“You know she’s not here, right?”
Adam frowned. “I didn’t.” He glanced around to see the cab’s taillights disappearing through the gates. “I should have held the cab. I need to see her. Where’s she staying?”
“She’ll be back later. Come on in.”
He followed Cole into a cavernous room with a sunken section in the middle containing a square made up of three black leather sofas and a massive TV.
“Retro, except for that TV.”
“Yeah, good mix, sixties throwback and a state of the art curved TV.” Cole grinned, and walked to the bar in the corner. “What’s your poison? Whisky, gin, vodka?”
“Whisky. Hold the water.” He took the heavy, cut glass crystal Cole proffered, and took a couple of steps to the seating area.
Cole sprawled on the opposite sofa.
“So, where is she?”
“She’s in New York. I lent her my plane. She’ll be back later tonight.” He swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “I know she’s been avoiding your calls—she told me.”
“I wish she’d tell me.” When they were first married, Adam had been wary of the way-too-good-looking backing singer in her band, but after getting to know him, Adam accepted her protestations that they were only friends.
“I know she wants you. She didn’t even have to tell me that, it’s written all over her. But this thing with Lester…” Cole grimaced. “I’ve never seen her so shook. She trusted him totally and he screwed her over. She’s still a mess. It’s only in the past couple of days that she’s begun to get her shit together. She told me she refused to let you accompany her. Apollo says she was spouting some crap about not wanting to be broken. Not wanting to be needy.”
He shrugged. Tossed back the remainder of the alcohol in his glass, and poured another shot from the bottle he’d placed on the dark oak table between them. “She doesn’t understand love. I’ve tried to tell her, but she doesn’t get that if someone loves her they don’t judge if she’s screwed up. They want to help.”
For a guy who rocked a commitment-phobe reputation, Cole sure had a good take on love.
“You’re sounding Oprah there, man.” Adam grinned and Cole put his hands up, palms out.
“I don’t know. Things get confused. I thought it was great when you and Stacy got married. I’d known her for years—even before I started working in the band, and she lit up when she met you. She was really happy. You know when she first signed with Star Records she lived in the house with Lester and his wife? She was only a teenager and they were like these old, over-protective parents. It would have been good for her to go to school, to make friends and graduate with a class, but she had a full time tutor instead. Because all of the musicians she worked with were so much older, she was never allowed to mix with them once the gigs were done.”
This was the first time Adam had heard about her teenage years and he found it fascinating enough to divert him from the need to know what exactly she was doing in New York.
Cole gestured to the bottle, and raised his eyebrows.
Adam poured himself another drink and settled back against the Aztec-patterned cushions.
“I remember we had to do a music video once. And the director produced a load of bikes. He thought it would look cool if we were cycling around, singing along. It was a damned stupid idea. You ever try playing a guitar while riding a bike? Or playing drums? Anyway, it was doomed to fail from the outset. He wheeled out a girly pink bike with silver and pink streamers flowing from the handlebars, and I thought Stacy was going to cry. “Try it,” The director said, but she just shook her head and dashed inside.
“I went after her and found her crying in the kitchen. She told me she didn’t know what to do. That everyone knew how to ride a bike, but she’d never even tried. She was certain everyone would laugh at her.”
“I guess she never had one.” Just like swimming. “She can’t swim either. I guess all the things we take for granted in a regular childhood were missing in hers.” And she’d spent years trying to hide that truth from everyone. She wanted to be accepted, not shunned. That’s why she wanted to stay with Star Records—a respected, established label. Because it gave her legitimacy in her eyes.
“Lester did everything he could to undermine her. He never cut her any slack. She didn’t go to after parties, and he barely let her out of his sight. The one time she managed to sneak away was to that conference where she met you.”
“What other people think means too much to her.” Their relationship should be private, he loved her, he was pretty sure she loved him. But there was no need for the press to know all the details.
“In this business, public perception is everything. The movie’s in jeopardy because of things people are saying about her. Her label dropped her because she doesn’t fit her country princess image any longer. To Stacy, it matters.”
Cole was right. The plan Adam’d thought so perfect had a few holes, didn’t deliver all the things that would make her happy—give her closure.
Cole glanced at his watch, and reached for the remote. “She’s on TV in ten minutes. I’ll go get us some popcorn.”
*****
Stacy refused the offer of a drink in the green room, needing to keep her wits about her and hold her nerve for what was to come. When Jay Dix’s assistant came to fetch her, her legs shook as she prepared to make her entrance. If only she’d been able to speak to Adam—to let him know what she was about to do. She smoothed the fabric over her hips and sent a silent prayer ceilingwards that he might somehow, somewhere be watching.
Music started—an upbeat, live rendition of Girl Boy, Your Toy. The assistant smiled and urged her forward, and Stacy stepped onto the top of a staircase to make her entrance.
The audience went wild, but then they always did whenever a guest stepped onto the Jay Dix Show. Jay stood and walked over to greet her as she descended the staircase and walked over to the sitting area.
“Stacy Gold, everyone!”
He hugged her. Whispered, “Thanks for coming, Stacy,” in her ear.
She sat on the plush guest sofa, and he sat in his usual place, a chair behind a desk.
“You’re looking great.” Jay grinned.
“Well, thank you, Jay.” She smiled back.
“It’s a bit of a coup to have you here tonight. It seems like everyone in the world wants to know what’s going with you.”
Her smile wobbled, but she forced it not to vanish entirely.
“First off, I’m sorry about your manager.” A picture of Lester appeared on the big screen behind him. “His sudden death must have been hard to take.” The interviewer’s eyes glittered, as if he were softening her up, preparing to go in for the kill.
“It was.”
The picture onscreen switched to a long shot of her dressed in black walking back to the car with Cole at her side from the graveside.
“Rumors are rife about what really happened.” The screen switched to a collection of headlines ripped from the tabloids. All the really crappy ones. “Do you want to tell us?”
She clutched her hands in her lap. “There have been a lot of untrue things written in the past couple of weeks.” She reached for the glass of water before her, and swallowed a mouthful. “As you know, Jay, Lester Jones discovered me. He’s been…sorry…he was my only manager through all the years I’ve been in the business. I didn’t know he had a gambling problem, and he hid his heart condition from everyone.” She shifted in the chair. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but in brief, he stole a lot of money to feed his habit, and escaped the country.”
“And flew to Bali.”
She nodded. “Right. He succumbed to gambling again, was badly beaten, and then he died.” She fought for composure. “It’s a very sad situation.”
“He stole money from you.” Jay leaned forward. “I’ve read he sold your house, and cleaned out your bank account.”
“He took what he could get his hands on, yes.”
“But you organized his funeral, and had him buried next to his late wife.”
“I did.” She stared into the audience. “It’s hard to forgive someone when they treat you wrong. I’m no saint. When I discovered he’d sold my house, I was furious. But when it comes down to it, he was my mentor, he looked after me when I first started in the business, he built my career. I’d made him a promise he’d spend eternity next to his wife, and I couldn’t turn back from that.”
“You have supportive friends, I know Cole Tempest has helped you through this.”
“Cole is one of my oldest friends. There’s nothing romantic going on between us, and never has been.” She smoothed her hands over her flat stomach. “And, no. I’m not having Cole’s baby.” A small cheer rose from the audience—probably from Cole’s fans.
“There are a lot of other rumors…”
“Yes. There’s the question of my parents.” The audience went so quiet you could hear a guitar string break. “Lester first saw me perform in a talent competition when I was fourteen. My teacher had entered me, and lent me her guitar; I didn’t own one.”
“Both of your parents were drug dealers?”
“My father was. My mother is an alcoholic.” It seemed weird to talk about them so dispassionately. “They weren’t really interested in being parents.”
Jay nodded, and there was compassion in his eyes, as though he realized how hard this was for her.
“I was just a teenager when I was offered my first recording contract. Lester came to my home and asked my parents to sign on my behalf, because I was too young to sign without a parent’s consent.” A long suppressed memory of that day rose up. Her joy at the thought of the new, shiny future in her reach which had been instantly dashed by her parents’ reaction. “They wanted to be paid for signing. A deal was arranged in which Lester was made my legal guardian.”
“For money?”
“For money.” She felt dirty, now the truth of how she’d been effectively sold was exposed. “My parents were airbrushed out of my background for a fee.”
“There are those who say you abandoned them.” More headlines flashed on the screen behind the host’s head.
The instinctive urge to sugarcoat the truth welled up, but she squashed it down. Tonight was about telling the truth. The whole truth. If the entire audience and the viewing public rejected her, so be it, she couldn’t live a lie any longer.
She breathed in deep a couple of times to center herself. “After I recorded my first album, I went home to visit, but my mother didn’t recognize me. These situations are complicated—there’s always more to a story than that which is recorded in the papers. My parents received money from my earnings every year, but that arrangement is finished now. If my mother needs funds to get into rehab, I’ll pay it, but that’s it.”
“You were a kid in an impossible situation. I would have done the same.”
Murmurs rippled through the audience, and then someone applauded. In seconds one clap turned into hundreds, then the entire audience got to their feet, nodding and clapping.
“I think our audience agrees with me.” Jay grinned.
When the audience sat back down, Jay took control of the show again. “You brought some pictures with you. We’ve put them on our screen here. Do you want to talk me through them?”
A picture of Adam and Stacy on their wedding day appeared. They were the only ones who knew it was their wedding day. He wore a blue suit, and she wore a simple white dress. “This is me and my husband, Adam.”
“Your ex-husband,” Jay corrected.
“Yes.” She breathed deep. The screen changed. Three pictures appeared, showing Adam with a woman. Even though she knew they were faked, she felt pain at seeing them.
The shocked collective intake of breath from the audience was audible.
“I was shown these pictures as evidence that Adam cheated during our marriage, but recently I’ve obtained these pictures which were taken at the same time.”
Two more pictures flashed on screen. In them, the man had turned to fully face the camera. His similarity to Adam was striking, but he clearly was a different person.
“I’ve spoken to the man in these pictures. He’s a model who was asked to pose for them, he thought for an advertising campaign. He had no idea what they would be actually used for.” She stared into the camera. “Now everyone knows the truth, I ask that they stop appearing in the press.”
Jay nodded. “So what projects are you working on now, Stacy?” His smile was genuine. “I’m afraid I have to hurry you, we only have a couple of minutes left.”
“I’m working on a fabulous animated movie in Ireland, I can’t say much about it, but I can say that the team producing it is incredibly talented, and I’m loving being the voice of their main character.”
“Well, we wish you all the best with that.”
The audience applauded, and Jay walked around the desk, and shook her hand. “That was perfect,” he whispered. “The end credits are running, and we’ll be off air soon. Just keep smiling.”
Chapter Sixteen
Stacy discovered that even though the show was live in the States, it was syndicated to Ireland, and wouldn’t air until the next evening. So he wouldn’t have seen it. She was so exhausted—both physically and mentally—that she made her way back to the airport and onto the plane on autopilot. It was good to have Apollo block people from her; to look out for her. She’d dealt with her past. Tomorrow she would deal with her future.
She slept on the plane. On the ride back to Cole’s house, she turned to Apollo. “Thanks for being there for me today. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Apollo shot her a glance, then concentrated on the road ahead again. “You would have managed. You did good tonight. They were hard questions, but you didn’t flinch.” He patted her knee. “Good work.”
“I want to call Adam.” Her voice broke with fatigue. “But right now, I’m so tired.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough.” He checked his mirror and changed lanes. “We’ll be home in a couple of minutes. Cole gave me a key in case he’s gone to bed.”
Security at the gate let them in. Apollo opened the door. A light was on in the hallway, and a soft light from the subdued lighting was visible through the partially open door to the living room, but the house was silent.
While she took off her coat, Apollo checked. “Hi.”
Cole must still be up.
“Are you coming in for some tea or something?”
Apollo shook his head with a smile. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed. I’ll drop your bag in your room on the way past.”
“Okay.” She hugged the giant man. “See you in the morning.”
She pushed open the door, hoping Cole would understand if she couldn’t stay awake for more than a brief recap of the evening.
When she saw the man walking toward her from the sunken seating area, her first thought was that she was hallucinating. She stopped dead. Her mouth opened, but she had no words.
“Hi, Stacy.” Adam crossed the room, touched the side of her face, and kissed her.
If this was a dream, she was all in. But the touch of his lips was no dream. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and the kiss deepened as their bodies melded together.
After what seemed an age, she managed to pull away a little, enough to make eye contact. “You’re here.” No shit, Sherlock. Apparently her wits had deserted her.
“I’m here. I arrived a couple of hours after you left.” He grasped her hand and took her to the sofa. Sat, and pulled her onto his lap. “You were fantastic on the show.” He nuzzled her neck, almost distracting her from the questions buzzing inside like a swarm of angry bees.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
His eyebrows rose. “Would you have taken my call?”
She grimaced. “I know it looks bad—that I’ve been ignoring your calls. I didn’t want to lean on you, I wanted to be strong. There was so muc
h stuff going on, I needed to deal with it myself.”
His arms tightened around her. “Don’t you get it yet?” His voice was soft, full of caring. “I love you. Any problems you have, I have. We’re in this together.”
Her mind was stuck on I love you. They’d agreed to have a fling, not to fall back into love, and even though she’d been unable to think of anyone but him since the day she saw him waiting for her at the airport, she hadn’t dared to hope he felt the same.
“I love you,” he said again.
“I don’t see how you can.”
He nipped her neck with his teeth. “I was hoping for a different response.” She flattened her palm against the side of his face. “Stop. I can’t think while you’re doing that.”
He stared into her eyes. His expression was somber.
“I love you, Adam Logan. I always have, and I always will.”
A slow, perfect smile spread across his face until she angled his face to hers and kissed it away.
*****
They crept through the silent house to her bedroom like teenagers. She walked ahead up the cantilever staircase. His hands curled around her hips. He breathed in the lemon scent of her hair with every step.
She turned in his arms when they entered her darkened room. “Let me turn on a light.” Her voice was husky, aroused.
“No.” The lack of one of his senses amplified the others. He stripped off her clothes then his own, returned to her naked in the darkness, and let his hands explore her dips and curves. He nuzzled her neck, feeling the soft brush of her hair against his face. The taste of her skin, warm and salty, was so delicious he pressed an open mouthed kiss against the corded muscles of her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, and her back arched.
He had no idea where the bed was, and didn’t care. Didn’t need it.
His lips trailed down her body, tasting wherever it touched. His tongue flicked against her hard nipples, and she gripped his head with desperate fingers, moaning aloud.
“I need to lie down.”
He dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach. “Not yet.”
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