* * *
It didn’t appear that they were going to.
The phone had been ringing from the moment Ellie had got home. The offers to buy her story were starting to get ridiculous. Thousands of dollars turned into tens of thousands as the days passed and she continued to refuse an interview or photographs.
Maybe Jake had had good reason to keep so much personal information to himself. He wasn’t to know that she was financially secure in a mortgage-free house she had inherited from her parents. Or that she’d been earning good money for years with no dependants to share it with. How many people would be tempted by an offer of such a windfall?
And wouldn’t the gossip magazines love an account of what now seemed like a personal revelation about how Jake Logan saw movies as a means of coping with adverse life events?
About how he didn’t see role-playing as being fake but as a chance to practise being the best version of himself he could be?
A tiny insight into how his mind worked, maybe, but it would be gold for these hungry journalists.
It was gold for Ellie, too. A small nugget that she had every intention of keeping entirely to herself, although she wasn’t sure why it seemed so important. She’d probably never see him again so why should it matter what he thought of her?
Ellie had always been too trusting, and she had always been utterly trustworthy herself. Deception was anathema to her. Okay, she’d been burnt too badly to ever be as trusting again, but she’d never sink to that level.
She was trustworthy.
If Jake had inadvertently trusted her with even the tiniest piece of something personal and she kept that information safe, at least he would know that her integrity was intact. That she could be trusted.
And that gave her the moral high ground, didn’t it? Jake might wrap it up in words that made it sound almost acceptable, but acting was a form of deception. Fine for movies when people knew that the people on screen were only characters, but he’d proved he could do it in real life, too, with that polished performance for the media.
You’d never know whether he was being honest or acting.
Did he even know himself?
* * *
In the absence of any new material, magazines were using what they could find, and to her horror the picture that appeared all over the internet, newspapers and magazines was one that had been taken just after they’d landed. When she’d seen the media falling all over Jake and Mike had been telling her who he actually was. There was no mistaking the confusion and sense of betrayal on her face. Others were passing it off as no more than a bad photo and her expression was probably due to the pain of her injured ankle, but Ellie knew the truth. She now had a permanent reminder of exactly how she’d felt in learning Jake’s real identity.
She had been deceived.
Again.
It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. Given her experience, it should be a lot easier to deal with than last time but, somehow, this was harder. Because she’d got to a point where she’d wanted to trust Jake?
For the first time since the devastating betrayal of a man she’d been about to marry, Ellie had been able to see that it might be possible to fall in love again.
To trust.
Such a hard-won step forward and she’d been shoved backwards again with what felt like a cruel blow.
Whatever. She had no choice but to deal with it and get on with her life.
The extent of the battering her body had taken and the exhaustion of both the rescue and its aftermath cushioned Ellie for several days, but then she began to feel like a prisoner in her own home.
In solitary confinement.
She was totally used to living on her own. Why did she suddenly feel so lonely?
The big windows of her living area had a stunning view of the beach and the distinctive shape of Rangitoto Island—an ancient volcano. Her father’s telescope still had its position at one side of the French doors that led out to the balcony and Ellie had spent a lot of time watching the activity on the stretch of water that divided Auckland harbour from the open sea. It seemed like a good way to reconnect to her own life.
To forget about Jake Logan?
Except that the bleak landscape of Rangitoto made her think about the lush rainforest cover of Half Moon Island and long to see it again. The barrier that had been there ever since her parents had been tragically killed had been forced open. It wasn’t just memories of her time with Jake that were haunting Ellie now. They were competing with memories of her parents and her beloved grandfather. Happy times in a place that was a part of her soul. People that were missing from her life and had taken such big pieces of her along with them.
Everyone knew that nothing was for ever but why had she had to lose every person she had ever truly loved?
No wonder she was feeling lonely.
The usual traffic of container ships, naval vessels and ferries had been noticeably interrupted by the fleet of racing yachts when the Ultraswift-Round-the-World race was started again a few days after the cyclone and by then Ellie had to accept that it was not going to be so easy to get Jake out of her head.
It was bad enough getting reports of the way he was still touching her real life.
The helicopter rescue trust had received an impressive donation that was labelled as anonymous but it was obvious it had come from one—or both—of the Logan brothers.
Jillian, at the bird-rearing centre, was almost speechless at the size of the donation the kiwi trust had received within days of Pēpe’s arrival.
‘I know it’s anonymous,’ she told Ellie, ‘but it’s a bit of coincidence, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Lots of people care about saving kiwis. Pēpe’s famous now. He was on the news.’
‘Not many people can afford to care to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars.’
‘That much? Phew...’ Ellie closed her eyes but it didn’t shut out the pictures appearing in her head. If anything, it made them clearer. The way Jake had looked as they’d watched the baby bird hatching. The way he’d looked at her as they’d shared that unforgettable experience.
‘I did an internet search on him,’ Jillian confessed. ‘He’s seriously hot, isn’t he?’
‘Bit hairy for me.’
‘Have a look at some of the older photos, then, where he’s clean shaven. Like back in the day when he was on ER. Oh, my...’
Ellie had to laugh. It sounded like Jillian, who was in her early sixties and had several grandchildren, was busy fanning herself.
‘Amazing he’s still single,’ Jillian continued. ‘Or maybe not. That wife of his really did a number on him, didn’t she?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t read that stuff and we didn’t talk about anything personal.’
They’d come close, though, hadn’t they? She could still hear the bitterness in Jake’s voice when he’d answered her query about him being married.
Not anymore.
And she’d wanted to find out. It had been a personal challenge not to search the internet and devour every piece of information she could find. The curiosity was overpowering now.
‘What did she do?’
‘Only went and got herself up the duff by the leading man on her first movie. A part she only got because of her connection to Jake.’
‘Oh...’ Ellie was stunned.
How could any woman be that stupid? If she’d wanted a baby she couldn’t have picked a better father than Jake. Impossible not to remember how protective he’d been in trying to stop her going out into that storm. The strength he’d shown in rescuing her. How gentle he’d been in that impressive examination of her injured ankle.
‘And then she dropped the bombshell online so that the whole world knew before he did.’
‘That’s horrible,’ Ellie said, but she was backing away fast from the onslaught of emotions she didn’t want to try and handle. ‘Jill—I’ve got to go, but it’s great to know how well Pēpe’s doing. I’ll call you again soon.�
��
‘Okay. Speaking of calling, has he called you?’
‘No. Why would he?’ To thank her again, perhaps? With the kind of polished speech he’d given the media? What if he offered her money as a gesture of gratitude—or apology?
‘Someone from the film company rang to ask after Pēpe the other day. A woman called Kristy or something.’
‘Kirsty?’
‘That’s it. She asked for your phone number. Said they’d tried to get it from your work, but they wouldn’t hand out personal information. Anyway, I gave her your mobile number. Hope you don’t mind.’
‘My phone got wrecked. I haven’t got around to replacing it yet.’
‘Maybe you should get a new one. And talk to him if he rings. You’ve got a lot in common when you come to think about it.’
‘Oh...right. Like he’s a famous movie star and I’m a very ordinary mortal?’
‘You’re on the same page as far as your love lives go.’
Ellie’s snort of laughter was not amused. ‘Hardly. Guess I can be grateful that it was only my friends who found out how narrowly I escaped a bigamous marriage. Far more humiliating to have the whole world devouring every detail of your betrayal.’
She didn’t want to talk about Michael and, this time, she was more successful in pleading a need to end the call. Having made a note to remind herself to sort out a new phone the next day, Ellie stared at the piece of paper and then screwed it up.
What would happen if her number worked again? Would she be waiting for it to ring? Be picking it up every five minutes to see if she’d received a message? Be disappointed if it rang and it wasn’t Jake on the other end?
It would be better not to risk it. In fact, when she got a new phone she’d ask for a new number as well. It would be best to forget about Jacob Logan and the way he’d managed to stir up feelings that she’d thought she was immune to. Jake needed to be tucked into the past and largely forgotten. As Michael had been.
But everything conspired to remind her, even in the seclusion of her own home. Trying to put any weight on her foot would create a throb of pain that took her back to that awful moment of finding she had been unable to walk on the beach when they’d desperately needed to find the beach house. When Jake had scooped her up into his arms and carried her to safety.
Opening her pantry to look for something to eat, the sight of canned food would take her back to that extraordinary meal by the fire.
Just needing to go to the bathroom would remind her of that terrifying moment of the tree coming down. Of Jake screaming her name as if it would be the worst thing in the world if something bad had happened to her.
The nights were even worse. There was no protection to be found from the moments that she was forced to relive in her dreams. Helping Jake take his clothes off or that almost-kiss just before that radio message had come in was always the catalyst but her unconscious mind wouldn’t leave it alone. The fantasy of what could have happened if they hadn’t been so uncomfortable with the situation or interrupted was played out in glorious Technicolor with the added dimension of sensations Ellie had never realised could be so powerful. More than once, she woke to find her body still pulsing with a release that left...a kind of shame in its wake.
Here she was, a thirty-two-year-old woman, mooning after a celebrity like some starstruck teenager.
It had to end.
Ellie rang her boss. ‘Smithie? I’m going nuts here. I might be stuck on the ground but I really need some work to do. Can we talk?’
* * *
Jake thought he looked more like a pirate than a nineteenth-century deckhand but that was okay. Fun, even. The baggy trousers weren’t as bad as those old trackpants Ellie had given him to wear and they were tucked neatly into black leather boots that folded down at the top. The white shirt with its wide collar, laced opening and generous sleeves was a bit girlie but the waistcoat hid part of it and with some artfully applied smudges of grime and a rip or two it was quite acceptable.
He eyed himself in the mirror as the makeup technician started on his hair. Ellie certainly wouldn’t think he was wearing his hair like this for a photo shoot as a male model, would she?
‘What is that stuff?’
‘Basically grease. We need that nice, dirty, dreadlocked vibe.’
‘At least the bandanna hides most of it. Have to say I can’t wait to get a proper haircut again.’
The makeup girl smiled at his reflection. ‘I dunno...it kinda suits you. And I’m getting so used to it I almost didn’t recognise you in that new article that’s out.’
‘Another article?’ There’d been so many of them in the last few weeks that Jake didn’t bother to look unless Kirsty insisted. He should be delighted that Ellie wasn’t prepared to reveal anything about herself or her time with him, but perversely it was like a hurt silence that told him he’d done something wrong.
Because he hadn’t trusted her?
‘One of the local women’s magazines. It’s over there, by the wigs.’
He shouldn’t have opened it. Why did they keep using that dreadful photograph of Ellie? The one where she’d clearly been told who it was that she’d rescued. When she’d realised that he had been less than honest with her. Where she looked not only as if she was in pain and exhausted but that she’d been betrayed somehow.
He’d wanted to try and explain. Of course he had. But she’d publicly turned her back on his invitation to share that press conference and she’d been unreachable ever since. Not that he’d been able to visit the rescue base where she worked in person. Or the bird sanctuary place that the baby kiwi had been taken to, but Kirsty had managed to find a phone number and he’d tried that repeatedly, only to get the message that the phone was either out of range or turned off.
How much clearer did Ellie have to make it that she didn’t want anything more to do with him?
He should be over it by now. Well into the full-on work that was his career on set. They were on deadline here, with a release timed for the summer holiday season in the United States and a lot of editing, as well as special effects, that would have to be done before then. With practised focus, Jake dropped the magazine and stepped into the dark of predawn outside the caravan to begin his new day.
A good percentage of the movie was already in the can. The opening scenes with him being a surgeon with a tension-racked relationship in a high-paced American hospital before he stepped into the portal, and the ending when he was back there and trying to get to grips with normal life and able to repair the relationship thanks to what he’d faced centuries ago. There’d been scenes shot in London, too, where he’d started to grow his hair and beard to look the part as he got swept into employment on an immigrant ship.
They’d had to come to New Zealand to film the guts of the story, though, with the premise being that his medical knowledge would save the life of a woman who would go on to raise a child who would change history. A square-rigged sailing ship that was going to be wrecked just off the coast of the north island. A life-and-death struggle for survival in the wild land of a new colony. A love story that could never be consummated because that would have altered history, but the lessons learned meant that the real-time love story would come right.
Too ironic, really, given the experience Jake had been through before arriving on set. The media had jumped on that.
‘How does it feel, having to be on a ship, given your recent brush with death?’
‘Safe,’ Jake had told them smoothly. ‘Everything that happens here is carefully controlled. I doubt that we’ll be doing any scenes at sea if there’s another cyclone forecast.’
There was medical cover, too, in case anything untoward happened. An ambulance was always parked nearby, manned by volunteer officers from the nearest local town of Whitianga on the Coromandel Peninsula. One of them was a young woman, but thankfully she looked nothing like Ellie. It was bad enough having the emergency vehicle on site, reminding him every time of the unfortunate way they
’d parted.
It was just as well the female lead didn’t look anything like Ellie either. Amber was petite and redheaded, with skin so pale it was almost transparent. And her eyes were green, not that dark, chocolaty brown.
One of today’s scenes was the first meeting of the deckhand and the immigrant girl during the arduous voyage in an overcrowded ship infested with lice, cockroaches and rats. He would be coming from a confrontation with a drunk and incompetent ship’s-surgeon. She was out of the cramped, working-class cabins below deck to attend the funeral of a friend’s baby who’d succumbed to typhoid fever.
That was an emotionally wrenching scene he was witness to, but being out on the water in the beautiful replica ship being used for filming was a pleasure. The sea was calm, the sunrise spectacular and the first scene of the day only needed one take.
The scene with the ship’s surgeon didn’t go so well. It was supposed to be a busy time for the crew, with sails being shifted to catch the wind while the argument was happening. Getting enough activity to ramp up the tension was difficult and by the third take people were tiring. During the filming, one of the extras managed to get tangled up in a rope as one of the huge sails was being lowered and he dislocated his shoulder.
It was Jake who helped carry the man to shore once the ship got back to the jetty, but the paramedic on duty wasn’t qualified to administer IV pain relief. When she rang for backup, the only other ambulance in the area was out on a job.
‘He’ll have to be transported,’ she informed the director.
He was already stressed about the hold-up in the day’s filming. ‘Call for a helicopter, then.’
But the closest rescue helicopter was attending a serious accident well north of Auckland and it would be over an hour before it would be available.
‘I’ll have to transport him myself,’ the paramedic decided. ‘At least I’ve got Entonox available.’
The Maverick Millionaire Page 8
