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  “You’ll probably get about five hours tonight by the time we get home,” I told her.

  “How can you be so chirpy? It’s inhuman.”

  “Oh, come on. We had a great day filming. It all went really well.”

  “Yeah, Malcolm let you keep your shirt on.”

  I blushed. Fortunately there had been no more incidents on-set like the day we’d filmed the scene in the cafeteria.

  “You’re just happy because you’re about to check your cell,” Faith reminded me.

  She had me there. “Maybe.”

  “Yeah, well have fun with that. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh wait, I think it’s already morning. Shit.”

  Faith continued grumbling as she walked the rest of the way to her trailer. I hopped up into mine and, so sue me, went to check my phone for messages.

  I smiled as I saw there were five new messages from Gabe. There were also a couple of missed calls from Alana and Mama, but I’d get to those in a minute. As I opened the messages I saw an unfamiliar number. In the preview panel all it said was ‘Attachment: 1 image’.

  Curious, I tapped on it.

  I sucked in a sharp breath as an image came up on screen. It was a picture of Gabe and I on the deck of his yacht when we’d been huddled close together, talking.

  Below the image was a message:

  I’m watching you.

  Chapter 19

  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  This, coming from Lena Lyons, one of the world’s most famous Hollywood actresses, who’d had a sum total of five stalkers during her career so far, was entirely reasonable. For me, who had built my career as a child star on being sweet and likable, it was harder to take.

  “It’s probably not even a stalker,” added Ally, pouring batter into the frypan.

  After forty-eight hours of keeping the worrying image to myself, I’d caved last night and asked Lena if I could see her and Marc first thing this morning. I wasn’t due on-set until mid-morning so no one would be suspicious of my absence—least of all Faith.

  While Faith and I had grown closer in recent weeks due to working alongside each other, I wasn’t ready to tell her about the image yet. Faith’s loyalty bordered on ferocious at times, and I didn’t need her championing my cause when I wasn’t even sure if it was anything to be worried about.

  Instead, Lena had been the natural person to contact. For one, she’d had experience with this sort of thing, plus she was one of the calmest people I knew. She was also in a relationship with Marc Romero.

  Ally being there was a nice surprise. Her mega-star boyfriend Jake currently had an intense filming schedule, like I did, so she was taking the opportunity to catch up with Lena. Although I suspected her presence this morning was probably orchestrated. Ally was already midway through her first batch of pancakes when I arrived. To her Italian way of thinking, food fixed everything.

  I forced myself to consider Ally’s words. “God, I hope not.” I hadn’t even contemplated that I might have a stalker. So far I’d convinced myself it was a nasty person who liked to intimidate people online.

  Marc strode into the room wearing a pair of fitted jeans and a tailored black shirt. A brief look passed between him and Lena. It was one of those intimacies that couples who trusted each other shared. Loaded with love, desire, and above all, understanding.

  “We can’t assume anything at the moment,” Marc said, and held out his hand for my cell phone without so much as a greeting.

  I was always a little in awe of Lena’s take-charge boyfriend. It didn’t help that he appeared more like a Spaniard model than a former US Marine turned Hollywood security specialist. His looks were to die for, if you liked dark, brooding types. Lena had always claimed she didn’t, but we knew otherwise now.

  I handed him my phone, already open on the image.

  “Mmm. You’re right. This was taken further out from shore. It’s not like any of the ones in the media.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that Marc had already studied the images that had made the tabloids. And his assessment was what I had been worried about. The image was unlikely to have been taken by a reporter. “I’m assuming you won’t be able to track the number?”

  “We’ll try, of course. Most likely it’s a stolen phone or one we can’t trace.”

  I sighed. I’d thought as much. “I’m sorry to waste your time. I wasn’t even going to mention it—”

  “Of course you should have mentioned it! Do you mean you hadn’t told anyone until now?” Ally demanded, her protective tendencies going strong.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to tell Mama because it would freak her out. Or Faith. She wouldn’t be freaked out, but she’d probably launch a private investigation herself. Honestly, I’ve been trying so hard not to freak out myself, I don’t need other people freaking out, too.”

  Marc frowned. “No one needs to freak out, but as you’ve seen with Lena, these things can escalate quickly.” At my distraught expression, Marc held up a hand. “This is probably not one of those situations, Chloe, but it’s better we’re across it now in case.”

  “In case what?” Ally pointed the spatula at him menacingly.

  Marc grimaced. “In case there are more images. I honestly don’t see any reason to panic at this stage. There have been no threats to Chloe personally.”

  “But they have her number,” Lena reminded him quietly.

  He walked over and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, they do. And as much as we like to think celebrities are protected, there’s ways around the barriers we put up. Don’t worry, I’m going to be overseeing this one myself.”

  “Thank you Marc,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

  He nodded.

  “How are you enjoying the new training division?” I asked. I didn’t want to dwell anymore on the image—I’d done enough of that the previous two days. Now that Marc was looking into it, I had to try to put it out of my mind.

  Marc flashed me one of his rare smiles and Lena smiled too.

  “I’m enjoying it,” he said, his dark eyes lighting up. “We’ve got some really talented men in the program.”

  Marc had decided after Lena’s last stalker that he wanted to train security specialists like himself to work with celebrities and other high-profile people, including politicians. I was pleased to see the decision appeared to be agreeing with him. I also knew it gave him more time to be with Lena, and I couldn’t be happier for the two of them.

  “Alright. Breakfast is ready,” Ally announced.

  “I’ve got to run,” Marc said.

  “Unless you want me to use this spatula like a weapon, I suggest you sit down and eat a proper meal for a change.”

  Marc tried not to smile but failed. “I like it when you’re in LA, Ally. Have I told you that?”

  “Not in so many words, but you like my pancakes more.”

  “It’s true, I do.” With a shrug, as if to say ‘who am I to fight it?’, Marc sat down next to Lena.

  An hour later I was on my way to the set, the image a distant memory.

  WHEN I ARRIVED HOME after filming it was close to midnight. I was too exhausted to think about anything, let alone threatening messages.

  Damon was probably still awake, but I slipped off my heels and crept up the hall quietly so as not to wake him if he had gone to bed. It really made no sense that our bedrooms were so close together in this gigantic house, but neither of us had ever felt the need to change things.

  I closed my bedroom door with a soft click behind me and dropped my shoes onto the rug with a muted thud.

  “Hey, honey.”

  I squealed in terror and whirled around.

  “Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Gabe leapt up from the bed—my bed—and rushed over to me. He held me by the shoulders and looked into my eyes.

  It did nothing to slow my racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

  “Damon and I were jamming.” His expression tur
ned sheepish. “And I wanted to see you again.”

  I put a hand to my chest as though that would calm my erratic breathing. “You scared me.”

  “Yeah. I got that. I’m really sorry. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

  Oh boy. That didn’t do anything to ease my labored breathing. Judging by the look in his eyes, my line of thinking was similar to his.

  “You still owe me a goodbye kiss,” I suggested innocently.

  “I do. But does that mean I’m leaving?”

  He smiled and pushed a curl away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. My forehead tingled where his finger had grazed my skin.

  “How about a hello kiss then?”

  He grinned. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  And finally, finally, Gabe’s lips were on mine and it was better than I could have imagined. I hadn’t realized how much I had been longing for this moment until my entire body melted against him.

  He wrapped his arms around me and I would have pooled in a puddle at his feet if he hadn’t been holding me up. I opened myself to him instinctively and his low groan lit a fire in me I was powerless to stop. The taste of him inside my mouth, sweet and salty, and ever so slightly wicked, fanned the flames more.

  I wove my hands around his neck, pulling him even closer. I had no idea who I was right now, but whoever she was, she seemed to know exactly what to do. I arched my body into his, feeling his hardness grinding against my stomach, but I still couldn’t get him close enough.

  He growled this time and nipped at my lips, while I breathed him in. His hand traveled down the curve of my back and settled on my backside. I shuddered as he kneaded it, pushing me against him again.

  “Jesus, Chloe.” Gabe broke free and stepped back, breathing heavily.

  “Gabe?” What had I done wrong? I was the first to admit I’d shown a distinct lack of control, but it had definitely been reciprocated.

  “That’s not a kiss,” he muttered, sounding breathless.

  “It wasn’t?” I took a tentative step toward him.

  “No,” he said, sounding more sure of himself. “It wasn’t.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, I know I’m not the most experienced and—”

  Gabe moved forward and caught me in his arms. “Could have fooled me.”

  “What?” Oh, my head hurt. I was still tired, and now I was confused. I also had an unreasonable amount of what I figured were crazy sex hormones making me feel woozy.

  “Chloe Kemp,” he whispered. “That was indescribable.”

  “It was?”

  “God, you’re so sweet. Dirty sweet. It kills me.”

  “It does? I just wanted to kiss you. I’m sorry if it got a bit . . . much.”

  Gabe pressed his forehead to mine and his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Nothing about you is too much, trust me. It’s just when you kiss me like that . . . ”

  “Oh. Oh. I get you.” Cue embarrassing blush. “Yeah, well, same here.”

  His eyes darkened, but not with the rolling storm clouds I’d seen that day when he was angry about Johnnie. This time the darkness was a promise that took my breath away.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I whispered. “But I think you should probably go now.”

  “Yeah, probably a good idea.” Gabe held onto my hips like he was having a hard time letting go, but then finally stepped back. “So I’ll see you for dinner next week?”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Gabe nodded and started for the door.

  “Wait,” I cried. So much for self-control.

  He stopped but didn’t turn around.

  I inhaled a shaky breath. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. “How about a goodbye kiss?”

  Gabe didn’t need to be asked twice and in one swift move I was up against the back of the door.

  Our goodbye kiss lasted a very long time.

  Chapter 20

  G: I’m really sorry to do this but I can’t make dinner Tuesday night. Our agent got us a surprise gig at The Sayers Club. I know it’s probably not quite what you had in mind, but I can get you and Damon in if you like?

  “Don’t ever become famous,” I complained to Damon later that week. “It ruins your love life.”

  “What love life?”

  “Exactly.”

  It was rare to see my brother lazing on the sofa in the open-plan kitchen area. He was like an exotic creature that only surfaced from his room when it was safe. Safety involved Mama being nowhere in sight. On this particular occasion she was away for the weekend. It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, just that they loved each other more when they didn’t have to share the same house.

  Damon continued flicking through the programs on Netflix. “Seriously, Chloe. What love life? You’ve never had a boyfriend.”

  “There was Jayden.”

  “He doesn’t count. You were never in the same place at the same time.”

  “Yeah, well, I think I’m going to have the same problem with Gabe. I mean, it’s ridiculous. Between my filming schedule and his band commitments—”

  “Whoa. Back up. You and Gabe?” Damon had abandoned the television and was staring at me in horror.

  “Um, you didn’t think he was hanging around jamming with you just for your talent?” I snapped my mouth shut. Shit. Where had that come from? When we were kids Damon and I had fought all the time but it was unusual for me to be mean to him anymore. When I’d seen the disbelief on his face, I’d just reacted.

  Damon leapt up from the sofa and pointed his finger at me. “Take that back!”

  I held up a hand. “I’m sorry, OK? That came out wrong and it wasn’t fair. But why is Gabe and I so hard to believe?”

  “Because he’s here for me, that’s why!”

  I gaped at my little brother. Please don’t tell me he thought Gabe was into him? I kept my mouth shut because I’d already done enough harm.

  Damon didn’t seem to notice my restrained silence. “He’s been coming here playing with me and it’s been awesome. We’ve even written some stuff and I’ve helped him with songs he’s already written.”

  My shock morphed into pride. “Seriously? That’s so cool. He didn’t tell me that. Probably because last time I saw him it wasn’t exactly a normal date, thanks to Viktor and the media.”

  The fierce look in Damon’s eyes dissolved. “Mama made you take Viktor along? Shit.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t so bad. Gabe took us out on his yacht and Viktor steered while we talked.”

  “Get out.”

  I resisted a smile. My brother was so much more comfortable being gay when he let his guard down and I loved it. I wished he felt like he could be himself all the time.

  “I know. It was amazing. I have no idea how Gabe does it. He just has this way of getting people on side.”

  Damon sighed. “Tell me about it.”

  When he caught me grinning at the content expression on his face, he waved a hand at me. “Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way. I know he’s not into me like that, but I can dream, can’t I?”

  I wasn’t going to ruin Damon’s fantasies, but I did want to ask another question—before I told him about the impromptu concert. I wouldn’t be able to get any sense out of him then. “Hey. I’d be interested in your opinion, so long as you don’t take this the wrong way . . . ”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Don’t you think it’s strange Gabe is jamming with you all the time and writing songs when he’s in Gypsy Hour?”

  Damon sat on one of the stools opposite me at the island bench. “If you ask me, he’s under-appreciated. He’s capable of so much more than playing drums with them. He’s not very involved in the writing process either.”

  “That does seem strange. But why?”

  Damon shrugged. “Levi and Johnnie go way back.”

  It echoed what Gabe had told me, too.

  “So when are you going to see Gabe again?” Damon ask
ed.

  “Well, that’s the thing. We were supposed to have dinner on Tuesday but now they’re playing a surprise concert at Sayers . . . ” I let my sentence drift off and awaited his inevitable reaction.

  “No way!” Damon shrieked and shoved the stool back, almost knocking it over in the process. He rushed around the counter and grabbed my hand, giving me his best puppy dog eyes. “Tell me you’re going. No, wait! We’re going! Please don’t make me beg.”

  I laughed with satisfaction. It wasn’t often he was excited, bright or hopeful these days. More usually he was reclusive, private and moody.

  “Gabe’s asked both of us,” I informed him.

  “Yes!” Damon let go of my hand and did a fist pump reminiscent of our childhood—probably where it should have stayed.

  Oh well. If I couldn’t have dinner alone with Gabe, a night out in Hollywood watching Gypsy Hour perform would be a nice change from filming.

  “I’M SO EXCITED, BUT please tell me I don’t look excited,” Damon whispered to me as we drove along Hollywood Boulevard.

  I wasn’t sure why he was whispering. We were in the back seat of the dark sedan and Viktor and our driver, Dan, were upfront. For them, this was just another night on the job.

  “You look super cool and in no way excited,” I reassured him.

  Damon fanned his faced dramatically. “Thank God.”

  I didn’t tell him he looked a little bit gay, too. In a good way. I loved it when my little brother actually dressed up. He’d lined his moody, dark eyes with kohl and made the effort to style his mop of dark hair so it was sticking up in an edgy do. He’d make some guy very happy some day if he could just find some confidence. Meanwhile, I was super proud to have him on my arm for the night.

  “Alright,” Viktor said from the front seat. “Looks like there’s a media circus.”

  “Well, it is Gypsy Hour.” Damon rolled his eyes at me then looked out the window as we turned off Hollywood Boulevard into Wilcox Avenue. “Shit. Most of LA is here.”

  So much for staying cool. He was right. Paparazzi crowded the street opposite the old building that housed The Sayers Club, while attendees lined the sidewalk out the front of the club, spilling onto the street where cars usually parked.