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“Sorry about that.” He tugged on the cap, clicked the garage door opener and revved the finely tuned engine to life. She caught the scent of his aftershave in the close confines of the sports car.
Her stomach twittered at every growl of the engine. The garage door rumbled as it rolled up, revealing the clusters of people outside.
Somehow, her hand sought out his forearm and squeezed.
As he nosed out, fans pushed at the line of security guards, the high-pitched squeals and flashing bulbs piercing even the thick, tinted windows.
Only a slight flex of muscles along Malcolm’s jaw showed any frustration on his part. This was, after all, everyday life to him now. And so totally alien to her.
The deeper they drove into the swarm of fans and paparazzi, the more and more she felt like Alice in Wonderland falling headfirst into the rabbit hole.
An hour later, Malcolm floored the Maserati on a deserted country road. The high-performance vehicle had given him the speed and maneuverability to dodge the paparazzi that had trailed him out of Celia’s garage. Miles of empty farm fields rolled ahead of them, broken by the occasional sprawling oak or faded red barn.
Best of all, there was almost zero traffic. Tractors chewed up the land off to the side. So far, only two trucks had passed going the other direction. She’d made her calls to reassure her father and to detail the program requirements for the other music teacher.
Finally, he had Celia safely away and all to himself. He wasn’t trusting the press not to find the distinctive car, so he had more change-ups planned. For now, he had a short window to be with Celia, alone on the open road. He needed to use this time wisely to help put her at ease around him again. If he expected to make a serious go at putting the past to rest, then she had to stop walking on eggshells all the time.
She’d showed signs of cold feet about coming to Europe with him when she’d seen the press and fans packing her lawn. Although, that paparazzi sit-in had also offered him the perfect excuse to whisk her away faster. Once he got her out of town and away from whoever was trying to scare the hell out of her, then he could …
What?
Somehow with that kiss, things had shifted between them. In spite of what she’d said about not sleeping together, the heat between them was still there, but matured. He’d spent most of the night thinking about her, wanting her. They were both adults. They both had settled into their lives and careers.
She hadn’t been ready to see that attraction through to its conclusion last night. He could understand that. He meant it when he’d said he would not do anything to hurt her or abuse her trust. But he had to accept that the kiss changed everything. Though he’d meant to stay away, he now knew he couldn’t leave this mission without having her one last time.
As for their past feelings for each other? Puppy love. The flowery notion of soul mates was a crock. Something created to sell music, movies and greeting cards. He was a more practical man these days. He and Celia could indulge in sex without risking their hearts.
Now he just needed to convince her.
He glanced over at Celia, his eyes drawn to the curve of her legs. Hell, he was even turned on by her cute feet with pink-painted toenails peeking out of her sandals.
Crap.
Focus on the road, idiot.
He downshifted around a curve on the two-lane highway. “I’m sorry to have made you miss out on the concert.”
“I know you were just trying to help.”
“Still, it sucks to lose something you’ve obviously worked hard on.” He felt the weight of her stare and glanced over to find her forehead furrowed. “What?”
“Thank you for understanding how important this was to me—for not dismissing it. I know we’re not a sold-out coliseum or a royal audience.”
“Music isn’t about the size or income of the audience.”
She smiled for the first time since they’d left her home. “It’s about touching the heart, the soul.”
His grip tightened on the wheel as he thought of another time she’d said much the same thing. One night, he’d brought along his guitar to serenade her under the stars. He’d picked up fast food and a blanket and told himself someday he would give her better. Give her more. She’d quickly reassured him that money didn’t matter to her, just the heart and the soul.
He should have listened to her. She hadn’t wanted this kind of life then any more than now. Regardless of what she wanted, though, she did need him. At least for the moment.
Accelerating, he sped down the deserted two-lane road.
Celia smoothed the wrinkles from her gauzy dress. “That was quite an impressive getaway. I thought for sure someone would get hit or at the very least have their toes run over. But you got us out of there without anyone getting hurt. Where did you learn to drive like that?”
“Part of the job training.” Except, it had more to do with his Interpol work than the music world, but he tried to stick to the truth as much as he could, as if that somehow made up for the huge lie of omission. But then it wasn’t something he had leave to work into conversation. Hey, I moonlight as a freelance agent for Interpol.
She laughed lightly. “I must have missed the driving class in my music education.”
“I have a friend who’s a race-car driver.” Another truth. “He gave me lessons.”
“What friend is that?” She turned toward him, hitching her knee up so her whole body shifted.
For a second, his gaze drifted to the hem of her dress. The hint of skin the movement had exposed.
“Elliot Starc. We went to school together.”
She gasped. “You went to school with Elliot Starc, the international race-car driver?”
“You know about Starc?” He stared at the road harder and told himself to keep his head on straight. “Most of the women I’ve met don’t follow racing.”
“Honey, this is the South, where people live and breathe NASCAR.” Her soft drawl thickened a little as she laughed again. “Starc is, of course, more Formula One, but some of my father’s friends take their racing interests further.”
“Fair enough. So you’ve heard of Eric, then.”
“There must have been a lot of lessons to get that good at maneuvering … the speed.” She shook her head, her hair shifting over her shoulders. “I’m still dizzy.”
He glanced at her sharply. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I’m all right.” She laughed softly. “Goodness knows I got enough speeding tickets as a teenager. I’m a more sedate driver these days. I no longer expect Daddy to fix my tickets for me.”
“A lot of time has passed.”
“Yet you’re here. We’re here.” The confusion in her voice reached out to him. But before he could figure out what the hell to say, she continued, “I just don’t want you to get hurt protecting me.”
“I’ll be fine. I told you. I have this under control.” Too bad he couldn’t say the same about his resurrected feelings for Celia.
He was aware of her every movement beside him.
“Oh, right. Your plan.” She straightened in her seat again. “Where are we going?”
To the one place he could be certain no one would find them. “To my mom’s house.”
Six (#u497e4491-fd13-55cd-85ad-050ac00d1c5b)
His mother’s house?
Celia still couldn’t wrap her brain around that nugget of information even a half hour after he’d spilled the beans. The press had reported in the past that he now supported his mother, declaring she deserved a life of luxury after all the sacrifices she’d made for him. But there were never any details about where Terri Ann Douglas had relocated after she’d left Azalea fourteen years ago.
Quite frankly, Celia hadn’t been that interested in staying in touch with the woman who reminded her so deeply of all she’d lost. Terri Ann hadn’t approved of Celia back then anyway, and with good reason. Celia was everything the woman had feared for her son—spoiled, selfish and more than willing to toss away her virginity if that tied Malcolm closer to her.
The thought of seeing Terri Ann again sent Celia’s stomach into knots as they pulled up to a large scrolled gate covered by vines. Cameras moved ever so slightly, almost hidden in the foliage. Malcolm stopped by the security box and typed a code into the keypad. The gates swung wide, revealing a road that lead into … nothing but trees.
She couldn’t see a house, and wouldn’t be able to see people, even if they showed up. The security was … beyond crazy. As she began to grasp the depth of the protection here, she had to wonder, had he changed his mind about Europe and decided to stash her away here with his mother, where he’d obviously already lavished a good deal of effort to ensure privacy?
Disappointment gripped her, too much considering she’d been questioning the wisdom of going with him. But she couldn’t deny a flickering wish deep inside her. Yes, her world had spun out of control since he’d returned, but she didn’t want to step off the dizzying ride just yet. This was crazy and scary, out of character for the new, steadier path she’d chosen for herself.
Except, even if they didn’t sleep together again—which they weren’t going to do, she emphatically reminded herself—she finally had a chance for answers, for closure on her teenage years, a time in her life that had almost broken her. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity.
“Malcolm, would you care to clue me in to what’s going on?”
He drove the car deeper into the forest of towering oaks and pines, gravel crunching under the tires. “I needed to regain some control over the security. We’re off the radar now, which gives us some breathing room.”
Suddenly, he turned from the dusty path onto a paved road. The leafy branches parted to reveal—oh, my God—a compound.
A columned mansion was surrounded by every convenience from a pool to tennis courts. Even a pond sported a small dock with a gazebo picnic area by the shore.
The home was a magnificent getaway. But at the moment, it looked rather like a prison to her. “Do you plan for me to stay here instead?”
He looked at her quickly. “Not at all. We’re still going to Europe. I told you my security would be taking care of you, and I meant that. We’re simply leaving from here instead of from a public airport.”
Too much relief zinged through her. Damn it, she was supposed to be gaining peace from this reunion, not wanting to spend more time with him. “Then I’m fuzzy on the details of how we’re getting from this place to Europe. I don’t see an airstrip.”
He pointed in the distance.
A helicopter flew just over the treetops.
She shrank back in her seat even though she knew the tinted windows provided complete privacy. “The press found us already?”
“No, that’s our ride.” He put the Maserati in Park next to a large concrete pad.
A space large enough for that bird to land. Holy cow.
Her eyes stayed locked on the white helicopter flying closer, closer still, until it hovered. Roaring overhead, it landed a few feet away, blades stirring dust all around the car. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. We’ll fly in the chopper to another location, where we’ll board a private jet and leave the country. Avoiding the press involves a lot more steps than going from point A to point B.”
Wow, okay. He did have resources beyond anything she’d imagined. But …
“I thought you said we were visiting your mother.”
“I said we were going to her house. She’s not here.” He pulled his briefcase from behind his seat. “She’s at her vacation flat in London.”
A vacation flat? “You’re a good son. This amazing house. A place in England, too.”
“What I give her is easy compared to all she did for me.” His eyes went sober, pained even. “The house, the apartment, they don’t even put a dent in my account. She worked two jobs just to put food on the table. She even cleaned my piano teacher’s house in exchange for lessons. Mom deserves a retirement. Now, are you ready?”
She was running out of time to say what had been chewing at her gut since last night. “I don’t want you to think that kiss meant more than it did.”
“What did it mean?”
“That I’m still attracted to you, as well, that we share a very significant past. But that doesn’t mean we have a future or that we should act on the attraction.” Because honest to God, right now she wasn’t sure how she would walk away from him a second time if they got even closer. They needed to use this trip together to talk through what happened when they were teenagers, to have the conversations they’d been denied because of immaturity—and the fact that he’d been locked away in a military school and she’d been sent to Switzerland. “It was more of a farewell to that past and a salute to friendship kind of kiss. Didn’t you write a song once about goodbye kisses?”
“Someone else wrote that one.” He smiled cynically. “My manager thought it would melt hearts.”
“It melted hearts all the way to the top of the charts.” She’d turned the radio station dozens of times to keep herself from crying over that damn song.
“Call me jaded—” he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went bloodless “—but sometimes I feel like I’m selling a flawed ideal to my fans.”
“How can you deny there’s love out there?” She turned toward him again, clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “We felt it. I know we did. That song last night proved it. Even though it ended, what we had was real.”
“Puppy love.”
Her head snapped back, his words a splash of bitterly cold water. “Are you being a bastard on purpose?”
“Just helping you resist the urge to kiss me again.” He reached across her and opened her door. “Our helicopter’s waiting.”
As her door swung wide, the biting wind blew grit and rocks inside the beautifully magnificent car, stinging her as tangibly as his angry words had. She grabbed her floral tote bag full of schoolwork and jumped out, slamming the door closed behind her. Helicopter blades whomp, whomp, whomped, slicing the air. Who traveled by helicopter besides the military and the country’s president?
Apparently platinum-selling stars did.
He opened the door for her. “Sit up front.”
Gingerly, she climbed inside the helicopter, the scent of leather and oil saturating the air as she settled in place. She eyed the empty copilot’s seat, the thrill-seeking ways of her teenage years nowhere to be found. The thought of riding in a chopper—of actually going to Europe—made her chest grow tight. She forced herself to breathe in and out evenly, willing back the rising panic attack.
Damn it, she could do this—she had to do this. She would use this time to turn the page once and for all on the chapter of her life that included Malcolm Douglas.
She snapped her seat belt on and tugged it extra tight while glancing at the controls and the thin sides, the surrounding glass. Okay, so maybe she could do this in a different seat. She turned to ask the pilot if she could sit in back but he slid out before she could speak. He passed his headset to Malcolm and put Malcolm’s ball cap on his head. The pilot sprinted toward the Maserati.
Malcolm slipped into the pilot’s seat. He tugged on his headset and passed a second set to Celia. She pulled them on, her ears filling with chatter over the airwaves.
He leaned toward her. “If you want to speak privately, just tap this button.”
And with that, he ran a check of the controls, his voice resonating in her ears as he called in to some tower for takeoff. How could the people on the other end of the radio not know they were speaking to Malcolm Douglas? His smooth baritone caressed her senses even when he just spoke, his voice utterly recognizable to her even without looking at him.
There was no denying he knew exactly what to do. “Um, Malcolm? Are you actually going to fly this—”
The helicopter lifted off. She bit down a yelp and grabbed her seat, terrified of touching something. It wasn’t as if she was afraid to fly, but this was all happening so fast, with so little explanation. She looked out at the house growing smaller and smaller the higher they flew.
“I guess you really are flying the chopper. You have a license, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You can’t tell me Elliot Starc taught you to drive this, too.”
“Not Elliot.” He glanced at her and winked. “Private instructor.”
She sagged back in her seat. “Of course. How could I not have known?”
