LITMIR.BIZ

       Six

      His mother’s house?

      Celia still couldn’t wrap her brain around that nugget of information even a half hour after he’d spilled the beans. The press had reported in the past that he now supported his mother, declaring she deserved a life of luxury after all the sacrifices she’d made for him. But there were never any details about where Terri Ann Douglas had relocated after she’d left Azalea fourteen years ago.

      Quite frankly, Celia hadn’t been that interested in staying in touch with the woman who reminded her so deeply of all she’d lost. Terri Ann hadn’t approved of Celia back then anyway, and with good reason. Celia was everything the woman had feared for her son—spoiled, selfish and more than willing to toss away her virginity if that tied Malcolm closer to her.

      The thought of seeing Terri Ann again sent Celia’s stomach into knots as they pulled up to a large scrolled gate covered by vines. Cameras moved ever so slightly, almost hidden in the foliage. Malcolm stopped by the security box and typed a code into the keypad. The gates swung wide, revealing a road that lead into … nothing but trees.

      She couldn’t see a house, and wouldn’t be able to see people, even if they showed up. The security was … beyond crazy. As she began to grasp the depth of the protection here, she had to wonder, had he changed his mind about Europe and decided to stash her away here with his mother, where he’d obviously already lavished a good deal of effort to ensure privacy?

      Disappointment gripped her, too much considering she’d been questioning the wisdom of going with him. But she couldn’t deny a flickering wish deep inside her. Yes, her world had spun out of control since he’d returned, but she didn’t want to step off the dizzying ride just yet. This was crazy and scary, out of character for the new, steadier path she’d chosen for herself.

      Except, even if they didn’t sleep together again—which they weren’t going to do, she emphatically reminded herself—she finally had a chance for answers, for closure on her teenage years, a time in her life that had almost broken her. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity.

      “Malcolm, would you care to clue me in to what’s going on?”

      He drove the car deeper into the forest of towering oaks and pines, gravel crunching under the tires. “I needed to regain some control over the security. We’re off the radar now, which gives us some breathing room.”

      Suddenly, he turned from the dusty path onto a paved road. The leafy branches parted to reveal—oh, my God—a compound.

      A columned mansion was surrounded by every convenience from a pool to tennis courts. Even a pond sported a small dock with a gazebo picnic area by the shore.

      The home was a magnificent getaway. But at the moment, it looked rather like a prison to her. “Do you plan for me to stay here instead?”

      He looked at her quickly. “Not at all. We’re still going to Europe. I told you my security would be taking care of you, and I meant that. We’re simply leaving from here instead of from a public airport.”

      Too much relief zinged through her. Damn it, she was supposed to be gaining peace from this reunion, not wanting to spend more time with him. “Then I’m fuzzy on the details of how we’re getting from this place to Europe. I don’t see an airstrip.”

      He pointed in the distance.

      A helicopter flew just over the treetops.

      She shrank back in her seat even though she knew the tinted windows provided complete privacy. “The press found us already?”

      “No, that’s our ride.” He put the Maserati in Park next to a large concrete pad.

      A space large enough for that bird to land. Holy cow.

      Her eyes stayed locked on the white helicopter flying closer, closer still, until it hovered. Roaring overhead, it landed a few feet away, blades stirring dust all around the car. “You’re kidding.”

      “Nope. We’ll fly in the chopper to another location, where we’ll board a private jet and leave the country. Avoiding the press involves a lot more steps than going from point A to point B.”

      Wow, okay. He did have resources beyond anything she’d imagined. But …

      “I thought you said we were visiting your mother.”

      “I said we were going to her house. She’s not here.” He pulled his briefcase from behind his seat. “She’s at her vacation flat in London.”

      A vacation flat? “You’re a good son. This amazing house. A place in England, too.”

      “What I give her is easy compared to all she did for me.” His eyes went sober, pained even. “The house, the apartment, they don’t even put a dent in my account. She worked two jobs just to put food on the table. She even cleaned my piano teacher’s house in exchange for lessons. Mom deserves a retirement. Now, are you ready?”

      She was running out of time to say what had been chewing at her gut since last night. “I don’t want you to think that kiss meant more than it did.”

      “What did it mean?”

      “That I’m still attracted to you, as well, that we share a very significant past. But that doesn’t mean we have a future or that we should act on the attraction.” Because honest to God, right now she wasn’t sure how she would walk away from him a second time if they got even closer. They needed to use this trip together to talk through what happened when they were teenagers, to have the conversations they’d been denied because of immaturity—and the fact that he’d been locked away in a military school and she’d been sent to Switzerland. “It was more of a farewell to that past and a salute to friendship kind of kiss. Didn’t you write a song once about goodbye kisses?”

      “Someone else wrote that one.” He smiled cynically. “My manager thought it would melt hearts.”

      “It melted hearts all the way to the top of the charts.” She’d turned the radio station dozens of times to keep herself from crying over that damn song.

      “Call me jaded—” he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went bloodless “—but sometimes I feel like I’m selling a flawed ideal to my fans.”

      “How can you deny there’s love out there?” She turned toward him again, clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “We felt it. I know we did. That song last night proved it. Even though it ended, what we had was real.”

      “Puppy love.”

      Her head snapped back, his words a splash of bitterly cold water. “Are you being a bastard on purpose?”

      “Just helping you resist the urge to kiss me again.” He reached across her and opened her door. “Our helicopter’s waiting.”

      As her door swung wide, the biting wind blew grit and rocks inside the beautifully magnificent car, stinging her as tangibly as his angry words had. She grabbed her floral tote bag full of schoolwork and jumped out, slamming the door closed behind her. Helicopter blades whomp, whomp, whomped, slicing the air. Who traveled by helicopter besides the military and the country’s president?

      Apparently platinum-selling stars did.

      He opened the door for her. “Sit up front.”

      Gingerly, she climbed inside the helicopter, the scent of leather and oil saturating the air as she settled in place. She eyed the empty copilot’s seat, the thrill-seeking ways of her teenage years nowhere to be found. The thought of riding in a chopper—of actually going to Europe—made her chest grow tight. She forced herself

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