Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Maisey Yates

  Amelia, not one to wait, had come out of her house and was standing on the sidewalk. Julian hopped out of the car and pulled her into a hug. “What are you doing? I was going to ring your doorbell like a proper gentleman.”

  “You’re no gentleman,” Amelia said. Turning to Pete, she said, “And you’re parked near the hydrant.”

  “Leave the man alone,” Julian said. “I can afford the ticket.”

  “You’ll get towed! Can you afford the aggravation?”

  Amelia looked the same as she did when he last visited, five years earlier. Her fine features were bracketed with deep and fine lines, but she was still as vibrant and energetic.

  “All right, then, why are we wasting time? Let’s get out of here before the tow truck arrives.”

  * * *

  At the orchid market, Nina stayed behind with Pete, allowing Julian and Amelia to wander the stalls alone and catch up for a bit. The market was a field large enough to land a helicopter but dense with palms and bamboo. She leaned against the car and watched him assist the older woman, her frail hand locked in a death grip around his thick forearm. Nina was inexplicably moved.

  Pete had gone off to buy refreshments, and he returned with chilled bottles of water. “Mr. Knight says you’re an old friend. How far back do you go? Since before he was famous?”

  “Not that far back,” Nina said.

  “I read that he and his girlfriend broke up.”

  Nina took a sip of water. She didn’t like the turn of the conversation. She supposed anyone who’d stood in a supermarket checkout line had read all the details of the Julian and Bettina seismic split. Still, she was not going to discuss it with Pete.

  “If you’re going to make a move, now is the time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just saying.”

  Nina went still. Back home in the city, she could silence a chatty cab driver with one sharp glance before things went too far—and things had officially gone too far.

  “I think it’s time to catch up with Julian and Amelia.”

  Nina slipped on her dark glasses and marched down the makeshift aisles lined with tables crammed with orchids in various state of bloom. The Florida heat weighed on her shoulders like a damp blanket. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and glanced over her shoulder to check on Pete. He was on his phone, his back to her. The feeling persisted. And then she caught it—the flash of a camera.

  A photographer was hiding behind a cluster of palms, camera lens pointed at Julian and Amelia. She stiffened with anger, torn between wanting to attack the photographer and rushing over to shield Julian from view. The flash of the camera snapped her out of her inertia. She ran to Julian.

  At her approach, he held up a potted orchid with milk-white petals peppered with purple dots and a splash of yellow. “Look what we got.”

  “It’s a Mystic Isle,” Amelia said. “My favorite.”

  “Lovely!” Nina took care to position herself in the photographer’s line of sight, obscuring his shot. Under normal circumstances, she would have found this exchange about flowers delightful, but unfortunately some shady paparazzo was documenting every second. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm this, and the flash went off again in the distance.

  Nina waited until Amelia was out of earshot to alert Julian, out of fear of rattling the older woman. Even though, to be fair, Amelia did not seem like the type of woman who was easily rattled.

  “Listen up,” she said. “There’s a photographer in the bushes. Twelve o’clock.”

  Julian wasn’t rattled in the least. “I spotted him a while ago, and that’s six o’clock. Not twelve.”

  “Who cares about his coordinates?” Nina snapped. “This is still a gross invasion of privacy.”

  “I’m used to it,” he said. “Did you fly across the field to protect me?”

  “I… I…” Irritation and embarrassment clogged Nina’s throat. She was not so jaded to shrug off the presence of a lurking photographer.

  Julian pinched her cheek. “You’re a true friend, Nina.”

  Amelia returned with two more plants. “I’m done. We should go now. I’ll get dizzy in this heat.”

  Nina was relieved. They didn’t have to kick the photographer’s ass, but they also didn’t have to linger and give him a show.

  * * *

  Paparazzi presence at the orchid field had pissed Julian off—and justifiably so. He’d played it down to reassure Nina, who’d seemed genuinely upset. Plus he hadn’t wanted to rattle poor Amelia. As to be expected, Katia wasted no time calling. They were on their way back to the hotel when his phone rang.

  “Here’s a tweet for you,” Kat said. She went on to read it, hashtags and all, adding emphasis wherever needed for drama. “‘Shelve this under #shamelessactsofselfpromotion: JLK buys a little old lady a bunch of flowers then helps her across the street. Like…really? That’s piling it on thick! So now he suddenly respects women? #notbuyingit #RescueMeJLK is a sham.’”

  Julian switched the phone from one ear to the other. “Thanks for the update. You don’t have to call for every little thing, you know.”

  “You’re wrong!” she exclaimed. “This is major. I love where you’re going with this.”

  “Not going anywhere with anything,” Julian said. “I took a family friend on an outing.”

  “You saved a cat. You saved a drowning girl. You helped a little old lady across the street. See a pattern yet?”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “That’s gold! That photo of you kneeling before the little girl is the kind of thing that rehabs an image. You can’t buy that kind of publicity.”

  “Clearly, not everyone is buying it.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We need the naysayers. They’re useful.”

  He looked over to Nina, a potted white orchid on her lap. At some point, she’d gathered her hair in a knot on top of her head. He wished he could snap a picture of her. “Katy Kat, I’ve got to go.”

  “Sure, but do me one favor—think up some more heroics. Let’s get #RescueMeJLK trending.”

  “All right. Hanging up now.”

  He ended the call and tossed the phone from one hand to another, hot potato style.

  “Everything okay?” Nina asked.

  He’d let her decide. He searched for the tweet and showed it to her.

  “Wow, that was fast,” she said.

  The attached photo showed Julian carrying a cardboard box overflowing with paper-white orchids. Amelia walked beside him, her arm linked around his. Nina walked a step ahead, leading the way. He loved the way she walked—always light on her feet and with those long, sure strides.

  He’d helped Amelia carry the flowers to the car, but it was Nina who paid attention to her lengthy instructions on how best to graft an orchid onto a tree. Back at Amelia’s house, Nina ate most of the ackee and salt fish that she’d prepared for him. When he protested, she reminded him that he was a vegetarian.

  “Mostly vegetarian.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I eat most of this.”

  He smiled remembering the afternoon. Just as he’d predicted, Nina had made his day better. Still, she wasn’t over the incident.

  “Is it normal for paparazzi to follow you around like this?” she asked.

  “Not lately.”

  “Hmm…” She pulled out her own phone and tapped on the screen. “You’re gonna eat those words.”

  The words were spoken in Julian’s voice, but an octave lower and without a trace of a British accent. The musical score to Thunder swelled in the car. Nina turned ashen and stabbed the phone screen with her fingers, desperate to silence it.

  Julian let out a shout. Kat, the tweet and the meddlesome paparazzi were forgotten. “Naughty Nina Taylor, what have you been up to? Are you binge-watching me?”

&nb
sp; “Don’t flatter yourself!” she said. “Thought I’d get familiar with your work. That’s all.”

  “In that case…” He pulled up her audiobook, and her words flowed from his phone. “My mother played dress up and make-believe for a living. She wore makeup and costumes and performed on stage. We did not go to church. On Sunday mornings, when she wasn’t performing, we attended matinees.”

  “Oh, God, no!”

  She ripped off her seat belt and lunged forward to wrestle the phone from his hand. He let her exhaust herself awhile, holding his phone out of her reach, just to enjoy the feel of her body. Her top might as well have been cut out of tissue paper. He felt everything, and everything felt wonderful. Her round breasts crushed against his chest, her bare thigh slid against his.

  “Settle down,” he murmured in her ear. “And buckle up. Safety first.”

  She moved away from him, her cheeks flushed. When she was settled, she returned her attention to the orchid, the only near casualty of their tussle. A long time passed before she spoke up. “I don’t think you play make-believe for a living. I have a lot of respect for the profession.”

  Warmth spread through Julian’s chest. “I knew that,” he said. Although it was good to hear her say it.

  “In those early journals, I’m such a brat,” she said. “I went on and on about how horrible it was to be the daughter of a struggling actress. Only it wasn’t so bad. It was special and unique, and I wouldn’t trade it for some cookie-cutter upbringing in the suburbs.”

  “Did your mother have a chance to read it?” he asked.

  She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t have to tell you that she hated it. She thought it tarnished her image, and she’s probably right. Then she died before I got a chance to publish anything else. Now my publisher wants another memoir, and I can’t bring myself to do it.”

  Julian wished they could get to the hugging stage of this relationship, because he desperately wanted to pull her close. “Hey, listen,” he said. “Your mother wasn’t objective. You do a good job showing her humanity.”

  “She didn’t want to be human, Julian. She wanted to be a star.”

  “Stars burn out.”

  She turned to him, eyes brimming with questions. Good thing Pete pulled up to the gates of Sand Castle. Julian helped Nina step out of the car, hyperaware of the glances and phones angled their way. He rested a hand on the small of her back and ushered her up the stone steps and into the courtyard, heading toward the lift.

  “I smell like a horse,” he said, close to her ear. “Shopping for flowers is hard work.”

  “I smell like roses,” she said.

  “Of course.”

  “But I’m grimy,” she admitted.

  “I’ll race you to the shower.”

  “You can have the shower,” she said. “I want to soak in a bath.”

  The front desk clerk chased them down. “Ms. Taylor! Wait! There’s news!”

  Nina turned to him expectantly. Julian had a feeling that he wouldn’t like the news. When the doors to the lift parted, he wanted to stuff Nina inside.

  “Your room will be available in the morning. I wanted to tell you myself.”

  Nina cleared her throat. “That’s great. Thanks.”

  On the ride up, her mood flattened. She stood fussing with the plant.

  Julian leaned against the back wall. “If this is going to be our last night as roommates, maybe we should order in.”

  She looked up at him. The spark had returned. “I’d like that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nina woke up alone in the large bed. The note on the pillow beside her was short. Morning workout—J.

  The night before, she and Julian had stayed up late. He’d recommended they watch Thunder on a large screen in high definition and with surround sound. “It’s not the type of movie you can watch on your phone.”

  They ordered dinner, tossed silk pillows and a blanket onto the antique rug, and camped out on the bedroom floor. They watched the movie, and when the credits rolled, Nina grabbed the remote control and hit Pause.

  “Straight talk?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s not trash.”

  “Think so?” He stretched out on the pillows. “That’s a three-star review in my book.”

  “And you’re hot in it,” she said. “Really, really hot.”

  His eyes flashed. “Are you trying to start something tonight?”

  “Only a conversation,” she said. Although she couldn’t deny that being this close to him sent waves of warmth through her body. “Ever heard of the Bechdel test? Two named female characters in a film discuss something—anything—other than a man.”

  “I’ve heard of it. I’m not a caveman,” he said. “And I know it doesn’t apply here.”

  “How could it? None of your female characters have names.” Nina pointed to the screen frozen on the list of characters by order of appearance. “Girl in Yellow Bikini… Ferrari Girl… Casino Girl Number One… Casino Girl Number Two… Girl at the Bar… All you’re missing is the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!”

  Julian doubled over with laughter. His T-shirt bunched up to reveal a patch of taut brown skin. Nina sat on her hands to keep from reaching out and discovering more.

  “Now repeat after me,” she said. “Representation matters!”

  “Don’t blame me. I had no say in the matter.”

  “But you were the star!”

  Nina would not let him off the hook. Some actors had inclusion clauses in their contracts to improve representation of women and minorities on film sets.

  “I got the job because I looked the part,” he said. “If I made noise, they’d have kicked me off the project. I was no one and I had zero clout. I got that job on my headshot alone.”

  “Really?”

  He winked. “It was a good headshot.”

  Such a modest man! “Okay, but later—”

  “Later, the criticism caught up with them. That’s when they brought in Bettina to play a computer scientist.”

  Nina reached for her glass of wine and took a swallow. “And that’s where they went wrong. The one woman with any agency is a computer scientist in a film populated with assassins and criminal masterminds. What’s lacking is a female crime lord, assassin, bomb expert… You know…the type of character that is central to the plot.”

  His expression clouded over, and Nina knew she’d touched on something. “Aha! I love it when I’m right!”

  He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. “What do you love about it? The ego boost?”

  “Maybe,” Nina replied in a whisper. “You may not be the only egomaniac at the Sand Castle.”

  They’d stayed up late, talking. But in the morning, she awoke in bed, on her side of the pillow partition, with no idea on how she’d gotten there.

  The lines were blurring fast.

  * * *

  “We serve breakfast anywhere. Our guests love to lounge by the pool.”

  “Where would I go if I wanted to avoid the guests?”

  “The rooftop deck is deserted at this hour.”

  “So that’s where I’ll be.”

  Nina took a stack of magazines up to the roof. An attendant promptly brought her a mimosa and a platter of fruit. She took a seat at an umbrella table with a view of the pool. Just as she got settled, her phone chimed with a text message.

  Hey there! Just checking in.

  It was her cousin Valerie Pierre. She never checked in; they weren’t close. Valerie was the one relative on her father’s side whose contact information she’d bothered to save. Nina’s parents were only together long enough to conceive her. They were two New Jersey kids who met, predictably enough, at a party in the city. Her mother was the aspiring actress who’d caught the acti
ng bug from performing in church. Her father was the son of practical-minded Haitian immigrants, who dreamed of writing poetry. Nina’s mother had never encouraged her writing; it was the one obvious trait she’d inherited from her father.

  The timing of the text was suspect. Her cousin lived somewhere in South Florida—that much Nina knew. If she’d kept up with celebrity gossip this past weekend, it was possible that she’d spotted Nina in a viral video or two.

  Enough! Just answer the message!

  Nina had the terrible habit of overthinking everything. It was just a text, and Valerie had always been friendly. Nina thought of an appropriate answer and riddled it with exclamation points. Hey there! All is good!! Happy holiday weekend!!!

  The response came quick.

  I know it’s a difficult time for you… With the anniversary and all.

  Nina read the message a few times. It was possible that her cousin was checking in out of sincere concern. Why hadn’t she considered that? Her eyes glazed with tears as she punched a response. Yes… Thank you.

  Of course! We’re family. Call me whenever. Okay?

  Nina set the phone aside and gazed down at the pool, seeing it for the first time without the hordes of partygoers. The word pool was deceptive, evoking the smoke of coal barbecues, overcooked burgers and cheap beer. This wasn’t so much a pool but the fountain of youth hidden in a garden of tropical flowers. The morning sun beat down on the diamond-clear surface. The surrounding grounds were immaculate. Grassy patches were cut into geometric shapes and laid out like stained glass. Where vegetation lacked it was hand-painted onto the walls. A half a dozen guests were lounging half-naked on sun beds, working off hangovers or working on their tans. The men came in all shapes, colors and sizes. The women were uniformly slim. They offered their bikini-clad bodies to the sun but kept their faces hidden under wide-brimmed hats. There were no kids among them. Sand Castle had a no-child policy, solidifying its reputation as an adult playground.

  Nina hummed a tune. Heaven. I’m in heaven.

  A man peeled himself off a bed and made his way to the edge of the pool. He dived in and swam a lap in slow, smooth strokes. He moved freely, as if he didn’t feel the weight of the eyes pinned on him, and climbed out the other end. Water swirled down his broad back and golden-brown limbs.