Contents
Cover
Title Page
Map of Bluebell
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
eleven
twelve
thirteen
fourteen
fifteen
sixteen
seventeen
eighteen
nineteen
twenty
twenty-one
twenty-two
twenty-three
twenty-four
twenty-five
twenty-six
twenty-seven
twenty-eight
twenty-nine
thirty
thirty-one
thirty-two
thirty-three
thirty-four
thirty-five
thirty-six
thirty-seven
thirty-eight
thirty-nine
forty
forty-one
forty-two
forty-three
forty-four
forty-five
forty-six
forty-seven
forty-eight
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Praise for Denise Hunter
Also by Denise Hunter
Copyright
Map of Bluebell
one
Before she even opened her eyes Mia Emerson knew it was going to be the worst day of her life. But just like all other days, Saturday, May 30, would only last twenty-four hours. She could do this.
She forced her eyes open against the buttery sunlight filtering through her sheers. She’d get up, shower, dress in her disguise. Then she’d run down to the Busy Bean and linger over the newspaper as she did nearly every Saturday morning.
She pushed back the covers and sat up, her eyes catching on the dress she’d dropped to the floor before crawling into bed. The memory of the night before washed over her like a bad dream, making her stomach twist hard.
It had been almost midnight by the time the film had wrapped. The cast and crew of Twelve Hours, high on adrenaline, celebrated at one of LA’s most popular nightspots. Mia was as excited as everyone else.
This was only her second leading role. Into the Deep had catapulted her to the top of the rising stars lists. And now, having been cast opposite Jax Jordan in his latest action film, her career had never looked so promising. It was a little after two when Mia decided to call it a night. By then the others were tipsy or downright drunk. She said good night and made her way outside to hail a cab. If the night had ended there, she’d have nothing on her mind but the next day’s dreaded date. But it hadn’t.
Her phone buzzed an incoming call. The screen lit up with her best friend Brooke’s face. They’d been besties since they were seven, when Mia’s mom had hired Brooke’s mom, Lettie, to be their housekeeper.
Mia answered. “Making sure I haven’t thrown myself over a cliff yet?”
“Don’t be silly. There’s not a cliff for miles. Did I wake you?”
“Very nearly. I didn’t get in until almost three.” She pushed away the instant flashback of Jax approaching her outside the building.
“The shoot wrapped then?”
“It’s in the hole.”
“What are your plans today? Let’s meet up, do something fun.”
“Take my mind off things, you mean?”
“We’ll start with the Busy Bean because I’m just a good friend like that. Then we can be tourists for a day. We can do the Walk of Fame, take a stroll along Venice Beach, and whatever else you want to do. Plus, I made reservations for tonight. We’re getting gussied up and going to Musso and Frank.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet. But I know you’re swamped with work.”
Brooke handled props, a job that required a detail-oriented individual, and her next film started Monday.
“No worries, I’m all ready for it.”
“Why can’t you be human like the rest of us? A little procrastination never hurt anyone, you know.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer. Jump in the shower, and I’ll meet you at the coffee shop in an hour.”
The aroma of roasted beans perked Mia up as she entered the bustling shop situated just outside her Beverly Hills neighborhood. It was tucked away and not named Starbucks, making it more popular with locals than tourists.
Caffeine. She needed caffeine. And possibly a time machine.
She was a little early, so she stepped into line. It was almost eleven o’clock. What would she have been doing right now if Wesley hadn’t called things off? Getting manicures with her bridesmaids at Le Luxe? Writing Wes a wedding day note, to be delivered by his best man? She would’ve written that she loved him more than life itself. That he was everything she could’ve imagined in a life partner.
She would’ve been wrong. So wrong. She’d thought he was just what she needed. But she’d been wrong about that too.
She blinked against the tears and moved forward with the line. How did this still have the power to wilt her knees? It had been almost four months. She ducked her head, tugged the brim of her ball cap down.
Brooke was right. She needed to stay busy today. She checked her watch. Thirteen hours left: an eternity.
The person in front of her stepped aside. Her turn.
Mia’s eyes were probably bloodshot, but she pasted a big smile on her face and greeted the barista. “Good morning, Bree.”
As Bree’s gaze fell on Mia her smile fell away, eyes going flat. “What can I get you?” she asked in a businesslike tone.
Mia blinked. Bree must be having a bad day. “Um, I’ll have my usual. And a large hot cinnamon spice tea, please.”
Bree punched it in. “$10.42,” she said without making eye contact.
Mia handed over her rewards card and tried again. “It’s gorgeous outside. Busy day?”
“You could say that.”
Mia tucked a few bills into the tip jar.
After swiping her card Bree handed it back wordlessly and grabbed two cups, writing the orders on them.
The stranger behind her cleared her throat, and Mia moved down the counter.
Had she done something to offend Bree? Yesterday they’d chatted a quick minute, but Mia couldn’t remember about what. All the baristas were friendly. One of the reasons the Bean was her favorite shop.
Maybe Bree’s son had had a meltdown when she left him at day care again. Or maybe her mother’s dementia was getting worse. Mia said a quick prayer for the barista and moved down the line.
The espresso machine whirred loudly. Greta operated it with quick, efficient movements, her dark ponytail swinging behind her.
“Good morning, Greta,” Mia said after the machine went silent.
Greta’s gaze shot to Mia, and her face went hard. “Morning,” she finally said in a tight voice.
What in the world was going on? Mia glanced around at the other two busy baristas. Normally they all greeted her no matter how busy they were.
Greta set her drinks on the counter and went on to her next order.
“Thank you,” Mia said.
But Greta didn’t respond or even make eye contact.
Mia collected the drinks, a vague feeling of shame washing over her. She must’ve done something, but she couldn’t imagine what.
The shop was crowded, and she suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. She slipped past the line and out the door to the gated patio. It was a mild and sunny day, and heaven knew she could use a little sunshi
ne.
What had gotten into her friendly neighborhood baristas? Maybe someone had gotten fired. She tried to remember if they’d been friendly with the other customers, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Or maybe it had something to do with her canceled wedding. But that news had broken months ago.
As she settled at a table for two near the sidewalk, her phone buzzed with a call. She pulled it from her pocket. Brooke.
“Don’t tell me you’re running late,” Mia said. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s never happened.”
“Where are you?”
Mia frowned at the intensity in her friend’s tone. “At the coffee shop where I’m supposed to be. Where are you?”
“Um, listen . . . change of plans. I’m picking you up. I’m just around the corner.”
“Ooo-kay . . . What’s going on, Brooke?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. I can see the shop now. Come out to the curb.”
Mia stood, hooking her purse on her shoulder. “You’re being very cryptic.” She spotted Brooke’s white Toyota. “I see you. Be right there.”
Mia disconnected, grabbed their drinks, and made her way to the curb. She had a terrible feeling this day was actually going to get worse than she’d imagined.
two
Mia set the drinks in the cup holders as Brooke pulled out into traffic. A car behind them honked.
“What’s going on?” Dread had leaked into Mia’s bloodstream, causing a rush of adrenaline. She scanned her friend’s face, but other than tightness at the corners of her eyes she looked normal. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s not me.”
“Not your mom.” Mia had hired Lettie after her own mother had passed and had seen her moments ago on the way out the door.
“No, she’s fine.” Brooke had the steering wheel in a death grip. “Mia . . . tell me what happened last night. At the wrap party.”
Oh, the wrap party. Someone must’ve seen what Jax did and told Brooke. She had a lot of friends in the business.
Mia sighed. “I was going to tell you over coffee. Jax had too much to drink. I went outside to get a ride home, and he followed me. He came out of nowhere and laid one on me. I feel just awful, Brooke. I told you I sensed something while we were filming, but he never made a move on me before.”
“So . . . it wasn’t mutual?”
Mia gaped at Brooke. “Of course it wasn’t mutual. He’s a married man. I’d never do that.”
“Sorry. Sorry, I do know that.” She tossed Mia a sheepish look. “But he is Jax Jordan. And he does have that dimpled grin. And that sexy cleft in his chin.”
“Don’t forget the perpetual five o’clock shadow. But he’s married. Anyway, who told you? I didn’t think anyone saw.”
Brooke gave her a look that made her tremble from the inside out. “Oh, Mia. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what? You’re scaring me.”
Brooke turned onto Mia’s street and began the winding uphill drive. She slid Mia a sympathetic look. “Someone snapped a picture, honey, and it’s on a celeb page.”
Mia sucked in a breath. But the kiss had lasted all of one second before she’d pushed him away. It couldn’t be that bad.
Brooke handed Mia her phone, already opened to the Hollywood Reporter website. The headline screamed, “MIA STEALS EMMA’S MAN!” Below it were pictures, the largest of them a profile view of a seemingly steamy kiss. She and Jax weren’t recognizable in that shot, but the photographer had gotten a picture right before that kiss in the instant Jax had taken her face in his hands, when she’d been too shocked to move.
“This isn’t . . .”
There were other pictures too. One of them embracing earlier that same evening when the mood had been celebratory. “I hugged everyone!”
Another photo of them walking side by side, laughing together as they left the set one evening.
“This makes it look like—”
“You know how these rags are. They don’t care about the truth. Only selling their so-called stories.”
“Maybe I can, I don’t know, get my lawyer on it. Pay someone off, do something to head this off . . .”
“I hope it’s not too late, hon. You know how quickly these things spread.”
Even before Brooke finished speaking, Mia was opening another page. Her stomach sank as she saw the story was front-page news there as well. The same pictures. The same story . . . a little more tastefully told. They didn’t outright accuse her of stealing Jax from Emma. But those pictures . . .
She closed the page and checked social media. “It’s trending on Twitter.”
She thought of Jax’s wife seeing this, and her gut twisted hard. Emma was pregnant with their first child. “Poor Emma. I have to call and explain.”
Brooke gave her a look. “Explain what? That her husband came on to you, and you rejected him?”
“Well, I can’t have her thinking we’re having some tawdry affair.”
“Leave that to Jax. He can handle himself.”
Despite his bit of flirting on set, Mia liked Jax. He worked hard, and in spite of his celebrity he didn’t act like he was above everyone else.
But Mia wasn’t naïve. Jax wasn’t about to tell his wife he’d come on to another woman.
She looked at the pictures. They told a story—a story that wasn’t true, but people would believe what they wanted. And Emma wouldn’t want to believe this was Jax’s fault.
Neither would anyone else. Emma was America’s sweetheart, following in the footsteps of women like Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts, and Reese Witherspoon. Mia was only an up-and-comer.
“They’re making me out to be a home wrecker, and nobody’s going to believe I’m innocent.” Her eyes dropped to the pictures. “This is going to ruin my whole career, Brooke. Everything I’ve worked for.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. You know how these stories can be. As soon as something bigger comes along, people will forget. This might not amount to much.”
“I hope you’re right. I should call Nolan.”
She pulled up her agent’s contact and tapped on his number. He’d been expecting her call and did what he was best at, talked her off the cliff. Told her to stay off social media. She expressed her concerns about losing her next role in Lesser Days. Fiona was the role of her dreams, the one she’d been waiting for, and the studio had a reputation for a high standard of integrity. The contract she’d signed had a morality clause.
Like Brooke, Nolan assured her this would pass. That addressing the gossip would only fan the flames. Better they hope for another scandal to come along and steal the headlines.
When she got off the phone she told Brooke what he’d said.
“You know what?” Brooke said after a brief silence. “You have a break in your schedule right now. You could skip town for a little while.”
“That makes it look like I’m guilty.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She slid Mia a look. “At least filming is done, and you won’t have to see Jax anymore.”
“We’ll still have all the publicity when the movie releases.”
“Awkward. Hopefully this’ll blow over by then.”
Brooke slowed as she came around the final corner before Mia’s rambling ranch. But as they rounded the bend they saw the cluster of vans parked on the street in front of the driveway. News vans.
“Get down,” Brooke said.
Mia dove for her ankles, her heart drumming against her thighs as Brooke gave the car gas. “Did they see me?”
“I don’t think so.”
Great. A media circus in her front yard. How long would they stay? How was she going to make herself go home? She’d been photographed many times, but not like this. Not as the center of a scandal.
“Is anyone following?” Mia said into her knees a full minute later.
“I don’t think so. They don’t know my car. That’s illegal anyway, isn’t it?”
�
�Doesn’t mean they won’t do it.” They weren’t allowed to shoot on private property with telephoto lenses either, but that hadn’t stopped them from publishing an unflattering picture of Gwyneth Paltrow emerging from her pool last week.
Brooke made a couple more turns, heading back down the hill. “I think it’s safe to come up now.”
Mia cautiously sat upright. They were in a quiet part of the neighborhood, at least a mile from the scene at her house. What was she going to do? Where was she going to go? If she went home she’d be trapped there unless she wanted the hassle of the reporters every time she came and went.
“I’m going to have to go away and hide out for a while,” she said resolutely. She’d have to juggle some things on her calendar. Benefits, luncheons, appearances. Her standing appointment with her “little sister” Ana Maria from the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. Missing this one grated most of all.
“Maybe that’d be for the best,” Brooke said. “You could stay with my mom.”
Mia imagined the paparazzi surrounding Lettie’s house in the quiet little subdivision of LA. “I’m the last thing she needs. Until all this dies down.”
“What about . . .” Brooke gave her head a hard shake. “No, never mind. That’s a stupid idea.”
“What?”
“Nothing really. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Brooke.”
“All right, but when I tell you, you’ll think it’s a dumb idea too. I was just remembering the confirmation you got—your honeymoon trip in North Carolina . . . See, I told you it was a stupid idea.”
Wesley had booked them at an inn on Bluebell Lake, and it had been nonrefundable. Mia hadn’t realized he hadn’t canceled the reservation until she’d gotten an email a couple days ago.
Maybe this was a sign from God. “Well, at least that would be someplace quiet. Not to mention already paid for.”
“Sweetie . . . it was supposed to be your honeymoon.”
“And now it could be a little vacation—on Wesley’s dime.”
Brooke gave her a look.
“It was your idea.”
“It was a terrible idea.”
Wesley had pushed for Lake Cuomo in Italy for their honeymoon, but Mia had wanted to go to the town where her mother had grown up. Katherine had left home at eighteen to pursue her Hollywood dreams, changing her name and cutting ties with her family.
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