Nowhere to hide, p.3
Nowhere to Hide, page 3
‘You have a dog?’
I think of my big baby Golden Retriever, Chester, at home with my neighbour, Gina. Technically, he isn’t fully a retriever. There is a little lab and spaniel in there too, and he isn’t actually a baby. He was seven when I adopted him.
The plan had never been to get a dog and I had only been at the rescue centre with a friend who was donating some old blankets.
Of course we decided to say hi to all the animals while we were there.
Big mistake.
Chester’s doleful expression had tugged at my heartstrings the moment I saw him and his story was so sad, his previous adored owner having passed away. After a couple of sleepless nights worrying about him, I went back to the shelter to fill in the paperwork.
I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the help of Gina, who is retired and had offered to look after him while I was at work. Gina and her husband lost their little terrier last year and she was insistent I would be doing them a favour too.
‘He is the best decision I’ve ever made,’ I say now, my tone wistful. ‘He wasn’t planned, but I couldn’t leave him in the rescue centre. I love him to bits.’
Duncan nods, but doesn’t ask anything more about Chester, instead swiftly moving on. ‘Right, pineapple on a pizza? Yes, or hell no?’
Maybe he isn’t an animal person.
I shrug the thought away, telling myself it doesn’t matter.
I can tell from the glint in his eye that he is flirting with me now and Chester slips from my mind as I finish the champagne, my confidence growing. ‘Not my first choice of topping, but I don’t hate it. What about you?’
‘Food of the Devil.’
‘So you’re a pineapple snob then?’ I confirm, grinning.
‘Yes. Yes, I am,’ he agrees, seeming amused by my comment. He finishes his own drink before summoning a waiter and replacing our empty flutes with full ones. Smiling, he toasts me. ‘Okay. Final question.’
‘Go for it.’
‘Callie. Is that your actual name or is it short for something?’
I used to get asked this a lot, but not so much these days, as Callie now seems to be a name in its own right. Nevertheless, it’s not my birth name.
‘It’s short for Micaela,’ I say, screwing up my nose. ‘But no one calls me that except my dad. His name is Michael and I think he had hoped for a son. He got me instead, so I guess he had to compromise.’
‘I like Micaela,’ Duncan says softly. ‘It’s a pretty name and it suits you. You should use it.’
For the first time tonight, I don’t like the conversation.
‘I prefer Callie,’ I say a little stiffly.
It’s silly, but he’s touched a nerve and I don’t like being told what name I should use. Callie was my mum’s nickname for me, and after she passed away, it was the moniker I wanted to go by. I was always closer to Mum than Dad and, it might sound stupid, but it helps a little with the loss, making it feel like she is close by.
Of course, Duncan knows none of this and I have no intention of dumping it on him when we’ve only just met. It’s personal and I doubt he would be interested anyway.
Perhaps there is something in my expression to warn him off the topic, or maybe it’s the slightly awkward pause in conversation, but he seems to realise he has said the wrong thing, smoothly moving on. ‘I know I said final question, but I have one more.’
I relax a little, feeling foolish. I overreacted. ‘Go on,’ I push, playing along.
‘Favourite flavour ice cream?’
A fun question, and although I take a moment to consider, there is a clear winner. ‘Chocolate fudge.’
Duncan’s eyes lock on mine and there is heat in his gaze. ‘What do you say about sneaking out of here?’
My eyes widen in surprise. Does he mean what I think he means?
‘You want to leave the party?’ He has caught me off guard and I almost stammer out the question.
‘Are you game?’ His smile widens as he takes our glasses, putting them down on a passing tray. ‘Come on. There’s somewhere I want to show you.’
Apparently, it is okay to leave your own party when it’s in full swing. That is what Duncan assures me as we sit in a booth across from one another in the little café he has brought me to, long spoons dipping into the best ice cream I have ever tasted.
Perhaps it is so good because Duncan Stone is sitting opposite me, or maybe it simply is fantastic ice cream.
He knows the place well because the man who served us greeted him like a long-lost relative and he has a preferred seat.
The high-backed booths offer a degree of privacy from the other customers. Only one couple notices us and I am aware of them frequently looking over. Eventually, the woman plucks up courage to approach our table, shyly asking for a selfie.
Duncan is great with her and patient too, asking me to take the picture. He chats away with the woman, Susie, sounding genuinely interested in what she has to say, as I snap half a dozen shots.
‘Thank you so much,’ Susie beams at us both before heading back to the man who is waiting for her.
‘I guess you must get that a lot,’ I say, turning my attention back to my ice cream, which is now a pool of liquid in the bottom of the bowl. I scoop a spoonful up, savouring the creamy chocolate fudge flavour as I wait for his answer.
He shrugs. ‘It goes with the territory and I guess I’m used to it. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for my fans. It’s not a hardship to give something back to them.’
He has such a great attitude to his fame and there is nothing pompous about him at all. He was kind and respectful to Susie, and doesn’t seem to have an ounce of arrogance.
I allow my mind to wander forward towards what comes next? Does he plan to kiss me? I imagine how it would feel to have his lips against mine, to have his hands caressing over my skin. To touch him. To taste him.
‘Callie?’
I realise he is looking at me, and has asked a question, and my face flames as I look into his beautiful blue eyes. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘You were miles away. What were you thinking about?’
‘Um, nothing really. Just how nice this is.’
He looks amused and for a horrified moment, I wonder if he knows what I was thinking. ‘I told you they had the best ice cream here.’
‘They do,’ I agree.
‘Are you ready to go? I know we snuck away, but unfortunately I can’t be missing for too long.’
He wants to go back?
My bubble bursts.
Of course he has to return to the party. He’s throwing it for one of his charities and, although he made a speech at the start of the evening, they will expect him to be present and mingling with the guests. If he stays away too long, he is going to be missed.
‘Yes, of course.’ I keep my tone breezy, masking my disappointment.
‘Thank you for escaping with me for a little while. I enjoyed it.’
‘I enjoyed it too. Thank you for bringing me here.’
Okay, so I didn’t get to kiss him, but how many women can say they’ve enjoyed an ice cream date with Duncan Stone?
Back at the party, I barely see Duncan for the rest of the night, only catching odd glimpses as he works the room. On one occasion, we make eye contact, and he winks, giving me a sizzling smile.
‘Where did you disappear to?’ Juliette demands, appearing by my side and dragging me off to the loos, where Tracy and our other friend, Aarna Kapoor, are waiting. ‘I know you snuck off, and a certain Mr Stone was missing in action too.’
I tell them about the ice cream trip, but make them promise not to say anything to anyone else, and Tracy squeals.
‘I knew it. I told you he likes you.’
Does he? He never asked for my number.
Duncan isn’t anywhere to be seen at the end of the evening, so I don’t get to say goodbye. Instead, I reluctantly leave with the others for the journey home.
I stew over our encounter all weekend and when I arrive in work Monday morning, the office is buzzing with gossip from the party. Juliette has kept my secret, but it doesn’t stop her giving me knowing looks throughout the morning. When the flowers arrive, she takes delivery of them, sauntering over to my desk with a big smirk on her face. A huge bouquet of roses, lilies and daisies.
My face heats, realising everyone is looking my way.
‘Read the card,’ Juliette demands, pulling it from the arrangement and thrusting the envelope into my hand.
Somewhere between embarrassed and excited, I rip it open and glance over the words.
I enjoyed your company Friday night. Now you know you can trust me with ice cream, will you trust me with dinner? Duncan.
A mobile number is written beneath the message.
‘Oh my God, Callie.’ Juliette is snooping over my shoulder. ‘You’re going on a date with Duncan Stone.’
‘What?’ This is from Ross, the designer who sits in the corner and who has conveniently taken his earphones out.
‘Juliette!’ I hiss.
‘What?’ She shrugs. ‘He sent you flowers. It’s not a secret. Everyone’s seen them.’
I suppose she is right and a small part of me wants to scream out loud that Duncan Stone is interested in me.
Still, I am protective of his privacy.
‘If you become his girlfriend, I want a tour of his house. The posh country estate one I saw in HELLO!,’ Juliette says. ‘Have you seen it? It’s like a castle.’
‘No, but then I haven’t been stalking him online.’
Liar.
After the party, I went home, snuggled up with Chester, and read every article I could find on Duncan, in particular focusing on those featuring past girlfriends.
I wanted to know if he has a type.
It would appear not. The women he has dated have varied in hair colour, height and build, though all are very pretty.
I also know from my online stalking that he is forty-three and a Sagittarius, that he grew up in Mile End, part of Tower Hamlets in the East End of London, the only child of a single mother. They had lived in a grubby, two-bed council flat, with no outdoor space, and he had used his first big pay cheque to buy her a beautiful new home – be still my beating heart – one she lived in until her death last year. And, of course, I have seen pictures of the country home Juliette is talking about. It has turrets.
Everyone loves Duncan. From friends in the acting world and fellow philanthropists, to members of the public who have met him. And what they love most about him is he doesn’t pretend to be perfect. He was the kid who came from nothing and he has made plenty of mistakes along the way. He ran with the wrong crowd when he was a teenager and was involved in vandalism and petty theft, and even after he cleaned up his act and got his first taste of fame, he had relapses. Getting drunk on set, punching a director, and then there was the infamous time he treated his mates to a drug-fuelled orgy with high-class call girls in one of London’s top hotels.
He has bounced back from all of that, though, holding up his hands and apologising to the public, and while there are rumours he still has ties with some of the dubious characters he grew up with, he now generates nothing but good press. He is an honest man who is not afraid to apologise for his flaws. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and he doesn’t have secrets.
Or, at least, if he does, he keeps them well hidden.
4
NOW
It was the barking that caught Nico’s attention.
He had let the dogs out to pee, immediately hearing the sound coming from the cottage.
Was Callie okay?
There were no lights on he could see, but the barking was ongoing. Chester sounding frustrated rather than excited. And now his two were picking up on it. Shyla with her head up, alert, while Dash was prancing around.
It was late. Gone eleven. She wasn’t going to welcome a visitor.
But if there was any trouble…
Nico knew he wouldn’t rest easy unless he checked it out.
It had been Laurel’s idea for Callie to come to Willow Brook Farm, and initially Nico had resisted.
He remembered his sister’s friend and had nothing against her, but she wasn’t his problem. Teddy, his former boss, had been gone nearly four years and Nico had his hands full with the stables. He didn’t need another project.
But Laurel had been persistent, and as he’d learnt more details about Callie’s situation, he had gradually relented.
She had nowhere to go. And he did have the space. After he had moved into the main house, Stable Cottage had stood empty. He would have offered it out to the stable hands who worked for him, but they all lived locally so had no need for accommodation, and although he had toyed with renting it out, he had never got around to it. If Callie needed it, then it hurt no one.
And today, he had realised how badly she needed it.
Laurel’s friend, the one she had roomed with at university, and who had come to stay on more than one occasion, had been confident and bubbly. The woman Nico had collected from Norwich Train Station was meek and terrified.
He had half-heartedly agreed to drive down and pick her up, again Laurel’s idea, but Callie had turned the offer down. Seeing her today, he wished he had insisted, and remembering her haunted eyes when she had first stepped off the train had him picking up his pace now.
She was safe here. His place was in the middle of nowhere and he had kept a careful eye on the rear-view mirror on the drive out to Strumpshaw. If they had been followed, he would have known about it. There was probably a perfectly innocent explanation for Chester’s barking. Still, he would feel better when he knew for sure.
He followed the path to the cottage, his long, easy strides quickly eating up the distance, knocking loudly on the front door and waiting for her to answer.
Inside, the dog continued to bark.
Perhaps he should have called out before using his key, but Callie had him worried, and he let himself into the living room, noting even in the darkness that everything was how it should be.
Chester was with him immediately, clearly distressed as he ran around Nico. The retriever had been anxious and a little jumpy when he had first arrived at the farm, but he had quickly formed a bond with the other dogs, particularly Dash, and, in turn, learnt to trust Nico. He was a senior and a little slower in his reactions, but seeing Callie today had given him a new lease of life and his tail hadn’t stopped thumping. So what was upsetting him now?
‘Callie?’
Nico kept his voice low, not wanting to startle her, though surely she couldn’t be sleeping through the dog’s barking.
Had she hurt herself?
The apprehension in his gut tightened when she didn’t answer and he moved through the tiny cottage, hesitating when he saw the bedroom door was wide open. His eyes had adjusted enough to the shadowy light to see the covers were rumpled, but she wasn’t in the bed.
Where the fuck was she?
He was reluctant to enter her personal space, but he was worried about her. Especially when Chester darted past him into the room, heading round to the side of the bed.
Nico followed and that was where he found her. Sitting on the floor, wedged between the wall and the bedside unit, knees drawn up into the foetal position and her face pressed against them, her hands clamped over her ears.
‘Callie?’ He spoke louder and, seeing her flinch, quickly crouched down before her. Was she hurt? Had something happened? He could see she was trembling and he reached out to touch her arm before thinking better of it.
‘Callie.’ He tried again, his tone softer. ‘It’s me. It’s Nico.’
Chester was trying to push between them, his wet nose and tongue in her face when she slowly raised her head, wide eyes looking up.
For a moment, Nico stared back.
The blonde wig was gone.
Although he had known about the disguise plan and remembered Callie had auburn hair, it still took him by surprise to see the darker waves framing her pale face.
‘What happened?’ he demanded, aware his heart was racing. She had scared the hell out of him.
She double blinked. ‘Nico?’
‘Are you okay? What happened?’
She stared at him for a moment. ‘There was knocking.’
‘What? Where?’
‘Someone was trying to get in.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I heard them try to open the door.’
Nico’s first reaction was anger, but it quickly simmered down as he considered the reliability of the woman before him. There was no reason for anyone to be visiting the cottage this late at night, and he would bet everything he owned that they hadn’t been followed after leaving the train station. He had been too careful.
Was this the product of a nightmare?
Had she imagined someone was breaking in?
He was sensible enough not to voice his thoughts. Whether it had been real or fictional, she was frightened and he didn’t want to risk upsetting her further. Instead, he adopted the tone he used when working with a nervous horse, nodding slowly, aware he needed to earn her trust. ‘Are you okay to come with me while we check it out?’
Her voice sounded small, almost childish in tone and a little uncertain. ‘Okay.’
He stopped himself from offering her a hand to get to her feet, knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. Instead, he waited for her to follow, noting Chester was sticking close by her side.
Had the dog been upset because someone had tried to break into the cottage, or was it in reaction to Callie’s behaviour? At this point, Nico was unsure.
A quick look over the door and lock told him nothing was untoward, which had him leaning more to the nightmare scenario.
It was understandable. She had been through a hell of a day. Was it any wonder her imagination was running riot?
Though he was convinced no one had been trying to break in, it wouldn’t hurt to tighten the security at the cottage, if for no other reason than to put her at ease. The property already had a security sensor light, but cameras and an alarm would help give her peace of mind.
