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  HEARTBEAT

  Hollywood Hearts #3

  Belinda Williams

  © BWrite 2017

  Heartbeat

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS: BOOK 3

  Good girls don’t kiss and tell. Unless they’re caught in the act . . .

  Twenty-one-year-old Chloe Kemp knows it’s not easy growing up in the celebrity spotlight. Unlike other child actors, Chloe’s determined to hold onto her squeaky clean reputation. So far that’s been easy because she really is as sweet as the media portrays.

  Until she’s caught in bed with the lead singer of a famous rock band. Only nothing happened. Not that anyone will believe her...

  Nor will anyone believe she was in bed with the wrong rock star. Chloe’s fallen for drummer Gabriel da Silva, and she’s heartbroken she’s ruined her chances with him. Or is it possible he’s fallen for Chloe’s sweetness?

  When more incriminating images hit the tabloids, it becomes apparent someone is following Chloe with the intention of ruining her reputation, as well as her relationship with Gabe. If she wants her career to survive, and a chance with Gabe, is it time Chloe grows up and trusts her heart?

  Experience more behind-the-scenes Hollywood (and rock star) action in the third book of the Hollywood Hearts series. Perfect for fans of Rachel Gibson, Victoria Dahl, Susan Elizabeth Phillips and Liliana Hart.

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  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Belinda Williams

  About Belinda Williams

  What’s past is prologue. William Shakespeare

  Chapter 1

  “I feel like Cinderella,” I announced, observing my reflection.

  I saw Faith roll her eyes at me in the mirror. “What does that make us? The ugly stepsisters?”

  My other close friends, Ally and Lena, laughed, and I did too. Faith’s statement couldn’t have been further from the truth, and she knew it.

  “Not in my designs you’re not,” Ally said, referring to the dresses she’d custom-made for all of us to wear this evening. She adjusted the flowing skirt that fell in flirty waves to my mid-thighs for the thousandth time. “Although Chloe could pass for Cinderella.”

  “Not sure Cinderella had the confidence to wear that dress,” Faith pointed out.

  I felt my cheeks heat as I took another look at my reflection. Perhaps she was right. The dress Ally had created for my twenty-first birthday party was a touch daring, but I loved it. The deep blue satin fabric set off my auburn hair, which fell in loose waves to my shoulders. While the length of the cocktail dress was cute but entirely respectable, it was probably the plunging neckline Faith was referring to. When I’d said I felt like Cinderella, I meant I felt transformed.

  Once again, Ally had outdone herself. As one of the country’s up-and-coming fashion designers she was making a name for herself creating pieces for movie stars like myself. Her style had become known as ‘unapologetic glamor’ and there was no apology for the neckline on this dress, that was for sure. It plunged all the way to my midriff and the bodice was covered in glittering silvery blue crystals in a stunning geometric pattern.

  The effect was both daring and classy and I wondered once again at Ally’s expertise. It was like she’d known how I wanted to feel tonight and had translated it into this stunning dress.

  I couldn’t resist and did a twirl. “Thank you so much, Ally. It really is perfect.”

  “My pleasure.” Ally’s big brown eyes were filled with satisfaction.

  “You look amazing by the way,” I added.

  Ally wore a jumpsuit made from flowing black material that also had a plunging neckline, but that’s where the similarities ended. She had a lot more cleavage to show off than me and tonight she looked like an Italian goddess, all smoky dark eyes, wavy brown hair and feminine curves.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Faith said. “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

  I turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

  Lena smiled knowingly. “Faith didn’t believe Ally could create a jumpsuit that would look any good.”

  “Oh, Faith,” I admonished. “You should know better.”

  Faith waved a hand in Ally’s direction. “And now I have to wear a jumpsuit to an awards ceremony.”

  Ally grinned. “That was the deal. Except yours will be white.”

  Faith’s dark eyes widened and she swore under her breath. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  Ally turned to adjust her dark curls in the mirror. “Do I ever joke about fashion?”

  Faith groaned. “I think I need a drink. Does anyone else need a drink?”

  I raised my hand and jumped up and down on the spot. “Ooh, me please!”

  “Alright Chloe.” Faith moved beside me and gently lowered my hand. “First lesson about being an adult is you don’t need to ask permission for a drink.”

  The other women chuckled and so did I. I didn’t care if they were making fun of me. I knew these women loved me without judgment and I couldn’t imagine celebrating a momentous occasion like my twenty-first without them.

  Alright, so it wasn’t just them. There would be around five hundred people joining me at my mother’s expansive Hollywood Hills estate tonight. I couldn’t claim I knew everyone as well as the three women crowded around me in my dressing room. My mother loved a party and, being a retired actress herself, she couldn’t resist adding a few guests. ‘A few’ meant several hundred, but who was counting? There would also be plenty of family, friends and people I’d worked with throughout my career. The more the merrier, I figured.

  I hid a smile at the sound of the band warming up. I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to get Gypsy Hour to play at my party! My fantastic publicist was definitely going to get a big bonus next month for pulling it off.

  “I think I’m going to need a drink before I meet them,” I told my friends, anticipation making it feel like there was an entire swarm of butterflies fluttering in m
y stomach.

  “Who? Gypsy Hour?” Lena came up beside me and placed a reassuring arm around my shoulders.

  I always felt tiny standing next to Lena. She was well over six foot and towered over me. A former model, she exuded elegance and you couldn’t help but be in awe of her grace. Tonight she wore a red cocktail dress that highlighted her impossibly long legs. Her platinum blond hair was slicked back in a bun, which made her pale features stand out more.

  In the couple of years I’d known Lena, we’d formed a sort of sisterly bond. I’d worked with her on two movies and we’d instantly developed an easy rapport. She was always willing to listen and support me in any way she could, and despite the age difference of eleven years, we’d become close friends.

  Her clear blue eyes met mine in the mirror. “I don't think you have anything to be nervous about.”

  “Oh come on! They’re only, like, the biggest rock band at the moment!”

  “And you’re one of the most well-known actresses in Hollywood,” she reminded me with a squeeze. “Maybe they’ll be nervous about meeting you.”

  Huh. I guess there was that. The funny thing was, I’d been acting so long—since I was six—that I regularly forgot I was famous. I often felt sorry for others who were catapulted into fame like Ally had been when she started dating Jacob Swan, one of Hollywood’s hottest actors. For me it had always been a part of my life.

  Snap! There’s Chloe Kemp walking around LA in her gym gear.

  Snap, snap! Look how grown-up Hollywood’s favorite child actress Chloe Kemp is in her new movie.

  I could understand how someone like Ally, who’d spent her childhood in suburban New England, would find the paparazzi an invasion of privacy. Growing up with a mother who craved media attention like I craved chocolate, I’d learned to deal with it.

  “And there she is,” I muttered as my mother sashayed through the door.

  How her scent always wafted into a room before she did, I’d never know. The distinct aroma of roses, with a hint of spice and vanilla, was her signature. So much so she had a successful perfume named after her—April Flower.

  “Ladies,” she crooned in her throaty Southern drawl.

  “Mrs. Allen,” gaped Ally, who had never had the pleasure of meeting my mother before.

  Even in her early fifties, Mama still turned heads. For some reason, the auburn curls she’d always adored on me she went to great pains to straighten on herself. Tonight her hair fell well past her tanned shoulders.

  “It’s Ms. Allen,” she corrected Ally, making no effort to hide her frank assessment of Ally and her outfit. “But April to you, darling, because if you’ve dressed my daughter tonight you’re sure as hell going to be dressing me in the future.” Before Ally could apologize for addressing her incorrectly, Mama turned to me. “Goodness Chloe. You’re a vision. Well, I must have done something right these last twenty-one years.”

  “Mama.” I reached over and grasped her hand. For all her melodrama, I was proud to call April Allen my mother. Not only was she incredibly loving, she’d always been supportive of me in every way possible. “Of course, you’ve done plenty right. This party, for one.”

  “Oh, that.” She waved a perfectly manicured hand airily around us. “This is nothing. You’re the main event, sweetheart.”

  “No,” I corrected. “Gypsy Hour is, silly.”

  Mama narrowed her brown eyes, not convinced. While I’d inherited her auburn hair, my father was responsible for my fair complexion and blue eyes.

  “I’m really not sure what you see in that group of . . . young men. And their music is a far cry from your Broadway shows.”

  “Just because I performed on Broadway doesn’t mean I can’t listen to rock music.”

  “I suppose. Anyway, it’s your night and if it’s what my little girl wants, it’s what she gets.”

  “Big girl,” Faith corrected.

  “Oh, Faith, darling. So lovely to see you. And you too, Lena. Do forgive my bad manners, I was so transfixed with this creation Ally made for my daughter.”

  “For all of us,” Faith said.

  “Stop it,” Ally protested.

  “My goodness, Allegra,” my mother exclaimed. “You dressed everyone tonight?”

  “Including herself,” I added proudly.

  “You all look divine. And Faith, you pull off that glittering gold gown beautifully.”

  Faith shot Ally a sharp look. “Apparently Ally thinks I’d look better in white.” Despite the dig, I could tell Faith was satisfied with the sleek ankle-length gown that clung to her athletic frame. The gold gave her usually dark features warmth and made her deep brown eyes sparkle. She’d left her straight chestnut hair out and it almost reached her waist.

  “Anyway, we mustn’t stay here all night talking. There’s a party to go to!” My mother clapped her hands to get us moving. Despite the fact I was now a grown woman, my mother’s Hollywood mom tendencies still ran strong, and we followed her toward the door like obedient children.

  “Now, Ally, Jacob is already mingling. Lena, your man is with him but not looking terribly impressed I must say, so I’d get out there if I were you.” She pointed at Faith. “You go with Chloe backstage and make sure she doesn’t mess up her big entrance because she’s distracted by the band.”

  Faith frowned. “Big entrance?”

  Mama gave Faith a dazzling April Allen movie-star smile. “Of course, darling! This is Hollywood. And it’s going to be a night to remember.”

  Chapter 2

  “I’m too old to be a groupie,” Faith complained as we made our way down the hall together.

  My mother had already ushered Ally and Lena in the other direction to join the party.

  “You heard Mama,” I told Faith. “Lena needs to rescue Marc and Jake can’t bear to be apart from Ally.”

  “Disgusting.” Her lips curled in displeasure. “You’re right. I’d rather be a groupie than subjected to that.”

  “They’re sweet. And very much in love.”

  “Public displays of affection are not sweet. They’re annoying.”

  I sighed and wondered if Faith felt that way because she was incapable of love, but kept my thoughts to myself. I’d known her long enough to understand that there was more to her than her tough outer shell would have you believe. I was secretly hoping love would come to her one day too.

  “You don’t have to drag me,” Faith muttered.

  “Whoops, sorry.” I released my grip on her arm. I was obviously a tiny bit overexcited about meeting the band.

  “OK, so which one do you like again? The drummer guy, right?”

  I didn’t reply, although to my mortification I did blush furiously. Turning twenty-one might be a milestone, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to translate to growing out of embarrassing childish habits.

  “Uh huh,” Faith said, not missing my heightened color. “Grant, isn’t it?”

  “Gabe.” My voice came out a breathless whisper and I resisted the urge to turn around and go back the way we had come. God, no wonder Hollywood persisted with calling me innocent. When I acted like this, I wondered if it might actually be true. Never mind I’d been acting since I was six and had been forced to grow up young.

  “From what I remember, he’s hot—if you like that sort of malnourished, hipster look I guess.”

  “He’s not malnourished!” Sure, now my voice came out loud. High-pitched too, so it echoed down the hall. I lowered my voice. “Just because he’s not built does not mean he’s malnourished.”

  “Whatever. You could do a lot worse than having a rock star for your twenty-first birthday.”

  I skidded on the carpet. “Faith!” Ugh. There was that blush again, much to Faith’s amusement. I recovered quickly and started walking again. “I’m not having a rock star for my birthday.”

  “Why not?”

  I huffed and averted my eyes, concentrating on walking in my towering blue heels. I’d performed entire Broadway shows in heels but even by
my standards these shoes were dangerously tall.

  I sighed. It might be well and good for Faith to have a rock star whenever she wanted, but I didn’t do things like that.

  “Why not?” she repeated.

  “Because.”

  Because I’m a virgin and you’re not.

  No way was I telling Faith Martin, one of Hollywood’s most experienced actresses, that bit of information. We’d become good friends since Lena had introduced us a year ago, but I still wasn’t as close to her as I was to Lena. Maybe that would change now that we were starring in a movie together. Or maybe not. Since filming had begun, I got the impression Faith didn’t seem to trust anyone.

  Even if I told her the truth she wouldn’t believe me anyway. Not when I’d kissed numerous actors on-screen and performed sex scenes for the cameras in two of my most recent movies. If only they all knew just how good an actress I was.

  “You could take your pick of any one of them,” she said, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

  “What?” I wobbled on my heels and Faith reached over to steady me.

  “You heard me. You saw yourself in that mirror. You could take your pick.”

  “I don’t want to take my pick!”

  “Because you want drummer boy.”

  “No!”

  Faith sighed. “Second lesson about being a successful adult is to be sure of what you want.”

  Another step to being a successful adult was probably managing to have consensual sex instead of pretending to have sex on-screen, but that was the last thing on my mind tonight. “What I want is to listen to some kick-ass music and have the party of my life.”

  “Good enough.”

  Alright, maybe getting an eyeful of Gabriel da Silva, the band’s drummer, would be nice too. It couldn’t hurt to look, right?

  THE SECOND WE STEPPED into the backstage area, my eyes darted around the space like a frightened bird’s, and a part of me felt ready to flee at any moment.

  I wasn’t remotely bothered by the chaos. While I was nervous about meeting the band, at twenty-one I was a seasoned acting professional. I breathed in the hum of activity like it was essential to my being and it helped to calm me. I still loved live shows. There was something so exciting about the pre-show anticipation and the knowledge that the minute you stepped out onstage, that was it. You didn’t get the opportunity to do numerous takes like in film and television, and it was a heady sensation.