Entangled Hearts (2 page)

Her father had cheated and added insult to injury by leaving his wife and two young daughters with nothing so that he could live with the other woman. But that hadn't stopped Chynna's mother from working hard to ensure that she and her sister, Kenya, had the best in life. When Chynna wanted singing lessons, her mother worked an extra shift. When Kenya wanted acting lessons, her mother worked double shifts. Nothing had been out of reach for her two girls. That's why being a successful R&B singer and now an actress was so important to Chynna—because she'd come from nothing.

Kenya hadn't fared as well as Chynna with her ambitions. She was a struggling actress on an acclaimed cable dramedy series, but she hadn't made “that big break” into the movies yet. Chynna felt guilty that she'd been given the coveted role in her new film when Kenya was the better actress.

But this bad press was not good for her image
or
the movie.
Damn that Blake!
She was no more interested in him than in any of the other would-be suitors Eli had put in front of her. The man she really wanted was Lucas Kingston.

Now him, she wouldn't mind being accused of having an affair with. That man turned her on all kinds of crazy. He exuded a certain male aura of swagger and confidence that Chynna found hard to resist. But resist he had. Despite her best efforts to seduce Lucas, he'd shown absolutely zero interest in her, and that perplexed and surprised Chynna. She was used to men and even women of all races and ages fawning all over her, but Lucas was the one person who could care less about her fame and fortune, which was why she was so upset by this Blake incident.

Lucas would not be pleased to see his most famous—or was that
infamous
? —star on the covers of the news magazines in a compromising position. She wanted to convince Lucas she was more than just a pretty face with big boobs and long legs who pranced around on stage and in music videos. She wanted him to see she was a smart, capable business woman and aspiring actress.

No such luck. Chynna threw down one of the weekly tabloids in a huff and strolled out onto the balcony of her estate. She wanted to strangle the bastard for ruining her otherwise pristine reputation. Sure, she was known for her sexy clothes and her endless parade of boyfriends, but
homewrecker
? Chynna thought about going over to Blake's condo and giving him a piece of her mind, but that would only add fuel to the fire. The press was already camped out on her doorstep. If her car as so much went in that direction, the TMZs and other reporters would be on her Jeep so fast she'd probably get in a wreck trying to escape them and that she didn't need … then it dawned on her.

She needed her twin. Kenya would be able to calm her frayed nerves and offer her some words of wisdom. Kenya had always been the levelheaded one, and Chynna prayed today would be no different. She rushed back inside, grabbed her iPhone and threw herself down on the king-sized, four-poster canopy bed in her master bedroom.

Chynna dialed Kenya's cell, praying her sister would pick up.

“Hello.”

“It's me.”

“Chynna, how are you, twinie?” Kenya said. At the euphemism that only Kenya used, Chynna smiled, and instantly, her heart softened.

“Hey, twinie.”

“I suppose you're calling because of the press?” Kenya surmised.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kenya laughed heartily into the phone. “I know you better than anyone else and your face,
our
face, is all over TV and the Internet. People in the grocery store were giving me the stank eye. An old lady came up to me today while I was standing in line paying for my purchases and hit me with her handbag and told me ‘Shame on you.'”

Chynna sighed. “I am so sorry, sis, to put you in the middle of this.”

“Yeah, well, people sometimes forget that you have an identical twin,” Kenya replied. “I guess when you're on a small-time TV show that no one watches, you're invisible.” She laughed bitterly.

“But it's such a good show,” Chynna said.

“That no one is watching,” Kenya repeated. “But enough about me. How the hell did you get yourself into this mess?”

“It's stupid, really,” Chynna said. “I was talking with Blake and lamenting how bad I was at acting, and he tried to comfort me.”

“You don't say?”

“Don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you,” Chynna returned. “Anyway, here I was all down-and-out, and he plants a kiss on me that the paparazzi just happened to catch on film.”

“Oh Lord, so what are you going to do?”

“Lay low,” Chynna replied, “until the heat dies down.”

“As if that's possible, Chynna. You're the most well-known singer in the country right now. Your last five singles have hit number one on the Billboard charts. Everyone knows you.”

“Doesn't matter,” Chynna said, sitting up quickly on her bed. “I have to get out of Dodge and quick. I was thinking about going to that spa you wanted to go to last year for our birthday that I had to bail on.”

“I don't know,” Kenya said skittishly.

Chynna could completely understand. She'd felt terrible about canceling their birthday plans for a last-minute gig on the Oscars. Their first-choice singer turned up ill, and Eli and even Lucas had insisted she perform. “This is a great opportunity to cement yourself as here to stay. You have to strike while the iron is hot and take your fifteen minutes of fame,” Lucas had said.

Chynna wanted more than fifteen minutes. She wanted a long career like Whitney or Mariah. So she'd canceled the day before she and Kenya were due to meet at Canyon Ranch spa in Arizona. Kenya had been furious with her and hadn't spoken to her for weeks, even after Chynna had sent her the new Louis Vuitton purse and matching luggage. Kenya had returned it unopened and told her she couldn't buy her forgiveness.

“I promise this won't be like before,” Chynna pleaded.

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Kenya replied tartly.

Her words stung, but Chynna took them in stride. “And you're right, but I'm telling you, twinie, I can't take this. My house is besieged. They're probably going through my garbage as we speak, trying to find some evidence of a supposed affair, and if they can't find that, they'll fabricate it. I need you, Kenya.”

Kenya must have heard the desperation in Chynna's voice because she relented. “Alright, alright,” she said. “I'll come with you. When do we leave?”

“I don't think this is a wise decision,” Deacon said later that day when Chynna informed him of her decision as she packed her Louis Vuitton suitcases. “I think you need to stay in town and fight. You need to meet with Oprah or sit down with one of the morning shows and tell your side of things before this story spirals out of control.”

“I agree with Deacon on this,” Chynna's publicist, Fiona, said. “We're in major damage control.”

Fiona was a slender redhead with brilliant blue eyes. She wore nothing but designer suits and had a fetish for Louboutin shoes and Brighton jewelry. She might seem unassuming at first glance, but when pushed, Fiona was a barracuda.

“Chynna, you know I'm not just your manager, but your friend, and this is serious,” Deacon started. “You're in the middle of your first movie role that hasn't even started filming yet. If you get caught in the middle of a scandal, they could rescind the offer.”

Chynna's eyes grew large with fear. “You really think they would do that?”

“Image is everything in this town,” Fiona said, backing up Deacon. “Some celebs have survived the scandal, but many others never recover.”

“And you have a morals clause in your contract,” Deacon added. “And we had to fight awfully hard to get you the role over other actresses.”

Chynna read between the lines of what Deacon
wasn't
saying. “You mean better actresses,” she stated.

Deacon shrugged.

Chynna couldn't be angry with him. From the beginning of their professional relationship, she'd always asked Deacon to be honest with her—brutally honest. And Deacon always did exactly that. He was right about her acting, but that didn't mean she didn't have to like it. “You may be right,” she finally said, “but I've made my decision.”

“What about the record label?” Deacon asked. “What do you suggest I tell them?”

“Nothing.”

“Excuse me?” Deacon peered at her.

“You heard right,” Chynna replied. “You work
for me
not them. I don't want them to know where I'm at. When this blows over in a couple of weeks, I'll come back and do as you suggest.”

“Lucas will not be happy about this.”

Chynna thought about the gorgeous music mogul and hated doing anything that would hinder her ultimate goal of being in his bed and on his arm. “I don't care, but you reveal my whereabouts to no one, including Lucas.”

Two hundred miles from Los Angeles in Tucson, Arizona, Noah Hart stared into the eyes of a stubborn Egyptian Arabian horse at his family's ranch. He'd been trying to tame the thoroughbred for weeks with no success. He reminded Noah of another stubborn female, Maya, the love of his life.

They'd met in the sixth grade when he'd walked her home from school after several boys teased her about being too much of a tomboy. Maya had loved doing anything a boy her age would and hadn't been afraid to show it. He'd always loved her fire and her spirit. She'd been ready to take on the three boys who'd teased her about not being able to spit or throw a fastball as fast as they did, but lucky for her, Noah had stepped in.

Maya hadn't been happy about the interference, just as this damn horse was not happy about being led by the bridle in
Noah's hands. “I don't need you to fight my battles” she'd said. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you could,” he'd countered. “But it's always nice to have backup.” She'd captured his heart and he'd been besotted with her until the day she died in a car accident that also claimed their unborn child.

Now, he stood ready for battle, ready to do anything to get this stubborn horse to conform.

“Noah, leave that horse be,” his sister, Rylee, said with a slight Southern drawl from the other side of the fence she was perched on. “He'll come to you when he's good and ready.”

“Stay out of this, Rylee. I can handle him,” he yelled over his back.

“Who's the vet in this scenario?” she responded tartly, reminding him that she had a degree in veterinarian medicine from Texas A & M University. But so what he didn't have some fancy degree?
He'd been working on the ranch since he was waist-high, following their father, Isaac, around, and learning the cattle and oil business. So there was nothing he didn't know about animals that Rylee could tell him, no matter how well- intentioned.

“That may very well be the case, doc, but I've got this. Why don't you go on and take care of that cow that's about to give birth to twin calves?”

“Humph.” He heard Rylee's comment as he dismissed her concerns, but she rightly knew when to press an issue and when to leave him alone.

It had been two years since Maya died, but Noah's nerves were still raw and testy. He couldn't believe God could be so cruel to take away the two things he loved more than anything or anyone in this world, save for his family and the ranch. It seemed like a cruel twist of fate to learn he'd lost Maya to brain death and that the baby's chances of making it to term were slim to none.

She'd been five months pregnant, and a fetus needed to be at least six months for any chance of survival outside the womb. The doctors had indicated they couldn't deliver the baby because it wouldn't survive. They'd kept Maya on ventilators for a week before she succumbed to her injuries and passed away just shy of six months when their son could have survived.

It had broken Noah's heart to lose them both, and he had yet to recover. He wondered if he would ever love another woman again.