Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
T he next morning, hung over from sex – and the bottle of champagne they’d shared when they got back to the cottage –and still in bed, Bea placed a video call to Cass, who immediately answered. Bea could see she was in the courtyard, helping the cleaning staff clear the tables and pack away unused glasses.
‘Thank you for a marvellous, marvellous evening.’
Cass, looking exhausted, grinned at her. ‘It was good, right ?’
Cass was normally so self-confident, and Bea smiled at her need for reassurance. Didn’t everyone need to be praised now and again? She certainly did. ‘It was truly brilliant, Cass.’
She should get up and go and give Cass and Nadia a hand, she was sure they could use the help, but this bed was super comfortable, and she was hoping Gib would bring her a cup of coffee.
As if hearing her mental SOS, he appeared in the doorway, a mug in his hand. Oh, bliss. She took the cup and his quick kiss, and he pulled back to look at Cassie. ‘You and Nadia did a fantastic job, Cass. Maybe we can talk about you catering some of the Caddell International functions in the future. Are you and Nadia prepared to travel?’
Joy flashed across her face. ‘Anytime and anywhere.’ Cass nodded enthusiastically. Bea smiled when she saw the heat in Cass’s cheeks. She was chuffed by his compliment, and she had a right to be.
Telling Cass to hold on, she looked up at Gib, who looked far too fine for someone who’d had so little sleep. He wore chino shorts, an open neck shirt and trainers. She pouted, she’d been hoping he’d come back to bed. Gib’s grin suggested that he knew what she was thinking, and he told her he was on his own video call and would be done soon. Yay. Bea lifted her mug to her lips. How wonderful it was to be in Santorini on a warm, stunning autumn day, surrounded by people she loved. And a man she liked a lot and, if she wasn’t careful, could come to love…
Bea looked down into her mug, blindsided by her thoughts. Why was she going there? She knew there couldn’t be anything between her and Gib! They lived on separate continents, and he had a life in Nashville and hers was in London.
And let’s not forget that he didn’t want more from her. This was just a fling, a step out of time. So why was she even letting her mind drift off into uncharted waters?
He had no part to play in her future. And after their sojourn in Santorini was over, she wouldn’t see him again. Her heart sank at the thought.
‘Bea?’
Bea remembered Cass was still on the phone, and she spent the next five minutes catching up on last night’s highlights – which included the psychic hooking up with one of the fire dancers. The amount of booze the guests drank was staggering, and the bill would match the GDP of a small country. Cass said Nadia was making breakfast, and did she and Gib want to wander up?
Bea said they might or might not, she needed to shower and see what Gib’s plans were.
After her shower, Bea pulled on a pair of lacy briefs, and Gib’s shirt from last night, held together with a single button. She didn’t want to get dressed, she wanted Gib to get undressed.
Feeling buoyant, and self-confident, she walked into the lounge and saw him sitting at her desk on the deck, his back to her. His shirt was tight against his wide back, his head bent.
No sounds emanated from his laptop … which meant he must be done with his call. Excellent. They only had a week left, and she wanted all his attention on her. Opening the button holding his shirt together, she walked up to him and plastered her bare chest against his back, wrapping her arms around his neck.
She bit his ear gently. ‘I’m suffering from you-in-me withdrawal symptoms,’ she said, sliding around to his front and onto his lap. She picked up his hand and put it on her bare breast. ‘Want to stop working and do me instead? And afterwards, we can go down to the villa. Nadia is making pancakes. I love pancakes.’
Bea heard muffled laughter, then a snort and a cough, neither sound emanating from Gib. Simultaneously hot and cold, an odd sensation, she turned her head and looked at his laptop … and into the face of a blond man, his jaw heavy with stubble, dark blue eyes fixed on a point above his laptop camera.
Oh, shit. Oh, fuck . She’d just flashed Gib’s literary agent cousin.
Gib pulled his shirt closed. ‘I thought you were done, nobody was talking,’ Bea shout-whispered, her face on fire.
Laughter rumbled through Gib. ‘Navy has a law degree and is trying to help me decipher some legalese for a deal we are about to sign. Unfortunately, it’s not something that can wait until I get back to the office. We were concentrating, that’s why we were quiet.
‘Bea, Navy. Navy, Bea,’ he added.
‘Hey, Bea. It’s nice to meet you.’
Bea closed her eyes and waved at the screen. She tried to get up but Gib’s arm around her waist and his hand on her thigh kept her pinned in place. ‘I’m so embarrassed right now,’ she muttered.
‘Don’t be, I didn’t see much,’ Navy assured her.
Judging by his immensely cheerful tone, he’d seen enough, so Bea kept her eyes shut. She’d never be able to look him in the eye.
‘It’s nice to meet the fabulous Parker Kane, although I didn’t expect her to be half-naked,’ Navy said, still laughing.
Gib tensed, and Bea’s eyes flew open, and she caught Gib making a slashing motion across his neck. Had Gib’s cousin really linked her with Parker Kane or was she finally losing her mind?
‘Navy, you fucker, ’ Gib muttered and slammed his computer closed.
* * *
Bea scrambled off Gib’s lap and wrapped his shirt around her, wishing the world would stop rocking. ‘ What did he just say?’
Gib grimaced, stood up, and ran his hands through his hair.
‘You know who I am?’
He pointed to his laptop. ‘That wasn’t how I wanted you to find out. I wanted you to tell me yourself.’
She was struggling for air and couldn’t make head or tail of his statement. She pulled in a few deep breaths, but her heart didn’t stop racing, and neither did the world stop spinning. ‘That’s pretty rich considering you won’t tell me anything.’
He winced and she knew her arrow had hit its target. She stomped into the cottage and sat down on the edge of the divan, barely aware of the rough fabric on her exposed butt cheeks and the springs poking into her skin. ‘Have you told anyone?’
How much damage control did she need to do?
Gib pulled the coffee table close to her and sat on it, his knees brushing hers. She slammed hers together to keep from touching him. He knew her biggest secret, and she thought she might shatter. ‘No, I wouldn’t do that to you, and neither would Navy.’
‘I don’t know Navy at all. I barely know you .’
‘That’s not fair, Bea, you do know me.’
Oh, bullshit. ‘I know you live in Nashville, that your parents died, and that you don’t do relationships. Whoop de doo .’
She dragged her fingers across her forehead. They’d moved off the subject. ‘How did you find out I’m Parker Kane?’
He rested his forearms on his knees and let his hands dangle between his legs. ‘That day you spilt your coffee, I picked up your notebook and read a few lines. You’d circled an acronym, GMC, and left a note to send out a newsletter.
‘I sent Navy a text, asked him what the acronym meant—’ He saw her narrowed eyed stare and shrugged. ‘I was curious. He explained they were terms used by writers and wannabe writers.’
Shit. ‘That’s still a leap to identifying me as Parker Kane.’
He rubbed his jaw. ‘After our fight, I was talking to Navy, telling him what happened between us.’ Oh, stunning. Now his cousin knew she’d acted like an overzealous fifties housewife. Excellent.
‘I mentioned to him that in addition to the acronym, I’d read something about a Pip and rapids. Navy told me I should stop reading your private stuff?—’
‘Good of him.’
‘But he also connected the dots, and suggested you’re Parker Kane. After reading book one, I know you are, too. I hear you, I hear your voice in the words on the page.’
Bea pulled her knees onto the divan and rested her forehead between them. A part of her was happy he knew –she wanted him to know –and a part of her was terrified he, or Navy, would out her. Because the only way to keep a secret was not to divulge it in the first place.
Gib’s hand skimmed across her hair. ‘Can you tell me why you feel the need to hide behind your pseudonym, Bea? You’re a great writer, and you’re doing so well that my cousin wants to rep you, and he’s a picky bastard. Why aren’t you out there, taking the credit you deserve?’
She lifted her concrete-block-heavy head. ‘How can you ask me to open up to you, when you can’t do the same for me?’
‘Because you are so much better at it than me, Bea-baby,’ he murmured. He held her gaze, his eyes brimming with sincerity and begging her to trust him. The hell of it was that she did. She knew he wouldn’t tell her secret. Hell, he’d known for days, but he’d kept his curiosity at bay. He’d been waiting for her to tell him.
And she’d wanted to. It had taken all she had not to ask him whether he liked what he was reading. And damn her for wanting to tell him about the rest, about everything . Because she suspected he was the only person, apart from Golly, she could trust.
He got her, on levels she never thought were possible. She respected his opinions, loved his sharp mind, adored his body. Yeah, he was closed off, he kept his thoughts and emotions under tight control, but he wasn’t cold, or heartless. Someone caused him to keep his deepest feelings to himself, someone hurt him deeply enough for him to question being honest and open, to make him afraid of showing his softer side. Bea would like to track that person down and shove a fork in their throat.
She scooted back on the divan, and grimaced when she teetered on the edge of the dip. She stood up, and took the chair, and Gib moved to the short side of the coffee table, to face her again.
‘Since you know I’m Parker Kane, I might as well tell you why I can’t be Parker Kane.’
Gib frowned. Right, that was clear as mud.
He stood and went into the kitchen to grab two bottles of water from the fridge. After cracking the top for her and handing it over, he sat again, his expression pensive as he waited for her to open up. She liked that he didn’t badger her to talk, that he was content to let her take her time.
But it was hard, it always had been. As much as she loved Golly, her godmother wasn’t a sympathetic soul. She’d had friends at schools, but lost contact with them a short while after she and Gerry started dating. As for her ex…
Well, Gerry wasn’t interested in any subject beyond himself.
‘I told you I was raised by my dad, but that’s wrong. I raised him . I was an incredibly adult child, and I took on adult responsibilities … cooking meals, paying bills.’ She hauled in a breath, knowing the next bit would be hard. ‘Because of him, I sometimes still feel it’s my fault when people disappoint me. I’m compelled to make people happy, frequently to my own detriment. I’m overly responsible and have always felt the need to hold up the sky.’ What had she forgotten? Right, the big one. ‘And I hate being criticised, even a little bit. It takes me straight back to my childhood. As a child, I made adult choices with adult consequences, but I was criticised when things went wrong.
That’s as much as I can say about my dad. It wasn’t fun, and holidays with Golly kept me sane.’
Gib picked up her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, before returning her hand to her lap. That little action and his lack of judgement encouraged her to continue.
‘My mum messed me up in other ways. Being a mother wasn’t something Lou was prepared to do or be. She was a journalist, covering social events, and she landed a job writing a weekly column for a tabloid newspaper. How, I don’t know, because her writing sucks.’
Did she sound bitter? She was bitter. Bea often wondered if her mother’s editors and readers realised how often Lou recycled phrases, ideas and thoughts. She was convinced Lou hadn’t had an original thought since 2001.
‘Go on,’ Gib encouraged, opening his water and draining half the bottle in one long swallow.
‘Lou rarely made an effort to see me, and ten years ago, her columns changed. She became more outspoken, and more outrageous in her views. Her work hit a nerve, because she started getting lots of reactions, both good and bad, to her opinion pieces.’ She wondered how to explain what her mother did next. ‘Have you ever seen those “ Am I an asshole ?” threads online?’
He nodded. ‘I’m familiar with the concept.’
‘Well, Lou started writing a monthly column called, ‘ Am I wrong ?’. She’d take a hot topic, and twist it up, spin it around, mock it, and cause mayhem. She became a household name, mostly for being a jerk.’
Bea waited until Gib looked at her and he sighed. ‘There’s more, I take it?’ he said, sounding resigned.
‘So much more…’ Bea took a swallow of water, anger and humiliation blazing through her. She picked up the end of his shirt and twisted it around her clenched fist.
‘You don’t have to tell me, Bea,’ Gib said, his words calming some of her internal heat and frustration.
Another sip of water, another sigh. ‘I picked up a contract for my first three Urban Explorer books. Professionally, I was flying, personally, my world was collapsing. The day after I got the offer, I caught my ex cheating, in my bed. During the fight that ensued, his fist flew past my ear and landed on the fridge door behind me, denting it. Instantly, I knew the next time he raised his hand, it would connect with my face or my body. It was the wake-up call I desperately needed. I threw him out and changed the locks.’
‘Good for you,’ Gib murmured.
‘I told him to text me his new address, so I knew where to send his clothes and possessions, and when he sent it I found out … well, that he’d moved in with my mother.’
‘ Fuck .’
The memories were a knife sliding between her ribs. ‘Not only did he move in with her, but he also moved into her bed, and they were often photographed together. I kept a very low profile, so it took a while for the press to work out she was dating her daughter’s ex. Then she penned one of her ‘ Am I wrong ?’ columns, saying she was in a relationship with her daughter’s ex and was it wrong when her daughter kicked him out and ended their relationship?’
Gib ran his hand over his face. ‘ Christ .’
Yeah. ‘The press were relentless, desperate for a reaction from me. That’s when my publishers suggested I consider using a pseudonym. My mother still doesn’t know I’m Parker Kane.’
Gib shook his head and Bea saw anger in his eyes. ‘That was a truly shitty thing for them to do. I’m so sorry, Bea. Can I rearrange his face for you?’
His offer made her feel a little warm and fuzzy. ‘Not surprisingly, she and Gerry didn’t last long. Partly because they’re both cretins, partly because I genuinely believe you can’t build your happiness on someone else’s sadness.’
She looked past his shoulder. ‘She still writes the column, it’s still popular.’ She pulled her lip between her teeth. ‘I’m scared of being linked to her, scared of the public criticism and scrutiny.’
Bea couldn’t allow Parker Kane to be tainted by her association with Lou. ‘I still keep a really low profile, and I never tell anyone Lou is my mother,’ she said, hoping Gib would read between the lines and reassure her, again, that her secret was safe.
‘Navy and I won’t tell anyone, Bea. But you should. If she wasn’t a columnist, would you step out from behind your pen name?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I guess.’
‘Then you’re allowing her to affect your life, to have a say in your career.’
He didn’t get it. ‘But what if she does a review? Criticises my books?’ she demanded, sounding a little shrill.
Gib shrugged. ‘It’ll send a whole lot of people to your books, they’ll read them because they’ll want to know what the fuss is about and then they’ll realise she’s wrong. And you make bank.’
She’d never thought of it like that, but still wasn’t sure she could do it. ‘I don’t want anything to do with her,’ she stubbornly insisted. ‘Freezing her out works for me.’
‘I think you’ve built this up in your head, making more of it than it needs to be. The anticipation is always worse than the deed, Bea.’
No, she was pretty sure she knew what would happen. If it came out that Lou was Parker Kane’s mother, social media would explode. She’d be painted with the same brush as Lou and her career, and brand, would take an enormous hit. She was still convinced it was better to stay as far away from her mother as she possibly could
‘Could it be that you’re allowing your fear of being criticised to dictate your actions?’
Maybe. But it worked for her.
But did it really? She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. God, she was tired. She’d emotionally vomited all over Gib, and she now felt empty and exhausted. She just wanted to go back to bed, sleep, and not think.
Bea pulled in a deep breath and finished her water. ‘Cass said that Nadia is serving breakfast up at the villa if you’re hungry,’ she stated, deliberately changing the subject.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asked her, pushing a heavy strand of hair behind her ear and trailing his fingers down her jaw.
She shook her head. ‘I think I’m going to take an aspirin and go back to bed.’
He gently held her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘Don’t shut me out now, Bea.’
‘Why not, Gib? You do it to me all the time.’
Leaving him white faced and without a comeback, she stood up, walked back into the bedroom, threw back a couple of aspirins and climbed under the covers. Today could carry on without her.
* * *
Bea’s parting shot was a punch to his gut.
Gib looked at the closed bedroom door and scrubbed his hands over his face. She wasn’t wrong. She’d told him pretty much everything and he’d given her nothing, hadn’t trusted her with anything but the basics.
But how was he supposed to change a habit of a lifetime and start bleeding words and feelings? Keeping his own counsel was as innate to him as breathing. Even if he managed to find the courage to talk to her, he didn’t know if he was physically able to talk to her, if the words would come.
Gib stood up and walked onto the deck, wrapping his hands around the balustrade so tightly his hands turned white.
This wasn’t supposed to get so complicated, but he had to admit this thing between them wasn’t superficial. They’d tried hard to keep it light and fluffy, but somehow, when they weren’t paying attention, they’d slipped into something deeper, something – goddammit – meaningful.
He liked her, more than he’d liked a woman in a long, long time. Was that due to him being able to take the time, spending many hours with her instead of rushing through dinner dates as he usually did? Maybe the reason he’d caught feelings was because he was on vacation, and didn’t have the excuse to run off to work, or check a report and take a meeting.
Caught feelings…
It was such a trite phrase, but it was disturbingly accurate. He just wasn’t sure what they were and what the hell he was going to do with them and what they meant.
Finding out she was Parker Kane the other day had been a revelation, and he appreciated her talent. He’d read the first book, and was three quarters of the way through the second. He thought, mistakenly, that he’d skim through it, but he’d found himself lost in the story, thoroughly enjoying the depth of her characters, their banter and the pace.
If any of his business rivals heard he was reading a kids book on vacation he’d be booted out of boardrooms all over the world, but she was –and he wasn’t just saying this because he was fascinated by the woman –a damn good writer. If you could hook a jaded thirty-five-year-old and make him forget that the woman he was sleeping with was the books’ author, then she was something special.
It wasn’t a surprise that Navy wanted to act as her agent. It was a no-brainer.
Gib had no doubt that Navy would keep her identity a secret and had no need to remind him to do so. Navy’s integrity ran deep and wide, and he’d never out her. Neither would Gib. But damn, he wished she would step out from behind her name and into the spotlight. She deserved to be seen, deserved to be lauded, deserved to…
Be loved.
But he couldn’t give her what she needed. She’d been let down by her father, had a witch for a mother, and while he had no doubt Golly loved her, Golly was programmed to put herself first. Bea deserved someone standing in her corner, ready to catch her when she fell, someone to bolster her when she was down, to remind her of how wonderful, sexy and lovely she was.
He couldn’t be that person. And not only because he was an emotional virgin, terrified of feeling anything at all, unable to verbalise his emotions but also because he was a busy, busy guy.
Being the CEO of Caddell International meant he spent a good part of the year in planes, and cars, bouncing between their various satellite offices all over the world. He owed it to Hugh to be the best he could be and to do that he needed to be hands-on, to be at the coal face. He couldn’t run Caddell International and also be an involved, supportive partner.
The two didn’t mix. He’d get frustrated and she’d be disappointed, he’d feel guilty, and she’d get pissed. Long-distance relationships were hard work, even when you were emotionally able to invest in one.
Bottom line, Bea deserved … well, she deserved everything .
But he wasn’t the guy to give it to her.