by Lori Ryan
She let her eyes glance up to Gabe’s and caught the heated intensity of his look.
Then, with the blink of an eye it was washed away.
What was that about?
“Tell me,” he said as he picked up his now-empty plate and grabbed hers before heading to the sink. “Do you think it was Kurt who stole your journal and leaked it to the press? More publicity for him? When did you have it last?”
PJ’s stomach dropped. She’d forgotten about her journal for one blissful minute.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t really know.” She felt even more stupid, not knowing how someone got her journal or who might have it.
Would she put it past Kurt to do something like that? No, not at all. Erika was no fan of PJ’s either. Despite the fact Kurt had dumped PJ for her, Erika had harassed PJ for weeks afterward, texting that PJ better stay away from her man and all that.
PJ didn’t need that kind of drama in her world. Lord knew her life on the road gave her enough drama as it was. She’d changed her number and tried to forget about Kurt and Erika.
“Where did you keep it?” Gabe asked the question gently, as though he wanted to be sure she knew he was only asking the question to be supportive.
PJ shook her head and felt the telltale prick of tears behind her eyes. “That’s the thing. Nobody knew I kept a journal. And, I mean nobody. I never wrote in it in front of other people. Only when I was by myself at night. I kept it on a USB drive that I hid in a tear in the lining of my purse. The drive even looked like an old lipstick so anyone who found it would think it was makeup.”
“It’s not on a cloud or backed up on your computer or anything?” he asked.
“No. I should have just deleted it after each entry, you know? I mean really, what’s the point of saving all that?” She shrugged. “I just got in the habit of it in rehab and never stopped.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a lot of years. You were what, sixteen when you went to rehab?”
“Fifteen. I wanted to get that whole addiction thing out of the way early in life. Call me an overachiever.” The comment got the laugh she was looking for.
Gabe grabbed two bottles of water and tugged her toward the couch, settling down on one end while she sank into the other.
“Someone knew it was there,” Gabe said returning the conversation to her journal.
PJ bit her lip and nodded. “Whoever took it had to be really close to me. I keep my purse with me all the time. If I don’t have it, Lydia or Ellis carries it.”
She shook her head. “Maybe one of them left it where a fan or stagehand could access it backstage—but I doubt it. They’re as protective of my privacy as I am. They didn’t know they were protecting my journal, but they know my cell phone is in there and fans can go crazy trying to grab a piece of me. They wouldn’t have left that lying around for anyone to pick up.”
Whoever did this was someone she trusted or someone her family or team had trusted. And that made all of this that much harder to handle.
Chapter 3
Gabe couldn’t believe they’d been up all night talking together. When PJ had looked so sad talking about her missing journal, he changed the topic to something lighter.
They’d spent the last five hours talking about books, music, movies, pets they’d had when they were young—pets they wished they could have now but didn’t have the time for—and food. They talked a lot about food. PJ’s eyes lit up, and she became animated when she talked about the things she loved.
She told him about her writing process and how song ideas seemed to build in her mind, until it felt like she’d explode and she had to write them down. If he tried to explain that to someone, it would sound stupid. Coming from her, it somehow seemed magical and otherworldly.
Wow, you’re a sap.
He was, though. He was a total and complete sap where Pru Cantrell was concerned. She smiled weakly at him now, the exhaustion clear in her face. It wasn’t just that she was tired from staying up all night talking.
It was a real, bone-deep exhaustion from the weight and the pressure on her. He could see it. Her life was filled with pressure on a good day, given her tour schedule and the demands of recording new material. Add to it the additional stress of the missing journal, and it was obvious she was at a breaking point.
“I should probably head back to my room,” she said, looking at the door…but her voice told him she didn’t want to.
“You don’t have a show for another six days,” he said, and then wanted to kick himself when she looked at him sharply, no doubt surprised he knew her schedule.
“True,” she said slowly, drawing the syllable out.
“Do you have interviews or appearances lined up?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “This was supposed to be six days of rest and relaxation. I haven't taken that much time off in a long time. Now it’ll be six days of hiding out and trying to ignore phone calls, and the constant temptation to jump on the Internet to see what’s happening.”
“You should come to Connecticut with me.” What? Where did that come from?
“Connecticut?”
Hell. Why not?
“I keep a house there that no one knows about. I bought it a few years ago so I’d have a place to go where I’m not offered room service and turndown at night. No one knows about it except my friends. We can take my private jet. You can just fall off the grid for a few days, get some real rest.”
He could see her thinking about it, chewing on her bottom lip as she eyed him through lowered lashes. He didn’t want to pressure her, but man, he suddenly wanted to be the one to be able to take her away from this shit situation she was in. The one to give her the respite she needed while the whirlwind of her life settled down for a bit.
And, he wouldn’t lie to himself. He’d had a better time with her tonight than he had with any of the women he’d dated. Just talking to her, with nothing sexual between them other than the way his imagination ran away every time she moaned over a bite of food or laughed at one of his jokes, was better than a lot of the nights he’d spent wrapped in some naked woman’s arms and legs.
He’d been resisting the sexual attraction and wouldn’t act on it when she was so vulnerable, but at least he could be there for her. He could support her and help her through this without acting on the chemistry that shot between them whenever they were together.
“No strings attached, PJ. I promise. I’m headed there anyway to see some friends and go to a two-year-old’s birthday party. What could be better than balloons and cake? Just two friends, getting away for a while. That’s all it will be.”
It’s not all I want it to be, but I’ll take it.
PJ had never shown any inclination to hit on him—which made sense. The first time they’d met, she’d only been eighteen or nineteen and he’d been twenty-nine. With her current age of twenty-nine and him at thirty-nine, it would be considered acceptable if something did happen between them, but he had a feeling she still saw him the same way she always had. Old.
PJ looked as though she struggled to come to a decision. She finally nodded her head, slowly. “All right. If you’re going anyway, I’d love to tag along.”
Chapter 4
PJ knew she needed to face her team and call her parents before heading to Connecticut. Her phone was filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.
She didn’t blame them for being concerned, and she knew they’d need to hear from her before she left—to confirm she wasn’t drunk. It might have been thirteen years since her addiction had almost ruined her career, but she knew it was hard for her parents to forget their struggle to save her. To straighten her out.
And at a time like this, it would be easy for them to think she would turn back to drinking to numb the emotions clobbering her.
PJ made her way across the hotel to her suite in the opposite tower and shut the door behind her, relieved neither Lydia nor Ellis waited there for her.
&nbs
p; She dialed her mother’s number and wasn’t surprised that she answered on only the second ring. She checked her watch. Her parents wouldn’t leave for their small bookstore outside Deep Creek Lake in Maryland for at least another hour.
They’d gone through so much with her early on in her career with the addiction and pregnancy. It always made her feel good to picture them in their bookstore doing what they loved—happy and relaxed again instead of on edge and worried for her. That would all change if her journal was released to the media. Her fault again.
“Hey, Mom.” PJ could hear her father in the background.
“Hi, sweetheart. Your father wants to know how you’re doing. Did you book extra interviews for this week to respond to Kurt’s comments?” her mother asked, drawing a wince from PJ.
It was hard to talk about Kurt’s review of her performance in bed with her parents. Ugh.
Her mother didn’t wait for her response before continuing. “You don’t have to respond to that…that….” PJ almost laughed as her mother sought the right word to describe Kurt. Her mother didn’t swear. Ever. But, it sounded like she was dying to right now.
“Ninny,” her mother finally finished. PJ laughed at her mother’s choice of words. Yup. Ninny was about as nasty as her mom was going to get.
“Debra called earlier to fill us in,” her mother said. “She put out a short press release so you can leave it at that, PJ. Don’t feel like you have to engage him or the press over this. Personally, I think we should ignore it. We don’t need to give him any more attention than he’s already gotten.”
“Yeah, I’m going to ignore it and let the whole thing die down, Mom,” PJ finally answered when her mom took a breath during her diatribe.
PJ knew this wasn’t going to just die down on its own. She opened her mouth to tell her mom what was coming, but she didn’t know how to say the words.
She chickened out. “I’m going to take a few days off. I’ll meet the team in Denver for the next show, but I just need to take a break for a bit.”
“Where’re you headed to? Do you want to come here?” her mom asked.
PJ blushed, thankful her parents couldn’t see her through the phone. “I’m going to Connecticut to spend a few days with Gabe Sawyer and his friends. He’s headed there and offered to let me come, just to get away from everything.”
She tried to play it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, but really the idea of spending a week with Gabe, even as friends, made her stomach do backflips.
PJ could almost envision her father’s eyebrows going up and wasn’t surprised to hear his voice coming through the phone, although it was muffled, as if he were speaking over her mother’s shoulder.
“Gabe Sawyer, as in owner of The Grand Tower…that Gabe Sawyer?”
“Do you really think that’s wise, Prudence?” her mother asked.
“Mmm hmm,” she murmured. She should have known she wouldn’t slip that by them so easily.
“Pru, don’t you think he’s, well.... He seems to love the limelight a bit much, don’t you think? Is it really wise to be seen with him right now? What if he’s just hoping to capitalize on your spotlight?” Her father must have taken the phone from her mother. His voice was coming through more clearly now.
PJ shook her head. “No, Dad. Gabe doesn’t like all the attention any more than I do most of the time. In fact, he’s managed to keep his house in Connecticut completely off the radar so far. Only his friends know he has it, so the chances of us being found there are slim to none.”
As she spoke, she tossed a few outfits into a backpack. She’d ask Ellis to swing by and have her other luggage taken to the tour bus so it would make it out to Denver and be there when she arrived to perform.
“You’re not... Well, w-what I mean is…are you two...?” Her mother, now seemingly back in control of the phone, all but stammered.
PJ rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sake, you guys. I’m not a gullible teenager anymore. Gabe isn’t looking for anything like that from me.”
She might not be a teenager, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words sex and Gabe in the same sentence to her parents. This whole conversation was a lot more than she wanted to deal with right now, but she knew they had their reasons for worrying.
“Gabe is a friend. Nothing more. He has his own money, his own fame, and his pick of any woman he wants on the planet. Believe me, there’s literally nothing Gabe could want from me.”
PJ had to admit, saying that out loud hurt more than a bit. She’d had a crush on Gabe Sawyer for a long time. But the truth was, he only saw her as a friend—and that was all right. She was glad to have his friendship. It was all she could offer right now with the shape her world was in anyway. It was really all she needed…. Really.
Maybe if she kept telling herself that, she’d stop hoping for something more from him.
Chapter 5
PJ gasped as she took in the large home at the crest of the circular drive. “It’s incredible, Gabe.”
The two-story, light-gray house with black shutters had a small carriage house off to the side of the driveway, and an enormous landscaped yard behind tall stone walls. There wouldn’t be any issues about privacy here.
At least, not until the paparazzi got wind of her location and tried to climb the walls. At eight feet, they looked fairly formidable, but you never knew what people would try once the rest of the news in her personal journal broke.
PJ faltered a bit as her thoughts turned back to her journal, but she was determined to step away from all that for a while. She just wanted one week to rest before she had to face the storm that would surely hit soon.
When it did hit, she’d leave so she didn’t destroy the oasis Gabe had here.
He pulled Pru’s bag from the trunk of his car and took her arm to walk her up the steps. The contact sent a zing through her and she didn’t try to fight the attraction. She just had to keep it from showing, that’s all.
“Wait till you see the back. I bought it for the privacy, but the view of Long Island Sound can’t be beat, and the outdoor patio is amazing. I had the caretakers stock the kitchen for us, so other than going over to Jack’s house, we can hide out here.”
He pulled her through the foyer and down a long hallway that led straight out the back of the house. They ignored the formal dining room, sitting room, and living room and landed in a large, open kitchen. From there, French doors spilled out onto the stone patio in the back yard.
“Oh my gosh,” PJ said, knowing she sounded like an idiot, as she looked out onto the sparkling water of the infinity swimming pool that appeared to fall off into the ocean in an incredible optical illusion. An immaculately manicured lawn sloped to the ocean, and there were tennis courts off to the side of the patio.
Gabe nudged her shoulder and pointed to their left where a full outdoor kitchen and grill sat next to a large stone fireplace.
“Ohhhhhh. It’s a completely perfect oasis,” PJ said, and she moaned again as she looked at the teak chairs in front of the outdoor stone fireplace with the Jacuzzi tub nearby.
PJ wondered how far they’d have to go to get to the party at Jack’s house the following day. She honestly wasn’t sure she wanted to leave the sanctuary Gabe had just shown her.
“Where does Jack live?”
Gabe’s face broke into a wide grin—one of his grins that always made her breath catch, and her panties want to fly off and scream ‘take me!’—if panties could scream.
“That’s the best part.” Gabe slipped his hand into hers and pulled her further out to the edge of the patio, then leaned a bit further and pointed to the right. The large stone wall continued around the side of the house, even blocking access to the ocean. PJ had seen a gate at the back of the yard and assumed that led to a private beach. But, now she saw another small gate in the wall and the roof of a large house beyond it.
“That’s Jack’s house,” Gabe said.
PJ laughed. “You bought a house right next to your
friend?”
Gabe nodded, and his grin widened if that was even possible. “I couldn't resist. That way, I know there won't be a psycho over there. And the guy on the other side of me is Andrew, Jack’s best friend. He and his wife, Jill, will be at the party tomorrow. We all have the codes to each other’s gates so we can cut through our yards. It’s perfect. Chad lives about three houses up, so he and Jennie need to walk down the road or take the beach,” he said, as if that were the greatest hardship in the world.
PJ just continued to shake her head, but she was smiling. She couldn’t believe all his good friends owned houses so close to one another. What would she give to have that kind of life? Those kind of friends?
Anything, she realized. She had huge bank accounts and had invested in several profitable businesses, but now she saw the limitations of that. Building money wasn’t much of a life.
She could see why Gabe was thinking of giving up his hotels. Everything he needed was right here. She would want to stay here full time, too, if she were him.
PJ’s phone beeped in her purse.
“I should let you get settled in, I guess,” he said, nodding in the direction of her bag.
PJ nodded. It felt a little awkward suddenly, now that they were really here, alone in his house together. “Yeah, I should check messages and touch base with Debra. Make sure everything’s still on track for next week’s shows. I’m sure Lydia’s giving her hell. She’s probably furious that I’m not adding interviews to the schedule this week. If Lydia had her way, she would have milked this episode for all the publicity she could get.”
He ran his hand across her lower back as he guided her toward the house. “Let’s get you to your room, then. I can start dinner while you take care of things.”
Gabe showed her to a room just off the patio where they stood just moments earlier. The queen-sized bed was piled high with welcoming pillows and a vase of fresh flowers brightened the room, but it was the doorway leading out to a private side patio that drew her attention.
