“Bellissima Hair and Beauty,” Sasha said, pride shining in her voice.
“You have to be kidding me? You named your salon after your favorite Barbie?”
“Playing Barbies with you were some of the happiest times in my life.”
Giselle swallowed a big lump that formed in her throat. She’d played Barbies with Sasha for hours and hours after her mother died. It was the only thing that had distracted the little girl from her grief. Their favorite dolls were Bellissima and Sophia Loren. Those two Barbies had been on so many adventures together. At the end of each day, Sasha would brush their hair and change their clothes, ready for the next day.
She put her arm around Sasha. “Bellissima and Sophia, together again. You want to know something?”
“What?” Sasha asked.
“Sophia Loren is a nickname I use at hotels.”
Jake frowned. “What do you mean?”
“No one gets to me when I’m staying at a hotel without the password.”
“So you haven’t totally forgotten about me, then,” Sasha said.
Giselle shifted on her chair. “How’s the salon going?” she asked.
“Really well,” Sasha said. “Thanks to Jake’s great work on reinvigorating the town, we now have plenty of tourists, even out of peak season. Most businesses would have gone under without him.” The pride in her voice was clear.
“Let’s not get too excited,” Jake said. “It’s not like I did it all by myself.”
“Come on, Jake. You’re the founder and chair of the Turtle Beach Writers Festival, you’re on the board of the Blues and Roots Festival, and the hospital and you’ve just headed up the Christmas Gala committee for the fifth year in a row,” Sasha said. “This town wouldn’t run without you.”
“Well, Dad was getting distressed, you know, at not being able to run things anymore. When I took over, it calmed him down. And when your mom got too frail, I took over her stuff, too. Someone had to pick up where those two left off.”
“They certainly were the driving forces of this town,” Sasha said, her gaze settling squarely on Giselle. Sasha obviously expected some affirmation about her mother’s fabulousness.
“Hmm,” Giselle said, looking down at her plate. Her mother. Again held up as the shining example of wonderfulness. She placed her fork down, her appetite gone.
Her phone rang in the other room.
“Excuse me.” She walked into the living room and retrieved her phone from her handbag. It was her agent.
“Hi, Tony. Please tell me you’ve got good news. I really want to get out of this place.”
“I wish I could. I’ve seen the tape.”
“Surely that’s good news, as it’s not me.”
“Well, if that’s not you, you have an identical twin. If this tape goes viral we are in big trouble.”
Despair lodged hard and heavy in her stomach. “But it’s not me,” she pleaded, as if making the declaration could erase the gross injustice.
“I know that and you know that, but you know that’s not how it works. No one will care about the truth; they’re going to believe what they see. And what they will see is a hot, young singing superstar having sex with a married man who has three children. This will tank the US tour.”
“Bloody hell, Tony.” She slumped onto the couch. “What do I do? Do I make a preemptive statement?”
“No. It’s still contained as far as I know.”
“So what? I have to pay some blackmailing bastard a million dollars not to release a false tape?”
“Not that either. At least not yet, but let’s not rule it out. You’ve worked your whole career to break into the US. We can’t let anything sabotage that.”
“So what, I just sit here and wait?” She thrust up from the couch, fury hot in her veins.
“I’ve got the police working on it now. I’ll string the blackmailer along and hopefully the police will catch him or at least authenticate that the tape’s a fake.”
Once again someone was destroying her life and she had no control.
“So what do I do?” She paced the room.
“Stay where you are. Lie low. If this thing breaks you don’t want to be anywhere where the media can ambush you. Does anyone know where you are now? Did any media turn up at that hospital visit yesterday?”
“Yes, but I avoided her.”
“Does she know you’re still in town?”
Giselle walked to the window and looked out. “She’ll probably stake out my old house. I don’t think she’ll search for me here, but …”
“Where are you?”
“At a friend’s.” Her one true friend. She glanced back toward the kitchen. What had happened earlier, that kiss, would it ruin that friendship? Sex always messed things up.
“Right. Stay there,” Tony said. “Don’t leave. Let me get this contained before you go anywhere public again.”
She stopped pacing. “I’m not going to be a prisoner here.” Never again would she be restricted, imprisoned. The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller.
“You’re not a prisoner, Giselle. You’re being smart. There’s a difference.”
She inhaled a calming breath. He was right. She needed to keep things in perspective. She could leave at any time.
“Okay. I’ll stay here.”
Tony gave an audible sigh. “Good. Think of this as a holiday. When do you usually get this type of time to do nothing? Enjoy it. I’ll ring when I have news.”
“Thanks.” Giselle ended the call.
The phone rang again.
“Tony?”
“No. Gordon Turner.”
Who? Oh the developer. “Yes?”
“I have a break in the schedule. I can make it up in two days. Does that suit?”
She couldn’t think about the sale now with the terrible tape news. “Yes. Fine.” She’d deal with it later.
“Good. See you then.”
She hung up.
“Everything okay?” Jake asked, coming into the room.
“No.” She threw her phone in her bag. She was facing disaster. “I have a favor to ask. Can I stay a few more days? Just until this tape debacle blows over.”
“Why don’t you stay forever?” He pinned her with a look that threatened to steal her heart. She swallowed hard. She shouldn’t stay here. She shouldn’t. She turned away from those gorgeous eyes. Eyes that could convince her that anything was a good idea.
“Ha. Funny,” she said, trying to make light of his bombshell statement. “A few days will be fine.” She walked back into the kitchen.
Jake was the essence of the town that had abandoned her. Imprisoned her. Sure, he didn’t know what had happened to her, but the two were intrinsically linked. Just one day in Turtle Beach and the nightmares were back. How long would it be before the panic attacks returned with wild, unpredictable force? An awful shudder struck her body. She gripped the wall. For her health, her very sanity, she couldn’t stay in Turtle Beach for a moment longer than absolutely necessary.
CHAPTER SIX
Giselle handed Jake the last of the breakfast dishes. He put them in the dishwasher and glanced at his watch.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said. “I have to go.”
Sasha jumped off her stool. “Me, too. Where are you going? Want a lift?”
“No. I’m heading over to Rachel’s. We have an emergency meeting. Need to talk about upping the marketing for the gala.”
“Okay. Bye, then,” Sasha said, then gripped Giselle in a bear hug. The friendly touch made her feel so conflicted. Made her feel connected to the world instead of standing apart from everything that was real. Keeping everyone at a distance.
“So great to see you, Giselle. Now, don’t you dare go without saying goodbye this time.”
“I’ll do my best. Bye, Sasha.”
Sasha walked from the room.
“Wow, she hasn’t changed,” Giselle said.
“If you mean she’s still a ball of nutty energy with the world’s b
iggest heart, then yup, she’s exactly the same.”
Giselle had always envied the close relationship between Jake and Sasha. What they had was so special. They looked out for each other. She’d often wondered what would have happened if she’d had a brother or a sister. Would things have been different?
“Right. I have to go.” Jake closed the dishwasher and set it going. “You will be here when I get back?” He moved in close.
“What’s the emergency?” she asked, turning away from him to wipe down the bench. She couldn’t allow a repeat of what had happened before Sasha arrived. That kiss had been a massive lapse in judgment.
“Ticket sales.” He stepped away, obviously picking up on her signal to keep his distance. “They’re abysmal this year. We might have to cancel the gala, which would be devastating.”
“Why aren’t the tickets selling?”
He shrugged. “A combination of things. The lineup is probably not the strongest and we need more marketing. No one seems to know about it.”
“Perhaps I could help. You are putting me up after all.”
His eyes widened. “I’m liking the sound of that. Come with me.”
“No way.” She held up her hands, palms out. “I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile, remember?”
“It’s just Rachel and a few others. They won’t tell anyone you’re here. They’re more Bing Crosby and ‘Simple Melody’ than Giselle Harrington and ‘Kiss Me’.”
His gaze slipped to her mouth. The sensitive skin of her lips tingled under his sensual scrutiny. She lost all train of thought for a moment. What had he said? Go with him? Oh no. He was asking her to trust the people of Turtle Beach. That was not going to happen.
“Forget it,” she said, rinsing out the cloth and hanging it up to dry.
“It’d mean a lot to me. A lot to the kids of this town. We’re raising funds for a children’s fracture clinic at the hospital. Currently parents have to drive two hours to Newcastle.”
An ache pulsed deep in her chest. He had her. She’d made it her mission in life to protect kids from being hurt. Or, if they’d been hurt, helping them heal. Hospital visits. Anonymous donations. Special appearances for children’s charities. Yes, she needed to protect herself, but she needed to protect kids more.
She ran her thumbnail over her bottom lip. “Okay, but if the world’s media turns up, you’re going to deal with them.”
He smiled. “Promise.”
Giselle stood by the truck but didn’t follow Jake up the stairs of the old weatherboard house. She was supposed to be staying hidden, instead she was about to expose her presence in town to God knew who.
“Come on.” Jake walked back to her and gripped her hand. He led her to Rachel’s front door. “They don’t bite,” he teased as he knocked.
“I’m not worried about them biting. I’m worried about them taking a photo, loading it to Facebook with my location. I only just made it out of the hospital without the media descending.”
He laughed. “I think that’s unlikely.”
The door opened. A woman of about sixty-five appeared.
“Jake. So lovely to see you. Who’s your friend?”
“Hi, Rachel. This is Giselle Harrington.”
“Oh yes. Faye’s daughter.” Rachel studied Giselle’s face. “You have your mother’s eyes,” she said, holding the door open and ushering them inside as if she met global superstars every day. “I’m sorry about Faye.”
“Thank you.” Giselle expelled a long breath. Safe so far.
Rachel led them into a sunny living room. Three other people were already there. All of them would have been teenagers in the fifties. They all greeted her the same way, as if she were just a girl from down the road.
Rachel fussed with tea and cake.
“Sorry, Jake, but I really think we’re at the point where we’ll have to cancel,” Rachel said, when they were all settled. “We’ve only sold fifty tickets and the show is next week.”
“Why don’t we print some more posters,” Jake said. “I can get them done and head over to Broken Point. Put some up there.”
“We can try,” said another member of the group.
“And I’ll go back to Fred at the Ocean FM,” Jake said. “I’m sure he’d do another promo about it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Rachel said.
“What about social media?” Giselle said. Everyone looked at her as if she’d mentioned something as random as the sinking of the Titanic. “You know, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest? Do you have a website?”
“None of us are very good at that sort of thing,” Jake said. “I’ve listed the event on all the community noticeboard websites.”
“How do people buy tickets?” Giselle asked.
“From the newsagent in town,” Rachel said.
“Can they buy them online?”
“No.” Rachel sat a little straighter. “We’ve done ticket sales this way for years and it’s worked well.”
“We’re all a bit in the dark ages when it comes to social media,” Jake said.
“How about I set up an online booking system and promote the concert through my social-media networks,” Giselle said. “That might kick things along.”
“That would be lovely, dear,” Rachel said, without much conviction.
“You’d do that for us?” Jake asked.
“I’ll do it for the kids,” Giselle said, pulling her laptop from her bag. “Give me a desk, details of the event, and an hour.”
“I’ll get you a fresh cup of tea,” Rachel said.
“I’ll get you a poster,” said another member of the group. “You can get the details from that.”
Soon Giselle had everything she needed. She activated the hotspot on her phone and accessed the internet via her laptop. In a short time she’d established an online ticket-sales channel through a popular booking website and linked it to the committee’s bank account. She added a voluntary donation option on the form. She purchased a ticket and made a donation to test the system.
Jake sat on a chair next to her. He asked a couple of questions and each time he pointed to the screen his arm brushed hers, sending ripples of awareness through her body. She had to force herself to concentrate.
“Okay, I’m going to post it to social media now.” She turned to look at Jake. He was staring at her, not the screen.
“Thank you for doing this.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. His proximity. His touch. His beautiful eyes caused a strange fluttering in her belly. She focused on the screen.
“No problem. Ready to make this live?”
“Sure.” He shifted his chair in closer. They were now shoulder to shoulder. She drew in a breath. If Jake kept touching her, she’d stuff it up.
“Do you think it’ll really make a difference?” he asked.
Giselle typed out a quick tweet and added the online booking web address.
“I don’t think it’ll hurt. And we’ll know fairly quickly.” She followed up with posts to her Facebook and Instagram accounts and added the poster image for good measure.
“So I guess we’ll check in a few days?” Jake sat back in his chair.
“Why don’t we see how the others are going and check before we leave?”
“Okay,” he said, clearly humoring her.
They joined the rest of the committee in the living room. Rachel was on the phone and the others were busy with various tasks. They looked up expectantly. Giselle was used to people wanting things from her. But this was different. They didn’t want a piece of her as a famous person, to tweet a picture or share on Facebook. They didn’t care who she was or what she did; they only cared about raising funds for children.
Rachel ended her call. “So, did you set up that internet thingy?”
“Yes. All done.”
“Thanks for your help.” Rachel turned to Jake. “I suppose you need to get going?”
“Probably do,” Jake said.
“One last cup of tea before we
go?” Giselle asked. If she was right, tickets would be selling as they spoke. She didn’t want to leave without giving the group some good news but it would take a few minutes for social media to do its job.
“Peppermint again, Giselle?” Rachel asked.
“I’d love one. Thanks.”
Rachel left the room and Giselle settled herself on the couch. Jake sat next to her, his thigh touching hers, the contact so oddly familiar from their time together as kids, but so tantalizingly different now. Each time he touched her, her body responded with a deep longing.
“I knew you’d enjoy getting involved,” he said.
“Well, children and their wellbeing, it’s …” This was drifting into dangerous territory.
“Kids. They seem to be a passion of yours. The hospital. This.”
“Who doesn’t want to help kids?” she said, making light of the cause so close to her heart.
“Good point. But I find plenty of people talk the talk but very few actually do anything. It’s getting harder and harder to get younger people involved.”
“And they’re the ones with the social-media skills.”
She opened her laptop and ran a quick report from the ticketing system. A tingle of excitement spread through her. One hundred tickets sold and more than a thousand dollars contributed via donations.
Rachel came back into the room with the tea.
“How much were you hoping to raise?” Giselle asked.
“If we make five thousand after costs, I’d think we’d have done well,” Rachel said.
“Well you’re now halfway there.”
Every head in the room swung in her direction. Jake’s hand landed on her knee. The room buzzed, but she was only conscious of Jake and his hand on her skin.
“How did you do that?” Rachel gasped, her hand on her chest.
“Social media, guys,” Giselle said, laughing. “You need to learn a few tricks.”
“No,” Rachel said. “You made this happen.” She walked over to Giselle. Giselle stood uncertainly, unsure what to expect, and Rachel threw her arms around her.
“Thank you,” Rachel said, her voice slightly choked.
Jake joined in. His arms about them both. Soon everyone joined in the group hug. Giselle closed her eyes, savoring the happiness. Allowing it to seep into her body. But before she fell too far, her mind kicked in and she tensed. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to feel part of this community. A community that hadn’t protected her when she’d been vulnerable. She gently extracted herself.
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