Daisy just raised her eyebrows a little higher.
He sighed. ‘Yeah. Come on, this isn’t working. I’ve got a better idea.’
CHAPTER SIX
‘WHERE ARE WE GOING?’ Daisy’s guitar bumped against her back in its soft case as she followed Jay along the cliff top.
While she was glad to be away from marauding goats and the builders possibly destroying her house, she couldn’t quite understand how this hike through the Italian countryside was going to help them with the writing-songs issue.
‘We’re not going anywhere,’ Jay said, without looking back.
Daisy looked down at her feet, still moving across the yellowing grass. ‘I’m pretty sure we are.’
Glancing over his shoulder, Jay rolled his eyes at her. ‘I mean, we’re not going anywhere in particular. I always find my best song ideas come to me when I’m walking. Don’t you?’
‘No.’ Her best ideas came in that place between sleeping and waking, when her creativity was awake but the rest of her brain—the part that told her she couldn’t do this, that no one would want to hear it—hadn’t stirred yet.
‘Huh.’ Jay stopped walking and turned towards her. ‘I guess...we never talked about how we were going to do this—write together, I mean.’
The duet they’d performed every night of the tour so far was one Jay had written before they’d even met—the song that she’d joined them onstage for in Copenhagen. It hadn’t been intended as a duet, as such, but it had been an easy enough job to add in some harmonies, switch around who sang which lines and so on. Kevin had suggested they refine it for the tour, and they’d done it in an afternoon.
Coming up with a whole song—or two or three or four—from scratch, together, was an entirely different proposition.
‘I’ve never written a song with another person before,’ she admitted. Mostly she liked to have total control over her music. The idea of letting Jay in was kind of scary in the first place. But that was part of the cost of her success, she knew that. ‘How do you do it?’
Looking thoughtful, Jay sat down a metre or so away from the edge of the cliff, stretching his legs out on the parched grass. The sun was warm and sultry overhead, and away from the building work and the goat the cliff top was amazingly peaceful. Daisy followed suit and sat too, wondering how long it had been since she’d heard such quiet.
As a musician her life was always full of noise—with melody and harmony, with percussion and the twang of strings, with cheering crowds and sound engineers and managers and the band, with the purr of the tour bus. Out here, there was none of that.
Even the music in her head was quiet. Which would be a nice change, perhaps, if she didn’t need to hear it to write songs.
‘Do you have to sit so close to the edge?’ Jay asked, his voice a little strained.
Daisy looked down at her hand, next to the cliff drop. She’d sat facing him, but closer to the cliff, her guitar on the ground beside her, and from the look on his face he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it.
She couldn’t help herself. With a wicked grin she twisted so her feet dangled off the edge of the cliff and she was looking out over the water. There was a thin strip of sand below them, with a few walkers and sunbathers enjoying the beach. If she leaned forward, Daisy could watch them all going about their summer day...
Arms wrapped tight around her waist and tugged her back, her bottom scraping against the grass as she pulled up her feet to stop them catching on the rock of the cliff. Still grinning, she took a moment to realise that her little joke now meant that she was held tight against Jay’s broad chest, the scent of him filling her lungs again, and the heat of his body was definitely not unnoticed by her own.
Maybe she hadn’t thought this through. Like most things in her life.
‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ he almost growled in her ear as he moved them away from the edge, and the sound ricocheted through her, leaving tingly wanting feelings wherever it hit.
Yeah. Definitely hadn’t thought this through.
She was so tight against him that, as they tumbled onto their backs together, she could feel his heart beating—too fast. He really had been scared, and for her. Huh.
She wanted to make a joke, a ‘didn’t know you cared,’ or a sarcastic comment or something that sounded like her, in this place and time where she felt less like Daisy Mulligan than ever.
But what actually came out of her mouth was a question, soft and without mocking. Totally unlike her at all.
‘You don’t like heights, huh?’
Jay shuddered. ‘Hate them. I fell out of a tree when I was about six, and I’ve avoided them ever since. Better than Harry, at least—he jumped off the roof of the barn next door when he was ten. Lucky for him, he landed on a hay bale. I landed on the tree roots and broke my collarbone.’
She winced. ‘Ow. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
It seemed to dawn on him then just how close they were—his arms still wrapped around her waist, his breath against her cheek, their legs tangled together—because his muscles suddenly tensed against her. Daisy, for her part, hadn’t been able to ignore their closeness even for a moment.
Or the effect it had on her.
Perhaps pretending to be in love with Jay Barwell wouldn’t be so bad, if she got to feel his body against hers like this when they posed together for photos. Maybe they’d even kiss again...
No. That way lay confusion and feelings and issues, and she wasn’t even thinking about it. Not when she was lying in his arms, anyway.
Jay’s arms fell away when she wriggled out of them, sitting up cross-legged beside him. ‘Okay, so now we’ve established that neither of us are going to fall off the cliff, how about we talk about how we’re going to write these songs together?’
Nodding, he sat up too, legs outstretched and leaning back on his hands. ‘Yeah. Okay. Um, where do you want to start?’
She threw up her hands. ‘I don’t know! I’ve never written with another person before. All my songs...they’re just me. And I’m not sure they’re exactly what Kevin and the label wants for my next album anyway.’
He gave her a curious look. ‘What makes you say that? They wouldn’t have asked you to do this with me if they didn’t want your sort of music.’
Was he really that naive? ‘They asked me to do this with you because they can use it to promote our entirely fictional relationship and therefore the floundering tour.’
Jay leaned closer, a teasing heat in his gaze. ‘Ah, but there’s only a fake relationship in the first place because people watching us perform together sensed the chemistry between us.’
‘Because you kissed me, you mean.’ Heat surged through her again at his words, and she forced it back down. ‘But that was fake too. Just a performance.’
‘Was it?’ He held her gaze for a moment too long, her mouth drying out as the look lingered.
She could look away. She should look away. He couldn’t force her to keep looking into his eyes.
So why did it feel as if he were?
With more effort than it really should have taken, Daisy tore her gaze away. ‘You’re flirting with me.’
And even though she was trying not to look at him, she must have been watching anyway because she saw the amused smile that curved his lips, and the laughter in his eyes.
Damn her traitorous gaze.
‘Isn’t that what a fake fiancé is supposed to do?’ he asked, too casually. Was he as affected by this conversation as she was? Or was this just his rock-star cool at play?
‘You haven’t actually fake-proposed to me yet, you realise. I’m still technically just your fake girlfriend.’ And, right in that moment, something more. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, and it bothered her.
‘Do you want me to?’
‘No.’
She didn’t want him to pretend to propose to her. She wanted him to kiss her, for real this time.
She’d always preferred to focus on reality rather than make-believe, even as a child. Except...kissing Jay would be just another sort of make-believe, wouldn’t it? Pretending that she could be the sort of woman he’d actually have a relationship with—or even just that she was the sort of woman who could manage a functional relationship. Which, she knew from past experience, she was not.
Men always wanted something from her. Sex, of course, but not just that. Money, even when she didn’t have any, and even more so now that she did. An in at a club she’d played, or an introduction to her manager, her label. A leg-up in a brutal industry. Or just to share her fame.
Jay already had all those things, but there were others he could want from her. And nobody gave anything for nothing, not even love.
Why was she thinking about love? She needed to be thinking about music.
‘I don’t want you to fake propose,’ she said, firmer this time. ‘I want you to help me write a song. So pick up that damn guitar.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Still smiling, Jay reached for the instrument, and Daisy willed her heartbeat back to normal tempo.
Focus on the music. That was all they were there for.
* * *
It took them three days to come up with anything approaching a song idea they could work with. In that time, the builders had fixed the windows, and the front door, made a start on some dodgy-looking roof tiles—and Daisy had named the goat.
‘She looks like a Genevieve, don’t you think?’ she said as she shared her breakfast with the creature on their fifth morning at the villa.
‘She looks like a nuisance,’ Jay countered. But he had to admit, it amused him to see Daisy—who generally disliked and mistrusted most humans—making friends with a goat.
‘Are you ready to get to work?’ he asked, watching Genevieve lick pastry crumbs from Daisy’s fingers. ‘I think we’ve nearly nailed that first song.’
Daisy pulled a face, but nodded.
Was the face about working or about the song? Either way, Jay shared her sentiments. It wasn’t that the song they’d written was no good. It just wasn’t...them. Actually, it was more like fake them. The song embodiment of the fictional relationship Kevin seemed to have developed for the press.
‘It’s working like magic!’ Kevin had enthused when he’d called the night before. Jay had taken the call in his room, somehow reluctant for Daisy to hear him discussing the fake romance with their manager. ‘The photographer I sent to the airport caught a fantastic shot of you with your hand on Daisy’s back—you know, loving and protective—and now that photo is everywhere. If anyone had any doubts about the two of you before, they certainly don’t now. All the gossip sites are talking about your romantic, secluded getaway in Italy!’
‘You haven’t told any of them where we are, have you?’ Jay had asked, sharply.
‘Pff! Of course not,’ Kevin had replied, and Jay had actually felt a sense of relief—until he’d explained why. ‘I don’t think Daisy could keep up the facade of actually being in love with you in front of the cameras, do you? This way we get all the talk and drama without worrying about Daisy letting on that it isn’t real.’
Of course, Kevin didn’t have the same concerns about Jay giving the game away. As far as Kevin was concerned, Jay had faked a relationship before, with Milli. Because apparently Jay was the only person involved who hadn’t realised that relationship wasn’t real, until the end.
Which brought him to his current problem. Jay didn’t want to write songs about another fake relationship. He wanted to set to music the way Daisy had felt in his arms on that cliff top—as if she might roll over the edge and disappear at any moment if he didn’t hold on in just the right way. He wanted to sing about the heat that pulsed through him when she met his gaze, the way his whole body spoke to hers—even if hers wasn’t listening.
He wanted to write about what was real. And more than anything else in his world, Jay knew that Daisy was real.
Real and infuriating. Real and insecure. Real and defensive. Real and sarcastic and mean and mocking.
But real.
The only problem was, writing about those things would let on that he’d been thinking those things, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be doing that. Their friendship and professional relationship were completely separate from the fake relationship they were supposed to be in, and there was no space between those two worlds for anything else.
Like the desperate need he had to kiss her whenever he let himself look at her lips.
Not thinking about that. Not even to blame himself. After all, if he hadn’t kissed her that night onstage, he wouldn’t know how surprisingly soft those lips were under his...
Dammit, he was thinking about it again.
They’d taken to working in the main living space, because the sun streamed through the windows almost all day, and they were close to the kettle for coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and near the fridge for alcohol as soon as they decided they weren’t getting any more value out of being sober.
This morning, Daisy curled her feet under her on the best chair in the room and pulled her guitar into her lap. On tour, he was used to seeing her mostly in her stage outfits—skinny jeans, logoed vest tops and her favourite leather jacket. Here in Italy she seemed to have lightened up with the weather, favouring flowing skirts with the vest tops instead, or flowy tops with the jeans. The sight of her bare toes—nails painted with unexpected turquoise polish—poking out from under her skirts had been known to distract him for up to half an hour.
God, he was a pathetic individual.
He’d tried telling himself that it was just the proximity, or the music, or the fact that the whole world thought that they were dating. But deep down he knew it wasn’t any of those things.
He just wanted Daisy Mulligan. Badly.
‘Do you want to go over what we wrote yesterday?’ she asked, pulling out a sheaf of notes from the folder on the table.
He should say yes. That was the safe thing for them to do. To go back to fake passion in fake songs about a fake love affair. Just like the songs he’d written for other people to sing, while he was waiting for the band to get their own shot at fame. People like Milli, singing about forever love and then turning around and leaving their supposed beloved behind. At least he knew how that world worked.
‘Let’s try something new,’ he said, before his brain could talk him out of it.
Daisy looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise, but he could see the excitement in her eyes. She was as bored with that song they’d been labouring over as he was. ‘You’ve got something in mind?’
He hadn’t, not really. Nothing beyond a feeling and a few snippets of lines that haunted his sleep at night, and the patches of melody he’d half written in his head walking into the village that first day. But he picked up his guitar anyway. He might be a company man these days, but he still knew how to improvise.
‘Maybe something we can work up,’ he said. ‘I don’t know. See what you think. You might hate it.’
But, God, he hoped she didn’t.
Gingerly, he strummed a couple of chords before finding his rhythm. Music had always felt like a river to him, flowing through his body as naturally as blood in his veins. He could feel it inside him, working its way to his fingertips and vocal cords, seeking a way out into the world.
His whole life, he’d just had to give himself over to the music and it had come. He hoped that wouldn’t fail him now.
As his hands found the melody he’d been searching for, the one that had been writing itself in his subconscious all week, he knew instinctively that this was the song they’d been searching for. And when Daisy picked up her guitar and started playing a counterpoint, a small smile under her closed eyes, brow furrowed
with concentration, he knew she felt it too.
But the words. The words just weren’t there for him. Harry was more of a lyricist than he was, and for a moment Jay wished his brother were there with him. Then he looked at Daisy again, lost in the music, and changed his mind.
He didn’t want to share this moment with anyone else.
As the melody began to repeat, Daisy’s warm, husky voice suddenly joined the song—sometimes just vocalising with sounds, sometimes singing actual words, even some complete lines. Jay shifted closer to hear them, to understand them, although they were nothing like complete lyrics. Still, what he could hear only warmed his blood, and his hopes.
‘And when you’re close, oh, how I feel you. Down deep inside my soul,’ she sang.
And Jay couldn’t help but wonder if she could sing that with such feeling if she didn’t mean it. If it wasn’t real.
Unless she’s singing about somebody else, you idiot.
He tried to force reason back into his brain and pull away. But then Daisy opened her eyes and her gaze hit his and he just knew. She felt it too. Whatever this ridiculously strong pull he felt towards her, whatever it was that just made him want to drag her into his arms and keep her there, safe from the rest of the world, she felt it too.
And that changed everything.
His fingers stalled on the strings and Daisy’s song faded away until they were sitting in silence, just staring at each other.
Daisy collected herself first, clearing her throat and looking away. ‘Uh, I think that could work. Um—’
No. He wasn’t going back to that again now. He couldn’t, not now he knew.
So instead, he reached out and grabbed her hand, tugging her towards him so she had to look up at him again. And then he leaned in, just those few precious inches, waiting to see if she’d follow his lead in this, as she had with the music.
A pink tongue darted out and swept across her lower lip. She blinked, slow, and he could see the heat in her eyes. Then she moved, just a fraction, closer, closer—
Italian Escape with Her Fake Fiancé Page 8