Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 by Maisey Yates (inspirational books .TXT) 📗

of sight, obscuring his shot. Under normal circumstances, she would have found this exchange about flowers delightful, but unfortunately some shady paparazzo was documenting every second. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm this, and the flash went off again in the distance.

Nina waited until Amelia was out of earshot to alert Julian, out of fear of rattling the older woman. Even though, to be fair, Amelia did not seem like the type of woman who was easily rattled.

“Listen up,” she said. “There’s a photographer in the bushes. Twelve o’clock.”

Julian wasn’t rattled in the least. “I spotted him a while ago, and that’s six o’clock. Not twelve.”

“Who cares about his coordinates?” Nina snapped. “This is still a gross invasion of privacy.”

“I’m used to it,” he said. “Did you fly across the field to protect me?”

“I… I…” Irritation and embarrassment clogged Nina’s throat. She was not so jaded to shrug off the presence of a lurking photographer.

Julian pinched her cheek. “You’re a true friend, Nina.”

Amelia returned with two more plants. “I’m done. We should go now. I’ll get dizzy in this heat.”

Nina was relieved. They didn’t have to kick the photographer’s ass, but they also didn’t have to linger and give him a show.

* * *

Paparazzi presence at the orchid field had pissed Julian off—and justifiably so. He’d played it down to reassure Nina, who’d seemed genuinely upset. Plus he hadn’t wanted to rattle poor Amelia. As to be expected, Katia wasted no time calling. They were on their way back to the hotel when his phone rang.

“Here’s a tweet for you,” Kat said. She went on to read it, hashtags and all, adding emphasis wherever needed for drama. “‘Shelve this under #shamelessactsofselfpromotion: JLK buys a little old lady a bunch of flowers then helps her across the street. Like…really? That’s piling it on thick! So now he suddenly respects women? #notbuyingit #RescueMeJLK is a sham.’”

Julian switched the phone from one ear to the other. “Thanks for the update. You don’t have to call for every little thing, you know.”

“You’re wrong!” she exclaimed. “This is major. I love where you’re going with this.”

“Not going anywhere with anything,” Julian said. “I took a family friend on an outing.”

“You saved a cat. You saved a drowning girl. You helped a little old lady across the street. See a pattern yet?”

“That’s nonsense.”

“That’s gold! That photo of you kneeling before the little girl is the kind of thing that rehabs an image. You can’t buy that kind of publicity.”

“Clearly, not everyone is buying it.”

“Don’t worry about that. We need the naysayers. They’re useful.”

He looked over to Nina, a potted white orchid on her lap. At some point, she’d gathered her hair in a knot on top of her head. He wished he could snap a picture of her. “Katy Kat, I’ve got to go.”

“Sure, but do me one favor—think up some more heroics. Let’s get #RescueMeJLK trending.”

“All right. Hanging up now.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone from one hand to another, hot potato style.

“Everything okay?” Nina asked.

He’d let her decide. He searched for the tweet and showed it to her.

“Wow, that was fast,” she said.

The attached photo showed Julian carrying a cardboard box overflowing with paper-white orchids. Amelia walked beside him, her arm linked around his. Nina walked a step ahead, leading the way. He loved the way she walked—always light on her feet and with those long, sure strides.

He’d helped Amelia carry the flowers to the car, but it was Nina who paid attention to her lengthy instructions on how best to graft an orchid onto a tree. Back at Amelia’s house, Nina ate most of the ackee and salt fish that she’d prepared for him. When he protested, she reminded him that he was a vegetarian.

“Mostly vegetarian.”

“Then you won’t mind if I eat most of this.”

He smiled remembering the afternoon. Just as he’d predicted, Nina had made his day better. Still, she wasn’t over the incident.

“Is it normal for paparazzi to follow you around like this?” she asked.

“Not lately.”

“Hmm…” She pulled out her own phone and tapped on the screen. “You’re gonna eat those words.”

The words were spoken in Julian’s voice, but an octave lower and without a trace of a British accent. The musical score to Thunder swelled in the car. Nina turned ashen and stabbed the phone screen with her fingers, desperate to silence it.

Julian let out a shout. Kat, the tweet and the meddlesome paparazzi were forgotten. “Naughty Nina Taylor, what have you been up to? Are you binge-watching me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself!” she said. “Thought I’d get familiar with your work. That’s all.”

“In that case…” He pulled up her audiobook, and her words flowed from his phone. “My mother played dress up and make-believe for a living. She wore makeup and costumes and performed on stage. We did not go to church. On Sunday mornings, when she wasn’t performing, we attended matinees.”

“Oh, God, no!”

She ripped off her seat belt and lunged forward to wrestle the phone from his hand. He let her exhaust herself awhile, holding his phone out of her reach, just to enjoy the feel of her body. Her top might as well have been cut out of tissue paper. He felt everything, and everything felt wonderful. Her round breasts crushed against his chest, her bare thigh slid against his.

“Settle down,” he murmured in her ear. “And buckle up. Safety first.”

She moved away from him, her cheeks flushed. When she was settled, she returned her attention to the orchid, the only near casualty of their tussle. A long time passed before she spoke up. “I don’t think you play make-believe for a living. I have a lot of respect for the profession.”

Warmth spread through Julian’s chest. “I knew that,” he said. Although it was good to hear her say it.

“In those early journals, I’m such a brat,” she said. “I went on and on about how horrible it was to be the daughter of a struggling actress. Only it wasn’t so bad. It was special and