noah said as he quickly jumped astride the horse behind Chynna before she had time to object about how close he was to her. Noah grabbed the reins of the horse and took off in a gallop.

“What about the Jeep?” Chynna asked, peering over him to look at the stranded vehicle.

“Don't worry. I'll take care of it,” Noah said as his muscled arms surrounded her and led the horse in the direction of what Chynna could only assume was his family's ranch.

Noah was quiet on the twenty-minute ride across the grassland. Chynna noticed that the Hart ranch must be pretty extensive, because they passed tons of cattle and horses grazing, a hay storage facility, stables, a dozen smaller guest cabins and another row of mini-houses she assumed housed the onsite staff.

Unfortunately, they didn't beat the rain, which had started coming down five minutes earlier. By the time Noah guided the horse into the covered stables, Chynna was soaked head to toe.

Noah disembarked first, not caring about his appearance, but Chynna was mortified. She'd left the house wearing nothing but a tank top, shorts and her tennis shoes. She'd never thought to bring a change of clothes, because she'd assumed she'd be back in her villa.

“Okay, princess?” Noah held out his arms to her.

“I'm soaked,” Chynna complained from atop the horse.

Mentioning her wet attire, Chynna spurred Noah out of his down-to-business attitude to remember she was a flesh-and-blood woman, and his eyes darted to her breasts, which in her rain-soaked tank top was plastered to her like a second skin. The cold air had caused her nipples to form into tiny buds.

Noah must have sensed her self-consciousness, because he reached for a nearby hook where a suede jacket hung and handed it to her. “For you, my lady.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Chynna said as she slipped her arms into the warm coat. When she was done, she swung one leg over, and before she knew it, Noah grabbed a hold of her hips to help her solidly to the ground. She turned around to thank him, and his eyes were cloudy with something she couldn't quite detect. Lust. Fear. Anger. There were a lot of emotions running through Noah Hart. But before she could act or question any of them, he'd turned away.

With his back to her, he said, “When the rain lets up, I'll take you back to your spa. In the meantime, you'll have to hang out here. That's if you don't mind slumming it.”

At her sharp intake of breath, Noah knew he'd overstepped a boundary.

“Slumming it?” Chynna asked.

“Well, you were at the Canyon Spa, and only rich women with a lot of time on their hands go there.”

Chynna folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, really? And what would you know about it?”

“Plenty, actually,” Noah replied. “My family has had this ranch for over thirty-five years, and we've seen plenty of folks come and go. Some of those very same rich women came here to our dude ranch thinking it was going to be the same as Canyon Ranch, and they were sorely disappointed that there weren't spa treatments and yoga every day.”

“Has anyone ever told you you're judgmental?”

“Many folks have,” a female voice said from behind them.

Noah turned around, and a petite female with wild, unruly spiral curls hanging down her back was watching them. She was cute as a button with big brown eyes, curly lashes and a shapely figure. She had the same coloring and facial features as Noah, and Chynna surmised that they must be related.

“No one asked you, Ry,” Noah replied.

“Well, I offered.” Rylee came forward with a friendly smile as she offered her hand. “Rylee Hart, Noah's sister.”

Chynna looked back and forth at the two of them. “I couldn't have guessed.”

“Noah seems to think he knows everything from people to horses.” Rylee eyed her brother suspiciously.

“I'm usually right,” Noah said, walking away from them and removing the bridle, harness and saddle off the horse. He grabbed a brush from the tack room and returned with several biscuit treats that he fed the horse before brushing him down to cool him off.

“You look like you could use a shower,” Rylee said, looking at Chynna in her brother's suede jacket and wet clothes.

“Yeah, we kind of got caught in the downpour.”

“After Kenya here ploughed her Jeep into our fence,” Noah commented, continuing to brush the horse down.

Rylee looked at Chynna strangely when Noah called her Kenya. Did Rylee know who she was? She couldn't have because she said nothing, so Chynna shrugged it off. Clearly, her anxiety was getting the best of her. No one knew her true identity. It wouldn't do for the press to get wind of her whereabouts.

“C'mon, let's get you cleaned up,” Rylee said, walking toward the exit of the stables. She grabbed her rain jacket off a nearby hook and wrapped it around her. “We'll see you inside,” she told her brother, who merely nodded his assent without a backward glance.

Chynna glanced at his back for several long minutes. She was certain she'd seen something in his eyes before Rylee had appeared. Had she imagined a flicker of interest?
Noah Hart was a good-looking, red-blooded male like any other, and she usually knew when a man was interested.

She didn't have time to think about it because Rylee was heading through the stable door. They ran in the downpour past a Zen garden with a wheelbarrow and hammock and into their family home.

“This is the main house,” Rylee said, walking up the wooden steps onto the porch. She removed her raincoat and shook it out.

To Chynna, it was far from just a house. From the outside, it was more like an estate, thanks to a second nearby house not far from the main one.

Rylee noticed Chynna looking in that direction. “Oh, that's just the guesthouse.”

“What about the cabins I saw earlier?”

“Oh, those are for paying guests. That house is for
our
personal guests,” Rylee said as she led her inside the foyer. She hung up her rain jacket on a coat rack near the door.

“Oh.” Chynna's mouth dropped when she saw the inside of the home as she removed Noah's jacket. Hardwood floors, stone fireplaces, a grand foyer and staircase, corridors that went on for miles and stuffed deer heads adorned the walls. She handed the rain-soaked jacket to Rylee, who added it to hers on the rack.

“I would offer you a tour,” Rylee said, “but I think you'd like a shower first, yes?”

“Would love one.”

“Follow me.” Rylee led Chynna up the circular staircase that led to the second story of the home, which went in several directions from north to south to east and west. “We'll go to my wing of the house.” She led Chynna past several doors on the east side.

They stopped, and Rylee opened the door to what must've been her room because it was ultra-feminine and ultra-glam with a large four-poster canopy bed done in champagne.

Rylee left Chynna to her own devices and went through another door, returning with towels and a robe. “This will help you get started. The bathroom,” she said, pointing to a door on her left, “Is that way. Help yourself to a shower and any toiletries you need, and I'll look through my wardrobe and see what I can find that might fit you. You're a little curvier than me, but I should be able to wrangle something up.”

Chynna's face split into a grin. “Thank you so much for the hospitality. I'm sorry to be a bother and take you away from whatever it was you were doing.”

“No bother.”

Minutes later, she was alone in the room. Chynna took the liberty of taking that much-needed shower in Rylee's fabulous mosaic-tiled shower. It didn't even have a door, so all she had to do was walk in, turn on the tap and let the rainfall showerhead pour over her. She used Rylee's almond-scented shampoo to wash her hair and her Carol's Daughter Almond Cookie body wash to scrub her skin. When she was all done, she rubbed the matching lotion all over her body.

She emerged from the shower to find Rylee had laid out some Levis and a print silk shirt and what looked like a new thong and a bra.
Where did she find new undergarments?
Chynna didn't ask. She just put them on and thankfully, they fit perfectly.

A knock sounded on the door. “Uh, c'mon,” Chynna said, tentatively. It was Rylee's room after all.

The occupant of the room was on the other side. “Feel better?” Rylee walked over and touched the bruise on Chynna's forehead. She may just be a veterinarian, but she knew a contusion when she saw one.

“Hundred times,” Chynna assured her, patting her hand away. “Thanks again and don't worry, this will heal.”

“You're welcome,” Rylee said. “So ...” She paused. “Do you want to tell me why you told my brother your name is Kenya?”

“Excuse me?”

Rylee grinned, revealing perfectly white teeth. “My brother may not listen to pop music, but I do. I know who you are, Chynna James.”

Chynna blushed furiously. She'd hoped she wouldn't be recognized. That's what she got for thinking that just because they were on a ranch that they were hicks. “Sorry, I'm just trying to keep a low profile.”

Rylee nodded. “I understand. The press has really been brutal about you and that actor Blake-what's-his-face.”

“You have no idea, Rylee. It's been horrible, but I can assure you I'm no adulteress. I'm not having an affair with that man.”

“Then why hide out and use your sister's name?”

“I'm tired of the constant scrutiny. They've been hounding me for weeks, and I needed a break. No one can know I'm here.”

“Chynna,” Rylee sighed. “I don't keep secrets from my family.”

“And I'm sorry to ask you to keep this one, but if the press finds out I'm here, it will be insanity for you and your family. Please, I'm asking you to keep my confidence.”

Rylee stared at Chynna, clearly debating whether she should grant her request.

Chynna stared back at her with pleading eyes. If Rylee didn't agree, her and Kenya's plan would go up in smoke.

“Alright, as a guest in our home, you can trust me to keep your identity in the strictest of confidences.”

Chynna came forward to grasp Rylee's hands and squeeze them. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“You probably don't get that much.”

Chynna released her hands and stepped backward. “You have no idea. Sometimes it's hard to know who to trust.”

“You must have trusted Noah to get on the horse with a strange man and come to a strange place.”

Chynna thought about Rylee's comment. She was right. She hadn't known Noah from a hole in the ground, but there was something about him. Was it his eyes or the way he carried himself that told her she could trust him? “Well, he'd already saved me from myself when I crashed into the fence. I figured he couldn't be half-bad.”

Rylee laughed. “Those pesky cattle, how dare they get in the way?”

Chynna laughed along with her.

“Would you like that tour now? My parents will be materializing shortly for dinner.”

Chynna glanced down at her watch and noticed it was nearly six p.m.
Where has the time gone?
It seemed only hours ago that she'd left the resort in search of the elusive hiking spot Kenya had mentioned. Speaking of which, Chynna wondered how her twin was doing. She hadn't heard from Kenya all day. How was she faring under the spotlight in her shoes?

Chapter 6

“A
lright, Chynna, let's go over
the new routine one more time,” the choreographer said as he coached Kenya through several intricate steps for a new dance routine to spice up the concert.

As soon as she and Lucas had landed, they'd been besieged by reporters eager to know where Chynna had been all this time and if she'd been on a rendezvous with Blake. She hadn't replied. Instead, Lucas scuttled her off into a limousine and they were driven to the studio for the tour rehearsal. Kenya hadn't so much as had a minute to prepare herself for what she was in for before she was thrown headfirst into the deep end.

Not only did she have to sing Chynna's music while learning a new dance in a skimpy pair of cutoff shorts and T-shirt that Penelope had laid out for her, but she had to do so with an audience of Deacon, Lucas, Fiona and Chynna's entire dance troupe. Kenya was beside herself with nerves, but she was trying hard not to show it.

“Are you alright, love?” the choreographer asked. “You're a little off today and usually you catch on to these things so quickly.”

Kenya took Chynna's advice and didn't apologize. “Of course I'm alright. I've been doing this for five years, haven't I? Can't a girl have a bad day? Damn!”

The choreographer shrugged as if he was used to Chynna's theatrics, and he set about showing Kenya the steps again. She was going to be up all night practicing this routine to make sure she didn't make a fool out of herself on stage at Chynna's upcoming concert in Anaheim.

Kenya sauntered over to the director's chair next to Deacon and plopped herself down. “Deacon, would you be a dear and get me an Evian?”

“Sure, doll.” He rose from his chair to do Kenya's bidding.

She couldn't believe he did it. She was perfectly capable of getting up to fetch her own water, but clearly that wasn't the way Chynna rolled. What she wasn't so happy about was Lucas staying at the studio to watch her. Why was he here? Chynna had indicated he'd never been interested in her romantically, so why stay on?

“Do you make a habit out of following all your acts?” Kenya asked Lucas as she accepted the towel her assistant handed her to wipe off sweat on her forehead.

“Only pop divas who make a habit of running off and refusing to tell their label where they're going,” Lucas countered.

“Well, perhaps this
diva,
” Kenya said, turning around to give him a sideways glance, “needed a break from being managed. In case you hadn't noticed, I am capable of putting one foot in front of the other.”

When Deacon approached her, Kenya rose, snatched the bottle of Evian he was offering and stormed back over to the choreographer to go over the steps again.

“What's up with her?” Lucas asked Deacon.

“I dunno,” Deacon said, staring after her.

“She's pretty mouthy today.”

“Isn't she always?”

“Not with me,” Lucas stated, and he saw Deacon smile. “What?”

“You've given Chynna the cold shoulder for years,” Deacon responded. “Perhaps she finally got the hint you're not interested.”

Lucas didn't comment; instead, he continued to stare at Chynna, trying to figure out what it was that was different about her and why he was so intrigued.

An hour later, Kenya finished the session with the grand finale that she and the other dancers would complete at the end of the show. She'd gotten it down pat.
Whew, thank goodness!
She was getting worried that Chynna's entourage might begin to suspect she wasn't who she said she was, but so far, nothing.

“I'm ready to go home,” Kenya said as she left the locker room after taking a long, hot shower. She'd dressed how she knew Chynna would, in a tank top, shorts, a short trench coat and her infamous shades.

“I'm afraid that's not on the agenda today,” Deacon said. “You have a meeting with Carter Wright later.”

“Today?” Kenya asked incredulously. She'd thought she'd have a little time for herself to call Chynna and see how she was enjoying her freedom.

“We've put the studio off long enough. They postponed rehearsals until you could come back. I think they were hoping that the furor over you and Blake would die down.”

“No such luck,” Kenya replied bitterly. The reporters waiting for them at the airport had been just as bad as Chynna had told her, probably worse since they'd had two weeks to wonder about her whereabouts.

“You knew you were going to have to face the music some time,” Lucas replied from behind Kenya.

Sudden anger lit her eyes. She didn't need the two cents from the peanut gallery. “I know that. Just push back Carter until tomorrow, and I promise I'll see him then.”

“Alright,” Deacon said. “I'll take care of it, but he won't be happy.”

“In the meantime, I've put together a short press junket,” Fiona jumped into the conversation. “You'll hit
Good Morning, America
and
Live with Kelly
and
Michael
before finishing up with Katie Couric.”
“Are you kidding me?” Kenya asked. “Is all of this really necessary? It was just a stupid kiss for Christ's sake and not a very good one.” She had hoped she and Chynna would switch back, and Chynna could clear her good name before Kenya would have to deal with all this nonsense.

Fiona looked horrified at Kenya's outburst. “You can't say that on national television. You have to be repentant and apologize for any miscommunication and that you never meant to hurt Blake's wife.”

“That sounds an awful lot like admitting I did something wrong,” Kenya replied. She couldn't believe the advice Chynna's team was giving her.
Why aren't they standing up for my sister and shouting from the rooftop that she isn't a slut?
“And I didn't do anything wrong.
He
kissed me. And
I
pushed him away.”

Lucas watched Chynna from the side. He'd never seen her this vocal, this passionate about standing up for herself before. When it came to press matters, she usually did as Eli or Deacon and Fiona suggested. Where had this combative, argumentative woman come from?
He found it extremely sexy that she wasn't going to take this lying down. He understood it. Blake was married and the person at fault.

“I think Chynna's right,” Lucas came to her defense. “I don't think she should be repentant. She should explain calmly and rationally that it was a miscommunication and that she's not interested in Blake.”

“Then who?” Deacon asked. “Because you know the press isn't going to accept this lying down. We need to come out that she's been dating someone else for a while and not just anyone. Chynna James wouldn't date just anyone. We've got to make this good.”

“Deacon's right,” Fiona said. “We need someone young, hot, hip.”

“Know any candidates?” Kenya asked Lucas flippantly. She watched one of his eyebrows rise at her direct question, but he didn't answer. Instead, he stared at her. His eyes never moved off hers in a battle of wills to see which of them would turn away first.

Kenya did. She couldn't take his intensity. It made her uncomfortable and not in a bad way. In made her hot in the nether regions.

“What about Emmett Griffin?” Fiona threw out.

“Isn't he dating that TV actress?” Deacon asked, pacing the floor as he tried to think of more eligible bachelors in Hollywood.

“How about Troy Raymond?”

“Not going to work,” Deacon responded. “His sexual orientation has always been unclear. We can't have Chynna wrapped up in that mess.”

“How about me?” Lucas offered.

“Say what?” Kenya's mouth hung open in disbelief.

“You need someone single,” Lucas replied. “And I'm not seeing anyone at the moment.”

“But, but th-that's ludicrous,” Kenya stuttered and laughed nervously.

“No, it's ingenious,” Deacon said, stopping in his tracks. “Everyone in your circle knows about your interest in Lucas.”

Kenya colored in response because she could only imagine how embarrassing this conversation would be for Chynna, much less her. She couldn't think of anything worse than having to be next to Lucas for the next week, faking at being a couple to keep the press at bay. “Prior interest,” she corrected, “which is why this won't work.”

Lucas was shocked at Chynna's honesty. She'd just told him point-blank that she was no longer interested, and instead of feeling offended or hurt, he was even more excited.

“C'mon, Chynna, this is a great idea,” Fiona piped up. “The paparazzi will think it's true and that you finally wore him down.”

“What's wrong, Chynna?” Lucas eyed her suspiciously. “You would finally be getting what you wanted, if only for the cameras.”

“I don't need a fake boyfriend,” Kenya replied huffily, folding her arms across her chest. “I'm perfectly capable of obtaining one on my own.”

“Oh, yeah?” Deacon asked. “So who do you have?”

Kenya's mouth pressed into a frown. She didn't have one of course. She just didn't want herself, or Chynna for that matter, to be railroaded into a fake romance with Lucas Kingston of all people. He rattled her and she wanted him far, far away.

“That's what I thought,” Lucas replied. “I don't like this idea any better than you do, but I think it'll be salacious enough for the press to back off you and Blake.”

“Are you prepared for the onslaught of the press that will be focused on you instead?” Fiona asked. “Because trust me, they'll be brutal.”

“I didn't grow up in Beverly Hills, Fiona,” Lucas returned. “I grew up on the streets of South Central. There's nothing the press can do to me I can't survive.”

Kenya was impressed. She hadn't known much about Lucas's past, probably because Chynna didn't. But now she'd be forced into his company even more. And that spelled trouble.
What if he realizes I'm not really Chynna?

“Then I'll set it up,” Fiona said and rushed out of the room.

“Wait a second.” Kenya held up her hand. “Don't I get say in this little charade?”

“No,” Lucas stated emphatically. “It's been decided. You and I will stay close and the press hounds will be forced to move on from this notion that you're having an affair with a married man.”

“Like hell!” Kenya stormed out of the room.

“I'll go talk to her.” Deacon attempted to rise, but Lucas put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't bother. I've got this,” Lucas said and went in search of Chynna. Now this was the Chynna he remembered, behaving like a spoiled child when she didn't get her way. But he wasn't going to let her get in her own way and ruin her brand, a brand he and Eli had spent a lot of time developing.

He found Chynna pacing the hallway outside, and when he walked toward her, his initial intention had been to talk to her, to reason with her. But then she was standing there, full of piss and vinegar, and he'd gotten horny as hell. When he reached her, he grasped her by the shoulders, lowered his head and pressed his lips down on hers. He moved his mouth over hers, devouring its softness.

His actions must have shocked her because her hazel eyes widened with alarm and her hands went up to push him away, but he was stronger and wrapped his arms around her midriff, pulling her more firmly against him until they were thigh-to-thigh, chest-to-chest. He could feel her uneven breathing against his cheek. That's when he went in for the kill. His tongue teased at the seams of her lips until she surrendered and parted them to his invading tongue. She matched his passion and hunger, kiss for kiss, molding her body against him.

When he released her, Kenya stumbled back. The kiss Lucas had just given her sent a lightning bolt right up her spine, and she was slightly dizzy. Her heart hammered at what had just happened between them.

Lucas's silence told Kenya that he'd felt it too. Something inextricable that couldn't be explained. “I ... I'm sorry,” Lucas began, and then must have thought better of it because he changed tactics and said, “Actually, no, I'm not. The press is going to be all over us and we need to make this relationship believable.”

Kenya breathed in deeply, forcing air into her lungs to calm her steady heartbeat.
So that mind-blowing kiss was him acting?
She would be afraid to see how he would kiss if he wasn't.

When she'd sufficiently recovered, she said, “I never said I was going to participate in this farce.”

“Chynna.” He sounded exasperated. “You must see that giving the press something new will get them off this news cycle of you and Blake. Don't you want that? Or do you like being an infamous homewrecker.”

Kenya's fair cheeks burned with fury. “Of course not. I want to clear my name.”

“Well then, get on board,” Lucas said, and seconds later he'd spun on his heel leaving a stunned Kenya in his absence.

Once away from the beguiling diva, Lucas could think clearly.
What has gotten into me, offering myself as bait to lure the press off Chynna's supposed affair?
He'd always been in the background of R&K Records, letting Eli work the press angle and here he was purposely putting himself out there. The press would be relentless; wanting to know intimate details about his and Chynna's supposed relationship.
And why did I do it?
Because in a mere twenty-four hours, Chynna James had suddenly become more to him that just an artist; she'd become a full-fledged, sexy woman with a backbone, and she was damn hard to ignore.
But now what?