My Secret Fantasies

by Joanne Rock

  Those rare conversations hadn’t been a case of my parents trying to welcome me back with open arms. Those talks had been not-so-subtle coercion to admit I’d made a mistake. But that hadn’t happened, and it wouldn’t happen. I’d protected myself from the past for six years, and I planned to keep on protecting myself from it, even if that meant turning my back on something that might have been really good with Damien. He didn’t want more drama in his life, and me? I was the drama queen in more ways than one, even if I didn’t want to be.

  Damien drank some of the tea I’d made and then inhaled the scent drifting toward him in a tendril of steam, as if still trying to identify the tastes. I liked that he paid careful attention to the game we played. It lifted my spirits as we talked about stuff that I found kind of depressing.

  “And when did you start working for Joelle?”

  “Almost as soon as I arrived in L.A.” I took Damien’s half-finished vanilla-cinnamon tea and sipped. “Joelle’s place was close to my first apartment, so I could walk there. I’d been on the staff for about a year—hostessing for the restaurant and running the register for the store—when I realized I had much more fun at my part-time job than I did pounding the pavement for acting work.”

  “What do you like about it?” He polished off his tea and set the cup aside. Candlelight still flickered above us, casting appealing shadows on his face. “The cooking? The customers?”

  “I’m good at it.” I’d never thought about that before. “All my life, I searched for something that was just mine—something my sister wasn’t better at than me. I was always a better cook, but that was never celebrated in my family, because I used the skill to make things like homemade cream puffs and buttery cobbler...all kinds of great treats that made me put on too much weight.” Definitely not a healthy coping mechanism for family stress. “But now I can cook for other people and watch them enjoy it.”

  “I enjoyed the tea,” he said suddenly, turning the conversation in a direction I hadn’t expected. “But I’m not sure I could tell you anything that was in it.”

  “Guess your taste buds aren’t as refined as I thought.”

  “Or else I have a taste for you, and only you.” He reached across the blanket to palm my bare thigh, his warm, callused hand covering half my leg.

  I was a sucker for those calluses. They snagged lightly on the hem of my T-shirt and gently abraded my skin.

  “That sounds like a come-on line, if ever I heard one.” I walked my fingers up his muscular forearm to his upper arm. His shoulder.

  “How’s it working?” He came closer again, leaning in to nibble at my neck.

  Shivers tripped up and down my spine as I swayed toward him.

  “Really, really well.” My heart rate spiked wildly, my whole body caught up in the magnetic draw of his. “I wish—”

  I stopped myself before I finished that thought.

  But not, apparently, before he’d heard me.

  “You wish what?” He quit kissing my neck to cup my jaw and stroke his thumb over my cheek.

  Putty. I was total putty in his hands. Maybe that’s why a little dream of my heart leaped out.

  “I wish we had more time.”

  I knew it was the wrong thing to say even as I said it. Those words changed the mood from lighthearted and fun to brooding and intense. Damien’s eyes turned a shade darker, his expression transforming into the hard lines I remembered from that first time we’d met, on the side of the road.

  “We can take all the time we want.” His voice was serious, the tone full of warning. “You don’t need to let anybody chase you away from here if you want to stay.”

  “I don’t feel like I’m being chased.” Maybe a little, I did. I’d seen a few overnight sensations in Hollywood wake up to the mayhem of superstardom, only to realize they no longer had a life. “More like this simple existence is about to implode. The quietness of the farm. The fun of new guests. Being part of a new foal’s first days...”

  “You like the farm more than me.” Damien tipped my face up to the candlelight, his expression serious.

  “No.” I shook my head. “But I think it’s great how you built this haven away from everything. You didn’t like Hollywood so you got out. And you found a world that suited you much better.” I brushed a kiss along his bronzed, rippling shoulder muscle.

  Shaelynn would eat her heart out to see me now.

  “That’s the key, though. I built something. And that means you have to stick around long enough to let a plan develop. To let a dream build.”

  “I’ll do that, too.” The words sounded hollow even as I said them. “As soon as I find the right place.”

  “Then I’ve got good news for you.” Damien’s mouth flattened into a hard line.

  “Really?”

  He didn’t look like a man with good news. He looked stoic. Resigned. Determined. And so damn sexy I almost didn’t hear what he said next.

  “I’m selling you the farm stand.”

  * * *

  DAMIEN FIGURED HE’D make it work. Paparazzi on the lawn, star-gazers rubbernecking around his paddocks and a brand of media attention that flew in the face of everything he’d tried to create at Fraser Farm. But this was Miranda, and he couldn’t let her go.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She gulped down the rest of her tea and set the cup aside, her fingers jittery as she ran them through her hair.

  “You’ve wanted that property since before you even laid eyes on it.” She’d drawn that amazing sketch for what the place would look like when she was done, had brainstormed names and even brought some inventory for the store portion of the business, judging by the cases of tea now in his kitchen. “How is it being ridiculous to accept your offer?”

  “There’s a lot of reasons.” She hooked her finger in the collar of her T-shirt and twisted the fabric, a nervous gesture he’d never seen before.

  Reaching for her, he untwined the finger and held her hand instead, but he could feel the tension still humming through her.

  “Name one.” He breathed in the scents in the air, the spices of the tea, the sweetness of Miranda. Would she answer him or would they avoid the topic by getting naked again?

  “You don’t want the kind of negative press I’ll bring.”

  His gut tightened, and as much as they needed to figure this out, he half wished they could just go back to touching each other. Forgetting everything else but how much pleasure they gave one another.

  “I’ve decided I’m tougher than I gave myself credit for on that score.”

  “You can’t afford to lose business because of me.”

  “Maybe we can link the Gutsy Girl win with the growing side of my business that’s going to retrain Thoroughbreds. Spin something about the Nebraska Nice Girl’s return to her farm roots to help the horses.” He’d just made that up on the spot, but it didn’t sound half-bad. Miranda did have a natural affinity for animals. And it did take guts to retrain edgy, high-strung Thoroughbreds, so it wasn’t a task for the average horse owner.

  “That’s...” Her blue eyes went wide as she digested what he’d said. “...clever but crazy. I don’t know anything about retraining Thoroughbreds.”

  “But you’d make a great spokesperson to promote another ‘come from behind’ winner.” He actually really liked the idea. Was it because of her influence that he was thinking outside the box? “I’m going to need to separate the brand identities for the breeding business and the Thoroughbred rehab business soon, anyhow.”

  She bit her lip. He could feel her holding back. A deep unease stirred inside him. He’d expected her to go slow in a relationship. Knew she’d had problems in the past and that she had a tendency to run. But he’d thought the property for her tearoom would be his ace...a surefire means of keeping her close.

  He didn’t invite
people into his world often. Hell, he’d made an effort to keep people out after the invasiveness of the press in his teenage years. Now that he wanted to share this world he’d created with someone, he didn’t know how to make it happen.

  “I wanted you to sell that property to me, but I can’t let you do it as a favor. That doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “It’s not a favor.” He was certain of that much. He wanted to keep her safe, damn it. That motive was his alone.

  “But a few days ago you thought it didn’t make good business sense.” She shook her head, frowning. “I can’t take the deal just because we started a relationship. That will only lead to trouble and resentment down the road if things don’t work out for us.”

  How could she be slipping away from him already? She’d just landed in his life, made herself important and knocked a crack in his heart before he knew what hit him. Now she was already talking about things not working out?

  “You make it sound like leaving is inevitable.” He had to be misunderstanding her. This was just beginning, not ending. “What happened to wait and see? Not borrowing trouble? Enjoying the freaking moment?”

  “I’m still looking at properties in the area.” She fidgeted with the braided corner of a throw pillow, and the sticker on her fingernail made him want to kiss her and forget about any talk of her leaving. “I might find something close by.”

  “So now I have to talk you into buying the place?” He scraped a hand through his hair, frustrated.

  Before she could answer, a scuffling noise sounded outside the closest window.

  “Did you hear something?” Miranda asked, going still beside him.

  He put his finger to his lips, listening for any other sounds. Tension threaded through him, pulled tight. Was that voices outside?

  “Over there,” she mouthed, pointing to the window to his left.

  He hadn’t pulled the blinds, since they were almost 20 acres from the main house and the center of the farm. But as he glanced in the direction she pointed, a bright light flashed against the glass. A shout sounded.

  “Ohmigod.” Miranda clutched his arm and scrambled behind the desk. “Tabloid media.”

  He’d been out of the Hollywood circus for so long he almost couldn’t compute that. Photographers? On a construction site in the middle of his property?

  A quick succession of flashes followed and raised voices could be heard.

  “She’s here!” someone shouted outside the glass, while Miranda clutched at Damien’s wrist and dragged him behind the desk.

  “Miranda!” voices called, and a knock sounded on the office door. “Miranda!”

  Her face went white as a sheet, and soon a flash went off at another window on the opposite side of the office, while the two of them sat amid still-warm blankets, the candelabra flickering on the table nearby. They were surrounded and under siege by reality TV fans.

  Their time alone together had ended way too soon.

  11

  “HOW ARE WE going to get out of here?” I tried not to panic, but I hated that this crap had followed me so far from Los Angeles. Hated that Damien had to deal with it now.

  I should have never bought into the whole “wait and see” approach. I should have bailed the moment I knew Violet Whiteman had broadcast the news of my whereabouts far and wide.

  “I’ve got a plan.” Damien stood and went to the closest window. He lowered the wooden blinds and pulled the heavy taupe tapestry drapes closed, ignoring the flashes going off in his face.

  He repeated the same deliberate action at three other windows, sealing us in privacy again. But it wasn’t the same being alone with him now that we could hear the hubbub of entertainment reporters and photographers just outside, looking for a quick buck. Damien blew out two of the candles, so only one burned in the candelabra.

  Now we stared at one another in the dim light, the remains of our fun afternoon scattered all around us like the debris of a tornado. Empty teacups, wineglasses, luncheon plates... I wished we could go back to those moments after we’d touched each other on the couch.

  “I’ll get Scotty over here.” Damien already had his cell phone out and his shirt back on. He tossed me my jeans. “He can distract the reporters. Threaten police action. We’ll have someone else—whoever is around the barns tonight—pull around back with my truck and make a break for it.”

  Before I could comment on the plan one way or another, he was pacing around the office and barking orders into the cell. His expression seemed tense, dark brows drawn together and jaw flexing.

  I’d done that to him. I’d stolen his peaceful haven—the retreat from the Hollywood world he’d put behind him—and brought trouble to his door.

  “We’ll have reinforcements soon,” he told me as he disconnected the call and pocketed the phone. “And we’ve got a good exit strategy. Don’t worry.”

  He put his arms out for me and I stepped into them before I could think about whether that was right or wrong. Just now I needed to feel his strength against me.

  “Sounds like you’ve planned a few exit strategies before,” I mumbled into his shirt, planting a kiss above his heart, where I wish I belonged.

  “My parents attracted big drama wherever they went, so if I didn’t want to be a part of it, I needed to be good at finding back doors, bathroom windows or exits through the kitchen.” He kissed the top of my head while the world seemed to fall apart outside in a muted roar of voices. I saw a big white flash under the door. Damien pointed to it. “They’re setting up their fill lighting to make sure they get a good shot when we come out. No shadows in the shot equals more money.”

  “Why did you dislike that life so much?” I asked, seized with the need to discover more about him even though I knew our time together was coming to a close. I had to make tracks to keep reporters away from the farm, to ensure they didn’t mess up Damien’s careful plans for the future.

  “A lot of reasons.” He cleared a space on the edge of the cherry desk and we sat there, side by side.

  “Tell me some.” I tipped my head onto his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t become surly and retreat now. Not yet. Not with me.

  “My parents’ work didn’t involve me, so I don’t know why my every move had to be photographed. As a teenager, I had my first date chronicled in Teenplus Magazine. Right down to where I dropped the girl’s ice cream cone.”

  “Ugh.” I could only imagine.

  “Yeah, right. A laugh-fest to the rest of the world, but it was definitely not funny to a fifteen-year-old. Then, the girls started a competition to be my prom date. Not because they cared about being with me. They just wanted the magazine spread that came with being a Fraser son’s date.”

  His muscles tensed, his jaw tightening. No matter how lightly he related the story, it was obvious the incident had bothered him. Deeply.

  “It must be difficult not knowing if someone wants to be with you for your own sake or because of who you know.”

  Damien snapped his fingers. “That’s it. In a nutshell. Tinsel Town B.S. You never knew who your real friends were.”

  My chest squeezed tight for him. No wonder he’d thrived here with the farm owner, someone who’d helped him realize his potential. Plus the horses...

  “That’s why you like the farm.” I nodded. “Animals are unbiased. They don’t judge. And I think they make much better decisions about who to trust than we do.”

  I remembered how much time I’d spent in the barns as a kid. The dogs, the horses and the chickens all preferred me over Nina. Actually, the cows would have, too, but Nina never got close enough to let the bovine population make that distinction.

  “I never thought about it like that, but...I guess.” His body language remained tense. “Maybe that is a bonus.”

  His phone chimed. He picked it up with a s
peed that told me how ready he was to get out of this conversation. Turning on the screen, he read a message.

  “Scotty’s pulling up in a minute. We need to be set to run, okay?” He pushed off the desk and moved to the window, carefully lifting the wooden blind enough to see outside. “Are you ready?”

  I’d never be ready.

  Because leaving this office put me one step closer to leaving Fraser Farm. And Damien.

  “We’re going through that window.” He pointed toward one on the opposite wall from the door. “Run dead ahead and don’t look back. There will be a pickup truck with the lights off.”

  “You’re coming with me, right?” I felt nervous as he double-checked his phone and peered carefully out the slit between the blinds again.

  “I’m going to run interference.” He looked so stern. This was his surly side, the one I’d met that first day. “I’ll join Scotty out front to make sure these people need to know they’re treading on shaky ground being here. As the property owner, I can stall them longer than Scotty can.”

  “I’m on my own.” I swallowed hard, hating the idea of running across the cold, dark grounds on my own. Knowing that this was goodbye.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The driver will take you back to the house. He has instructions to stick with you every second. Just wait for me there and we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Don’t leave until I get there.” He took me by the shoulders, probably guessing my plan. “You have to wait until we can talk about this.”

  “We have talked about it.” I spoke softly now that we had the window open. I didn’t want any paparazzi to overhear us. “I’m not going to throw you back into the spotlight. I won’t do that to you, and I won’t do that to your business.”