Kiss Me, Chloe
Notting Hill Diaries – Book 3
Shéa R. MacLeod
Kiss Me, Chloe
Notting Hill Diaries: Book 3
Text copyright © 2015 Shéa MacLeod
Text copyright © 2020 Shéa R. MacLeod
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover Art by Tugboat Designs
Editing by Theo Fenraven
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Also by Shéa R. MacLeod
Dragon Wars
Dragon Warrior
Dragon Lord
Dragon Goddess
Green Witch
Dragon Corps
Dragon Mage
Dragon's Angel
Notting Hill Diaries
The Art of Kissing Frogs
To Kiss A Prince
Kiss Me, Chloe (Coming Soon)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Kiss Me, Chloe (Notting Hill Diaries, #3)
Chapter 1
The Musician
Chapter 2
Mr. Two-Face
Chapter 3
The Wanna Be
Chapter 4
The Soulmate
Chapter 5
Bus Stop Romeo
Chapter 6
Mr. Perfect
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
The Boy Next Door
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Mr. Romance
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Musician Number Two
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
The Creeper
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
DEDICATION
Here’s another one for my Soul Sister.
May your life always be filled with glitter and magic.
Chapter 1
“YOU MAKE MY HEAD SPIN. You give me heartburn.” I belted out the words, shooting my audience a saucy grin and a little hip wiggle. The crowd cheered and laughed, getting into the groove of the song. I was having the time of my life despite the fact the reception was swarming with Pinewood types (read Hollywood with British accents and bad teeth), theater rats, and more celebrities than you could shake a stick at. Oh, and I was pretty sure the guy by the ice sculpture, wearing red suspenders and sporting an enormous handlebar mustache, was a paparazzo. How could Kate stand this craziness? I loved the chaos, but Kate liked things calm and orderly.
Kate Miller had been my best friend since we were both ten years old (she was technically eleven months older than me). She’d even moved to London about the same time as me. The ex-pat experience had bonded us even closer. She had married the love of her life, Adam Wentworth, almost a month ago. I’d been at the ceremony. Heck, I’d donned a purple day dress and glitter eyeshadow, and thrown birdseed like a pro pitcher. But they’d gotten so many people bent out of shape by not inviting them to the private ceremony, they’d thrown a big party right after they got back from their honeymoon. And they’d asked me to sing at the reception. I’d jumped at the chance. What could I say? I loved a good party almost as much as I loved singing.
I crooned away like I knew what it was like to be in love. Thirty-four years of (mostly) being single sure made it hard to pretend, but I thought I was doing a good job of it. Who said singers couldn’t act? Okay, there’d been the odd guy or two in there, but nothing really serious. Well, except that one...
Dark spots danced in my vision as a flash went off in my face. No doubt he’d caught me with my mouth hanging open. I made a mental note to strangle the idiot photographer later.
The tempo changed to a popular retro style song about a girl with junk in her trunk. I could relate. I wiggled my hips as I sang, enjoying the fun, upbeat melody and the sight of the wedding guests bouncing around in a facsimile of the twist and the mashed potato. The full skirt of my emerald green party dress swished sassily around my knees as I boogied along with them. A voluptuous, sixty-something Indian woman in a shocking eggplant and fuchsia sari pushed her way to the middle of the dance floor and shook what her mama had given her. The crowd around her cheered. She shot me a wink, and I winked back, earning more cheers. Mrs. Banjeree had been Kate’s neighbor in Notting Hill. I’d never pegged her as the dancing diva type, but people have a way of surprising you.
Kate’s cousin, Emma, joined Mrs. Banjeree in the middle of the dance floor, and the two of them twirled wildly about. Emma was wearing a floaty, pale pink dress dripping with ruffles and lace and was wearing enough glitter to drown a fairy. Her moves looked more like an interpretive dance than anything Chubby Checker would recognize.
Another flash strobed, this time not at me. Kate’s former co-worker, Deb, was snapping shots of Mrs. Banjeree grooving on the dance floor. She was dressed much more subtly in a simple black and white shift dress, her blonde hair carefully coiled on top her head. Deb caught me looking and shot me a grin and a wave before disappearing into the crowd.
Kate and Adam were getting down, laughing and giggling, their arms draped around each other like they were the only people in the whole wide world. Mad in love, those two. I felt a tiny stab of envy but brushed it off. I was ecstatic for them. Kate deserved a happy ending and Adam was a really good guy. Gorgeous, too. More than half the world agreed with me. He was a hot commodity on both sides of the Pond and raked in major bucks for his movies.
I felt eyes on me and glanced to the side of the stage. A stranger lounged against the wall, his eyes boring a hole in me. I’d seen him earlier, his tousled dark hair worn nearly to his shoulders and eyes so dark and smoldering, they gave a girl serious bedroom fantasies. He was watching me, his eyes eating me up like I was some kind of tasty dessert. I gave him a flirtatious smile before turning back to my audience.
Everyone clapped as the song came to an end and the band announced a break. I hurried off the stage only to be grabbed in a bear hug by Kate.
“Thank you so much, Chloe,” she said, giving me a squeeze. Her cheeks were pink, and her blue eyes glowed. She was gorgeous in a ’50s style party dress the same color as her eyes, and her brown hair fell in soft waves around her face. “Having you sing for us is beyond amazing.”
I grinned. She was so darned happy. I loved seeing her like this. “You’re welcome. Now I need something to drink before I die of thirst.”
“Have a glass of bubbly.” Her husband, Adam, thrust a glass of Prosecco in my hand before swooping down to plant a kiss on my cheek. There was a reason women around the world swooned over Adam. He was always far too handsome for his own good, but dressed in a dark suit and a shirt that matched Kate’s dress, he was breathtaking. “We can’t thank you enough, Chloe. Everyone loves your singing.”
I smiled at him. He really was one of the handsomest men I’d ever seen up close. And he was totally gone over Kate. The way he held her snug up against him like he couldn’t bear to let her go gave me the warm fuzzies.
“Long as you promise to take care of my Kate, that’s all the thanks I need.”
“Did you notice Ryan Gosling checking you out?” Kate asked with a giggle.
I raised my eyebrow as I glanced over at the famous movie star, who was lounging by
the chocolate fountain. “Does his wife know?” I asked with a laugh.
Kate sighed. “Very inconvenient of him to have one of those.”
“A wife. Yes. I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment. Besides”—I cast another look at the man in question—“he should be so lucky.”
“How about Simon?” Adam suggested helpfully, nodding toward where his friend was chatting to a crowd of women hanging on his every word. Simon and Adam had starred together in a West End play, and while Simon was handsome, he didn’t really float my boat. Still, why not get in a bit of flirting?
“I’ll think about it.” I smiled over the rim of my champagne glass. A reed-thin woman with pink hair gave a hyena laugh and groped Simon’s bicep. I snorted in amusement as I took another drink.
The bubbly went down easy as Kate and Adam wandered away to visit with other guests. More flashes went off around me, but I ignored them. They weren’t interested in me, anyway. A waiter replaced my empty glass. It must be nice to be rich.
I strolled over to where Simon was holding court. “Well, if it isn’t the gorgeous Simon,” I said, cutting into the conversation and in front of Pink Hair. At least half a dozen pairs of eyes swiveled my way, most of them hostile. Frankly, I couldn’t have cared less.
“Chloe, you lovely thing.” He detached himself from Pink Hair’s grasp. “Come over here and give us a kiss.”
I pushed my way through the throng of women and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek, but I allowed my hand to linger almost possessively on his arm while I threw Pink Hair an arch look. I could almost feel the mental daggers being shot my way. I held back a smirk. This was one reason I could never date someone like Simon seriously. Like Damon, he had far too many groupies. In my experience, men and groupies were never a good mix.
“You’re looking especially dapper this evening,” I told him, remaining by his side, completely ignoring the other women.
“Why, thank you. And you are looking especially gorgeous yourself. Why won’t you go out with me?” He’d asked me at least half a dozen times, but I knew very well he didn’t mean it. He was only interested because I wasn’t.
“Maybe someday. If you’re lucky.”
The press of bodies had raised the temperature to unbearable. I waved my hand in front of my face, suddenly aware of a bead of sweat rolling down my spine.
I needed fresh air, so I gave Simon another peck on the cheek, shot Pink Hair a look of triumph, and made my way through the press of dancers flopping around to “YMCA.” Kate did love her ’70s music. The ballroom opened up into a hall, at the end of which were a set of French doors. I pushed my way through them to find myself on a small balcony overlooking the hotel grounds and fountain below. Perfect.
I sucked in a lungful of cool air and sipped the champagne. Bubbles tickled my nose, and the alcohol warmed me in places that hadn’t been exercised in far too long. I leaned against the railing, careful not to get my dress dirty. I had to admit I loved the dress. The cotton silk was like butter against my skin, and the style enhanced my more than generous curves. It was probably the most flattering thing I owned and the color was perfect. It brought out the creaminess of my complexion and enhanced my blue eyes. Kate had excellent taste when she had the budget to pay for what she truly loved. The dress had been her gift to me for this evening. I’d paired it with chunky, sapphire and hot pink jewelry and rhinestone-studded stilettos. I felt like a million bucks.
I drank in the beauty of the cool spring night. For once, the clouds had parted, and the never-ending drizzle had stopped. Out here in the country, you could see the stars. There were so many of them. Not like in London, although frankly, I preferred the city. I felt a little naked not being surrounded by concrete and tall buildings and too many people. There was something so energizing about the hustle and bustle.
I knew the moment I wasn’t alone anymore. I hadn’t heard anything, but there was a prickle along the back of my neck, a sort of sixth sense someone was on the balcony with me. I glanced over my shoulder. He was slender, a little taller than me, and his hair gleamed palely in the moonlight, though I knew it was more red than blond. His dark suit was cut perfectly to accentuate a narrow waist and broad shoulders and his shoes probably cost more than mine did.
“Hey, Chloe.” He flashed a big, cheeky grin, rocking back on his heels. He languidly lifted his glass of champagne and took a delicate sip.
I returned the smile. “Hey, Kev.” Kate had talked non-stop about her fabulous flatmate for months. We’d finally met a few weeks ago while helping Kate plan the party. Well, mostly Kev planned. I was there for moral support and cake testing. “The party is amazing.”
“Isn’t it just.” He winked, his smile widening.
“Oh, definitely. Everyone is have a great time.”
“Excellent.” He moved closer to the railing and clinked his champagne glass against mine. “Kate sure knows her Prosecco,” he said, taking a long sip. “Even if it isn’t champagne. Did you know Adam tried to talk her into Cliquot, but she wasn’t having it? Said it was a waste of money. She wanted Prosecco.”
“That’s our Kate,” I said with a laugh. Kate was not one to spend ridiculous amounts of money on something just because it was expected. We had that in common.
“Now, tell me, lovely, what’s a girl like you doing at a shindig like this without a date?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Cheeky git.”
“Oh, you know it, sweetie. Now tell Auntie Kev everything.”
I couldn’t help it; I giggled like a schoolgirl. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I do my best.” He waggled his perfectly manicured eyebrows and took another sip.
“Well, if you must know, I haven’t met Mr. Right yet.”
“Who needs Mr. Right when Mr. Right Now will do just fine?”
I shook my head, laughing at his silliness. “Okay, fair point, but I’ve just never been any good at the casual thing.”
“You get too attached,” he said knowingly.
“Something like that.”
“You’re as bad as Kate.” He rolled his eyes.
“Hey, we know what we want, and we’re not about to settle for less.” I stared down at the fountain. “She got her dream guy.”
“And you want yours,” he said softly. “I know the feeling.” He sighed. “Kate kissed a whole lot of frogs before she found Adam.”
“You’re not kidding. I had to sit through the retelling of each and every one of them. And that ex-husband of hers...if I ever see him again...”
“Oh, sweetie, my nan has a lovely back garden in need of fertilizing.”
We burst out laughing. Kate’s ex-husband had dumped her for another woman, tried to get her thrown out of the country (with success), divorced her, and left her without a penny, and then tried to cash in when she became a successful author. Burying him in the back garden almost seemed too good for him.
“Listen, sweetie,” Kev said, laying his hand gently on my arm, “you need to get out and live a little. Have some fun. Kiss some frogs. Otherwise you’re going to end up forty and alone with no option but to marry me.”
I almost snorted Prosecco bubbles up my nose. “Perish the thought.”
Kev perked up as the music inside changed tempo again. “Oh, that’s my song! Gotta go get my dance on, but it was fantastic seeing you again. We should do lunch soon.”
“That’d be great.”
He kissed my cheek and floated back through the open doors. Alone again, I turned my attention to the garden and my Prosecco.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a deep, unfamiliar voice interrupted my silence. What was this, a superhighway?
I turned to see the same man who’d stared at me from the edge of the stage. In the darkness, his hair was black silk and his eyes were lost in shadows. There was something about him that sent shivers down my spine and made me think of doing naughty things. Things for which I was seriously out of practice.
“You’re American.” I
t was the first thing that popped out of my mouth. I could have slapped myself in the forehead for my stupidity.
His lips quirked a little at the corners as he walked slowly toward me. “How did you know? I thought my accent was pretty good.”
“It is,” I admitted. “It was the phrase. Totally American.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I guess you can take the boy out of Kansas.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
He stared at me for several heartbeats, his dark gaze drinking me in like he could see into my soul. It felt a little weird and uncomfortable, but dang, he was hot. He held out his hand. “Derek Anderson.”
“Chloe Daniels.” I shook his offered hand. My mama always said you could tell a lot about a man from his handshake. Derek’s was firm, warm, and the skim of his fingertips over my wrist sent my pulse racing. Wow. “So, bride or groom?” It was dumb. I knew all of Kate’s friends and family, and I’d never met this man before in my life.
He smiled a little, and I noticed it was slightly crooked. I found it endearing. “Groom.”
“Ah.” I didn’t know most of the groom’s side, although I’d met Adam’s sisters. I was glad my best friend had married into such a loving and supportive family. I’d seen too many of my friends marry into the opposite, and their lives hadn’t been easy because of it. I didn’t want that for Kate. “How do you know Adam?”
“We work together now and again.”
“Oh, are you an actor?” I didn’t recall seeing him in anything, but I didn’t like to point that out. He might get offended. Actor types could be touchy that way. I knew that from experience, too.
“Yes, actually. Although unlike Adam, I stick to the stage. I prefer the energy of an audience.”
I nodded. I didn’t remember him from any of the plays I’d seen Adam in, but that wasn’t saying much. Between makeup, masks, and costumes, people were often hard to recognize off-stage. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Derek.”
“I liked your singing,” he said, moving closer. “You have an incredibly sexy voice.”
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