Star (Beautiful Book 5)

by Lilliana Anderson

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say, blushing slightly. I’ve never been good at receiving compliments, but I easily give them. With fashionably messy dark hair and even darker eyes, Brad is looking comfortably stylish in black dress pants and a crisp white shirt that he’s left open at the neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, revealing forearms covered in colourful tattoos.

  Slipping my hand in his, I take a deep breath and try to still the nervous butterflies flitting about in my stomach, feeling a little shy around someone so new to me. Handholding feels like a promise, and I’m unsure of making promises I can’t keep.

  When my fingers wrap around his, I feel warm, and the first thing that pops into my head is a flash of memory from the hotel with Jonathan—a light brush of our hands, meeting in the distance between us, pinkies caressing, breath increasing, fingers dancing like our hands were making love—my breath catches as my entire body heats. What the hell?

  “So, where are you taking me to dinner?” I ask, shaking off the unwelcome memory. “Or I should say, where would you like me to take you to dinner? After standing you up last time, it's only right I pay to make up for it.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it. I thought we could go to Quay. It's got great views of the harbour, and it doesn't get so loud that you can't hear each other talk.”

  “Quay? That place isn't very easy to get into with only a few days’ notice. How did you wangle that?”

  Placing his hand on my lower back, we begin to walk outside to hail a cab as we continue to talk. “I just know some people,” he says, scanning the busy Sydney street for some transport.

  “Oh, my god. That’s where you work, isn’t it?” I tap my free hand against my forehead. I knew he worked at a fancy restaurant, but I couldn’t remember which one. “I feel like such a dingus.”

  He laughs. “It's no big deal. You actually showed up for our date this time, so I’m already considering tonight a success.”

  “Oh, you just had to bring that up,” I tease while he raises his arm to hail a white taxi that heads towards us on George Street.

  “I promise it’ll be the last time,” he says, lifting my hand to press a kiss on my knuckles as he opens the cab door and helps me inside. He’s suave. I like him.

  “So, how did a chef so young become head chef at a place like Quay?” I ask, my curiosity a tight pull in my stomach that I can’t ignore.

  He grins, his eyes crinkling closed a little as he looks at me.. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Lucky, you guess,” I repeat. “From what I know of this world, luck has little to do with success. Hard work and talent are the deciding factors; especially in hospitality.” I lift my phone and tap his name into the search bar.

  “Are you googling me right in front of me?” He laughs.

  “No one can be modest when Google is on the job. Ah, here you are. Bradley Rae, the head chef they poached from a little boutique hotel called Porters. You’re one of the youngest chefs with a Michelin star rating, and a leader in fusion cuisine.”

  “I also make a great mac n cheese.”

  “I’ll bet. This is quite impressive, Mr Rae.” I sit back against the leather seat of the cab and let out a contented sigh, feeling very pleased with myself.

  “You’ve definitely got a knack for investigative reporting if you ever decide to quit interviewing celebrities for Voyeur Magazine.”

  “Ah, someone else has been Googling too.”

  “I don’t quite have your skills, but I may have looked you up after I saw you on the news last week.”

  “Oh god. Don’t remind me. That was a huge nightmare. I should really explain that whole thing. I don’t want you to think I’m regularly involved with fighting actors and musicians. It was all just a crazy ploy to try to help my friend, and it got out of hand.”

  “Hey, don’t mention it. It’s really none of my business. It happened. We’ve rescheduled our date, and I’m happy about that. I even prepared this awesome almond and citrus dessert. You don’t have any nut allergies do you?”

  “No. Not at all. It sounds amazing, and I’ll eat anything…well…except strawberries.”

  “Strawberries? Why do they have such a bad rap?”

  “I don’t know. Something about their smell and the texture of the flesh and the seeds. I just don’t like them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference,” he says as the taxi drops us off outside the restaurant. “After you.” He opens the door and a cute redhead beams when she spots us and immediately takes us to our seats. We don’t even have to order because everything is prepared and brought out with practiced timing. I want for nothing.

  Dinner is amazing. Before tonight, I’d never been to Quay. It’s one of those places you need to book a year in advance because it’s so popular. You are overlooking Sydney Harbour no matter where you sit. The walls are curved glass so even in the centre of the restaurant, you still have a great view. And the food. Wow. It’s like my mouth is having an orgasm with every bite.

  “Oh my god, I feel like my tongue has never tasted food before. These are all your creations?” I ask, as I sit across the table with Brad watching me amusedly. He’s been eating, but I think he’s enjoying the fact that I’m in food heaven, and he’s the one who took me there.

  “This is my menu. But, I didn't do all the cooking tonight. I just oversaw the prep work before I came to pick you up.”

  I lick my dessertspoon, the tanginess of marmalade mixed with a rich creamy almond ice cream and sweet meringue make my taste buds buzz in excitement.

  “Well, I'm impressed. Is this what you do for all the girls you meet in elevators?” I ask, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip to get that perfect mix of bitter and sweet after eating dessert.

  He lets out a chuckle and relaxes back in his seat. “Not at all. To be honest, you're the first girl I've ever picked up in an elevator. I had to be sure you weren’t really a ghost.” He laughs, referring to the joke I played on him when we first met.

  I smile, biting on my lip as I gently place the china mug back on its dish. “That was a bit weird wasn't it?”

  He shrugs. “Not weird, so much as it was funny. Although, intriguing might be a better word for it.”

  “Intriguing?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I was intrigued by what would make a beautiful girl, such as yourself, decide to play a prank on a random stranger. At first I thought you might have been filming it for YouTube or something. Then I realised you were just doing it for your own enjoyment. And that, intrigued me. I thought a girl with looks and a sense of humour is someone worth knowing.”

  “Well, I hope I’ve lived up to your expectation.” I blush, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  “And then some,” he says, and I swoon a little. He ticks all the right boxes. I should be swooning harder.

  “Thank you for tonight. Getting a chance to eat here is a bit of a bucket list item. And the food is like Christmas for my mouth.”

  He chuckles. “I like that description of it. I should write that in the menu.”

  “You should. You’d be even busier than you are now.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think I could handle being busier than I am now.”

  “The life of a head chef at an exclusive restaurant is a hard one, huh?”

  “It is,” he admits. “It’s rare that I get to do something like this. I’m not the easiest man to date, I’m afraid.”

  I lean forward, folding my arms on the edge of the table. “I’m not the easiest woman to date either, it seems.”

  He tilts his head slightly to the side. “So you’re saying you regularly go missing amid a celebrity scandal?”

  “Only when I unwittingly befriend one of them.”

  “I saw she’s disappeared again. Did she at least thank you for taking the heat for her?”

  I bounce a shoulder. “Kind of. But I haven’t heard from her since she left.
She’s cut everyone out of her life again.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “For me it is. I don’t have a stack of female friends. Especially at work. Journalism is pretty competitive, and my office is a bit of a boys’ club.”

  “Must make for a lonely work day.”

  “Well, today was my first day back, and it was…awkward. Suddenly, everyone was my friend.”

  “Trying to get the inside scoop, huh?”

  I nod. “I had a meeting with the editor who wanted me to write a piece on the whole ordeal from my perspective. But I said no because I’m not comfortable calling any more attention to myself than I already have.”

  “Maybe it could help stop the gossip columns printing photos of you throwing flowers in your bin.”

  “You saw that?”

  “I did.”

  “I suppose I should explain that too, huh?”

  “Not if you don’t want to. You already said there’s nothing going on between you and Masters, and I’d like to take you at your word.”

  “But?” There sounds like there should be a ‘but’.

  “But nothing. I know I work and travel a lot, so I don’t want you feeling pinned down by me. I enjoy your company, and I’d like to see you again. But you’re free to date other people, although I’d like you to be open about it.”

  “I’m not dating anyone else, I assure you,” I say, finding the insinuation laughable since I’m not a big dater. Men in real life are disappointing compared to men in movies. “Wait. Are you dating someone else?”

  He laughs. “Definitely not. You’ve already experienced how long it takes to pin me down for a meal.”

  “Ok. So neither of us is dating anyone else. And I’m not the kind of girl to have two guys on the go at once. So let’s talk about how this will work between us. Tell me about your life as a busy chef.”

  “Well, I travel a lot while researching new menus. And when I’m home, I tend to work six out of seven days and even then I’m working on something at home.”

  “A bit obsessed with your craft?”

  “Sort of.” He smiles, reaching out to take a sip of his iced water. “But I love it.”

  “What I’m hearing is you cook a lot so I’ll always be well fed whenever we see each other.”

  He laughs. “That’s one way to look at it. Is there anything I need to know about dating a journalist?”

  “Well, as you probably guessed, I’m not the easiest person to pin down either. Not counting the whole, chased by the paparazzi thing from last week, I work long hours, sometimes at night, and I travel too. I would also like to see you again, because I enjoy your company. So, I suppose we can both work around each other?” I suggest, my brow raised in question as I wait for his response. I could have taken his whole ‘hard to date’ comment as a brush off, but something in the tone of his voice and his body language suggests he’s just trying to warn me so his schedule doesn’t become an issue for us.

  “That would be perfect because I’m kind of in like with you,” he says, his voice gentle with a hint of amusement as he speaks.

  Smiling, I sit back in my seat. “That happens a lot. I’m a pretty amazing person, you know,” I respond, keeping my voice steady and cool. In truth, my stomach just did a little flip-flop thing. It’s been a long time since a man has said he likes me. Maybe not that long…

  Another flash of memory pushes its way to the front of my mind; Jonathan leaning in, hesitating before his lips touch mine. “I really fucking like you, Sandra.”

  My cheeks burn as I blink away the memory. I’m starting to think I’ve got post erotic sex disorder. If such a thing exists.

  “You OK?” Brad asks.

  I nod, clearing my throat. “Just a little warm.”

  “Come on.” Brad signals to the waitstaff that we’re finished. “I’ll take you for a walk along the harbour. The sea air will cool you down.”

  “Whoa, that’s very romantic,” I tease. “Watch yourself Bradley Rae, or you’ll find that I’m in like with you too.”

  He places his hand on my lower back and guides me towards the exit. “Don’t tell anyone, but that’s kind of the plan.”

  Fourteen

  Jonathan

  “Comin’ surfin’?” Jayden asks as he lets himself into my apartment. I drop the script I was reading on my desk and link my hands behind my head.

  “What’s the report like?”

  He shrugs, picking up the Logie Award I won years ago for ‘most popular new talent’ and tossing it up and down like a strange human-shaped ball. The guy can never stand still. “Shit, I think.”

  “Then why do you wanna go?”

  “Not much else to do.”

  “You could get a job, go to school...”

  “Why would I do that when my big brother is happy to bankroll me?” He grins, and I roll my eyes. I have no issues sharing the wealth with my family, but I do it with the intention of taking the stress off them all so they can work a job they love without worrying about money.

  “You should still work. You’re twenty-two, you should be doing more with your life. Volunteer somewhere and do some good. Idle hands are the devil's playground, you know.”

  He puts the Logie back on the shelf lying down. Then he picks up my Golden Globe and lies it on top of the Logie so it looks like they’re fucking. He snickers about it and turns to face me with a self-impressed smile on his face.

  “Are you listening to me?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes.

  “You sound like Dad. He’s always buggin’ me to go on a job with him.”

  “Why don’t you go with him? He’s getting older and could use the help. Lopping trees isn’t the worst job in the world.”

  He shrugs again. “I’d rather surf.”

  “Except the surf is shit today.”

  “We can still go. Swim or something.”

  Sighing, I relax my arms and stand up, checking my watch at the same time. “Coop will be here in about half hour to go for a run if you want to join in.”

  “What about Joel?” Joel is Jayden’s favourite brother from another mother. He’s like the fourth Masters kid. He’s been a fixture in our family ever since his family fell apart when his brother committed suicide. Things got so bad, he moved in with us when he was seventeen. When I left home to pursue my acting career, he stayed on and Mum and Dad helped him through university. He’s as much a part of the family as any one of us are.

  “You miss him since he wasn’t at the family dinner on Saturday night?” I tease.

  “I wanna hear how his kickboxing tournament went. He doesn’t let me go watch him anymore after I caused a scene when a bunch of girls thought I was you. Signed a few tits that day.” He grins.

  “So I’ve heard.” I can’t help but crack a smile at that one. “Why haven’t you just called and asked him how he went?”

  “Because I thought he’d be here.”

  “It’s Tuesday.”

  “And?”

  “He’s a lawyer, bro.”

  He holds out his hands like I’m making no sense.

  I frown. He’s serious. “And he’s at work so he’s not coming for a mid-morning run. But we’re training in the gym with him tomorrow night if you wanna see him then.”

  “I don’t wanna be a third wheel.”

  “Oh, my god. You’re not a third wheel. You can hang with us whenever you want.” I pick up a random script from my desk and walk it over to him, slapping it against his chest. “You’re such a baby.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Sit your arse down and make yourself useful. Read it until Coop gets here and tell me if it’s any good.”

  He grins. “So, I’m like, your assistant now?”

  “If it’ll help you quit whining, sure, you’re my fuckin’ assistant now.”

  Shaking my head with a slight chuckle, I head back to my desk and notice the screen on my phone light up with a notification. My publicist loves to email me every fucking article that mentio
ns my name ‘just in case I’m interested.’ I’m not. Well, normally, I’m not. But lately, I’ve been giving them a cursory glance in case Sandra’s name is mentioned. I’m keen to see her again, but I don’t think she’ll see me while the paps are still following her about. I need to keep an eye on the media interest in her so I know when to approach her in person.

  Today probably isn’t that day since there’s an article about her that gives me a bit of a twisted gut. It says she’s moved on with some chef dude called Bradley Rae. There’s even a lovely photo of them kissing before she gets into a cab. Great.

  Fucking awesome.

  There’s this whole fucking spread showing them walking along the harbour together hand in fucking hand.

  I swipe away before I throw my phone. Opening messages instead.

  Me: How was your date?

  It clicks to read almost immediately, but the dots don’t bounce.

  Me: I can’t believe you already moved on from me. After everything we went through together…

  It clicks to read again. Then…nothing. I drop my phone on the desk and let out a frustrated breath.

  Great. Fucking Great.

  I need to up my game.

  Fifteen

  Sandra

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh a little as I switch my phone to silent and drop it in my bag, deciding the best way to deal with Jonathan is to ignore him. I’m sure he’s gotten drunk and slept with a ton of women without contacting them afterwards. I’m not sure why I should be any different just because I stopped a rock star from strangling him to death.