by Nina Lindsey
Richard sighed. “The story doesn’t matter.”
“The story matters the most!”
“Look, the studio is already picking at my last offer because of the paparazzi mess,” Richard pointed out. “You can’t be bitching about the story. If we play this right, you’ll still get close to double what they gave you for Fatal Glory 6. Time to look into private island real estate.”
“I don’t want a private island.”
“Then you’re an idiot. I still think you should go hide out in some backwater shitsville instead of the town where you practically grew up, but I’m not going to fight about where you are as long as you stay there. You haven’t had any time off in…what, over ten years? Now’s your chance. Do some yoga, meditation, reading, whatever. No one except me knows you’re in Bliss Cove. Hell, no one would even believe it. Keep a low profile, don’t do anything stupid, and no one will find out.”
Jake let out a resigned breath. He stared at a seagull pecking at the sand outside. Gray clouds skimmed the horizon over the white-capped ocean and the long stretch of beach leading to the rocky cove. Lined with shops and restaurants, the boardwalk ran parallel to the water, the carnival rides and Ferris wheel silhouetted against the sky.
He’d been back in Bliss Cove for less than three days, and already he was restless, anxious for something to do. Something that didn’t involve contorting his body into a lotus position or trying to be one with the universe.
He knew he was lucky, far more so than most. He hated feeling guilty over wanting something different from what he already had—which was so much.
“You hear anything about Conrad Birch’s movie?” he asked.
Richard groaned. “You still stuck on that? I get it, man, but you gotta give it up. Birch has won three Oscars, including Best Director, and worked with all the major actors in town. The real actors. They all want the role of Tom Dillon. All of them.”
You don’t stand a chance.
Though Richard didn’t say the words, Jake heard them loud and clear. Hell, he’d been telling himself the same thing for the past three months, ever since Conrad Birch announced his search for the lead role in Truth, his upcoming movie about a Vietnam vet who leaves his job to embark on a road trip that ends up changing and healing him.
Jake had read both the novel and the screenplay of Truth at least half a dozen times. He knew Tom Dillon. He’d grown up with Tom Dillon—a restless, distant man who struggled to make connections with people.
But of course…Conrad Birch wanted a real actor to play Tom Dillon. Not the star of the Fatal Glory blockbusters with their multiple high-speed car chases and CGI explosions. And now, apparently, alien invasions and space-ray guns.
“Jake, we’re so close to finalizing the deal for Fatal Glory.” Richard’s voice rose with worried urgency. “Don’t screw it up by jonesing for a role in Conrad Birch’s next movie.”
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll lie low, but for no longer than a month.”
“Good.” His agent sounded satisfied, if still wary. “We’ll get on the tabloids and see what we can do to kill the assault story, or at least rework it in your favor. I’ll be in touch.”
The call ended. Jake tossed the phone onto the sofa and grabbed his camera.
Truth be told, there were far fewer desirable places to carry out a month-long undercover stint. The cottage was right on the beach, and the blue-and-white furnishings were both comfortable and appealing. It was the opposite of his cavernous Laurel Canyon mansion. If he let himself, he might even enjoy it.
If he’d do what he should—sign the contract for Fatal Glory 7 and forget any asinine ideas about working with acclaimed directors.
He eyed the thick encyclopedia of classic films lying on the coffee table. Yesterday as he’d been wandering around reacquainting himself with the town where he spent much of his childhood and teenage years, he’d ended up at the Bliss Cove Library. He’d moved away from the town right after high school, but he’d once been a frequent visitor to the library’s film and cinema collection.
He picked up the encyclopedia and leafed through it. The book brought back a memory of the woman he’d encountered in the elevator. In a straight brown skirt and plain beige sweater and blouse, she was the kind of strait-laced woman he might not have noticed if he’d passed her in the street.
But close-up in the elevator, her flustered disarray contrasting with her school-marm appearance had sent his thoughts straight into a sexy, dirty direction. Her brown hair had been escaping her bun, long tendrils curling around her swan-like neck.
Though her silk blouse had been buttoned up to her neck—fastened with an antique gold brooch, no less—the material draping over and enhancing her small, round breasts had made him wonder what she looked like naked. And her legs…when he’d gripped her ankle to dislodge her heel from the gap, it had taken all his willpower not to slide his hand up her shapely calf and under her skirt to…
Yeah. That would have gotten him arrested faster than the encounter with the fucking reporter.
He pulled on a hoodie, set his fake glasses on his nose, and headed outside. He’d known it would be dangerous to return to Bliss Cove—people here might recognize him, as she obviously had. While he could have hidden out in some Midwestern town where no one knew him, he needed to be in the surroundings where he’d lived the toughest, and most formative, years of his life.
But he didn’t want to scrutinize all the reasons that being in Bliss Cove was important to him. He was here now, and he’d stick it out until the end of the month. No longer.
No matter how much he couldn’t get the woman from the elevator out of his head.
Jake left the cottage and walked several blocks to downtown Bliss Cove, pausing to take both still shots and video of anything that caught his eye—a passing cat swishing its black tail, a flag rippling in the breeze, a bed of colorful flowers.
As he approached downtown and Starfish Avenue, the beach cottages gave way to brick and stone buildings housing the places he remembered from his youth. The Antique Attic, Ruby’s Kitchen, Java Beans, the Mousehole Tavern—home of Bliss Cove’s world-famous artichoke soup—and even Metalworks Hardware where he’d once had a part-time job.
The streets converged at Bliss Cove Square, a large gazebo surrounded by a manicured lawn, trees, and flowerbeds. Several pedestrians wandered in and out of the shops on the side streets.
Though he wore a dark blond wig to cover his hair and had shaved off the scruffy stubble that made him so recognizable as the heroic Blaze Ripley, Jake was no longer certain his disguise would hold. If the woman in the elevator had thought he looked familiar…
She’d looked familiar too. He shouldn’t have been surprised—of course, he was bound to run into people he once knew. But when he’d decided to hide out in Bliss Cove, he’d planned to keep to himself and avoid too much interaction.
He couldn’t place her, but he also couldn’t imagine not remembering her. He’d never have forgotten her fine, delicate features, her slender body or those chocolate-brown eyes that had regarded him with both curiosity and wariness.
Not that it mattered. He could find out who she was just by looking at the Skyline College Classics department website, but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t here to seek out a woman, no matter how much she’d intrigued him.
He scratched the edge of the itchy wig, skimming his gaze over the storefronts clustered around a cobblestone courtyard with a little fountain in the middle. The name Sugar Joy Bakery was etched on the windows of the largest building. Round tables and chairs sat in the weather-beaten courtyard amidst terracotta flowerpots.
Sugar Joy. He’d forgotten about the bakery until now.
After crossing the street, he pulled open the door. A waft of fresh baked bread and croissants filled his nose. Patrons sat at the tables inside, which was a warm haven of polished wood, flourishing green plants, and glass cases displaying countless pastries and treats.
How many times
had he and his friends stopped here on their way home from school to scarf down cookies and chocolates? His mother had brought home Sugar Joy muffins whenever she could afford a dozen, and Jake couldn’t remember a Christmas when they hadn’t had a Sugar Joy chocolate-peppermint cake for dessert.
“Morning.” A young woman wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt straightened from putting a cake into the cold case, her wavy black hair swinging in a ponytail. “What can I get for you?”
Jake stared at her for a second. He knew her from somewhere too. Were the women of his past coming back to haunt him?
No, wait a second. Aside from the bright red lipstick and black hair, she resembled the woman from the elevator—similar features and thick-lashed eyes…
She met his gaze, her eyebrows raised expectantly. Turning away, Jake studied the cookie display.
“Do you still have those cookies with all that stuff in them? Peanut butter, butterscotch, chocolate chips, toffee…they were the size of saucers.”
“Chaos Cookies.” She slid open the cookie case and pointed to a tray on the bottom shelf. “They’re one of our bestsellers.”
“Awesome. I’ll take one…no, two.”
“Sorry, this is our last one.” She held up the cookie with a rueful smile of apology. “We have plenty of other kinds, though.”
“No, just the cookie and a large coffee, please.” Digging into his jeans pocket, he approached the register.
She placed the Chaos Cookie on a plate and turned to pour a coffee. “So you’ve obviously been here before, if you know about our cookies.”
Too late, Jake realized his mistake. “Uh, yeah. It’s just been awhile.”
“Welcome back, then.” She set an earthenware mug on the counter and rang up the purchase.
Who was she? She didn’t seem to recognize him, at least.
He handed her a twenty and waved off her attempt to give him change. After taking the plate and mug to a table by the window, he set his camera down and pulled his phone from his pocket. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find out who the woman from the elevator was, since he wouldn’t see her again.
He found the Skyline College Classics department website and searched through the biographies and photos of professors. There was only one photo of a woman on the faculty page. Her hair was scraped away from her face, her serious expression mitigated by a slight smile.
Dr. Calista Prescott.
Jake swallowed a sudden laugh. Callie Prescott. I’ll be damned.
Memories flooded back to him, as if a dam had broken. They’d been in the same graduating class, though not in the same social circle. He’d hung out with both athletes and theater kids.
Callie had been neither—she’d been a hardcore, all-business AP student who spent lunchtime reading thick books and working on extra credit projects. Not surprisingly, she’d also been the class valedictorian. A crazy intelligent overachiever, she’d been intimidating to most students, if not exactly popular.
According to the webpage bio, she’d earned her undergrad degree from Stanford and her PhD from Harvard before she’d been hired at Skyline College.
Callie Prescott. Her mother had owned Sugar Joy…and it looked like the bakery was still in the family, since the girl behind the counter had to be one of her sisters.
Intense curiosity rose in him. When had Callie come back to Bliss Cove after university? Where did she live now? Was she married? If not, did she have a boyfriend?
Smothering the thoughts, he turned his attention to his coffee and cookie. He couldn’t fixate on her, no matter how badly he wanted the answers to those questions.
He took a bite of the Chaos Cookie and almost groaned aloud with pleasure. He’d had cookies all over the world, baked by renowned top pastry chefs, and not one compared to the Sugar Joy Chaos Cookie. How could he have forgotten this heaven existed?
He crunched into the cookie again and reached for the coffee. He could come here every day, if he wanted to. Between Sugar Joy and his rediscovery of Callie, his self-imposed exile in Bliss Cove was looking much brighter. Taking another bite, he closed his eyes and chewed.
A little shriek followed by a crash shattered his pleasure.
His eyes flew open. A woman in her sixties with short blond hair—Mrs. Prescott, the bakery owner—stood right next to his table, a tray dangling from her hand. The broken shards of a ceramic teapot and cup lay at her feet. The other patrons were all looking in their direction.
Panic flickered in Jake’s gut. Ducking his head, he slipped from the chair and crouched to pick up the broken ceramic.
Mrs. Prescott knelt beside him, her stare riveted to his face. Around them, the conversation and noise of the bakery resumed as people appeared to attribute her shriek to alarm over the broken pot.
“Oh my God.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s you.”
Well, shit.
Less than three days in and already his cover was blown.
Chapter 4
“Excuse me?” Jake forced out a tight smile as he continued picking up the ceramic pieces.
A bad wig and glasses weren’t enough. He should have asked his make-up artist friend Renaldo to give him a prosthetic nose or contact lenses that would change his eye color.
“I know I’m not your target demographic, but I am a huge fan of the Fatal…” Mrs. Prescott clamped a hand over her mouth, her gaze darting to the other patrons.
“Sorry, ma’am, just here for a cookie.” He tossed the teapot shards onto the tray and stood, keeping his face averted from the main part of the room. “Hope this wasn’t an heirloom.”
“I just realized…” She moved closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re in disguise. Are you prepping for a role?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“My dear boy, I’ve lived in this town almost my whole life.” She picked up the tray, eyeing him closely. “I remember all the kids my daughters went to high school with, especially one who’s now the biggest—”
“Mrs. Prescott.” Tension crawled over Jake’s spine. He gripped her arm. “Can we talk in private?”
“We certainly can. Bring your coffee and cookie.”
He picked up his plate and cup, then followed her through the bakery kitchen and into an office at the back. After locking the door with a snap, she faced him. She gave him a once-over, her hazel eyes sharp and penetrating.
“Jake Ryan.” She crossed her arms and nodded. “If that’s not you behind that terrible wig and glasses, then I’ll never bake another Chaos Cookie again.”
A laugh burst out of him. Setting the plate and his camera on the desk, he sank onto a chair and ran his hand over his jaw. “Please don’t do that. The world would be a much darker place without your Chaos Cookies.”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You used to gobble down three or four at a time, if I remember correctly.”
“You do. I was really glad to discover Sugar Joy is still here. It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Prescott.”
“Eleanor, please. I’m thrilled to see you again, Jake. I meant it when I said I’m a huge fan of Fatal Glory, though I still think Blaze Ripley was an idiot for going after Thorn without checking his voicemail. I mean, Clara told him in the message that Thorn had the code, and if Blaze had known that, he wouldn’t have ended up dangling off the side of a skyscraper.”
Jake chuckled. “We wouldn’t have had that great action scene either.”
“True.” She acknowledged that with a nod. “When did you get back?”
“A few days ago.” He twisted his head to the side to ease his tension and took off his fake glasses. “No one knows I’m here…or at least, they’re not supposed to.”
“Hmm.” She flicked her gaze upward. “Then you’d better do something about your wig because it’s a dead giveaway. The glasses threw me off for a minute, but there’s no mistaking your eyes. What are you doing here?”
“Long story.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he let out a sigh. “We’
re in negotiations for another Fatal Glory movie, and I’ve had some bad press. I need to lie low until things blow over. So I decided to come back here. But maybe Bliss Cove isn’t the best place to lie low.”
The lines on her forehead cleared. Pulling up a chair, she sat in front of him. “So why did you come back?”
Jake shrugged. He wasn’t even sure of the answer himself. He needed to stay out of the public eye for a while, but why had he specifically come back to Bliss Cove?
“Just wanted to, I guess.”
“When were you last here?”
“When I moved my mother and sister to LA.” He flexed his fingers and studied a floral calendar on the opposite wall. “Fourteen years ago. I worked on sets for about three years before landing my first role in Space Villains.”
The low-budget, B-movie had been a surprise hit, leading to two more small roles before Fatal Glory launched his career into the stratosphere.
To divert attention from himself, he indicated the front of the bakery and took another bite of the cookie. “Is that your daughter at the front counter? She looks familiar.”
“That’s Rory, my middle girl. She was two years behind you and Callie. Aria is my youngest.”
“Do they all still live in Bliss Cove?”
“Thankfully, yes.” Eleanor’s eyes softened with sadness. “Their father passed away about a year and a half ago. Car accident.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It was a very dark time.” She rose and ran her hands over her apron. “But life goes on. Rory will be getting back to her IT work soon, and when Aria moved back a few months ago, she opened up a new place on Mariposa Street. Callie teaches Classics over at Skyline.”
“I ran into her at the library the other day,” Jake admitted without thinking. “She looked—” incredible “—the same.”
“Did she recognize you?”
“No. We were in a…situation, so we didn’t have much chance to talk.”
“Well, you should get together with her.” Eleanor pointed to a photograph of Callie on the wall. She was decked out in college graduation robes and holding a diploma. “She’s always been so academically ambitious, and she still spends all her time working. She could use a night out with an old friend.”