Читать книгу Star-Crossed Scandal - Kimberley Troutte - Страница 13

Three

Chloe was about to combust or squeal or any number of things that would not be the least bit professional. Instead she quickly went down to the restaurant to talk to her sister-in-law.

She found Michele in the kitchen, her arms coated with flour as she kneaded pasta dough.

“You’re here!” Chloe said.

“Where else would I be? Oh! How’s it going with Mr. Dreamy Eyes?” Michele asked with a smile.

“He’s so handsome...and that voice, the accent, oh, my God. He turns me to mush.” Chloe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Complete idiotic mush. Mind if I pace a little? I grumble better when I’m moving.”

“Grumble? Why aren’t you ecstatic? You get to spend all week with him.”

“It’s not him—it’s me.”

“Have at it.” Michele motioned to the floor. “Just don’t slam anything around. I’ve got cake rising in the oven.”

“I’m not my mother. I don’t slam things.” Chloe paced quietly, making sure not to stomp.

“Hey, speaking of the wicked witch...” Michele glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I messed with her a little earlier—not bad, just enough to teach her she’s not welcome in my restaurant, our restaurant. She doesn’t get a free pass after what she did to Jeff.”

Chloe blinked. “Mom’s still in Plunder Cove?”

Michele whispered, “Yeah. She met your dad for a late lunch. Weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t begin to describe it. “Did she throw dishes, wine bottles? Did my dad toss her out?”

Goodness, if her parents started fighting while Nicolas was here, the deal for the show would be off.

“Not at all. They talked quietly. Civilly. Then your dad left before she did.”

In the Harper household, civil parents didn’t make sense. What were they up to? Chloe stopped walking in circles at the counter, where Michele was pounding the dough. “Can I do that?”

“You want to knead my dough?”

“Can I beat it a little, too?”

“Sure.” Michele stepped back. “Wash up and you can knead away. Want to tell me why you want to punch dough?”

Chloe dried her hands and began kneading. “The guy who inspired me to play the guitar is upstairs. In my house. Nicky M! And holy moly, he looks so good. I can’t even begin to describe how well his butt fills out those slacks. But I’m representing the resort in this deal. I shouldn’t be thinking about his anatomy!”

“But you are.” Michele smiled wickedly.

Well, yeah. “You’d think I’d use this opportunity to—I don’t know—ask him how he comes up with his perfect rhythm. Or ask about the inspiration behind his lyrics in ‘Baby, Come After Me.’ I have this amazing chance to learn about lyrics and music from a master. Instead of asking intelligent questions, I could barely put more than two sentences together. What’s the matter with me?

“You have a right to be flustered. It’s Nicky M.”

There was that. Her crush aside, he’d been her inspiration for continuing to sing and play the guitar in her off time. Her parents had made it clear that being a singer wasn’t her true calling, but it made her happy. Nicky M had given her that.

“I don’t get starstruck. I got over that nonsense working at my yoga studio in Hollywood. Directors, big-name stars, models—they’re just people. I dated enough of those guys to know that they’re just looking for happiness and love like the rest of us. And quite a few of them are...” As broken as I am. She kneaded that dough until her hands hurt. “Lost. Hollywood ruins people. Star power doesn’t have any effect on me.”

“But Mr. Dreamy Eyes does?”

“Oh, gosh, yes.” Chloe pressed a hand to her heart, leaving a handprint of flour on her blouse. “Maybe his eyes have hypnotized me. Yep. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Michele handed her a glass of wine, which Chloe waved off. “Wait, no alcohol either? I get giving up meat, but no wine? That’s just...uh-uh. No way.”

Chloe shrugged. “I’m trying to live better. Clean. Healthy.” Trying to learn to love myself.

“I totally get it about Nicky M. If Gordon Ramsay came to hang out in my kitchen for a week, I’d probably accidentally cut off my hand or set the place on fire. Nicky M is yummy. Stop beating yourself up. You’ll be fine once you relax.”

Chloe poured herself a glass of water and took a long sip. “How do I relax? I can barely look at him without losing all rational sense.”

“Hmm. That’s an interesting dilemma since it’s up to you to get him to sign the contract for filming his show here. I handle the food, and Jeff can only do so much. You have to sell it.”

“Super. More pressure. You’re not helping, Michele.”

Michele smiled. “Sorry. Maybe you just need to find a way to work out your nerves. I cook when I’m stressed or, you know, have my way with your brother.”

Chloe scrunched up her nose at that comment, even though she was thrilled Michele and Jeff were so deeply in love. That’s all she ever wanted for her brothers, their happiness. She was working on her father’s happiness next. RW and Angel were good together, even if Dad hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Hey, that’s it.” Michele snapped her fingers and a puff of flour rose into the air. “You should kiss Nicky M and get that nervousness out of your system. That’s what I did the first time I cooked for your brother.”

“Right. Just walk up and kiss a legend.” What if his kisses didn’t compare to her fantasy? Or worse. What if they were better? She’d be ruined for life.

“I don’t mean assault the guy. Do what feels right for both of you. Jeff said Nicky M seemed to be into you.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “When did he notice that?”

Michele shrugged. “Men can feel the vibe, too.”

Chloe shook her head. “Nicolas just got out of that train wreck of a relationship with supermodel Lila what’s-her-name. He’s not ready for anything else. And if I misread the situation...” It would be a disaster. She’d fail at getting the contract, fail at finally doing something right for her family. “Nope, nope, nope. Kissing Nicolas is not a good idea.”

Michele cocked her head. “Or what if you’re not misreading the situation? What if you’re judging your feelings and his perfectly? It could be a really great thing, Chloe. I’m all for following your dreams. If I hadn’t gone for mine, I wouldn’t be here right now. You don’t always get a second chance to make your dreams come true.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t. No, definitely not.” Chloe could hear the disappointment in her own voice.

She needed to get this deal, for herself and for her family. But more than that, she’d meant it when she’d sworn off men. She’d spent too much time losing herself in men, in dating, in sex. She needed time to find herself, especially now that she was back in Plunder Cove.

Yet part of her knew that Michele was right. There weren’t always second chances to live in the moment. And a big part of her really, really, wanted to indulge in this moment with Nicolas.

That flicker of attraction he’d talked about? It was a raging wildfire inside her.

“And yet you want to,” Michele said, reading what Chloe wasn’t saying.

“Well, yeah.”

Michele laughed. “Then if you get the opportunity and he’s into it, go for it. When was the last time you got hot and heavy anyway?”

“Hot and heavy?”

“You know. Being with a man you want to shave your legs for.”

“Let me think...” Chloe squeezed the dough in her fist. Should she tell her sister-in-law why she’d stopped dating? Would Michele understand?

“If you have to think that hard, it’s been too long,” Michele said with a laugh.

“I’m not, uh, dating right now. To find spiritual happiness, I need to find myself first. Loving who I am will help me find true love.”

With her hand on her hip, Michele blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Seriously? No men? At all?”

“Something has to change,” Chloe said quietly. She’d spent her life wishing someone, anyone, would love her. She’d been kicked out of the mansion when she was fourteen years old. Living with her mother had been difficult, to say the least. She hadn’t heard from her brothers or father until recently, and her heart was still aching with desperation to keep them all close.

Michele’s face softened. “Your life is changing. You’re here, you’re part of the family. You aren’t alone anymore, Chloe.”

Chloe’s eyes welled. “I don’t want to lose my family again.”

“You won’t, hon. I understand trying to better yourself—I do—but you’re going to let your spiritual journey keep you from the man of your dreams? What if he is the love you should be with and you let him slip through your hands? And aren’t you always the one saying you should appreciate every moment in life? You might not get this chance again.”

Chloe chewed her lip. There was that. “I’m nothing like the women he usually dates.”

“So? Maybe he wants a change, too.”

“Nicky, uh, Nicolas did ask me to join him for dinner. A business dinner. If I thought he’d be into me—”

“You’d go for it?” Michele nudged her with her shoulder. “Do it!”

Should Chloe put her spiritual quest on hold so she could live out a fantasy? “Maybe.”

Michele rolled her eyes. “You Harpers are so darn stubborn. Just go with your passions, Chloe. Let yourself breathe.”

Chloe grinned. Michele had used one of the mantras Chloe had become famous for when teaching yoga to the stars. “You’re a Harper now, too,” she told her sister-in-law.

“And Jeff would tell you that I can be pretty stubborn myself. Use the strength you have and trust yourself.”

Trust herself with a man she’d fantasized about her whole life? And at the same time not mess up the contract her dad wanted her to secure? Her family was depending on her to get this right.

The whole situation sounded dangerous.

But more than anything, she wanted to breathe.

She kissed Michele’s cheek. “Thanks for the pep talk. See you at seven. Make sure everything is perfect for dinner.”

“Nice. Thanks for stressing me out now,” Michele grumbled.

Chloe just waved as she left to find the man of her dreams.

* * *

Nicolas finished up his fifth phone call in the last few hours. He took out his laptop and checked his emails. He pressed the ache between his eyes. There were 120 music videos from potential candidates waiting for him that had been sent to him by his assistant, who had already waded through thousands of applicants. Putting on his headphones, he sat on the bed and viewed five of them. One kid was a standout, but the others were not even close. He put those four into the Do Not Call Back folder. Only 115 more to wade through.

This was a grueling process. He hated to shatter dreams, but only ten could be chosen for the show, and they had to be the best of the best. Rolling the tension out of his tight neck and shoulders, he stood and popped his spine. It had been a long day.

He cast his gaze longingly at the guitar he’d brought with him just in case the music returned to him. Nothing. It sat silently challenging him to write and play something worthwhile. Instead he went to the full refrigerator in the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and went out onto his private patio for fresh air. The penthouse suite that Harper had put him in was full of amenities. He had everything he could ask for except a warm woman in his bed. He didn’t sleep alone very often, especially not in a hotel room. He’d have to rectify that situation.

He sipped his beer and enjoyed the view from his balcony. The sinking sun had painted the sky in golden strokes. Warm breezes danced in the palm trees on the beach and lifted tiny white peaks on the Pacific. His gaze meandered back from the sea, up the grassy pastures and settled on a garden below his window.

The last rays of the sun lit a figure moving in the garden. He’d recognize that blond braid anywhere.

Chloe.

She wore tight purple-and-white-floral pants and a white T-shirt. Her clothes accentuated her awe-inspiring figure.

Was she dancing? He sipped his beer and watched. No, stretching. But nothing like the hamstring stretches he did before and after his runs. This was fluid, intense and beautiful. She was like a panther—flexible and strong. When she bent over and pressed her hands on the ground, her sweet ass pointed straight at him. The sight stirred him up.

Exhausted to erect in twenty seconds. A new personal record.

The only sound he could hear was a mocking bird, the waves and the whisper of the wind through the trees. Still, she moved to her own beat, her internal rhythm, and became the personification of a melody. Something deep inside him pulsed, too.

Chloe lifted her long arms over her head and sat on an invisible chair. Nice, strong glutes. He doubted he would be able to hold a pose like that for so long. She rose up and went into a graceful lunge, one arm stretched in front, the other behind her. Straight lines like a warrior goddess. Bendy as a wet reed. She reached, squatted and arched her back. Even though she didn’t know he was watching, Chloe seemed to be a woman on a single mission to drive him wild.

Every move and every hold was like a dance. Like sex. Who knew yoga could be so hot?

Before that moment he hadn’t had the slightest interest in yoga because Tony Ricci, his former agent-turned-best-friend, had warned him against it. Tony’d had a bad experience with a yoga studio in LA. Supposedly the instructor was a man-eater.

Tony would probably tell Nicolas to stay away from Chloe too and keep his head on the show and his hands to himself. Most likely Tony would pull up a clip of Lila dumping Nicolas on camera. Nicolas didn’t need any reminders.

Lila had used him, like so many others had, as a ladder to her success. He’d thought for a while that she’d be the one to fill the missing piece in his life. Lila was gorgeous, fun, sexy and had a pretty nice singing voice, too. Not amazing, but nice. He’d pulled all the connections he had to get his girlfriend the singing contract she’d asked for. How had she repaid him? By breaking up with him in front of tabloid cameras.

Lila didn’t love him, but she adored his former drummer, Billy See. The two were engaged to be married and chose national television as the way to break the news. His buddy and girlfriend were off making music together.

And Nicolas was left alone, in silence.

Merda.

He watched Chloe reach for the sky.

Maybe Chloe was the music he needed to feel whole for a night.