Kiss a Falling Star

by Barabara Elsborg

  She’d fallen into an old lead mine and broken her leg. She’d slipped on the rocks and tripped over a snake. This time real. She’d found the only patch of quicksand in the Peak District and was up to her neck in it. An alien spacecraft had abducted her.

  This was why he didn’t get involved. Life was much simpler if he only had himself to look after.

  Shit, shit, shit. Let her be okay.

  When Caspar saw a familiar-looking figure in the distance walking toward him, he gave an audible sigh of relief and began to run faster. He had no idea why. She was okay and he didn’t need to worry anymore, but he wanted to hold her.

  When Ally threw herself into his arms, Caspar clutched her tight and pressed his face into her hair.

  “How is he?” Ally asked.

  “Hanging on. Being airlifted to the hospital. You okay?”

  “I’ve never run so far in my life. I need chocolate.”

  * * * * *

  Jack sat in his car outside the burned-out shell of his business and wondered how he’d managed to ruin his life so effectively. He’d tried to think of everything in order to distance himself from what he needed to do. He’d done it before when he’d set fire to this place, though he was beginning to think that’d been a mistake. Now he needed to drive up to Derbyshire but cover his tracks. And he couldn’t make it look as if that was his intent in case things went tits up.

  He sank his head into his hands. Who was he trying to kid? Everything had already gone wrong. Greed had been his downfall. Not just on his part. A spendthrift wife, kids who didn’t know the meaning of money, plus his own expensive taste in cars and a tendency to crash them had turned a red bank account deep crimson. He’d flipped it black again by borrowing from people he should have crossed the street to avoid.

  That money had to be repaid, but declining demand in key markets meant low prices for metals, and Jack’s plans to settle the loan floundered. The people he owed made it painfully clear that wasn’t acceptable. They wanted their money and they wanted it now. Jack’s last resort had been to burn his business down.

  That crime paled into insignificance compared to the way he’d absorbed the loan into his business. He’d raised invoices on nonexistent companies to hide the influx of cash, invoices Ally had seen and emailed him about. Jack guessed he’d been pulled into a money laundering scheme, but he’d been too desperate to placate his bank manager to face the truth. He sank deeper.

  Setting fire to his business hadn’t just been about the insurance money, it had been about gaining time to cover his tracks so no one figured he’d done anything illegal. But those seven emails likely sitting in Ally’s sent box could bring everything crashing around his ears. The right circles would close up, with him on the outside. Invitations to prestigious events would dry up. His wife would divorce him and strip him bare, assuming he hadn’t had his balls ripped off. Jack shuddered.

  If Ally let him use her computer, if he found the emails, he could delete them and be back home by teatime. He could have used a rental car to drive to Derbyshire, but if one CCTV or speed camera caught the license plate it could be traced back to him. Forget the license plate, a camera could easily pick up his face at a service station, street corner, fucking anywhere. If he caught a train and paid cash, there were still cameras. He’d be remembered on a bus journey. Even more so if he hitched.

  The insurance company wanted a list of all his employees’ contact numbers. He told them he’d managed to find all but four numbers and was working on those. He’d have saved himself a lot of time and effort if he’d have kept at least those details out of the flames. Ironically, one number that he had, he didn’t want to supply. Ally’s.

  In the end, Jack decided selective openness was the least risky action. He wouldn’t tell his wife where he was going, but he’d drive up to Derbyshire in his own car and think up some excuse on the way. Not that he fancied Ally because that clearly wasn’t going to work, though to be honest, if he hadn’t been so pissed about the emails, he might have.

  * * * * *

  Mark tapped his fingers on the wheel as he sat in stationary traffic. It had taken him an hour to get to the outskirts of London only to hit another jam. He was peeved Ally hadn’t called to thank him for the flowers. Maybe he should have brought them up with him. He hoped the motorway wasn’t busy or he wouldn’t get there before the fucking pubs shut. He’d thought about letting her know he was on his way but decided arriving unannounced was preferable. Much harder for her to tell him to fuck off. Actually he was looking forward to a weekend in the country, log fires and pints of beer and long sessions of make-up sex. Belinda thought he was at his mum’s. All bases covered.

  * * * * *

  Emma sighed when the vehicle came to a halt yet again. The traffic was terrible. Geoff didn’t seem to mind, but she hated this stop-start every few hundred yards.

  “We’re never going to get there,” she said.

  Delia pushed a plastic glass of champagne into her hand. “Chill out, Em.”

  “Don’t you think it would have been a good idea to warn Ally you were all coming?” Geoff asked.

  Emma chewed her lip. “I want it to be a surprise.” Actually, she wanted to see the expression on Ally’s face when she saw Geoff, and the expression on Geoff’s. Pleasure? Shock?

  “You ought to call her,” Sal said. “The whole point of this is involving her. What if she has something else planned?”

  “Yep,” Kerry said. “You need to check it’s okay for Geoff to sleep at her place.”

  No, it isn’t fucking okay.

  “He could sleep in her bed,” said Delia.

  Emma almost swallowed her tongue. Geoff had the nerve to laugh.

  “Well, Ally will be with us, won’t she?” Delia said.

  Sal nodded. “She gets a room as part of the package.”

  Emma caught Geoff’s eye in the rearview mirror and for a split second saw a coldness in his face, someone underneath the affable easy-going guy she knew—a Geoff she wasn’t so sure of.

  “I’ll call Ally,” Emma said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ally clutched Caspar’s hand as they made their way down from the moorland and onto the road back to the village. The adrenaline had dissipated to leave her exhausted but full of pride for Caspar.

  “When did you start giving Neil CPR?” she asked.

  “Not long after you’d gone.”

  “All that time? Have you ever done it before?”

  “Only on a model.”

  “The kind with long legs, big breasts and beautiful eyes?”

  He smiled. “Yes, but plastic.”

  “Bit tricky bringing those back to life.” Ally sighed. “Wow, what a day. Do you think Neil and his wife will be all right?”

  “Mary will be. I don’t know about Neil.”

  She squeezed his fingers. “You’re my hero anyway.”

  Ally would never have wished a heart attack on anyone, but she really hoped that people appreciated what Caspar had done.

  “Cup of tea?” Caspar asked as he pushed open the door to the Gatehouse.

  “Great.”

  He tossed the rucksack onto the kitchen table and knocked Ally’s purse to the floor. The contents flew out and Caspar’s medal skated across the tiles. Ally’s heart dropped into her stomach. When the medal came to a halt against the skirting board the silence was deafening. She couldn’t look at him.

  Oh Christ.

  Caspar bent and picked up the cross. “What the hell was this doing in your purse?”

  Ally flinched at the anger in his voice. “I followed you. I persuaded the guy to let me have it back. I didn’t—”

  “You know how much it’s worth?” he snapped.

  She raised her head. “Yes, I—”

  “And you thought you’d sell it and pocket the money?”

  What? “No, I—”

  “I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”

  Ally could feel everything spiraling away fr
om her. “Caspar, I—”

  “Get out.”

  “But—”

  “Now.” He glared at her, his eyes black with fury.

  Ally grabbed her purse and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Halfway to the road, she realized she still wore Caspar’s fleece. She took it back and dropped it on the doorstep. Ally wasn’t sure what to feel about his reaction. She was in the wrong for having followed him, for retrieving the medal and most of all for not telling him before now.

  Why didn’t I tell him? I’m an idiot.

  She hadn’t told him because she hadn’t known whether he’d be angry or pleased. Even the idea of posting it anonymously through his letter box was a crap one because he’d have rung the guy in the shop who’d then describe her and Caspar would know she’d done it.

  Have I just fucked everything up?

  She’d felt numb with shock when the medal had fallen on the floor, and the feeling hadn’t passed. Everything had been so brilliant and then so crap. But why hadn’t he given her chance to explain? He should have. She stifled a sob.

  Only, what the hell would she have said? “I saw you wipe a tear from your eye and figured you didn’t really want to sell it?” She’d had no right to interfere. But it wasn’t as if she’d stolen the damn thing. A spark of anger flared. Okay, so Caspar would have to go back to Buxton with the medal and he’d lost a couple of days before he had his money but he’d still got the thing back.

  Except Ally had a feeling she’d lost a lot more than that.

  By the time she was back in the garage, the lump in her throat made breathing difficult. When her phone rang, Ally yanked it from her pocket and pressed the button before she thought to look who it was.

  “Hi Ally. You’ll never guess where we are,” Emma yelled.

  Ally could hear muffled laughs and squeals in the background. “Who’s we?”

  “Me, Kerry, Sal, Bryony, Jen, Delia and Geoff’s driving.”

  The lump in Ally’s throat grew larger, the ache in her heart more painful.

  “Hey, Ally,” Kerry said. “We miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” Oh God, why did I ever leave London?

  “You didn’t even say goodbye.” Jen must have snatched the phone.

  “It was spur of the moment. I just needed to run.” Out of the frying pan and into bed with trouble.

  “You haven’t guessed where we are.” Emma had the phone again. “Don’t spill that champagne, Kerry. So where do you think?”

  On their way to somewhere fun without her. That was fine. Ally wasn’t exactly in the party mood.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “On our way to your brother’s place.” Emma whooped.

  Fucking hell.

  Ally heard the others join in with the cheers. “Aren’t we the best friends in the entire world?” Emma asked.

  Ally looked around the garage. Oh fuck. “Absolutely.” Did that sound sincere?

  “We’ve booked in for two days at Morton’s Adventure Center,” Emma said. “Sal organized it. We’re taking a day off work. There’s a bed for you with us but can Geoff sleep at your place?”

  Ally cringed. Geoff couldn’t sleep in a garage. Her gaze alighted on a green bag hanging from a hook opposite. “A little snag with that. Finn’s house has been rented out so I’m sleeping in a tent.”

  A pause before Emma said, “Geoff says that’s fine. We’ll meet at the adventure place. See you later.”

  Ally put her phone back in her pocket and sighed. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. A complete distraction from Caspar. What she also needed was for Finn’s tent to be one of those that shook out of the bag, and with a twist and twirl, it self-erected. Ally lifted the bag from the hook and staggered under the weight. What the hell was it? A circus tent?

  She dragged it out of the garage and looked around. A small patch of lawn to the far right—um, left—looked tempting, but Ally figured she needed to find somewhere out of sight. She hauled the bag up a bank toward the trees that separated the development from Caspar’s place and Wyndale Hall.

  “No point trying to hide the body now that I’ve seen you,” said a male voice.

  Ally spun round, her heart pounding. Sean MacAlister stood watching in amusement.

  “Damn,” Ally said. “Now I’ll have to kill you too. Wait ’til I get my breath back.”

  He climbed up the bank to her side. “What are you doing?”

  “Erecting a tent.”

  “I’m great at erections. Want a hand?”

  “Where’s it been?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  Ally knew she ought to say no, but the only time she’d put up a tent was when she was in her teens. Finn had rolled on the floor laughing when it collapsed on top of her the moment she crawled inside.

  “You’re not needed on set to brood over the gorgeous governess or silence your mad wife?”

  “I did my brooding this morning. Jane keeps forgetting her lines. So I’m free the rest of the day.”

  “Ever put a tent up before?” Ally asked.

  “No, but it can’t be that difficult.”

  Ally restrained her snigger. “Okay then, thanks.”

  Sean rubbed his hands together and grinned.

  After they tipped out the contents of the bag and seen the number of poles and lines, he stopped smiling.

  “It looks complicated,” he said. “Are there any instructions?”

  Ally gaped at him.

  “What?” He returned the gape.

  “Real men don’t need instructions.”

  “Hey, I’m an actor. I make my money doing what I’m told. I live for instructions.”

  “There aren’t any.”

  “Shit.”

  They burst out laughing. This was the distraction Ally needed. The name Sean meant God’s Gracious Gift. Maybe it was a sign.

  * * * * *

  When the medal had come to rest on the floor, Caspar hadn’t quite been able to believe his eyes. Rigid with fury, he’d clamped his teeth into the inside of his cheek and tasted blood. He’d made Ally leave before he said something he’d regret, and then stomped into the woods and kicked the crap out of every branch and twig he came across.

  Now I’m calm.

  Caspar made his way toward Stone Cottage.

  Now I can talk without yelling.

  The sound of laughter rang out—the distinctive sound of Ally’s laughter.

  Now I’m bloody furious.

  Caspar followed the sound then stood and watched. What the fuck was she doing putting up a tent with Sean MacAlister and then getting inside with him? She was supposed to be upset, not cavorting with a movie star she’d told him she didn’t fancy.

  Bristling with disappointment, Caspar turned and made his way back to the Gatehouse. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he dragged it out, hoping it was Ally. Number unknown.

  “Yes?” he asked, trying not to snap.

  “Caspar? It’s Mary.”

  Caspar stopped walking. “How’s Neil?” Please don’t tell me he’s dead, that I broke a rib when I was doing the chest compressions and severed some artery.

  “Awake, complaining and asking for a cup of tea.” She let out a muffled sob.

  Caspar swallowed his groan of relief. “What about you?”

  “I’m fine. Concussion and a broken ankle.”

  “That doesn’t sound fine.”

  “I am because Neil’s still alive and that’s because of you. I lay there listening to you talking to him. You started CPR the moment his breathing stopped and saved his life. I can’t thank you enough. Neil says he owes you one. He’s not out of the woods yet but…thank you.”

  “I’m glad I could help. I’ll visit if he’d like.”

  “I’m sure he would.”

  Wow, that’s progress. “Okay, ’bye.” Caspar put the phone back in his pocket and smiled.

  He knew exactly what he wanted to do now. Clear his head. Do some thinking about Ally, the medal and
Sean MacAlister. Climb.

  * * * * *

  The tent finally erected, with only three pieces of pole left over, Ally slumped on her back and looked up at the line of the roof. Sean lay beside her.

  “I can’t believe you’re intending to sleep in here,” he said. “I have a two-bedroom cottage shouting distance away with no one in the other bed. Why don’t you stay with me?”

  “I think your rent might be too high.”

  “I won’t— Ah.” He turned on one side and leaned up on his elbow. “You’re cute. There’s something about you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.” He stared at her with his hazel eyes, stroked her cheek with his finger and inched closer.

  Ally flinched.

  He continued undeterred. “It’s as if I have a string somewhere under my left ribs fastened to a similar string in the corresponding quarter of you.”

  Ally sighed. “Is this where I’m supposed to swoon and fall into your arms?”

  He froze. “Damn. Don’t tell me I’ve lost it.”

  “Lina’s not the only one fluffing her lines.” She cleared her throat. “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.”

  He gaped at her. “How the hell do you know that?”

  “I spent a year studying Jane Eyre at school.”

  Sean laughed and slid his hand over hers. “I really want to take you to bed. We could have some fun for a couple of weeks. No one needs to know.”

  Ally moved her hand from under his.

  “No promises. No obligation. Pure unadulterated pleasure. And my autograph.” He grinned. “What do you say?”

  Ally laughed. “No.” He might be good-looking but he wasn’t the man she wanted.

  He frowned. “At least let me try to change your mind.”

  He lunged and Ally scrambled out of the tent, giggling, to find herself facing Lina. Oh damn.