Читать книгу A Modern Cinderella - Kate Hardy - Страница 12

THE dream was feverish. In the no man’s land between deep sleep and consciousness came vivid images that were a mixture of the past, the present and some imaginary point in time real only in her mind. The sheets knotted around her legs felt cumbersome, still heavy, even though she’d long since kicked the blanket to one side and damp strands of her auburn hair were stuck to her cheeks and her forehead.

She felt awful.

But she was old enough and wise enough to know she was at the sweating-it-out stage. She just had to let it run its course and her body would fight it off. It might mean she was looking at a few days holed up in the hotel room, but it wasn’t as if it was the worst hotel in the world, was it?

The low light from her bedside lamp shone irritatingly through the backs of her eyelids, and voices sounded from the television she had on low volume to help lull her to sleep. She’d never been particularly good with silence. But then neither was she accustomed to the noises of a busy American hotel. So keeping the TV on had seemed like a plan—especially when she’d discovered a channel that showed the familiar programmes she was used to watching at home. That was why it took a moment for her to drag her mind out of its half-slumber into a cognitive state. The door had to have been knocked on several times by then, she figured—with increasing levels of volume…

‘Cass?’ It was Will.

She groaned and croaked back at him. ‘Go away, Will.’

Please go away. Don’t make it worse. Let me die in peace. Then if he wanted to he could come and take her body away and donate it to medical science. She was beyond caring any more.

‘I’m coming in.’

The man had no idea when to take a hint! The next thing she knew the door was open and he was walking in, with a large paper bag in his hand. So she did the mature thing and grabbed a pillow to hold over her face with both hands. Maybe she could suffocate herself…

‘How’s the patient?’

‘Not in the mood for company,’ she mumbled from under the pillow.

‘You have a pillow over your face, so I couldn’t quite hear that. Here, let me help you.’ He pried her fingers loose and removed the pillow. Then he waited for her to squint up at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Hello there.’

Cassidy silently called him a really bad name. ‘Please go away Will.’

Setting the pillow on the other side of her head, he laid the backs of his fingers against her forehead and frowned. ‘When’s the last time you took tablets?’

‘I don’t know—half an hour after you left…maybe…’

‘Time for more.’

Struggling her way into a sitting position, she accepted the tablets he dropped into her palm and washed them down with what was left of the glass of juice on her side table. Then she set the glass back down and lifted her heavy arms to try and tidy her hair before looking up at him from under her lashes.

‘I appreciate what you’re doing, Will. I do. And whatever it is you’ve brought me in the paper bag. But I just need to sleep it out. It’ll be some kind of freaky twenty-four-hour thing, that’s all. I’ve taken my tablets and had some juice, and now I’m going back to sleep. If you leave a number I’ll call you when I wake up. I’m not that bad. Really.’

She then ruined the effect by sneezing with enough force to make it feel as if she’d just blown the top off her aching head. She moaned. Someone should just shoot her.

Will calmly handed her a tissue.

She decided to disgust him to get him to leave, blowing her nose loud enough to alert all shipping routes of an incoming fog.

Will had the gall to look vaguely amused. ‘You need to eat something. I brought you chicken noodle soup.’

How could he? As he reached a large hand into the bag memory slammed into her frontal lobe and ricocheted down her closing throat, wrapping around her heart so tight it made it difficult to breathe. Because he’d done this before, hadn’t he? Only she’d had flu that time. They’d been in the tiny bedsit they’d shared for a while instead of living in halls of residence. As well as bringing her everything she’d needed to feel better, and heating endless pans of chicken noodle soup, he had sat up with her, watched television with her, held her in his arms, smoothed her hair until she fell asleep…

It wasn’t that she’d forgotten. It was just that the memory hadn’t been so vivid in a long time. There had been so many different memories to overshadow it. Heartbreak had a tendency to do that—taking the best of memories and tingeing them with a hint of painful regret for the fact there wouldn’t be more memories made in the future. But right now he was adding a new one. One that was surrounded in bittersweetness because it wasn’t one she could hold onto the same way as the first.

It hurt.

Removing the lid of the soup carton, he wrapped it in a napkin and handed it to her along with a plastic spoon. ‘Here…’

Dampening her lips, she hesitated briefly before reaching for the carton. She had no choice but to slide her fingers over his during the exchange, and a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Her chest was aching when he slid his fingers away. It would have been easier if he’d just set the carton down. Darn it.

Purposefully she took the spoon from him by grasping the opposite end from his fingers, croaking a low, ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He inclined his head.

When she blew too hard on the soup, and splattered just enough hot liquid on the back of her hand to make her frown, she glanced up at him and found amusement dancing in his eyes again. He truly was the most irritating man in the world.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and turned towards her. ‘If you’re not better tomorrow I’ll get a doctor to come see you.’

‘I don’t need a doctor; it’s a cold—not bubonic plague.’

‘And they say men make lousy patients…’

Cassidy shook her head. Then leaned in and blew more gently on her soup to cool it. When she looked up, Will was studying her intently—almost as if he’d never seen her before. It made her sigh for the hundredth time that day. ‘What now?’

‘You changed your hair.’

The words surprised her, but as usual her sarcasm kicked in. ‘Yeah. Women tend to do that a couple of times in eight years. We’re fickle that way.’

‘Still have a smart mouth, though.’

Which apparently gave him leave to drop his gaze and look at it as she formed another pouting ‘O’ to blow air on the soup. She immediately pursed her lips in response. When his thick lashes lifted she scowled at him. ‘Your good deed is done for the day now. You can go and do whatever it is you normally do at this time of night. Wherever you do it and with whomever you do it.’

‘Whomever?’ The corners of his mouth tugged again. ‘Nice use of the English language. Fishing for details, Cass?’

Cassidy had never wanted to scream so much in all her born days. ‘Writers are supposed to have a good grasp of the language. Not that you’d understand that. I spent half our time together correcting your spelling mistakes…’

She really had. It wasn’t that he couldn’t spell, it was just that sometimes his mind worked faster than his typing fingers.

Then she addressed his cockiness. ‘And I’m not fishing. It’s none of my business.’

‘You could try asking me.’

‘I’m sorry. Wasn’t “it’s none of my business” clear enough?’

‘Not the littlest bit curious?’

‘Why would I be?’

The beginning of one of those smiles started in his eyes. And if it started in his eyes first it was devastating when it made it to his mouth. She knew. So she stopped it happening by throwing out somewhat desperate words. ‘Even if you’re free as a bird it doesn’t make any difference. You and me? We’re workmates. Business partners, if you like. Barely platonic ones. We’re like two people stranded on a desert island who have to make the best of it till the next rescue boat arrives—as good as strangers. You don’t know any more about who I am now than I know about—’

‘You’re babbling. You always babble when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous, Cass?’

Screwing up her face, she set the soup carton onto the side table and slid down under the covers, lifting them and tucking them over her head. ‘I hate you. Would you go away? I’m not up to this. You’re still the most annoying man I’ve ever known.’

‘Makes me memorable…’

Cassidy growled, and promptly ended up coughing when the vibration hurt her raw throat. Somewhere mid-cough she heard what sounded like a low chuckle of laughter. She peeked over the edge of the covers ready to scowl at him and found him lifting his brows in a question, a completely unreadable expression on his face. It made her narrow her eyes.

‘You know we need to get on better than this to work together, don’t you?’

She did, and immediately felt like a fool again. ‘Can we try and get on better when I don’t feel like the hotel fell on me?’

‘When you’re weak is probably the best time to talk this through.’

‘That’s evil.’

Will had more difficulty stifling his smile than he had so far. ‘True.’

He wasn’t apologising for it, though, was he? The rat. Cassidy tried hard not to be charmed by it; she did. But a small sparkle-eyed smile was apparently nearly as effective as a killer one, and before she knew it she was smiling back at him. Then she shook her head. ‘I hate you.’

‘Mmm.’ He leaned forward, his large body distractingly close to hers and his familiar scent somehow making it through her blocked nose. ‘You said.’

When he lifted the soup carton Cassidy lifted her gaze to his hair. He had great hair. The colour of dark chocolate, thick enough to tempt a woman’s fingertips, and distinctly male to the touch when she touched it, but soft enough to encourage her to slide her fingers deep…She wished she didn’t remember so much…

Will leaned back. ‘You need to eat.’

‘Bossing me again, Ryan?’

‘Necessary, Malone.’

Without comment she went ahead and sipped at the soup, her gaze flickering to his often enough for her to know he was still watching her. Not that she needed to look to confirm it. She’d always known when Will was looking at her. In the same way she could feel the newfound tension lying between them.

Thick lashes blinked lazily at even intervals, and then he asked, ‘Good?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ She nodded. ‘Good.’

Looking around the room for a moment, Will folded his dark brows in thought before he took a deep breath and focused on her again. ‘I think you should stay at my place while you’re in L.A.’

Cassidy almost choked on her soup. He had a knack of doing that to her. But he couldn’t be serious! There was no way she could go and stay at his place—be under the same roof with him twenty-four-seven. They were barely managing to make civil conversation between his short sentences and her loose tongue. And now he wanted them somewhere they couldn’t escape from each other? Oh, yeah. That would help.

Then she thought about the fact he was paying for the hotel room she was in and felt guilty. Maybe if she found a computer and checked her meager bank account she could discover somewhere cheap and cheerful to stay? It didn’t need to be fancy: a bed, a door that locked, a shower, a minimal number of cockroaches…

Will continued while she blinked at him, ‘We need to spitball ideas and get to work. And we never used to stick to a nine to five, so if we’re working through the night it makes sense to be somewhere we can do that. I’ll come get you in the morning.’

Cassidy wondered if there was ever going to be a point where she got to make decisions on her own. ‘Don’t you have an office?’

‘I have one we can work in at home, yes.’

Not what she’d meant, and he knew it. ‘In the city. You can’t run an entire production company from home.’

‘I probably could. But, yes, I do have offices in the city. Still the same problem there—this makes more sense.’

It didn’t matter if it made sense. Surely he remembered that about her? But before she could even string together a thought, never mind form the words to argue it out, he was pushing to his feet. ‘While you’re not feeling well you can take a break to sleep any time you need to. I’ll come get you at nine.’

Cassidy watched him get halfway to the door before she managed to open her mouth. ‘I’m not comfortable with the idea of living in your house—or apartment—or whatever it is you have.’

‘You’ll forget that when you’ve been there a few days.’

‘Damn it, Will!’ She frowned at him when he turned round. ‘You can’t keep riding rough-shod over me like this. If I don’t want to stay in your house I don’t have to. And if it’s because you’re paying for this hotel then I can find somewhere—’

Lowering his chin, he lifted his brows with amused disbelief. ‘You think paying for this room is a problem for me?’

‘That’s not the point. Whether or not you can afford—’

Will shook his head, smiling incredulously. ‘It’s got nothing to do with money. It’s got to do with practicality. Man. I’d forgotten how stubborn you can be.’

Swallowing down another pang of hurt that he’d forgotten anything about her when she remembered everything about him, Cassidy arched a brow. ‘Pot, meet kettle. Regardless of whether or not you can afford to pay for this room, the simple fact is you shouldn’t be. I’ll pay you back whatever you’ve already forked out. I don’t want to owe you anything. This is business and we both know it. Whatever we once had doesn’t matter any more. We’re not even friends now.’

‘And blunt. That part I hadn’t forgotten.’ He lifted his chin and frowned at a random point in the air while taking a deep breath that expanded his wide chest. Then he dropped his chin and looked her straight in the eye. ‘You’re right. It is business. You have a job back home. I have a job here. So the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get back to work. If we dig in, and eat, drink and sleep this script for the next few weeks, we can nail it.’

It was all about the script; of course it was.

Will quirked his brows. ‘Well?’

‘It’s business.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Right.’ She didn’t have the energy to keep fighting with him. ‘Fine, then.’

With his mouth drawn into a thin line and a frown darkening his face, Will swung round and tugged on the door. ‘Nine o’clock.’

When the door closed behind him Cassidy blinked at it. For a brief second he’d almost looked angry. How on earth were they supposed to communicate well enough to write a script if they couldn’t even hold a conversation? She flumped further down on the pillows and put what was left of her soup on the nightstand before tugging the covers up over her shoulders. She felt cold again, she was shivery—and suddenly she had an incredible sense of loneliness to add to her feeling homesick.

Her first trip to Hollywood should be a fairytale experience. It was a dream she’d had since childhood, when the magic of movies had sucked her into the kind of imaginary worlds that had enthralled her for most of her life. Everything about it had fascinated her as she got older: the sets, the effects, the lighting, the locations, where the words the actors and actresses spoke came from. The latter had then become something she wanted to do—she wanted to put those words there. To watch a movie on a big screen and hear words she had written on a flat page spoken by an actor or actress who could add depths and nuances she might never even have thought of.

When she’d got her dream the world had become the most amazing place to her. And she’d got to share that magic with the man she loved. It had been perfect. She had been so happy.

But there was no such thing as perfect happiness. Life had taught her that. Failure had taken the sparkly-eyed wonder from her eyes. Then she’d had to give up her dreams, her confidence shattered, her heart broken, because Will had gone and she’d had no choice but to watch him walk away. The last time she had seen him was indelibly imprinted on her brain, and in the empty part of her heart that had died that day…

Cassidy had felt as if all the magic had been sucked out of her life. And she’d never got it back. Just small pockets of happiness ever since. But then that was everyone’s life, she had told herself. She just needed to get on with it. One day after another.

Even if for a very, very brief moment on her flight over she’d allowed herself to dream again. Not so much of Will, but of the other great love she’d lost. She’d foolishly allowed herself to think about what might happen if she rediscovered her muse and decided to take a chance in Hollywood for a while. But this script was simply something to get out of the way. Then she would go home. End of story. No pun intended.

Then she would have to decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

At nine she’d been in the foyer for ten minutes, glad of the concierge to help her with her bags and glad at how easy checking out proved to be. Still a little light headed, she found a plump cushioned chair and waited…

Will was outside at the stroke of nine. Something else that was new about him. He’d once been the worst timekeeper she’d ever known.

‘You’ll be late for your own funeral,’ she would tell him.

‘Ah, now, that’s the one time I can guarantee I’ll be on time,’ he would tease back with a smile.

Cassidy missed that Will.

The new Will was frowning behind his designer sunglasses the second he got out of his lowslung silver sports car. He said something to the uniformed man in charge of valet parking as he slipped him a folded bill, then pushed through the doors and removed his sunglasses before seeking her out. Four steps later he had his hand on the handle of her case.

‘Did you check out?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any problems?’

‘No. They said it was taken care of.’

With a nod he stepped back, watching her rise. ‘Feeling any better?’

It was said with just enough softness in his deep voice to make it sound as if he cared, which made Cassidy feel the need to sigh again. Instead she managed a small smile as she stood. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

Somewhere in the wee small hours of the night she had decided the best way not to be so physically aware of Will’s presence was to avoid looking at him whenever possible. So she didn’t make eye contact as she waited for him to load her case into the boot of his car. Instead she smiled at the liveried valet as he opened the passenger door for her—though she did almost embarrass herself again by trying to get in the wrong side of the car…

When Will got into the driver’s seat and buckled up she looked out of the side window to watch Rodeo Drive starting to think about coming to life. But they had barely pulled away from the hotel before he took advantage of the fact she was trapped.

‘Want to tell me what’s really bothering you about staying at my place?’

Not so much. No. She puffed her cheeks out for a second and controlled her errant tongue before answering. ‘We don’t know each other that well any more. It’s going be like spending time in a stranger’s house.’

There was a brief silence, then; ‘I disagree.’

Well, now, there was a surprise. They worked their way through intersections and filtered into traffic while Cassidy noticed all the differences that indicated she was in a different country from home. Larger cars, palm trees, billboards advertising things she’d never heard of before, different shaped traffic lights…

Will kept going. ‘We’re not strangers. People don’t change that much.’

She begged to differ. And if she hadn’t had living proof in herself then she had it in the man sitting so close to her in the confined space of what she now knew was a Mustang something-or-other—she’d seen a little tag somewhere. Not that she was going to turn her head to look for it again, if it meant she might end up catching a glimpse of him from her peripheral vision. Just being so close to him, so aware of every breath he took and every movement of his large hands or long legs, was enough for her to deal with, thanks very much.

‘Yes, they do. Life changes them. Experiences change them…’ She had a sudden brain-wave. ‘It’s exactly the kind of problem Nick and Rachel will have when they meet again.’

The mention of their fictional characters momentarily silenced Will. Then she heard him take a breath and let it out. ‘That’s true.’

So it was true for their fictional characters but not for them? How did that work? It was enough to make her turn her head and aim a suspicious sideways glance at his general gorgeousness. ‘It’s not like they’re going to trust each other either.’

‘Well, she did steal the artifact from him.’

‘No—she took it to give it back to its rightful owners. There’s a difference. He’d have sold it on the open market for whatever he could get.’

‘She lived off the money they made doing the same thing in the past. You can’t use that as an argument against him.’

‘Oh? Now we’re saying there has to be moral equivalency?’

Will shot her a quick yet intense gaze as they waited in traffic, his deep voice somehow more intense within the car’s interior. ‘It’s not the best plan to alienate everyone to the hero and heroine before we even get started, is it? There are always two sides to every story. You want to make him into a bad boy then you have to make the audience understand why his morals are lower than hers.’

‘Bad heroes sell. You can’t tell me they don’t. Bad heroines are universally hated.’ Cassidy lifted her chin, but she could feel the smile forming on her face. It was like one of their debates of old. ‘Unless you’re thinking of turning her evil—which, incidentally, you’ll do over my dead body. The audience needs to empathise with her. That’ll sell.’

‘Actually, I can tell you exactly what sells these days. Right now its superheroes and family-friendly.’ His long fingers flexed against the steering wheel. ‘The real money can be found in family-oriented movies, where good is good and bad is bad. It’s black and white. Moral equivalency needn’t apply. Last year seven films with a G or PG rating earned more than one hundred million at the domestic box office, and three PG-rated films were among the year’s top ten earners. Only one R-rated film was in the ten top grossing films—and there was no moral equivalency in that movie, I can assure you.’

The smile on her face faded and was replaced with blinking surprise as he recited it all in an even tone, negotiating increasing traffic at the same time. It seemed everyone in Los Angeles had a car.

He knew his stuff, didn’t he? Who was she to argue? Not that it stopped her. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you just proved my point on moral equivalency?’

Silence. Then to her utter astonishment a burst of laughter—deep, rumbling, oh-so-very-male laughter—then a wry smile and a shake of his head. ‘It’s been a long time since anyone spoke to me the way you do.’

Cassidy blinked some more. ‘Maybe people should do it more often.’

‘If they did they’d get fired more often.’

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards. ‘Wow. Who knew you were a tyrant in the making, back in the day?’

‘I’m not a tyrant.’ He seemed surprised she thought he was.

‘No?’ Turning a little more towards him, she leaned her back against the passenger door and angled her head in question. ‘What are you, then?’

‘The boss.’

‘So no one can correct you when you’re wrong?’

‘They can put forward a different point of view, if that’s what you mean.’ He was forced to break eye contact with her to concentrate on where they were going. ‘No one ever does it the way you do, though.’

Cassidy couldn’t help but allow the chuckle of laugher forming in her chest to widen her smile. ‘So no one actually looks you in the eye and tells you you’re wrong?’

‘Not in so many words, no.’

No wonder he’d got so arrogant over the years. If no one ever stood up to him, or gave as good as they got, it would be a breeding ground for arrogance. Irrationally, it made her feel sorry for him. Everyone needed someone who cared enough about them to be brutally honest when it was needed. No one was ever right one hundred percent of the time, after all. Being blunt on the odd occasion to demonstrate another point of view showed you cared enough about them to try and save them from the kind of mistakes arrogance might make. To Cassidy, knowing no one did that for Will made him seem very…alone…

‘She’ll probably feel awkward when she sees him again.’

Huh? Oh, he meant Rachel, didn’t he? Right—script stuff. Stay with the flow of conversation, Cassidy. ‘I doubt she’d have sought him out voluntarily.’

‘So we need something that brings them together.’

Cassidy arched a brow. ‘You’re going to want him to rescue her, aren’t you?’

The one corner of his full mouth she could see hitched upwards. ‘Who doesn’t like it when the hero swoops in to rescue the heroine?’

‘Sexist. Why can’t the heroine rescue the hero? Or rescue herself? Or just be in the same place as him searching for something when they both get in trouble and have to work together to get out of it…?’

Will shot a brief, sparkle eyed glance her way. ‘Okay, then. He has to rescue her from something when they end up in the same place hunting for something.’

Cassidy rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But I’m fighting for a later scene when she has to rescue him right back.’

‘We’re not making Nick look weak.’

‘Vulnerable—not weak. Women find vulnerability sexy in a strong male. You should try it some time. Might get you a girlfriend…’ The reappearance of her errant tongue made her groan inwardly and avoid his gaze when he looked her way again.

‘You don’t know I don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘I told you, it’s none of my—’

‘I don’t have one right now. But all you had to do was ask.’

Oh, for crying out loud. Not only had she just caused a self-inflicted wound at the idea of him with another woman, but now he’d managed to slip that little piece of unwanted information into the conversation it was only a matter of time before—

‘What about you?’

Yep. There it was. Well, if he thought for one single, solitary second she was discussing the disastrous attempts she had eventually made at having a love life—long, long after he’d left—then he had another think coming. Not that it would be a long conversation.

Lifting her chin, she smiled sweetly. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend either.’

Will chuckled for the second time.

The sound was ridiculously distracting to her. How did it do that? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard him laugh before; she’d heard him chuckle, laugh softly, laugh out loud—had felt the rumble in his chest and been in his arms when his body had shaken with the reverberations. She knew how the light would dance in his eyes, how he would smile the amazingly infectious smile that gave everyone around him no choice but to smile along with him. For a long time Cassidy had believed she’d fallen for his laughter first. Yes, his boyish looks, height, gorgeous hair, etc., etc. might have been what had initially caught her eye. But it had been the sound of his laughter and the first glimpse of that smile that had drawn her heart to him.

Since she’d got to Los Angeles she’d wondered if she’d imagined the effect his laughter had on her. As if her memories were tangled up on some mythical pedestal she might have elevated him to over the years. But it was having exactly the same effect on her as before: skin tingling, chest warming—as if the sound had somehow reached out and physically touched her…

Forcing her gaze away, she turned forward in the seat to look out through the windscreen, and was surprised to see the ocean beside them. ‘Where are we?’

‘Pacific Coast Highway. It’s the equivalent of Malibu’s main street.’

‘Malibu?’

‘It’s where I live.’

It was? Malibu? Where the rich and famous lived? She knew he’d done well since he came to California, but that he’d done well enough to be able to afford—

‘It was originally part of the territory of the Chumash Nation of Native Americans. They called it Humaliwo—or “the surf sounds loudly”. The current name derives from that. but the “Hu” syllable isn’t stressed…’ When she gaped at him he looked away from the highway long enough to raise his brows at her. ‘What?’

‘Who are you?’

The question was out before she could stop it, her words low and filled with incredulity. It was just the more he said the less she felt she knew him; it was as if he had somehow morphed into a completely different person when he’d moved halfway across the planet—and it was just so at odds with the many things that were familiar to her that it left her feeling a little…lost…

Will checked the road again, then looked back at her. ‘You know me, Cass.’

His saying it in a low rumble that made goosebumps break out on her skin and her heart do a kind of weird twisting move in her chest only made her study him even more intently. ‘How do you know all this stuff?’

‘About Malibu?’

‘It’s like you’ve swallowed an encyclopaedia since you got here. Hollywood-speak, movie industry stats, local history…’

What looked almost like confusion flickered across the green of his eyes before he turned his head to watch the road again. ‘Hollywood speak is everyday language here. Movie stats I study as part of my job, and Malibu I just happen to like—it’s why I moved here the minute I could afford it. I hate the city.’

Actually, the last part she understood. Home of Disneyland and movie stars, Beverly Hills and Hollywood, she knew Los Angeles had long lured people into its glittering fantasy world, with its endless sunshine, palm trees, shopping malls and beautiful people. The city was like no place she’d ever been before. But after so many years dreaming about it, she’d known in less than twenty-four hours that she couldn’t live there. Not in the city anyway. Too many people, too many cars, too much smog. No one saying hello to their fellow human beings in the street unless they were dressed as iconic movie figures and demanding money in exchange for a photograph with them. Cassidy had taken one afternoon to wander along Hollywood Boulevard, and as fascinating as it had been, reading the iconic stars beneath her feet, it hadn’t made her feel at home. And now she’d discovered Will possibly felt that way too…

Well, it gave them some common ground, didn’t it? A stretch maybe, but she would take what she could get…

Despite the danger, Cassidy wanted to know more. Her dilemma became whether or not to actually ask any more. If she did she would be getting a window into his life—would have new Will Ryan memories to add to the cornucopia of old ones she already carried around with her. If somewhere along the way the new version of him proved as addictive as the old? Well, then she was in big, big trouble…

Who was she kidding? Cassidy had always been one of those people that needed to know. Christmas presents—she shook them. Books—she read the last pages before she got halfway through them. Favourite TV shows—she trawled the internet looking for spoilers for a new series before the episodes made it to the screen. There was about as much chance of her not asking as—

‘So tell me more about Malibu.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Whatever you decide to tell me…’

She looked out through the windscreen at the glittering aquamarine blue of the Pacific Ocean, the thrill of seeing it for the first time bringing a soft smile to her mouth. She had always loved the ocean. Not surprising, really, when she lived on a tiny island surrounded by it. But there was just something about the ebb and flow of the tide…as if it was the subliminal heartbeat of the planet. Every time she saw the sea it made her smile. Seeing the Pacific for the first time was like meeting a new friend.

‘That’s the Pacific. Beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘She is.’ Cassidy allowed herself to wonder why anything associated with the sea was always a ‘she’. Probably something to do with moods and unpredictability and seduction, she supposed. From that point of view it was easy to see why seafaring men of old would have chosen the feminine to describe her.

‘Malibu hugs the Pacific north of Santa Monica. It has over twenty miles of coastline. Surfing is the big thing, obviously—endless opportunities for catching the perfect wave…’

The smile she could hear in his voice made her turn to look at his strong profile; the flicker of his thick dark lashes as he watched the traffic was unbelievably hypnotic to her. ‘You surf?’

The corner of his mouth tugged. ‘Used to. Don’t have as much time now…’

A sudden visual image of Will walking out of the surf, glistening with water and shaking his head to loosen silvery droplets from his thick hair while he smiled that smile, did all sorts of delicious things to Cassidy’s libido and left her mouth unbearably dry. There were times her active imagination took on a life of its own—useful in writerly terms, but not so useful when she was supposed to be thinking in terms of Will as a business partner. There could be no thinking of him bare-chested. Or towelling his hair for him. Or lying down on a large blanket beside him on warm sand.

Goodness, it was hot all of a sudden…

‘It’s part of the reason I bought a house on the beach.’

Suddenly staying at his house was looking more attractive to her. But…‘You bought a house on the beach so you could surf more, and then quit surfing? That makes perfect sense.’

He shrugged. ‘Just the way it worked out.’

The house they pulled up in front of looked small and cosy. The sound of the ocean filled her ears as she stepped outside into warm salty air that made her breathe deep and appreciate the difference in air quality after the lack of oxygen in Los Angeles. But when Will unlocked the front door and stepped back to allow her to go ahead of him her eyes widened. Okay, it wasn’t small and cosy. Will’s house was…Well, it was amazing…

The deceptive frontage on the road made it look like it was just the one storey, and not all that big, when in fact it was split level and stretched for miles, with its lower level suspended above golden sands outside so that the huge picture windows made it look as if the entire house was floating above the waves. Open-plan, rich wooden floors, sparse furniture that didn’t take anything from the views. It was very male, very modern, but stunningly beautiful.

It yelled money from every corner.

When Cassidy hovered at the top of the stairs, Will closed the front door and stepped over beside her. ‘The view sold it.’

‘Well, it would, wouldn’t it?’

‘Kitchen, living room, gym, home cinema and office are all on the lower level. Your room is over here to the left.’ He took her case in that direction while she continued staring out of the windows.

Now she knew why Lizzie had fallen for Pemberley before she fell for Darcy. Because the part of Cassidy’s soul that loved the ocean could live happily ever after in a house like Will’s. Give or take a few feminine touches. If she lived there she would have bright comfy cushions on the large sofas, flowers in vases, books on the almost empty shelves where pieces of modern art were displayed. She could picture it in her mind’s eye. She could practically hear music playing from an invisible stereo, laughter echoing off the walls, and the sound of small, running bare feet coming in from the beach. It made her heart hurt. How dared he have the house of her dreams? It was as if he’d purposely gone out and stolen every dream she’d ever had and held it from her, to add to breaking her heart the way he had.

She genuinely hated him for that.

With a deep breath she turned on her heel and followed Will along the hall that skirted the floor below, rolling her eyes when she got to the open doorway and looked in at the bedroom she would be staying in. Of course it had the same ocean view. And naturally Will was sliding open the glass windows so the sea breeze caught the light curtains. Was there ever any doubt it would have its own balcony, with comfy lounge chairs just waiting to be occupied so she could watch the sunset at the end of the day?

Stepping into a little corner of heaven, she plunked down on the end of the large bed and allowed herself to bounce just once on the deep mattress while she fought the need to cry. It really wasn’t fair. How could he? What had she ever done to him to deserve this kind of torture?

Will turned from the windows and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans as he studied her. ‘Tired?’

Weary would have been a better word, she felt. ‘A little. Coffee would probably help. And I should take some tablets again, just in case.’

‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘Did you have breakfast?’

‘No.’

‘Yeah, that’ll help you get better. Will bagels and lox do?’

‘Depends.’ Cassidy lifted her chin, stifled a wry smile and arched a brow. ‘What is lox, exactly?’

His eyes sparkled. ‘It’s smoked salmon. Bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon.’

‘Ahh.’

‘Is that “Yes, Will”?’

A more genuine smile broke free as she inclined her head. ‘Yes, Will. Thank you. Bagels and lox sounds lovely.’

As if to emphasise her approval her stomach growled softly, making Will’s mouth twitch as he left the room. ‘Come down when you’re ready. Feed a cold and all that…’

She wished he would stop being nice. Annoying Will her heart could cope with. But if he started adding Nice Will to the house she’d fallen in love with at first sight she would be in even bigger trouble than she had been twenty-four hours ago.

Lying back on the bed, she turned her head and closed her eyes, breathing as deep as her aching chest would allow while she compared Will’s life to the one she had. It wasn’t hard to see who had fared better. If her self-confidence had been low before she’d stepped on the plane in Dublin, it was pretty much sitting at the bottom of a dark pit of despair now. She really needed to do something that would make her feel like herself again. But that was just it. Since Will, she’d never really discovered who Cassidy Malone was without him. Maybe it was time to find out?

After all, she was in the house of her dreams in California, a stone’s throw away from the industry she still found completely absorbing—even from the periphery, as a viewer of the art form. It was a step in the right direction, wasn’t it? Nothing ventured, nothing gained?

She slapped her palms against the cool covers and sat upright, reaching into her bag for her tablets and taking them with her as she left the room. Coffee, bagels and lox, tablets—and then she was going to start work and see if she still remembered how to write. That was somewhere to start…