by Ellie Danes
“Ah, Cora’s sorta like my nickname. Everyone calls me Cora.” She scrambled to wrap the sheet around her, so she could retrieve her clothes from the floor.
“You didn’t say anything about your job last night.” I watched her, suspicious.
Cora tugged on her tight black sweater without putting on her bra and then shimmied into her satin blue skirt. I held my breath as her sharp blue eyes darted around my master suite. There was no denying who I was now, and the realization came over her brighter than the morning sun. Barefoot and barelegged, she turned and faced me with a fierce look.
“It’s not like you were exactly forthcoming,” Cora said. “Let me guess, your name’s not Sean.”
“You really didn’t know?” Suddenly, it seemed obvious she had not just been after a story. If she had, Cora would have recognized me right away.
“That Storm Morris would lie about who he is at his own party?” Cora’s cheeks were getting red. “No. I had no idea. You’ve changed.”
“Exactly,” I barked. “I’m not the Storm Morris everyone thought they were coming to see. I have changed. People do that.”
“But why lie about it?” Cora asked.
“Do you have any idea what a relief it is when people don’t recognize me?” I paced around my king-sized four-poster bed. “Do you know how nice it was to spend a night being treated like a normal human being?”
The corner of Cora’s mouth quirked up. “It was a nice night?”
I looked at her over the rumpled sheets and gave an exasperated laugh. “Yes. It was a really nice night.”
“Even though you didn’t actually go to your party?” Cora teased.
“That helped a lot,” I said.
Cora sat down on the edge of my bed and started to tug on her sheer black pantyhose. She chewed her lip and looked like she had something else to say but nothing came out.
I waited for her to stand up and then asked, “You know that if you write any of this for your publication, I’ll send a team of lawyers after you, right?”
“I’m not interested in a story about your secret aversion for parties,” she said.
“Or my habit of hiding out in old greenhouses?”
She blushed. “God, you don’t really think I seduced you for a story, do you?”
“You’d be a pretty terrible journalist if you didn’t even recognize your subject,” I pointed out.
“I swear, I just used the press pass to get into the party. You know they’re legendary, right? I wanted to cut loose and have a little fun,” Cora said.
“And did you?”
She blushed deeper. “That’s not something I normally do.”
“Have fun or sleep with men you just met?” I asked.
“Both.” Cora headed for the door.
I had to run to block her from leaving. “Hold on. Wait. Can we just start over?”
“Between the sex, the lying, and the total embarrassment, I think it’s best that I just leave,” she said.
I pried her hand off the door handle and held it. “Hey, we’re both in the same boat. The least we can do is have breakfast together.”
Cora spied her purse on the floor and had no choice but to head back over to my bed. She scooped up her phone and looked relieved when the screen was still locked. Then she stuffed the press pass and her bra into the little purse and marched back to the door.
“You’re really inviting the press to breakfast?” she asked.
“Off the record,” I said.
Cora’s mouth twitched into an irrepressible smile. “Hi, I’m Cora, and you are?”
“Storm.” I shook her hand and then held on. “Nice to meet you, Cora.”
“You might want to put on some pants before you ask me to have breakfast with you, Storm.”
I laughed and tugged her away from the door before I went to pull on a rumpled pair of jeans and an old concert t-shirt. Cora eyed my comfortable attire with a jealous glance.
“Want to borrow something?” I asked.
She was tempted but finally shook her head. Cora didn’t say anything but followed me out of the master suite and down the wide gallery. Classical masterpieces were mixed with modern portraits and framed concert posters. She dragged her feet just enough to take in everything with her wide blue eyes. I thought again about the expression I had seen on her face when I looked through Caroline’s studio windows. Maybe Cora had lied about being a member of the press, but I was sure she’d been telling the truth about wanting to start a whole new career.
After the gallery, we connected to the main hall. There, she recognized the door we had slipped through to the secret passage.
“You have a truly beautiful home.” She paused and breathed deep at the top of the winding stairs.
“I’ve been meaning to have someone come in and photograph it. There are so many views and details I don’t want to forget,” I said.
Cora didn’t take the bait. Instead, she gave a wistful sigh. “So, you really are thinking about selling it and moving on?”
I leaned on the banister and looked down at the glittering crystals of the chandelier. “It’s like we talked about last night—I need to restart my life.”
“And you’re sure your life isn’t here?” Cora asked.
I couldn’t answer that so, instead, I hinted at her passion for photography again. “Do you know anyone who could come and photograph the place?”
She took a few stiff steps down the wide staircase and then stopped to look back up at me. “I might,” she said.
Content that she was at least tempted, I took her hand and led her down the stairs. The wreckage of the party was minimal, meaning either Tyson had stayed up late or gotten up early. Either way, we were bound to run into him soon, and I didn’t want Cora to panic and try to leave again. Not yet.
“Looks like people had a good time last night.” I swept some party streamers and plastic cups out of Cora’s path.
“Now, that would make a great picture.” Cora tipped her head toward my manager, festooned with the decorations he was picking up.
“Yes, please,” I said.
Cora laughed, dug out her phone, and snapped a few shots of Tyson as he worked his way down the hallway from the kitchen. I glanced over her shoulder, unable to contain my curiosity, and was excited to see I had been right. Cora had an eye for angle, color, and her quick shots had captured Tyson’s personality perfectly.
She noticed me craning over her shoulder and shrugged modestly. “Just a hobby.”
“No,” I said. “That’s talent.”
Before Cora could argue, Tyson spotted us. “You know she’s a member of the press, right?” he called.
I laughed and held her hand tighter. “Yes, Tyson, I know. And now she knows my name isn’t Sean, so we’re even.”
Tyson frowned at Cora. “You’re not going to be able to publish a story about any of this.”
“Because you have a team of lawyers,” Cora finished his thought. “Don’t worry, we’re off the record.”
“And that goes for you, too,” I told Tyson. “No one else needs to know I have a houseguest.”
“Houseguest?” Cora and Tyson asked in unison.
“Come on,” I said. “We’ll discuss it over pancakes. Tyson makes the best pancakes.”
“Have we met before?” Tyson asked Cora as he reluctantly led the way to the kitchen. “You look familiar.”
“I’ve been to Murtaugh a few times,” she said.
My manager continued to study her as we settled down at the wide kitchen island. Luckily, his fondness for breakfast foods soon distracted him, and I was able to talk to Cora more about the plan that had been forming in my head.
“So, the way I figure it, since we’re already even, we can continue to help each other out,” I said.
Cora sipped the coffee I poured for her and gave me a suspicious look over the rim of her mug. “What kind of help do you need from me?”
“I need you to come back and photograph my mansion. Consider i
t a farewell spread for the media,” I explained.
“But that would take days,” she pointed out.
“Less if you actually stay on as my houseguest,” I said.
Tyson dropped a spatula but kept his shock and suspicions to himself.
“What makes you think I can do this place justice?” Cora asked.
I picked up her phone and reopened the photograph she’d snapped of Tyson. “This makes me think you’ll be able to capture the quirks of the old place.”
Even Tyson had to admit the snapshot she’d gotten of him was good. “She did that just with her phone? Talented.”
Cora was surprised but pleased at the endorsement. “You really want me to stay?”
I nodded, and Tyson piled pancakes high on her plate. “Welcome to the Morris Mansion,” he said as he handed her the syrup with a smile.
I was surprised when Storm himself drove me to Victoria’s hotel to collect my things. My head was still spinning from waking up in his bed! In my defense, Storm looked much different from his top-of-the-chart days. He looked a lot better. It wasn’t hard to see why I was attracted to him.
My insides sizzled again, and I glanced nervously over at Storm. His strong hands on the steering wheel reminded me of the way they’d felt caressing my skin. His close-cropped hair and strong jaw gave him a serious look, though the missing beard revealed a hint of a dimple when he smiled.
“Sure you don’t want me to wait?” Storm seemed sure I was going to run at my first chance.
“I just need an hour or two, and I’ll get a lift back up to the mansion.” I gave a doubtful laugh. “Are you sure you want me invading your place?”
Storm parked his pickup truck outside the hotel and grinned. “After last night’s crowds, just you won’t feel like an invasion at all.”
“And you really want me to photograph your life?” I asked. The dream job just couldn’t be true.
“Well, more the mansion than me.” Storm shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with any references to his fame. “Tyson is working up a contract so it’ll all be aboveboard.”
He jumped out of the truck, jogged around, and opened my door before I realized what he was doing. “Um, thanks.”
A flash of heat sizzled between us as my hand touched his but then I was on the sidewalk.
Storm shut the truck door and slapped the hood. “See you back at the house.”
I noticed his deliberate downplay and was struck by the awkwardness of his situation. Every day, he had to cover himself up, hide away his talent, for fear of being recognized. It wasn’t so much being recognized but being seen as someone he clearly wasn’t anymore. Fans, though, would never see the difference.
I did. “Leave the back door open, right?”
Storm grinned and that hint of a dimple appeared. He touched two fingers to his forehead in a little salute and then jumped back in his truck. As he pulled away from the curb, he honked the horn and waved.
The honking startled me out of my reverie, and I quickly darted into the hotel. I didn’t want everyone in town seeing me in the exact same clothes I had worn last night. There was even a tear in my pantyhose! I raced up the stairs and knocked nervously at Victoria’s room.
“I was just heading to your mom’s studio to make sure you’re all right!” Victoria ripped open the door and pulled me inside. “And, I gotta say, you look a lot like I hoped you would.”
“Embarrassed as hell?” I asked.
Victoria flopped down on the hotel bed and motioned to the bag she’d brought from my mother’s. “We didn’t know where you’d end up. Susie Q betted on home before midnight, but your mom called it.”
I peeled off the ripped pantyhose and tugged on a pair of jeans. “Called what?”
“She said you’d be out all night and back when there was a little color in your cheeks,” Victoria said.
“No!” I was more horrified by my mother’s prediction than I was by the truth of it. Then I remembered. I flopped down next to Victoria. “But it’s so much worse than you think!”
“Oh, come on, Cora. Everyone’s allowed a fling now and then. You’re single. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
I buried my head in my hands. “But I slept with Storm Morris!”
Victoria hooted. “So, the mission was a success?”
I swatted her shoulder. “No, the mission wasn’t a success. We didn’t even talk about him selling the place until this morning. I didn’t realize it was him until this morning!”
Victoria scrambled up to kneel on the bed next to me. “What? I don’t understand!”
“It wasn’t totally my fault. He looks different, and he told me his name was Sean because he didn’t want me to be some weird groupie or whatever. Then he saw your press pass this morning and he thinks I’m a journalist but that what I really want to do is take photographs...” I ran out of air and took a big breath.
Victoria held up both hands. “Whoa. What about the photographs?”
I jumped off the bed and dug through the bag. “I have to go to Caroline’s. This isn’t enough for me to take back to the mansion. Storm has invited me to stay for a few days.”
My friend stood up and grabbed me by the shoulders. “How about we slow down and go back to the part where you slept with Storm Morris.”
I sighed and sat down on the edge of Victoria’s hotel bed. “That’s not too horrible of a cliché? Is it?”
“Are you kidding?” Victoria sat down and squeezed my hand. “He’s known to be such a recluse. In fact, he’s got one of the tamest dating records of any rock star. All long-term, all monogamous.”
“All?” I squeaked.
“All three relationships since his song hit the top forty,” Victoria said.
I don’t know why, but that thought made me warm all over. Storm didn’t have random one-night stands either. I wonder if that’s why he’d panicked and offered me the photography job. It was certainly part of the reason I took it. I had to find out if there was more between us, because I just didn’t know how to have a one-night stand and leave.
“No wonder his manager looked at me like I had antlers growing out of my head,” I muttered.
Victoria laughed and tugged me off the bed and toward the door. “Come on, let’s get to Caroline’s. I can’t wait to hear you explain the part where you’re going to stay at the Morris Mansion for a few days.”
* * *
“Yes!” my mother and Susie Q said in unison as soon as Victoria spilled the news.
“What? How about, ‘That’s insane?’ Or at least, ‘Why?’” I dumped out all the clothes I had brought with me and sifted through the pile while they jostled around me. “No one speaking up with a shred of reason?”
“Who needs reason when there’s love?” Susie Q said.
“I’m so glad someone else has recognized your talent as a photographer. You certainly never listen to me,” my mother said.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think that’s what he was thinking. I think he was just being nice. I bet he’s kicking himself right now.”
“But you’re still going,” my mother pointed out.
“Well, someone has to convince Storm Morris to stay so Murtaugh tourism doesn’t dry up completely,” I said.
Caroline gave me a skeptical look but smiled. “Either way, it’s a little vacation, and I think you need that. You looked so stressed when you rolled into town.”
Susie Q handed me a camera bag. “One good shot of Storm at home would be solid gold to the tabloids.”
“And there is that,” I said.
If I couldn’t convince Storm to stay and none of the applications got me an interview, then both my mother and I would need the money a photograph like that could garner.
“And there must be a real connection between you and Storm. Otherwise, none of this would have happened in the first place,” Caroline said.
“Thanks, Mom, but this isn’t some fairytale romance novel.” I hoisted the bags on my shoulders and heade
d for the door of the studio.
“Hold on.” Caroline grabbed my arm as Victoria and Susie Q stepped out onto the front sidewalk.
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. I’m not just following some whim,” I told my mother.
Caroline shook her head and pulled me closer. “He’s a gentleman?”
I was shocked hearing such a question from her, but I nodded. “He’s actually a really normal guy.”
“Don’t forget he’s also an artist in a slump. He might tell the world he’s done with music, but there’s no way someone with his talent and upbringing can just drop it.” Caroline brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “Artists in slumps can be careless, cruel even. As soon as inspiration strikes, you might not want to be in his way.”
I knew she was speaking from painful experience. The man after my father had been a very talented artist but also volatile. Caroline had kept a lot from me, but I knew it had not ended well.
“I know, Mom, but he’s not like that.” I hugged her. “Plus, the mansion’s so big I might not ever see him again.”
Caroline laughed. “You’re right. You might see Susie Q before you see Storm again.”
I followed her grin out the front windows and saw Tyson flirting with Susie Q on the sidewalk. He leaned against a shiny sports car and puffed out his chest as Susie Q hopped around admiring it.
I bit my lip. Was that why Tyson thought I looked so familiar? There was a definite family resemblance between Caroline and me, and if Tyson was hanging around Susie Q then he had definitely met my mother. I dug into my bag for a scarf and sunglasses.
“Really, Cora, a little sunshine would do you good,” Caroline said.
I ignored her and pushed the studio door open. Before I could snag Victoria and we could make our escape, Susie Q clapped her hands together excitedly.
“Oh, Cora, look! I found you a ride back to the mansion,” Susie Q called.
“It’s no trouble.” Tyson gave me a wide smile for Susie Q’s benefit.
I had no choice but to let him take my bags. While he was putting them in the trunk, I dragged Victoria to the hood of the car.
“Storm still thinks I’m you!” I whispered. “He saw your press pass.”