But then Daniel McCormick comes into their lives. And with his help, Melissa and William might just be able to find their festive spirit, and finally have a Christmas where all of their wishes come true …
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Acknowledgements
This is the first book I ever wrote. Over ten years ago now, I made a New Year’s resolution to write a book. And stuck to it. Not because I’ve got this thing about always sticking to my New Year promises (I hadn’t done before, and haven’t done since) but because I found, to my utter joy, that I loved writing. Sadly, the finished product wasn’t quite the masterpiece my heart had insisted it was, so after too many rejections to count, the book was pushed to one side. Thanks to my husband though, the writing wasn’t. He was the one who persuaded me to keep going, and then to become self-employed so I could pursue this mad dream to write books for a living. So thank you Andrew for putting up with my craziness, for encouraging me and for swallowing your dislike of reading fiction, especially romantic fiction, and reading both the initial (and now I realise, dreadful) draft and this new, improved version. If it wasn’t for you, I might have stopped at one failed book. All of those that have come after it are your fault ☺
Further thanks to the following people:
My pharmacist friends, Charlotte and Warren, for helping me with the details of Jessie’s job. Yes, I was a pharmacist once, but age has dulled the memory.
My publisher, Choc Lit, for taking on not just this book, but all the other books I wrote in between.
The Choc Lit Tasting Panel for being kind enough to give Reach For a Star the thumbs up: Bee M, Mel R, Jenny M, Sharon D, Vanessa W, Amanda M, Ruth M, Wendy S, Joy S, Gill L, Allie L, Carol F, Joy B, Sharon W, Hilary B and Carol D.
My fabulous editor for doing what she has on all my previous books. Taking my draft and making it soooo much better.
Book Bloggers, whose enthusiasm for reading, and amazing support of writers, is humbling. Special thanks to Rachel (Rachel's Random Reads), Kaisha (The Writing Garnet), Hayley (Hayleyreviews10), Joanne (Portobello book blog) and Anne (Being Anne) who’ve been there from the start of my writing journey.
Family and friends who have spent the last ten years cajoling, encouraging (sometimes pushing and prodding) – yes, you need to keep it up for the next ten years, too: David, Jayne, Anne and Keith, Shelley, Kath, Karley, Kirsty, Charlotte, Sonia, Gill and Jane to name but a few.
My mum, who reads all my books even though I’m sure some (racing drivers and bodyguards) aren’t to her taste. I think she’ll like this one!
Finally, but most importantly of all, thank you for buying and reading Reach for a Star. It’s taken a long time, and a major re-write, but I’m so thrilled it’s found its way into your hands.
Copyright © 2019 Kathryn Freeman
Published 2019 by Choc Lit Limited
Penrose House, Crawley Drive, Camberley, Surrey GU15 2AB, UK
www.choc-lit.com
The right of Kathryn Freeman to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Barnards Inn, 86 Fetter Lane, London EC4A 1EN
ISBN (EPUB): 978-1-78189-319-7
Preview
Crikey a Bodyguard
by Kathryn Freeman
CHAPTER ONE
From her seat on the chintz-covered sofa in her parents’ front room, Kelly stared at her father, flabbergasted by what she’d just heard. He wasn’t prone to making jokes, but surely this had to be one. Yet when she searched his familiar face, all she could see was an earnest, worried expression. A sideways glance to her mother, sitting next to him, didn’t help. She looked just as concerned.
‘Please tell me you’re winding me up.’
Her father shook his head, a sombre look in his eyes. ‘I’m perfectly serious.’
‘We’re perfectly serious,’ her mother added, making her father smile briefly.
‘It’s not often your mother agrees with me, Kelly,’ he said dryly. ‘On this occasion, I must be right.’
With a sigh Kelly allowed her gaze to skirt away from them and onto her surroundings. The room spoke of elegance and serenity. Early summer sun shone through the French windows, bouncing off a silver tray on the highly polished coffee table in front of her. The tray contained a bone china tea set. Complete with a rose petal design, for heaven’s sake.
Definitely not the right setting for this conversation.
‘I don’t need a bodyguard. I don’t want a bodyguard. I won’t have a bodyguard,’ she enunciated slowly, trying to keep a lid on her temper.
‘Darling, there’s no need to get so upset about this.’ From his seat opposite, her father reached across the coffee table and patted her hand. ‘I’m sure you’re absolutely right and we’re just being overprotective parents, but when it comes to the safety of our precious daughter, we can’t help wanting to be cautious.’
Kelly inhaled a slow, deep breath. She was prone to talking first and thinking later, but in conversations with her father she’d learnt the reverse was needed. Otherwise she’d be dragged into a conversational maze, from which the only way out was his way. ‘What I’m working on is of no interest to the black market,’ she explained, yet again. ‘It’s not like I’m developing a new smallpox strain, for goodness’ sake. I’m working on a vaccine to a strain we think some terrorist groups might develop. The only people who could possibly be interested in this are fellow scientists and other governments. Even if, God forbid, some nutter does decide to unleash a new pox strain, we’re hardly going to keep what we know under lock and key and only dish it out if … I don’t know … people promise to make a bronze statue out of us. We’ll happily give the research to those needing help.’
‘When it comes to biological weapons there’s always a danger, you know that. Terrorists might want the vaccine so they can extort money out of people in exchange for it.’ Her father visibly shuddered. ‘Or, good Lord, Kelly, has it not crossed your mind that if they are weaponi
sing smallpox, you’re basically getting in their way. They’d want you dead.’
Kelly huffed out a breath. ‘The fact that I’m working on this isn’t something the department publicises. Besides, scientists round the world are looking into this, not just me.’ She cocked her head and gave him a smile. ‘Only my father would pick me out as being someone special.’
His face didn’t light up with an answering smile like it usually did. It remained worried, the lines around his mouth and across his forehead deeper than she’d ever seen them. Her parents were getting old. Unconsciously her eyes drifted to the photograph above the mantelpiece, taken when her father had been receiving his Nobel Prize. In that his hair was almost black and his handsome face relaxed. Her mother, a scientist of some standing herself, was standing next to him, blonde hair in an elegant bun, smiling with pride into the camera.
‘Please, Kelly. Will you do this for me?’ Her father squeezed his wife’s hand. ‘For us. You are publically recognised as a leading scientist in this field. That alone would give us cause for concern, but add to that the mystery person you’ve had following you, and calling at your apartment, and we’re more than concerned for your safety. We’re terrified somebody is after you.’
‘The mystery caller came to read my meter.’ Though when she’d asked him for I.D. he’d said he’d left it in the car. And when she’d asked him to get it, he hadn’t returned. ‘And I only thought I might have been followed,’ she replied with emphasis, though her body gave an involuntary shiver at the memory of that evening. The ripple of awareness that someone was watching her as she’d left work. The worrying glances in her rear-view mirror that confirmed she was seeing the same car behind her mile after mile. But then it had turned off and Kelly had no longer been sure whether it wasn’t all just a figment of her far too fertile imagination.
Until it had happened again, two nights later.
Her father glanced down at his watch. ‘I’ve got a man from a security firm arriving in ten minutes.’
Her head snapped up. ‘You … what?’
‘We’ve been worried for some time that your current work could put your life in danger,’ he told her, his eyes steady on hers. ‘Recent events have quadrupled that worry. I know you’re too stubborn to raise any fears you might have with your bosses so I’ve taken the matter into my own hands.’
‘I’m the stubborn one?’ She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘If I told Richard I thought I needed a bodyguard, he’d laugh in my face, and quite right too. Crikey, Dad, bodyguards are for the rich and famous, for royals and those in power. Not for scientists.’
‘I knew that’s what you’d say, which is why I’ve sorted it for you.’ Sighing deeply, he rose to his feet and went to sit next to her, clasping her hand. ‘My precious daughter, we want you to have someone watching over you until you’ve nailed the formulation. Once the vaccine is in development, you’ll no longer be a potential target. From what you’ve told us that won’t be long. A month or so, I think you said.’
Dumbfounded, she gaped at him. ‘I can’t believe you’ve arranged this behind my back.’
He gave her a pained look. ‘Come on, Kelly. We’re worried.’
She leapt to her feet, fizzing with anger. ‘So this is a fait accompli?’
‘No.’ He reached out to grab her hand again. ‘This is more of a talk to the man, see what you think. He’s an ex-soldier, so he should know what he’s doing but if you don’t like him, we’ll find someone else.’
‘Dad,’ Kelly cried in frustration. ‘I’m not a child you can order around any more. I’m a grown woman who has a say in her life, and I’m telling you now, I don’t want this. How would you like some stranger hanging round with you all the time, following your every move?’
He let out a sigh and his expression softened. ‘If that stranger was there to protect me, to potentially save my life, then for the sake of my family, I’d accept it.’
‘Low blow, Dad.’ She groaned, shaking her head. ‘Really low blow.’
‘But effective, eh?’ The twinkle she loved so much entered his eyes and his mouth turned up in a smile.
With a resigned sigh, Kelly turned to her mother, who was watching her with concerned eyes. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking you to talk some sense into him?’
‘For once, I find myself agreeing with your father.’ She smiled. ‘It won’t be for long. And it will stop your parents from going too much greyer over the next few weeks or months.’
In her heart, Kelly knew she was fighting a losing battle. All her life her parents had gently, and skilfully, manipulated her into doing things their way. She couldn’t see this occasion being any different. They loved her, she knew that, but it didn’t make living up to their high expectations any easier. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll meet him. Then we’ll see.’
Ben Jacobs drew his car to a stop on the gravel driveway and killed the engine, whistling under his breath as he stared at the house. Was house even the right word? When did a house become a mansion? This sprawling place, with its high chimneys and elegant old brickwork, set behind an impressive set of electric gates he’d just been buzzed through, looked like a celebrity pad. No, it was too cool for that, too refined. Settled in the heart of the Chilterns, it was more like one of those National Trust piles he sometimes saw advertised but had never put his size thirteen muddy boots inside.
Easing out of the Audi, he slammed the door shut. Then winced. He was used to driving his old truck. The door on that wouldn’t shut without a good slam. The Audi on the other hand, on loan for this latest assignment, required only a gentle nudge before she not only closed the doors, but locked them, too. He imagined she was shuddering with disgust beneath her shiny black bonnet at his harsh treatment. Cocking her an apologetic grin, he set off towards the fancy house-come-mansion.
As his boots scrunched across the gravel drive, his mind clicked through what he knew about the people he was about to meet. The father had been the one to contact Panther, the security company Ben worked for, though it was the daughter they’d been asked to protect. Dr Kelly Bridge was apparently, according to his brief, a world-renowned virology and vaccines expert, even though she was only in her late twenties. As his knowledge of science experts was a big fat zero, he’d take their word for it, though he reckoned twenty-something was way too young for expert status. Mind you, considering her gene pool – both parents were said to be brilliant, award winning scientists – perhaps it wasn’t much of a stretch. One thing he did know – she was a long way removed from anyone he’d provided protection to in the past.
Ben laughed under his breath. Wasn’t this going to be an interesting meeting? Especially considering he’d flunked science at school. To be fair he’d flunked most things, so it wasn’t that he’d been particularly crap at science. More that he’d been crap at everything.
Hadn’t helped that he hadn’t been at school much.
A few seconds after he’d rung the bell – he figured the big brass knocker was just for show – the door was opened by a smartly-dressed man, probably in his early sixties. The butler or the father? ‘Professor Bridge?’
‘Yes, yes. You must be Jacobs. Do come in.’
They shook hands, Ben aware of how rough his palm probably felt to the academic. ‘Ben, please. Otherwise I sound like a biscuit company.’
Professor Bridge aimed him a quizzical look but then the penny must have dropped because he followed it with a smile. Instantly Ben warmed to the guy. He’d expected a stereotypical stuffy man full of self-importance and long words. If the prof could understand his humour, there was a chance they’d gel, which would make looking out for his daughter a hell of a lot easier.
‘This is my wife, Margaret.’
Ben grasped the extended slender hand, appreciating the elegance of the lady in front of him. Refined. Classy.
‘Nice to meet you.’ She glanced at her husband, nodded once, and then turned back to Ben. ‘I have a call to make but my husband will
take you to meet Kelly. She’s waiting for you in the sitting room.’
‘Follow me.’ While Margaret Bridge slipped through a door to the right, the prof led Ben through the large entrance hall, complete with vases of fresh flowers and a polished wood floor that gleamed more than the plates he ate his dinner off, and down a corridor. Finally, he entered a room the Queen would probably be very happy to sit in. While enjoying afternoon tea.
Only it wasn’t the Queen sitting there, but someone who could easily pass as a princess. Not one out of a fairy story, all simpering and beautiful, but a real one. Like her mother, the daughter was elegant, regal almost. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back and a pair of huge blue eyes dominated her make-up free face. Her straight, slender nose spoke of breeding and class. The wide mouth looked like it smiled a lot, though it wasn’t at the moment.
‘Kelly my dear, meet Ben Jacobs.’
At the prof’s words, Kelly stood to greet him, and when her eyes found his, Ben felt a jolt of male awareness. Though her face was unremarkable, her eyes were stunning. Vivid, brimming with intelligence, snapping with attitude.
He held out his hand and slapped on his best you can trust me I’m a professional smile. The smile that came back at him was hesitant, as was the hand she offered. It felt delicate when clasped inside his huge calloused one, though the strength of her handshake indicated she was no shrinking violet.
He suspected the hesitancy had a very different cause. ‘I take it you’re not keen on having a bodyguard, ma’am?’
The almost-princess winced. ‘Ma’am makes me feel like a grandmother. Please, call me Kelly.’
‘Sorry, military habits die hard.’ He smiled again, all part of his building trust routine, though he couldn’t resist a brief up and down glance at her trim form. ‘You sure don’t look like anyone’s gran.’
Reach for a Star Page 31
