“I don’t need it.”
“Caroline, I just decked a photographer,” he said, like that explained everything.
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yes. I did.” He turned to her, and his demeanour was intense. “I’ve been living with this crap for years. It comes with the territory. I’m not an idiot. I court the press. I have to, otherwise I won’t sell records and I want to sell records. But the paparazzi are something else. They don’t play by the rules. They don’t care what damage they cause. They don’t care that something is off limits. They’ll do whatever it takes to make their money. And that includes hounding the people I care about.”
Caroline bit her bottom lip. Her stomach had squeezed into a tight ball.
Josh gave her a look, which she assumed meant he was the boss. “You’re taking the cell phone and you’re going to keep it on you at all times. On top of that, I’m going to talk to Lake about a bodyguard for you.”
Caroline blustered, “You will not! I don’t want some random guy following me around. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right.” He tapped the screen on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Lake? Yeah, got a problem here. I punched a paparazzo in Harrods. I’m worried about Caroline. Can you sort out someone to watch over her?” There was silence for a moment as Caroline fumed. “Great. We’re on the same page, then. See you when we get there.” He hung up and gave her a smug smile.
“I can’t believe you did that.” Caroline wanted to punch the man. “You are so going to regret it.”
The mood changed in the car. Suddenly the tension and anger was gone. Josh’s eyes sparkled at her. He was amused. Again. Well, too bloody bad. Caroline was furious.
“What you going to do, honey? Call off the wedding?” He grinned widely. “You never back down on your word. Remember? Plus, if you run off now I’ll get my studio and the castle restoration will stop dead. Is that what you want?”
“I might be marrying you, Josh McInnes. But I don’t have to make it pleasant and I don’t have to be nice to you.”
The infuriating man leaned forward and touched his nose to hers. “Bring it on, honey. Give me everything you’ve got.”
Caroline made a growling sound in the back of her throat, wrenched herself out of his grip and slid as far away from him on the seat as she could get. While she glared out at the passing streets, Josh’s deep chuckle filled the car.
That was the last time she’d spoken to him. Even when he’d walked her home. She’d just opened the door, walked inside and slammed it in his face. She’d heard him laughing on the other side before she’d stalked to the kitchen. And now her answer machine was blinking with messages. Messages she planned to ignore for the first time in her life.
Caroline took her tea into the living room and threw herself into the threadbare sofa. She covered her face with her hands. Her life was unravelling. Her sister was upset. Josh was interfering with everything and bossing her around—when no one bossed her around. Ever. Celebrities were coming to town and she had no idea how to behave around them, let alone what to wear when she met them. Beth had quit her job, leaving Caroline in the lurch. The paparazzi were circling like buzzards. The town was on lockdown. The domino boys were playing soldier. And there were stolen sex books on her desk.
She grabbed a cushion from beside her and screamed loudly into it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At two o’clock in the morning, Caroline woke to loud music. For a minute she wasn’t sure where the noise was coming from. She didn’t have the sort of neighbours who threw wild parties. She had neighbours who misplaced their hearing aids and called the fire brigade to help find them.
As the fog from her brain cleared, she realised that the music was coming from outside. Close outside. Her front yard, to be exact. Caroline threw back the curtains and peered out. What the heck? Josh was standing in the middle of her tiny lawn with a stereo at his feet. He waved happily when he saw her, and then threw his arms wide. Before she could blink, he was belting out “Sweet Caroline.”
Caroline stepped back from the window in shock. She rubbed her eyes. If this was a dream, it was a blooming noisy one. She pulled the curtain back again. Nope. No dream. Josh was still there. Singing. Loudly. She pushed up the old sash window and leaned out. He was mid-song now, and lights were coming on along the street. Morag McKay
stood on her doorstep in pink terry robe and hairnet. You didn’t need Superman’s eyesight to know she had a scowl on her face.
Caroline pointed at Josh. “Stop that right now.”
He grinned. Caroline froze. That wasn’t a Josh grin. She stared at him in horror. It was Josh, but it wasn’t Josh. Her poor sleep-deprived brain couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing. He was wearing a suit, a black one with pristine white shirt and black shoelace tie. Caroline had only known him a week, but in that time she’d never seen him in anything but cartoon T-shirts. He kept singing.
“Be quiet. If this is your idea of apologising, it isn’t working. I’m still mad at you.”
He rocked back on his heels, did a little twirl and carried on singing.
Caroline slammed the window shut. Stormed through her bedroom and barrelled down the stairs, without stopping for a robe or shoes. She threw open her front door wearing only her pyjamas.
“Josh.” She stopped dead.
That wasn’t Josh. He looked a lot like him. He had the moves. He even sounded like him. But he wasn’t Josh. This guy was shorter, less muscled, and his features weren’t right. Close enough to mistake in the dark, but anyone who knew Josh would know this man wasn’t him. Whoever it was grinned widely at her, then winked. Caroline stepped back into the house, closed the door, locked it tight and called the police.
“This is a new one even for me,” Officer Donaldson told her. “Thought I saw everything during my time in London, but I never came across a woman with her own personal tribute band.”