Public Secrets (Artificial Intelligence Book 1) (2 page)

“Are you sure? My sources say you did an accurate job describing the town. Right down to the blue hydrangeas that border the town hall.”

“I’ve never been in Arkansas,” she assured him.

He would have pushed further, except every other time she had made such declarations, the other side had failed to find any evidence that she had visited the location in her book. It was the main reason they had managed to settle so many cases for relatively small amounts.

He returned to his desk and sat down. “In the future, before we publish, I want final say on all your characters’ names. It’s such a simple thing, changing the name, but you don’t seem to grasp the importance.”

Carla nodded her consent. Her characters always came with their own name, but if he wanted to change them before publication, she would let him try. At least then, when the lawsuits popped up out of nowhere, he would have to blame himself and not her.

“How are you doing on your new manuscript?”

She could hear the concern in his voice. Her story was due three weeks ago. She had never been a day late before. However, she’d never had writer’s block before. Her character had come to a crossroads, and he seemed to be stuck, unable to move in any direction. She couldn’t explain why. She had written over twenty bestsellers, each one spewing from her mind as quickly as she could write. This one had flowed just as easily until six weeks ago. She’d been writing away, trying to keep up with the story flowing from her mind, when suddenly it inexplicably stopped. It was as if the storyteller had risen and left the room.

“It’s not,” she confessed. “I think I need to get away for a while.”

“You can get away after the book.”

She knew that was a lie. After the book was published, she would be tied up in its promotion, something she had initially disliked but over time had grown to hate most passionately. “I can’t finish the story.”

“But the publicity schedule has been set.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. The story stopped and I don’t know how to start it. I’ve never had this happen before.”

“It happens to all writers. Go back a few chapters and change the story so it goes off in a slightly different direction.”

Carla shook her head. A real writer could no doubt do that. A real writer created an outline, then a synopsis, and only then wrote a story within the framework. Carla had known from the beginning she wasn’t a real writer. She was just as surprised as her readers by how the story turned out. She was only a scribe for a story unfolding in her mind. Before the lawsuits, she had, at least, thought the stories came from her own vivid imagination. Now she wasn’t certain even that was true.

“Maybe it’s over,” she whispered. “Maybe I won’t write anymore.” Her words filled her with both hope and dread.

Dan rushed from his desk and hurried to her side. “Don’t be silly. You’re just tired. All these lawsuits and death threats—they get to a person. I think you’re right about needing a vacation. A few weeks in the sun will do you wonders. I’ll have Maria set it up. Where would you like to go?”

Carla had to put away her computer when breakfast arrived. The man beside her continued to watch the movie while he ate, so she enjoyed her food in peace. Dressing down and wearing no makeup seemed to be working. No one had yet recognized her. If only that could be the case through her entire trip.

She suspected the flight attendant knew who she was, from the deference she was shown, but then her seat-mate was shown equal respect, so maybe the courtesy was for him. She lost that hope when the captain came back to greet them.

“How are you folks doing today? Anything we can get for you?” the captain asked, staring at Carla.

“I’m fine,” Carla replied.

The flight attendant brought a bottle of wine and two glasses.

The captain motioned to the tray. “This is from the flight crew. It’s the best Australian wine made. Please accept it as a gift.”

Since Carla could think of no way to turn it down, she took the wine glass and thanked him and the attendant. She wondered what her seat-mate was thinking about all this fuss and chanced a glance his way. He had been looking at her, and now their eyes locked. To her relief, she saw nothing but curiosity and confusion in those large, brown eyes.

She realized she’d been staring at him for a long while. “I’m sorry. For a moment, you seemed familiar. Have we met?”

***

Chad was taken aback by her question. It had been a very long time since someone hadn’t known him on sight. He was, therefore, suspicious this was only a scam the girl was playing.

“I don’t think so. Chad Tyler,” he replied, holding out his hand.

Her handshake was firm but impersonal. “Carla.”

“It was very nice of the captain to give us this wine,” Chad commented as he continued to study the thick lashes that framed her dark blue eyes. When she smiled and nodded in return, he was amazed he had ever thought her plain.

“Are you traveling for business or pleasure?” He glanced at her laptop.

“Pleasure,” she replied as she caressed the top of the computer. “And you?”

“Business.”

“That’s a shame. You should try to see some of the sights. It’s extraordinarily beautiful.”

He turned slightly to face her. “You sound as if you’ve been to New Zealand before.”

“I have. It’s where I always go when I need to get away and regroup.”

“So if you were to advise me to do one thing, what would it be?” He liked pretending he was a normal person who could simply take a vacation.

“The Routeburn Track. It’s a three-day hike into the rainforests.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s far more than nice. After a hard day of trekking some of the most gorgeous land imaginable, at night, you arrive at a cabin with hot water, good food, and soft beds. It’s perfect.”

Chad smiled and refilled both their glasses. “So you don’t like roughing it?”

Carla leaned back. “I must admit, all things being equal, I prefer a hot shower and a soft bed.”

“What else would you recommend?”

“Well, there’s a really nice sea-kayaking trip around the Abel Tasman.”

“Trekking, sea-kayaking...you must think all I like to do is physical exercise. What do you do when you’re in civilization?”

Carla laughed. “I get out. I’m not a city girl.”

Chad frowned. She seemed too perfect. He had heard of women who researched a man and then presented themselves to be exactly what he wanted. Were the clothes and no makeup just part of a scheme to get behind his barriers? He decided to test her.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you otherwise? I’m supposed to go to an opera this week.”

“I’ll be rafting down a twenty-three-foot waterfall,” Carla assured him.

“The whole week?”

“Well, about five seconds of it. It doesn’t take that long to go down a waterfall, although while you’re doing it, it does seem a lifetime.”

“So you might be able to squeeze in an opera?”

Carla shook her head and gave him a smile tinged with regret. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to keep a low profile.”

Chad nodded. Although her response had surprised him, he certainly understood it. Who in their right mind would subject themselves to the harassment of public life just for an opera? Her reply only made him more certain that she was the genuine article. Now he wanted to know everything about her life.

She was more than willing to discuss the adventure spots of New Zealand, but when he turned the conversation onto her, she became far less forthcoming.

“What do you do for a living?”

She choked on her wine, causing it to spill on her sweatshirt. Handing him her wine glass, she asked the flight attendant for seltzer water. She pulled the sweatshirt off, revealing a tight turtleneck sweater that fit her like a second skin. Chad had thought from the size of the sweater that she was a bit chubby, but now he realized she was only well-endowed.

He held her wine as she successfully teased the stain out of her sweater. When she pulled the sweatshirt back over her head, her ponytail clip fell from her hair, releasing cascades of silky blonde strands over her shoulders. He set her wine glass down and reached for the clip that had fallen to the floor. Unfortunately, she was doing the same, and their heads collided.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” he asked, trying to turn her head so he could examine the pink bump on her forehead.

“You certainly have a hard head,” she complained.

Chad touched the bump, gently prodding it. “Usually, people wear helmets around me.”

“I can see why,” she murmured.

His fingers had shifted from touching the wound to brushing her silky hair from her face. “You have beautiful hair.” He mentally added her eyes and skin to his compliment.

She stiffened and pulled away from his touch. “Thanks.” She picked up her book and pretended to read.

He studied her for a moment. “I take it back.”

Confused by his statement, she stared at him. “Pardon?”

“The compliment—you obviously didn’t like it, so I take it back.”

Carla sighed and closed her book, turning to face him. “I don’t like false adulation of any kind. It demeans both the giver and the receiver.”

Chad nodded in complete understanding. It was exactly why he dreaded being near women these days. They admired everything about him and declared him to be perfect in every way. But it was all lies. They loved his image and fame, not him.

He handed her back her wine glass. “For the record, I really meant it. I recognize your hair isn’t fixed up, but I find it a refreshing change from the bushy, teased look so popular in Texas right now. If you used as much hairspray as a Texas lady, when we bumped heads a moment ago, I would probably have gotten a concussion.”

Carla couldn’t help but smile at his joke. “Well, in that very narrow comparison, your compliment is accepted. But let’s agree to end all compliments from this moment on.”

Chad shook his head in disbelief. “What an odd woman you are.”

Her eyes narrowed for a moment. “I hope you aren’t trying to sneak another compliment under the negotiated peace treaty.”

“Just stating an observation. And the fact you thought it might be a compliment proves I made a very true assessment.”

***

After lunch and a discussion of the stock market and international events, Chad once again brought up the topic of work. “You never did tell me what you do for a living.”

“Nothing important.”

“That surprises me. You strike me as someone who...” He stopped.

“Who would do what?”

“Sorry, I can’t finish the sentence without appearing to compliment you.”

“Then don’t finish the sentence. We have a negotiated agreement on that point.” Then, as if in a desire to end their conversation, she leaned her seat back, fluffed her pillows and pulled her cap back over her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am, we do.” Chad leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “So are you going to tell me what you do for a living?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?” He turned his head so he could look at her.

“I prefer to be judged on my own merits as a person, not for what I do professionally.”

Chad’s curiosity was piqued. Was it possible she was actually something more than a middle-class country girl? He remembered the deference she’d been shown by both the attendant and the captain. They might know her by her name, which he suddenly realized she had never disclosed. “Well, I agree with that, but in this case, it’s unfair. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”

She turned her body so she could face him and grimaced. “I know you told me your name, and it’s sort of familiar, but...”

“You don’t know who I am?” he completed, half in amazement and half in disbelief.

“Sorry,” she said as she reached over and patted his arm. “But you see, we really are equal, since neither of us knows who the other is.”

He placed his hand over hers, enjoying the touch of familiarity. “You realize, of course—and I’m not trying to be vain—that you are the first person who hasn’t known me on sight since I was twenty-two years old.”

“And that was...two years ago?” Carla replied, trying to guess his age.

“I wish. That was twelve years ago.”

“So you’re thirty-four.”

“Sneaky how you got me to divulge that,” he said, his fingers gently caressing her hand.

“Just a babe,” she replied, pulling her hand back to her chest.

“What are you, twenty?” he scoffed.

She smiled and moved closer to stare into his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not blind?”

He captured her face in his hand, preventing her from pulling back too soon. “I’m not blind,” he said, with admiration clear in his voice.

“Well, then, the lack of makeup is fooling your eyes into thinking I’m younger than I am. I’m thirty-six.”

He pushed the cap off her head and studied her harder. “No way.”

“Yes way.”

He turned her face and studied her profile.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for surgical scars.”

“I don’t do face-lifts. I’ll age as time sees fit.”

He turned her face back to him. “Says the twenty-year-old.”

He was about to kiss her when he remembered where he was. He hoped to God no one had noticed. He could already picture the gossip rags. He let go of her lovely face and leaned back in his seat, regretting how easily she had gotten beneath his barriers.

***

Carla had never been impressed with the consistency of men’s affection, but this guy took the prize for running hot and cold. One minute she thinks he’s about to kiss her, and the next he’s cold as ice.
It doesn’t matter what he is
, she reminded herself.
He’s just some guy on a plane.

They ate lunch in isolated silence, and then she resumed her emails while he viewed his fourth movie of the day. There were several times she felt as if she were being watched, but when she looked up at Chad, his eyes were on his monitor and everyone else in first class seemed to be occupied with their own isolated lives. A man who wasn’t in first class came through the aisle to use the forward toilet. When he returned, he paused before passing them. Carla was certain it was Chad and not herself who had caught the man’s attention. Still, she couldn’t help but feel something was wrong about him.

After he left, she noticed the flight attendant followed him through the curtains. A moment later, the attendant returned and leaned over to speak in a soft voice to Carla. “Did he bother you?”

“No, he just stopped and stared. Why do you ask?”

“I caught him in the attendants’ station. I think he was looking for the manifest. I could be wrong, but I’ve asked the flight attendants in business class to make sure no more passengers come up here.”

“Thank you.”

“Also, the airport notified the captain that there’s a large group of reporters waiting for this plane.” She smiled. “It could be for either of you, but I thought you’d like to know.”

“Hopefully, it’s him,” she whispered.

Chad’s eyes opened. “Hopefully, it’s not,” he murmured.

The flight attendant smiled. “Security is prepared to escort you to your cars.”

Carla had a better plan. “Actually, I plan to blend in with the crowd and get out with the college students in the back.”

The woman studied her for a moment and smiled. “It should work. I wouldn’t have recognized you if I hadn’t read your name on the manifest.” Turning to Chad, her smile widened. “You, on the other hand, are completely recognizable. So I’m sure you’ll need some assistance.”

***

Chad wished security weren’t necessary. But he knew all too well from past experience that fans were unpredictable and sometimes dangerous.

He looked at Carla, now more curious than ever. As the wheels touched down and the plane taxied to the gate, he held out his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, whoever you are.”