Everyone kept telling her it had just been a cruel and tragic accident, it hadn’t been her fault. It hadn’t. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she’d always felt that guilt. It never went away, and staying there, in that small market town she’d lived in all her life, with all those memories – she couldn’t do it. It was too painful. She’d had to get away. To the place she’d lived in inside her head ever since she’d been a little girl, when she’d dreamed of becoming an actress, living in Hollywood, dining in the Polo Lounge; walking the red carpet. Big dreams. Unrealistic dreams, and she hadn’t thought for one minute that anything would ever happen, she’d just wanted – needed – to get away. So she used the money her parents had left her to start again. To try and move on. To find something to focus on that gave her a reason to feel something other than guilt and sadness. She’d come here. To Hollywood. To the city of dreams. She’d come here…
“You OK?” Harry asked, and Quinn looked up, tearing herself away from those memories that still hurt like hell.
“I was just thinking. About Mum and Dad… Would they have approved of me using their money to come here? To chase some ridiculous dream?”
“It’s not so ridiculous anymore, Quinn.”
“I haven’t got the part yet, Harry.”
“It’s yours. And I’m rarely wrong. Believe me, you’re gonna kill it, kid,” Harry sighed, raking a hand through his already messed up hair, but he somehow got away with the unkempt look. It worked. On him.
“Yeah. I’m gonna kill it,” she said quietly, her eyes suddenly drawn to the archway to the left of her, her heart immediately picking up a rhythm that was making her slightly breathless, and she didn’t know where those feelings had come from; she had no idea what was happening. All she was aware of was her stomach flipping over like a thousand butterflies had just been let loose in there. It was the weirdest feeling. The strangest experience. But as her eyes met those of a man she’d never seen before in her life; a glance so brief it almost hadn’t happened, she knew, right there and then – she just knew that she’d never been more certain of anything before.
Quinn Baxter had just seen her future.
Two
Lukas Drake walked out into his back yard, sat down on the decked patio, and stared out at the small, square swimming pool in front of him. It was surrounded by swaying palm trees, minimal garden furniture, and just to the left of it was a section of the yard that housed a monster-sized barbecue – something he rarely used – and a pizza oven. Something he used even less. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever using it at all. If he wanted pizza he just went out and got one, or he ordered in. Why the hell would he want to make his own?
But pizza ovens and super-sized barbecues weren’t the reason he’d bought this place. The reason he’d bought this place was the view. What felt like the whole of Los Angeles stretched out before him, as far as the eye could see, and every time he looked out over it, it gave him an unending feeling of freedom. A fiercely proud Irish actor known for starring in both small, independent movies and mega-money-making blockbusters, Lukas Drake was one of the world’s most in-demand movie stars. Forty-two years old and handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was rarely out of work. And women, they loved him. With stunning blue eyes, hair that sometimes verged on red, thanks to his Irish roots, and a smile that lit up his entire face, there was just something about him that drew people in. Yeah. That smile. He was almost as famous for that smile as he was for his acting. And then there was his Southern Irish-tinged accent that was both soft and incredibly sexy even though, in most of his movies, he spoke with either an American or a British accent.
He split his time between the U.K. and L.A., preferring to stay out of the limelight as much as he could, but that hadn’t always been the case. There’d once been a time when Lukas had craved publicity, a time when living in the spotlight had been normal for him. But events of the past few years meant that privacy had become all important to him. Now. Which was why he loved living here, high in the Hollywood Hills. It felt as though nobody could get to you up here.
Lukas Drake hadn’t always wanted to be an actor, in fact, he hadn’t really wanted to be an actor at all, he’d wanted to be a writer. He’d wanted to work behind the camera, not in front of it, but after penning a script at drama school; after putting that short film together, watching it all take shape, he’d started to become more and more fascinated by the idea of becoming someone else. Of telling a story by becoming that character. That’s when he’d started putting himself forward for acting roles, and it was during a college performance of Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’ that he was spotted by a top London agent who’d been scouting for new talent. And she’d seen something in Lukas. Within a month he’d landed the part of a recurring character in a major British TV drama, followed by lead roles in a couple of small stage productions in Manchester and Edinburgh, before he was offered a starring role in a hard-hitting, edgy independent movie set in Northern Ireland that had put his name firmly on the map. In the U.K. But it was only a matter of time before he got his real big break. Before fame really came calling. And it was his big-screen Hollywood debut at the age of twenty-two – in a role that saw him become one of the most adaptable, charismatic leading men out there – that had catapulted him into almost overnight stardom. That movie had kick-started his Hollywood career in ways he could never have imagined. But it hadn’t just been his Hollywood career it had kick-started. It hadn’t just been his life it had changed, and he had to close his eyes and take a long, deep breath as he remembered everything he’d fucked up. Because he’d had it all, for a while. Until he’d gotten stupid. He’d gotten cocky; arrogant. He’d decided growing up hadn’t really been for him, despite him having everything – a successful career, several homes in more than one country; a beautiful wife. An amazing, incredible wife. But he’d gotten stupid. And, ultimately, he’d become the master of his own downfall, eventually hitting Hollywood headlines for all the wrong reasons – partying all night, snorting all kinds of crap while he got wasted on expensive alcohol; sleeping with women that couldn’t hold a fucking candle to his wife, but he hadn’t been able to see that. At the time. And the day she finally walked out on him, that was the day he’d hit rock bottom; when he’d woken up and realized what an idiot he’d been. When he’d decided getting even crazier was the only way he could deal with losing her. When his career had nose-dived spectacularly. It was only when his long-suffering assistant had found him face-down outside a burger joint on Sunset Boulevard one Saturday, at three in the afternoon, that he realized he couldn’t carry on like that. He’d checked into rehab, fought his demons, and once he was clean and completely sober he’d returned to L.A. a different, better man. That was eight years ago. And he’d been lucky, because Hollywood had given him a second chance, and now his career was more successful than it had ever been. He was, once again, a box-office draw like no other. All that crap was in the past, and there wasn’t a day went by when Lukas didn’t thank whatever God was up there for giving him back his life, his career; for saving him.
Letting forth a heavy sigh he stood up and walked over to the glass barriers that surrounded the extended patio area, looking out over a view he never got tired of. This town, it had given him so much. But it had also taken away much more, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever really handled that side of things; wasn’t sure he’d even started trying to.
His phone ringing shook him back from those memories; those regrets that still played on his mind constantly, because he’d never really dealt with them. Not properly. He’d never been given the chance, never been in a position to even try. But that might just have changed. Now.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered it immediately. “Yeah?” His heart started beating like a jackhammer as the voice on the other end of the line started speaking, and as he listened to everything they were telling him he breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes as his fingers gripped the glass barrier in front of him.
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They were almost there, it was this close to happening. But even after all this time, Lukas Drake really wasn’t anywhere near ready.
Three
“Seriously?” Quinn pushed her sunglasses up on to her head and raised an eyebrow as Harry pulled out her chair.
“You gonna sit down? Only, I don’t usually do the whole ‘gentleman’ thing, I’m just making an exception for you.”
Quinn did as she was told and sat down at the table outside on the patio of the beach front restaurant in Santa Monica. “So?” She fixed Harry with a look that told him she wasn’t in the mood for a long, drawn-out conversation before he got to the point. She just wanted to know what was happening.
Harry held her stare, staying silent for a good few beats, which irritated Quinn slightly. “He’s directing the movie. It’s been confirmed now. And, yes, he’ll also be the other male lead. The rumors are true.”
She looked down at her hands clasped together in front of her, her lightly-tanned skin standing out against the white table-top. “Why didn’t Aaron say anything to me?”
“Because he wouldn’t have known anything about it. Until now.”
“If I’ve heard the rumors, Harry, then surely he would’ve done, too?”
“And why would he have said anything before now, Quinn? Why would he have risked upsetting you if there was no good reason to do that?”
“But there is a reason now. Isn’t there?”
“And like I said, kiddo, he wouldn’t have known a thing about this, until now. The studio are making the official announcement later today, then it’ll be common knowledge. Are you ready for that?”
She said nothing, keeping her gaze fixed on her clasped hands.
“Quinn? You listening to me? Are you ready for…?”
She raised her gaze, her eyes meeting Harry’s. “Why didn’t you tell me Eva Greenwood had dropped out?”
Harry looked at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. “That isn’t common knowledge either. Not yet. I think the studio want to find a replacement…”
“They’ve found one.”
Harry let out a nervous laugh, his eyes never leaving Quinn’s. “I’m sorry?”
“They’ve already found her replacement.”
Harry sat back in his chair, shaking his head, dropping his gaze for only the briefest of seconds. “No. No, I’m gonna pretend this isn’t happening.”
“Harry, I… I have to do this…”
He sat forward with so much force he almost knocked his chair off its back legs. “No, Quinn, you don’t have to do this. What you have to do is stay the fuck away from anything to do with this movie. And if I know Aaron, he’ll want you to do that, too. Which is why I suspect you’ll both be having one hell of a long conversation later…”
“You think he’ll offer to pull out?”
“I think there’s every possibility he might suggest that, yes.”
Quinn dropped her gaze again as she felt something kick up in the pit of her stomach, something she’d been trying to keep down for weeks now. Aaron had signed on to do this movie before the change in director had been announced. Before a second male lead had been found. Before the rumors had started circulating. Rumors she knew he’d been trying to hide from her. “I don’t want him to do that.”
“Why?”
She stayed silent, closing her eyes for a beat or two.
“Why, Quinn? Why wouldn’t you want Aaron to walk away from this when he has every reason…”
Her head snapped back up, her eyes blazing. “To protect me? Is that what you were going to say, Harry? When he has every reason to protect me?”
“Because he loves you! And this… It’s too close, Quinn. You let this happen, you walk too close to that flame again and you are gonna get burned, kiddo. And this time – this time it is gonna hurt way more than it did before.”
“It’s been almost ten years, Harry. I’m not that vulnerable, damaged woman anymore.”
“The fact it’s been almost a decade… That means nothing. I can see it now, right there in your eyes, he’s already got you. He’s already undoing all that hard work, and you’re just gonna let him do that?”
“Maybe it’s what I need.”
“No, what you need is stop with this crap, go home, and talk to Aaron. And for Christ’s sake, please tell me you haven’t done anything stupid like accept that role without talking to me first. And why the hell didn’t they come through me, huh? What the hell am I all of a sudden? Fucking redundant?”
“If they’d contacted you first, Harry, you wouldn’t have even told me about it.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t. Jesus, Quinn, can’t you see what he’s doing? The reason why they didn’t contact me first was because he knows what I would’ve told them. I would’ve said no, you’re not doing this, we’re not even gonna talk about it; he knows what my reaction would’ve been. He’s manipulating you from the start and you can’t see that?”
“He isn’t manipulating me…”
“Jesus, Quinn, come on, baby… You can’t see the freaking mess it would cause if you even thought about doing this movie? And how d’you think Aaron would feel, hmm? Have you even thought about that?”
“Of course I have.”
“And you still think it’s a good idea?”
“For almost a decade I have tried to put him out of my mind, Harry, and for the better part of that I managed it. Because I have Aaron. And I love him, so much I can’t even tell you. He saved me, he put me back together, he fixed me…”
“And you’re OK with just throwing all that away, huh?”
Quinn once more lowered her gaze, her fingers fiddling with her white-gold wedding ring, twisting it round and around in what she knew was a nervous action, but one she found almost comforting. “Maybe he’s come back for a reason.”
Harry sat back, threw his arms in the air and laughed. “Oh, you think?” He leaned forward again, his eyes boring into Quinn’s with an intensity so serious Quinn almost flinched. “Of course he’s doing it for a reason, Quinn. And I can’t believe you’re even thinking about…”
“I want to do this, Harry. I think I need to do this.”
The sigh Harry gave was heavy and laden with frustration. “Jesus fucking Christ…”
“And if I tell Aaron about this, before I give the studio my answer, he’ll try and talk me out of it…”
“And I’d back him all the way.”
“Harry…”
“He’s your husband, Quinn.”
“And this movie – it would give us a chance to work together again. Me, and Aaron…”
“And Lukas. You and Aaron, and Lukas. And you can’t see the problem with that? You can’t see the kind of attention that’s gonna kick up? Come on, Quinn…”
Quinn’s irritation was starting to grow, her skin prickling, and she had to stop herself from verbally retaliating. But deep down she knew Harry was only trying to protect her. It was all he’d ever done – try to protect her. From herself.
Harry sighed again and leaned forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Look, Quinn, I’m gonna put it out there, OK? I don’t want you to do this. I think it’s wrong on every level, but on a personal one I think it’s the worst possible move you could make. It could destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve, and for what? And why now, Quinn? Why, after all these years, do you suddenly feel the need to put yourself in a position where that man can threaten to hurt you all over again?”
“He won’t do that.”
“You know that for sure, huh? You have an iron-clad guarantee that he won’t tear you apart, all over again?”
“Things are different now, Harry.”
“Really? Walk away from this, Quinn. Please. This is a bad idea; this is a crazy idea, because I think half the reason this part has been offered to you in the first place is because of the publicity the studio knows it’s gonna generate. You come on board, and this movie is gonna be talked about before a camera
has even started rolling, and that’s what worries me. That you could be used like that… Actually, no, what worries me even more is the fact that this is him manipulating you – manipulating the situation to get you right where he wants you to be.”
“You think I’m that naïve?”
“When it comes to him, yes, I do.”
“We’re all grown-up now, Harry. I think I can handle it.”
“Can he?”
She looked at Harry, and then dropped her gaze again. Maybe she should think harder about taking on this role; about doing this movie, because Harry was right. It was one big mess just waiting to happen. But she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to give herself time to talk herself out of it. “Like I said, we’re all grown-up now. We’ve all moved on.”
Harry sat back in his chair, switching on a smile as their server placed their drinks down in front of them – a scotch on the rocks for him and a grapefruit juice for Quinn. She was driving. “You need to talk to Aaron, kiddo. Seriously. Talk to him. Before you do anything stupid.”
Quinn took a sip of her drink, barely able to swallow the cool liquid her throat was so tight. Was this the regret kicking in already? Did she actually realize just what it was she might be doing here? What she might be starting? The Pandora’s Box she could be about to open?
Harry let out another labored sigh and raked his hands backwards and forwards through his now slightly-graying hair. Harry Franks didn’t do vanity. And if gray hair was good enough for George Clooney, it was good enough for him. “I mean, are you in some kind of denial here, Quinn?”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Harry.”
“Then stop acting like one. Look, I just want to make sure you know exactly what you’re getting into here, because I’m not entirely sure that you do.”
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