Among a Thousand Stars

by Jo Bartlett

  ‘Is Chloe okay?’ Ashleigh had liked the fragile young singer, but if she was the real reason why Tom had chosen not to get in touch she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Chloe was beautiful and successful, just the sort of girl that people would expect him to be with.

  ‘She’s okay.’ Tom frowned slightly. ‘Her mum, Gilly, had a mild heart attack and I think the shock was worse for Chloe than it was for her.’

  ‘Oh God, will she be okay?’ Guilt immediately flooded Ashleigh; there were more important things in life.

  ‘She got to hospital as soon as she started having chest pains, so they were able to treat her really quickly. The signs are good, but it’s been a tough time for them both with Chloe in the spotlight so much at the moment.’ Tom took her hand. ‘But I don’t want to talk about them, I need to know if we’re still… friends?’

  ‘Friends is good.’ She hoped they would be, whatever else passed between them. It was time to let him off the hook. ‘I can understand how it looked, but really Zac has never been someone I’ve been interested in like that.’ She shivered as he pulled her towards him.

  ‘You didn’t return any of my calls, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last three days.’ Their faces were inches apart. ‘Once I’d got Gilly and Chloe admitted to hospital, the first thing I wanted to do was sort things out with you. When you didn’t call me back, I really thought I’d blown it.’

  ‘I changed my number.’ She didn’t say why, it seemed so stupid now.

  ‘So, can I have your new number?’ There was a teasing tone to his voice and she nodded. He moved forward a fraction and their lips met. The kiss was hungry, five days of longing and wondering if they would ever get the chance to do it again had ensured that there was no shortage of desire. His hands slipped inside her jumper and roamed up and down her naked back, making her body arch in response to his touch.

  ‘My turn to ask if we’re interrupting anything, I think?’ Zac was grinning from ear to ear as he and Stevie came into their kitchen. Love was all around or, at least, lust. From their flushed appearance, it was obvious that Stevie and Zac had been involved in a similar exchange upstairs.

  Ashleigh sprang away from Tom, but his arms were firmly locked behind her back, preventing her from going too far. Unlike Zac, he seemed more than happy to go public with his relationships, whoever they were with and however long they lasted.

  ‘This gorgeous girl was just demonstrating that she forgives me for being a total idiot.’ Tom’s good mood was infectious.

  ‘Well, it’s more than you deserve, but I’m glad I made that call now.’ Zac was still smirking, having no doubt decided that not only was he now absolved of any blame, but he was also a hero for getting Tom to come over and sort everything out.

  ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful.’ Tom certainly seemed in the mood to forgive. ‘But I’ll be even happier if you can let her finish the shoot, so I can take her home and apologise properly.’

  ‘What, all night long!’ Zac roared with laughter and whacked Tom on that back. ‘Nice to see you finally hooking up with a woman with an IQ bigger than her bra size.’

  ‘And I suppose all your fiancées had PhDs?’ Ashleigh played along with the joke. She wanted to keep Stevie’s counsel and any animosity she’d felt towards Zac had long since melted away.

  ‘Maybe not, but perhaps I should try it.’ Zac winked again, the secret unspoken between them. ‘Let’s have the cup of tea you promised me and we can get the shots in the studio and chapel done so we can call it a day.’

  ****

  Never able to resist taking a photo when the opportunity arose, Ashleigh took twenty or thirty shots of the three men just in the time it took for them to drink their tea and demolish a packet of chocolate Hobnob biscuits. There were at least two shots where Stevie and Zac were exchanging looks that needed no words. Tom appeared none the wiser, however, as he barely took his eyes off Ashleigh. Every time she glanced at him he had already been looking in her direction. He probably wouldn’t even have noticed if one of them had been sipping their tea stark naked.

  The shots in the studio were relatively straightforward. Zac looked reassuringly normal in a black shirt and a pair of Levi jeans. Ashleigh told him to just carry on as though she wasn’t there and he played a couple of the new tracks from his album to the captive audience. All of the posturing and posing of the horse riding scenes were forgotten and he became the musician so rarely noticed behind his rock star facade.

  There was another costume change before they took the final shots of the day in the tiny chapel that formed part of the manor house’s estate. It was a beautiful flint building with ivy trailing up the walls towards the small tower with its single bell.

  ‘This would be a great place for a wedding.’ Tom had his arm around her waist as they followed Zac into the building, who by now was resplendent in a pair of purple crushed velvet trousers and a deep V neck jumper with nothing underneath.

  ‘I’ve always preferred the idea of Vegas for a wedding myself.’ It was a total lie, but nerves had fluttered at his words – was he trying to test her? Like most girls, Ashleigh had imagined what her wedding might be like from time to time and she’d always pictured the church that looked out across the sea from the top of the cliffs in Sandgate. She was never quite sure how to read Tom, though. Even his planned marriage to Susie-Anne had been more of a business deal than a romance, and she didn’t want to scare him off by making him think she was already planning the guest list for their wedding.

  ‘Bride’s prerogative, but you could have had a wedding here and all this could have been yours…’ he made a sweeping gesture with his arm, ‘if you’d just kissed Zac back.’ Tom was grinning, but it was impossible to tell if he was joking or not, so it was probably better to say nothing at all.

  Unfortunately, Zac was back to his old self in the chapel shots. He insisted on not only lying on the altar for one shot, but also posing like Christ on the cross and lounging against a tombstone in the tiny graveyard at the back of the chapel. Whilst Ashleigh doubted that many of his fans would be committed Christians given the lyrics in some of his songs, he couldn’t have been more likely to cause offence if he’d tried. Half an hour later the shoot was over.

  ‘That’s a wrap then?’ Tom had been watching her work and he seemed to approve.

  ‘I think that’s enough for today.’ She smiled. ‘Zac’s going to pick the photos as the record company want them by the second of January, so I’ll email them over tomorrow. Let’s just hope there’s enough here to please his lordship.’

  ‘Is Stevie making his own way home?’ It was obvious from the way that Tom was looking at her that he was banking on the answer being yes. Thankfully she’d managed to snatch five minutes with Stevie for a private chat in the bathroom at the recording studio. They’d previously arranged to spend Christmas together, but things had changed quite drastically for both of them since. The look of relief on Stevie’s face, when Ashleigh had asked if he minded Tom joining them, had spoken volumes. Grinning, he’d said he didn’t want to be a gooseberry and he was happy to take up Zac’s offer of staying with him. Perhaps that had been Zac’s motivation for getting her and Tom back together all along. It didn’t matter now; for once everything seemed to be going right.

  ‘Yes, he’s staying with a friend for Christmas.’ She kept her tone light, hoping that Tom wouldn’t ask any questions. It wasn’t a great idea to lie to your boss, or the person you were sleeping with, but even worse when they were one and the same.

  ‘Great!’ She needn’t have worried, Tom clearly couldn’t care less who the mystery friend was.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind being on your own with me?’ Ashleigh was suddenly confident enough to do the teasing, but she didn’t get an answer. He just kissed her, making his feelings perfectly clear.

  ****

  The drive back to the flat was frustrat
ing for Tom. He couldn’t persuade Ashleigh to leave her mum’s car at Zac’s until he could get someone from Rushworth Associates to drive it back. Her reasoning had been that the old girl was temperamental and he’d assumed that she was talking about the car rather than her mother, although from what he’d heard about Carol he wasn’t too sure. As a result, they’d been forced to drive back separately and he’d much rather have had her to chat to, to laugh about the outlandish nature of Zac’s costume choices and generally put the world to rights. He was beginning to realise he missed having a friend like that; it was another sacrifice the business had forced him to make. He’d put it absolutely first in the old days, working day and night to get it going and networking his socks off in between to get a client base started. His only social life had been work related, mixing with the people he needed impress and letting his old friends and university buddies fall by the wayside. Sometimes he wondered what they were doing now, but never for long enough to get in touch, and the next crisis at work had always been enough to fill his time. Looking at Stevie and Ashleigh, though, he could see what he might be missing. Maybe he’d make a New Year’s resolution to look up some of his old mates, or at least reply to the telephone messages that were intermittently left at his mum’s from them. Just maybe.

  His car had a much quicker turn of speed than the elderly Landrover, but he was worried about Ashleigh driving such an old tank, especially as the weather was turning icy and the gritter lorries were out in force. He checked his speed and slowed down again until he saw her car finally appear behind him. The internal light of the Landrover had come on as soon as she had started the engine, which she’d said it did from time to time, dodgy electrics a sign of its age and just one of its many quirks. As a result, when he let her get close enough, Tom could make out Ashleigh in his rear view mirror. Her dark hair was falling loose around her shoulders, the memory of how it felt against his skin almost tangible.

  It was no good, he had to stop looking, it wasn’t helping his concentration or his driving technique and the last thing he wanted to do was to get pulled over by an over-zealous traffic cop. He turned his rear view mirror down slightly so that he couldn’t see her anymore and slid the disk that Francine had given him into the CD player. It was from a group called The Xcess, who’d just been signed by one of the big record labels and were keen on having Rushworth Associates represent them; at least it gave him something else to think about. Even the clashing sound of the band’s Thrash Metal style was more conducive to his concentration than catching sight of Ashleigh in the mirror. It was going to take a while to get her out of his system.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Waking up on Christmas Eve next to a gorgeous naked man took some beating. Ashleigh stretched like a contented cat, as winter sunlight streaked through the window, the warmth of Tom’s body next to hers a welcome sensation. He was breathing in a soft regular rhythm, clearly still asleep.

  Pushing one leg out from under the duvet, she tried to slip out without waking him. It would be fun to play the domestic goddess and whip him up a gourmet breakfast. Well, bacon and eggs at least. Her stomach gurgled at the thought. They hadn’t eaten the night before; falling into bed the moment they got through the door, with food the last thing on their minds. Her stomach gave another loud grumble at the prospect of a crispy bacon sandwich. Creeping around to Tom’s side of bed she was home and dry, until a warm hand shot out from under the duvet and grabbed hold of her thigh.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going, gorgeous?’ Tom looked annoyingly unruffled and her hand immediately shot up to smooth her own wild mop of hair.

  ‘I was going to make you some breakfast.’ Smiling, she let him pull her down on top of him. She wasn’t that hungry after all.

  ****

  An hour later, the rumbling in her stomach couldn’t be ignored any longer.

  ‘Have you got your washing machine on spin?’ Tom grinned and placed a hand on her stomach. ‘It’s like a scene from Alien in there.’

  ‘Well, we would have eaten ages ago if it wasn’t for you.’ Most of the women who moved in Tom’s social circle probably ate no more than a salad with a sprinkling of speed to take the edge off their appetites and motivate them for yet another marathon workout. As long as Tom didn’t expect the same of her, one missed dinner and her stomach was already making a very vocal protest.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, I don’t believe it.’ Opening the fridge door a few moments later, it was obvious that her mother had been down to the flat. The bacon and bread had been taken out and probably chucked in a bin somewhere along the high street. Instead there was a loaf of Carol’s homemade soda bread, which could easily double as a doorstop and needed an industrial strength saw to cut it. There was also some of her homemade bean dip, which resembled the contents of a sick bucket and didn’t smell much better, and some Ostrich bacon.

  ‘Umm, looks lovely.’ Tom walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

  ‘It’s my mother.’ She sighed, there was no way that she could serve this up. She’d had years of her mother’s cooking and ‘healthy eating’ experiments and she still couldn’t stomach the stuff. She’d had delicious soda bread and bean dips from the deli in Sandgate in the past, but her mum’s homemade attempts to replicate the recipes would have been better suited to supporting a DIY project than they would to creating a decent meal. ‘She’s decided to make over my fridge with her idea of a healthy diet for me. I wish I’d never given her a key in the first place.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ His voice was soothing and his breath warm against her neck. ‘I’ll nip down to the shops, pick up the papers and get some new supplies.’ He turned her round to face him. ‘I need to check on news of Chloe anyway and see what they’re writing about her now. Just let me jump into the shower and you can make me a list of what we need.’

  ****

  By the time he got back from the shops, Ashleigh was all the better for having had a nice warm shower too. She’d sent the photos to Zac and had laid the table in a way that would make any 1950s housewife proud. She’d even found the little toast rack that her Auntie Alice had given her ‘for her bottom drawer’ as she put it, when Ashleigh had first been planning to move in with Liam.

  ‘God that bread smells good.’ The crusty farmhouse loaf was still warm. ‘Anything much in the papers?’

  As she spoke, Tom dropped the pile of tabloids on the table with a heavy thud.

  ‘I picked up a few phone messages from Francine about something, on my way to the deli. All seems okay on the Chloe front though.’

  ‘So who is on the front page then?’ She mentally crossed her fingers that it wasn’t an expose about Zac and Stevie. It would only take one pap to get shot of the two of them kissing and the lid would be blown off their affair and possibly off Zac’s career.

  ‘It’s Susie-Anne.’ He sounded more exasperated than anything. ‘It’s nothing I need to get involved with though. I might still have an interest in her career, but her personal life is her own.’

  ‘Can I have a look then?’ Ashleigh waited and, after a few seconds, he reluctantly handed her a paper from the top of the pile.

  STORMY OUTLOOK FOR WEATHER GIRL. The headline dominated the front page. Scanning the top couple of paragraphs, Ashleigh’s appetite started to fade.

  ‘Shouldn’t you call her?’ Although she’d never warmed to Susie-Anne, the photos of her tear-stained face splashed across the front pages of the tabloids would have stirred even the hardest of hearts. It was made all the more poignant by the fact that she was pregnant.

  ‘Most of my female clients have been dumped at some point in their careers.’ There was that nonchalant tone again, as though he were trying far too hard to be off-hand.

  ‘Yes, but I take it not all of them were pregnant or former fiancées of yours?’ Why was she pushing him when who knew what might happen if he met up with Susie-Anne in that vulnera
ble state? Maybe she was testing him, at least that way she’d find out if he meant what he said about always being honest.

  ‘That’s true, but I’m not responsible for her and we all know how Susie-Anne loves a drama.’ Tom moved to crouch down beside Ashleigh so that he could make eye contact. ‘It’s you I want to be with right now and I’m not going to give that up to go chasing after a client, even one who I was briefly engaged to, who could well be back with Michael again by tomorrow.’ The words ‘right now’ framed the sentence, but she wouldn’t let it bother her. She’d wanted to enjoy just living in the here and now and this was her chance.

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure, but I don’t want you to think that you can’t be there for her just because we’ve slept together a couple of times.’ She was trying for nonchalance, but it came out sounding like she didn’t care.

  ‘Okay well thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’ Tom’s dark blue eyes searched her face. Disappointment reflected in his own, but she couldn’t for the life of her imagine why. The last thing he wanted was another Susie-Anne; he’d told her that often enough. Of course, he wasn’t to know just how much effort it was taking on Ashleigh’s part to convince herself she felt that way too.

  She finally started on breakfast at what turned out to be far closer to lunchtime and Tom busied himself trying to stuff the stack of tabloids into the tiny kitchen bin.

  ‘Honestly it’s fine, don’t throw them out, I want the TV guides anyway.’ It was a less than subtle lie on her part and he roared with laughter.

  ‘And there was me thinking that we were going to have this red hot Christmas and you’re all set for the East Enders Omnibus and the Strictly Come Dancing Christmas Special!’

  ‘I might forgo Strictly if you make it worth my while.’ She grinned as she put breakfast on the table.