by Ellie Hall
She scribbled her name—but he couldn’t tell if it was Alice or Claudia.
“Ready?” Without waiting for him to answer she asked, “Favorite color?”
Carter scratched his temple. “Snogging.”
She started writing the answer down then looked up. “What?”
“Snogging. It’s the British term for kissing,” he explained.
“I know what it means, but it’s not a color.”
He shrugged. “Next question.”
“Favorite food?”
“Snogging.”
“Wilde, that’s not food.” Forced calm threaded her voice.
He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and smiled. He couldn’t see his reflection, but the shift in her expression suggested the Wilde-smolder was in full effect. It usually reduced women to wanting nothing more than to, well, snog him. “You’ve never conducted an interview before, huh?”
“Not exactly. Does it matter? What’s your favorite place?”
“Snogging.”
She exhaled irritably. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Why do you keep asking me these stupid questions. No one cares about them.”
“They’re to get to know you.” The inflection in her tone, the way she said it, and what it implied stirred something inside of him.
“How about if you ask me a question you also have to answer it.”
“Fine—”
He cut across her. “What’s your name?”
“I told you. It’s Claudia Von Plata.”
“Not Alice?”
“No. I didn’t realize that was you. It was just a stupid work thing. Never mind. When did you start playing music?”
“Ah, now we’re moving on to more interesting stuff. But you can find the answer to this in every interview I’ve ever conducted. I have to admit, you’re not very good at this.” He chuckled so she’d know he was teasing and sensed he was infuriating her, but he couldn’t help himself. The blush that rose to her cheeks made him heat up all over. “Your turn. Answer.”
She nearly rolled her eyes. “I started playing music when I was three. On a metal bowl in the kitchen. I graduated to the piano in third grade when the neighbor took me in. Then in fifth grade, I started on stringed instruments. Mastered every. Single. One.”
“You’re a musician?” His eyebrow lifted higher.
“I go to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. Yes, it’s safe to say I know my way around an instrument or two.”
Carter sat up and leaned on the table. He’d forgotten she’d mentioned that during her original call. His tongue was tied for an instant—a rarity for a guy whose voice was his career. She’d silenced him. For the briefest moment, he felt relieved at not having to be the one in control of the situation. But that’s not who he’d been created to be. “Impressive. We should jam sometime.”
“That’s the point of this project. Did Printz tell you?” she asked.
Carter remembered a vague email exchange. “He sure did, but he failed to mention that you’re gorgeous.”
Her cheeks blazed and her hair fell in front of her face as she stared at her notebook. There, he had the upper hand again. That’s where he was most comfortable—steering the situation and conversation.
“Next question,” she mumbled. “Who do you owe your greatest musical inspiration?”
“Gorgeous women like you.”
“You’re exhausting,” she said.
“I prefer to think of myself as charming, attractive, and a world-class snogger. Shall I demonstrate?” he asked, leaning in closer.
“Are you drunk?” she asked, looking around as though ready to signal one of the aides.
He smirked. “Sadly no.” The truth was he’d drank one time only and hated it for a variety of reasons. The one he’d admit to was that it kept him from being in control. Never mind that it made him feel like rubbish. It would’ve been too easy to spill his secrets.
“Are you going to start drinking when you get out of rehab?”
“Ah, now we’re really getting to some compelling questions. Am I going to drink when I get out of rehab?” He tapped his finger on his lower lip.
Claudia stared as though hypnotized.
“That depends.”
“On what?” she asked, writing down his answer.
“You’ll find out.” He swiped the papers that she’d signed and crossed the room to the exit. The aide leaped to his feet and tried to bar his way.
“Where do you think you’re going, Wilde?” the aide asked.
“I’ll be taking my leave now, my good sir.” He did a mock theatrical bow.
“I can’t permit that. You’re obligated to remain here for the rest of the show. Your little stunt didn’t help matters.” The aide crossed his arms.
“My management team would disagree. Don’t you, love?” he called to Claudia, gesturing she come over.
For the aide’s benefit, he pointed to the paper, which terminated the contract with the Rockers in Rehab program. Alice or Claudia was not, in fact, his legal representation, but he’d deal with the repercussions of that later. Right then, he wanted nothing more than freedom and a breath of that fresh sea air.
“Come on, love. Let’s go,” he called to Claudia over his shoulder.
Chapter 5
Claudia
“This is not what I had in mind when I asked if you wanted to go on a date,” Claudia hissed. How had she not recognized that Hot Lips was none other than the rock star Wilde? “Or when I requested to interview you.”
“What did you have in mind?” There was that irritatingly perfect smolder again.
Wilde was agonizingly and antagonizing-ly flirtatious. She already hated the way it made her feel—out of control and starry-eyed. She was there for one reason only: to do her project and make Aunt Margot proud when she’d receive her diploma.
“What did I have in mind for the date? Actually, nothing. It was a dare at my job. That’s why I gave you a fake name and number,” she clarified.
“Ouch.” He pressed his hand to his chest, mock hurt.
“I’m sure your inflated ego can handle it.”
They reached a reception desk and Wilde showed the paperwork to the woman. She gave him a shrewd appraisal over a pair of red eyeglasses.
Claudia caught his full name written on the sheet. Carter Wilde-Westcott.
The lady with the red glasses typed into an ancient computer. “The producers will not be happy, but hopefully we can get some peace around here. Everyone thought this would be a great opportunity, but this is a real rehab facility and the only rehabilitation this guy needs is—”
He cut her off. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m ready to go on with my life.”
“Yeah, I bet,” she said, passing him a clipboard. “Just fill this out and you can be on your way.” She turned to Claudia. “I’m awfully sorry to hear about his grandmother.” She shook her head sadly.
“Do you mean my aunt—?” Claudia started to ask.
With a great flourish, he signed his name and elbowed her at the same time.
“Okay, Miss Von Plata, Mr. Wilde is officially discharged to you. I’ll keep his family in my prayers.” Nonetheless, she scowled as though glad to be rid of him.
“I didn’t agree to—” Claudia was suddenly afraid she was breaking the law despite signing with the fake name she’d given Carter at the restaurant. Further, she had no idea how the lady knew about Aunt Margot.
“You did.” The woman with the red glasses tapped another piece of paper, suddenly serious.
Claudia started to protest.
The woman cut across her. “Now, now. I know celebrity types can be dramatic, but save it until you get onto the other side of them doors. You are fully responsible for him.” She pressed a button under the desk and a metal door buzzed. “Good luck.”
When they passed through the doors, Carter whooped and spun around, pulling her close. Her entire body flared with that same shock of lightnin
g as it had when they’d met at the restaurant.
He took a deep breath by her neck, sending the tiny hairs aflutter.
The lightning jolted her once more.
“Gardenia,” he whispered.
The thrill raced through her, but she shoved him away. “Carter, what did that woman mean when she said that I’m responsible for you?”
“Gardenia is my favorite scent.”
“It’s my perfume, but you’re getting me off track. That was not the question that I asked.”
“I feel like a new man.” He reached for her hand. Their fingers brushed.
For a split second, she considered letting him take it to ground her, but he was the source of the electrical charge. She wanted to feel it again yet wanted nothing to do with it. Having a hand to hold onto, someone to guide her through the tumult of her recent life was tempting, but he was not a candidate. Instead, she yanked her hand away and fished for her car keys in her purse.
“I feel like a very happy, sober man. Don’t worry though. I was never drunk.”
“Yeah. Right. That’s what they all say. Then what were you doing in a rehab facility?” she crossed her arms.
The guy practically had a skip in his step. Then he halted and dashed down a nearby alley.
“Wait? What are you doing?” Claudia asked, torn between being told she was in charge of him and needing to finish her interview, but not wanting anything to do with him because he was trouble.
A small mob of people were crossing the street toward her. She froze as phones and cameras were raised. They were shouting. “Wilde! That was him!”
Claudia chased after him. No way was she responsible for his erratic actions, but worry had crept into her mind and planted itself there. She signed a document and had no idea what it meant.
Another, bigger worry followed. Was that what happened to Aunt Margot? Did someone have her sign something, transferring her funds? Claudia’s footsteps felt heavy, but the Wilde fans were catching up so she picked up her pace.
“Carter,” she called as he zigged and zagged around cars in the parking lot.
He looked over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. “No one calls me that.”
“You’re running from a bunch of teenagers and housewives who want to take selfies with you. If you want to avoid that situation, I’ll call you whatever I want. No more secrets or lies, Carter. I am not that kind of woman. I have an assignment to complete and—” She may have been foolish signing what she thought was a typical non-disclosure agreement before reading it, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with anything else.
“And—?”
“And the lady said I’m responsible for you.” She grumbled.
“Fair enough. Where are you parked?”
She clicked the key fob of her aunt’s Cadillac and they rushed to get in. Less than a minute later, they were cruising out of town.
“Nice wheels,” Carter said, catching his breath.
“It’s my aunt’s car. I didn’t need one in San Francisco.” She practically swerved as she changed lanes. “Wait another minute. What was the discharge lady saying about grandmother or aunt or whatever?”
“The loophole was that there had to be an illness in the family and a member of my legal representation had to sign a paper to discharge me. They also have to look after me.” His voice drew her gaze to his lips. He winked and she snapped her attention back to the road. “That was the only way I could get out of the contract.”
“I’ve heard of some low-down things, but you should be ashamed of yourself.”
He leaned his head back on the seat. “Every day I question my judgment, every day.”
The confession floated between them.
Carter clapped his hand on her thigh and she suddenly accelerated before yanking his hand off her leg. A low sound of warning came from her throat.
He lifted his hands in surrender and fiddled with the radio.
She swatted his hand away, needing silence to focus. No way was she going to let a guy like him get under her skin.
The radio played one of his songs before she turned it off.
“Should I be insulted? That was one of my favorites.”
“It’s a fine song.” She did like the chorus and the little breakdown toward the end, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “I need to focus, to come up with a plan.”
“Plans are for uptight bores—I usually prefer to be spontaneous.”
“Clearly.”
“Actually, I planned my escape right after you called for the interview.”
“What’s going to happen?” Worry laced her voice.
“Nothing. Don’t worry. You signed Alice, right?”
“Well...yeah.”
He smirked. “That’s a girl. Now, no one will know.” His leg jittered. “Thank you for getting me off the show and then out of that tight spot. It’s not that I don’t want to give my fans photo opps and the like, but I’m not exactly on top of my game right now. I’ve been questioning a lot lately and just need some time—”
She knew the feeling, but couldn’t help feeling aggravated. “Is that because you’re going through withdrawal and are jonesing for a drink?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have you been watching Rockers in Rehab because you have the lingo down?”
“My aunt and I saw one episode.” Margot had been entertained, but she’d dealt with plenty of guys like him in her day.
Wilde was undeniably charismatic and magnetic, but underneath that, she saw a sadness she recognized. But he hid it well. Then again, so did she. Maybe that was why she hadn’t left him on the side of the road.
“Was it the one when they got me back after escaping or the one when I kissed the counselor?”
She rolled her eyes. “It was the one when you had a temper tantrum.”
“That was not my shining moment, but viewers loved it. The thing is, what I said before about not being drunk, that was true. I flipped out because I realized I’d essentially agreed to stay locked up in a really posh jail for thirty days.”
She snorted.
“You don’t believe me. I’m telling the truth.”
“You just had me forge legal documents. I hardly believe that you’re telling the truth.”
“Those were just formalities and you signed willingly—the wrong name, I might add. Clever girl. I researched how to get out of the contract and there needed to be an illness in the family.”
“You’ve mentioned.”
“I was there voluntarily. This is strictly off the record, but stage Wilde and the real me, Carter,” his voice was strained, “are two different people.”
“Sounds like you have a bigger problem than I realized.” She pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped the car.
Claudia lived in San Francisco and had faced her share of crazies. No way was she going to spend a second longer with him if that was the case.
“That’s not what I mean. I got started in music pretty young. That’s what people wanted—youth and hope. That doesn’t last. So how to reinvent myself? How to revitalize my career? The people surrounding me, including my manager, agent, and publicists, advised in no uncertain terms that I win the west aka America where I wasn’t as well known by embodying the British Bad Boy persona. For the last, well, almost seven years, I’ve been pretending, acting, playing a role. Whatever you want to call it. I’m tired. It’s not me.” By the plaintive expression on his face, he may as well have lined up with Aunt Margot’s dogs when they wanted a treat.
“Wow,” Claudia said. She wasn’t sure what to think.
“I have no idea why I just told you that. I’ve never told anyone. You cannot tell anyone. That is strictly off the record. And now I’m rambling.” He fussed with a loose thread on his pants.
“No, thank you for telling me. Talking about things like that is helpful.” She fought the urge to give his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Now, L Ryder? You’ve heard of him, right? He’s the real d
eal. I’d like to be like him someday. He’s just so purely himself.” Carter hummed one of the famous musician’s songs.
Claudia turned to face the beautiful British man by her side. She met his gray eyes. They were honest, open, magnetic. She knew she was looking at Carter and not Wilde, the guy who’d answered every question with the word snog.
She imagined herself sinking, dropping into those eyes like a pool filled with clouds. “Carter, you should just be yourself,” she said, breaking the spell. She signaled to get back on the road, but her heart tapped out a beat she didn’t recognize. It was one she’d never felt before.
Carter had a raw, childlike aspect to him at times and at others, he was wild, untamed, but who was he really? Part of her wanted to know and it had nothing to do with her assignment from Printz.
“What do I call you aside from my superhero, my knight in shining armor, my daring damsel, oh ye who rescued me from Rockers in Rehab? Alice or Claudia Von Plata, was it?” he asked with gusto. “Who is this gorgeous woman? You said you go to school in California, but you’re here. Why?”
“I am Claudia Von Plata and am here taking care of my aunt because—” Perhaps there was something in the air that brought the truth to the surface or maybe Carter’s confession tempted her to give her own. Thankfully, she stopped herself in time she couldn’t bear to put that particular truth into words.
They were quiet until she pulled through the gate at the mansion in Blue Bay Beach. She drove there on autopilot, but wasn’t sure what to do with Carter and needed to get back to check on her aunt.
“Swanky spot. How are we going to do this? Go on a date or go our separate ways?” he asked.
She sat there, unsure of how to answer. “I have the assignment...”
“So no date. What if I said it would rock your world? I’m a fun bloke.” He got out of the car with a hint of disappointment then quickly covered it up.
She didn’t budge.
“In that case, rock ya later.” Just like that, he was “on” again, playing the role of bad boy that he’d described. She wanted to slap the smug look off his face. Yet, his eyes drew her in. They melted her defenses. She pulled the keys from the ignition and slammed the car door.