Gemma Halliday - Undercover In High Heels

The third book in the Maddie Springer series, 2007

Wait, Chad, dont leave. II have something to tell you.

After all your lies and deception, theres nothing you can possibly say to make me stay now, Ashley.

Chad, please! You know I love you. I only did what I had to to keep us together. Besides, you cant go nowIm carrying your baby!

I gasped, grabbing another handful of popcorn as the TV switched to a deodorant commercial.

Oh my freaking God, the baby is the gardeners? my best friend Dana shouted from the sofa beside me. Her husband is gonna freaking flip.

Dont worry, I said, taking a sip of Diet Coke. Hes still in that coma, remember? Hell never know.

Oh, right. I missed that episode. So does that mean the lady who hit him with the car went to jail?

I shook my head. No, her husband blackmailed the DA to get the charges dropped, but only if she checked herself into rehab. But instead of going to rehab, she shacked up with her sisters husband at his place on the lake.

Oooooooh, Dana said. So thats why the sister is poisoning the husband.

I nodded. Shhh, its back on.

Dana and I went silent, our eyes glued to the screen as Chad and Ashley fell into a passionate embrace. Im not ashamed to admit it: I was seriously hooked on this show. Magnolia Lane was the hottest prime-time soap to hit the airwaves since Brandon and Brenda moved to the 90210, and I was powerless against its junk-TV spell.

My cell rang from my purse.

Youre ringing, Dana said.

I waved it off. Commercial, I mumbled around a bite of popcorn, my eyes glued to the screen as Chad asked Ashley just how sure she was that the baby was his and not her comatose husbands. While, of course, Ashleys nosy neighbor listened at the bedroom door, catching the whole conversation.

Just as they switched to a shot of Ashleys husband in the coma ward, my purse rang again.

You sure you shouldnt get that? Dana asked.

I shook my head. Are you kidding? Ashleys husband is about to wake up.

I ignored the William Tell Overture trilling from the region of my Kate Spade, instead grabbing another handful of popcorn as Nurse Nan leaned over the comatose Preston Francis Barton III. Considering she was his wifes secret evil twin sister, I figured we were in for two options: she was either going to smother him or pull the plug.

She leaned in closer. Her hands reached for the plug.

Dana and I did a collective gasp.

Then the screen went to a life-insurance commercial featuring a baby boomer in leather pants air-guitaring a Jimi Hendrix song.

I hate it when they do that! Dana said, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen. Hers, of course, was minus the butter, oil, fat, salt, and flavor. Dana was an aerobics instructor-slash-wannabe actress with the kind of curves that caused car crashes on the PCH. Her body was a temple. Mine, on the other hand, required regular sacrifices from the natives of Double Stuf Oreos, cheeseburgers, and popcorn with lots of bright yellow butter flavoring made of ingredients I couldnt pronounce. My theory? As long as my favorite Cavalli jeans still fit, I was doing okay. (Fine, so they were a little snug around the waist lately, but I could still zip them up!)

While Dana tossed another kernel of popcorn at the television, I reached into my purse and checked my cell readout. Two missed calls. Both from the same number, one that had me doing a little happy squirm in my seat. Ramirez.

Detective Jack Ramirez was not only the LAPDs hottest cop, but as of last fall he was also mine. All mine.

Okay, so he hadnt exactly officially said that I was his girlfriend yet, but Im pretty sure that just last week he used the words girl and friend in the same sentence. Which was a start. Ramirez wasnt exactly your typical happily-ever-after material. He was a homicide detective with a very large gun, a very large tattoo, and some very dangerous moves in the bedroom. More of a bad-boy Russell Crowe than a home-and-hearth Ward Cleaver. Not, mind you, that I was complaining. (See bedroom reference above.)

We were supposed to meet for drinks or something after he got off shift. Me, I was wearing a black lace Vickys Secret thong under my capris in hopes of the or something.

I keyed in my PIN number and waited for my messages while the Magnolia Lane theme song played and credits rolled over a backdrop of manicured lawns and a picture-perfect neighborhood.

Hey, Maddie, its me, came Ramirezs voice. Listen, something came up. Ive got to meet someone at the Cabana Club, so I cant get together later after all. Sorry. Ill call you tomorrow.

Great.

Ramirezs fatal flaw, as you may have noticed, was his tendency to make and break plans. Or, worse yet, not make them at all. Even though I was seconds away from actual girlfriend status, I hadnt seen Ramirez since last Friday night, when dinner and a movie at City Walk had turned into appetizers and me in a cab when he got a call about a gang shooting in Compton. And now, true to form, he was blowing off our or something again. I narrowed my eyes at my cell, wondering what kind of someone he was meeting instead.

Whats up? Dana asked, watching my face fall.

Ramirez. Hes canceling on me. Again.

What, again? Dana asked, voicing my thoughts.

I know! He said he has to meet someone. What does that mean?

Dana shrugged. I dunno. She popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

I mean, are we talking a work-related someone or a personal someone? Cause if its a personal some-one, why not just ask them to join us for drinks? Why cancel on me? What, is he ashamed of me? He doesnt want his friends to meet me? Thats bad, isnt it? It means something really bad. Hes having second thoughts about this whole relationship thing, isnt he? I knew it. I knew it wouldnt last. I knew hed never settle down. I mean, not that Im asking him to settle down. Oh God, do you think he thinks I want him to settle down? Is that it? Am I smothering him? Am I too needy? Im not too needy, am I?

Whoa. Take a breath, Gilmore Girl. No wonder he needs a night off.

Dana was right; I was beginning to hyperventilate.

Look, hes probably just out with the guys or something tonight. You know how those cops are. Its a total boys club.

Youre right. I took a deep breath. Right. He probably just needs a night out with the guys. Its not that he doesnt want to be with me. I mean, of course he wants to be with me. Why wouldnt he want to be with me? Im so not smothery. I paused. But, just in case, how about we go on a double date this weekend?

Dana shot me a look. Double date?

Its way harder to smother someone on a double date. Besides, itll be fun. Me and Ramirez, you and I paused, unsure which flavor of the month Dana was presently working her way through. As much as I loved my best friend, even I had to admit she had an uncanny ability to pick men destined for short-term romances. Case in point, her last boyfriend, Rico, a self-proclaimed urban soldier whod ended up joining a group of mercenaries in Afghanistan searching for the last remnants of the Taliban. Dana was still nursing a sore ego at being dumped for a bunch of dusty caves halfway around the world.

She bit her lip as a little frown settled between her strawberry-blonde brows. Sorry, Maddie, I cant do a double date.