Holiday with the Millionaire

A noise at the door startled her. She stood up swiftly and strode over to the door. A delivery guy handed her a thick envelope and asked her to sign for it. She did it without even thinking—she signed for parcels for Addison and Caleb all the time.

But this one was different. This one was addressed to her.

She tore open the envelope, tipped it up and a data stick fell into her hand.

What?

She peered inside the envelope again There was a small sticky note. She pulled it out. Watch me. That was all it said.

She frowned and walked back to her laptop. Her hand hesitated next to the port. What if this was one of those things with a funny virus—one that would read her bank accounts and empty them?

She gave a rueful smile. Good luck with that, then. She might have got there first.

She stuck the stick in and waited until a message appeared on the screen, asking her what to do next. It only took a few seconds to get it to play.

A video screen appeared in front of her.

She blinked. Reuben Tyler. No way. What in the world...?

He held up a few pieces of white card with black writing, one after the other.

Her hand covered her mouth. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was imitating one of the films they’d watched together.

The words appeared quickly.

You might have guessed...

I’m not too good at this stuff...

You might even say...

I’m the worst in the world.

Words don’t come easy to me...

And I’m afraid the ones that I do say...

Will be the wrong ones...

So I decided...

To get by...

With a little help from my friends.

She smiled at the song reference as he threw the last card away.

A few seconds later someone else sat down in front of the camera. It was a face she recognised instantly. Red Lennox, the baseball player Reuben represented.

He held one card in front of him.

What are we?

His trademark smile reached from side of his face to the other. It was clear he was highly amused by this. Her ears were flooded with his thick Texas accent.

‘What are we? It’s a good question—particularly for a man who is used to having all the answers. But it seems that he struggled with this one. So he asked for some help.’

Red held up a little piece of paper and held it front of him. He leaned towards the screen.

‘Lara Callaway, I can’t wait to meet you. It seems you’re the one that got away. The one that he made a big mistake with.’ His hands drew a wide circle in the air. ‘Massive.’ He winked at the camera. ‘But it seems you are always on my mind.’

Red frowned at the card and glanced back at the camera.

‘Should I be singing here?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. Anyway, it seems that Reuben wants to apologise, he wants to tell you that he knows exactly what you are.’

He leaned into the camera one more time and gave her a cheeky wink.

The camera picture faded out and in again. It was a different room. A different person sat down in the front of the camera.

Lara sucked in a breath. The tennis player Craig Robertson. He’d won Wimbledon twice. He was holding the white card too.

What are we?

Craig shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t believe the guy who helped me propose to my girlfriend has made such a mess of things for himself. But here I am anyway. Anything to help a friend.’

He gave a smile.

‘Love is a strange thing. I know. You don’t realise it until it hits you over the head—or, in my case, throws you into a strange pool in France.’

He held up his hands.

‘And then, when you do realise it’s love, you’re scared. Scared the other person won’t feel the same way, scared you’ll be out there on a limb. It can be hard to put it out there.’ He winked at the camera too. ‘But apparently some of us have a better gift of the blarney than others.’

Lara had stopped breathing. Love. These people were talking about love.

The tennis player tossed the card over his shoulder. ‘Anyway, the point is, Reuben Tyler knows exactly what you are.’

The screen faded again. Another one?

Oh, yes. The billionaire footballer with the looks that had sold everyone in the world a bottle of aftershave. Dylan Bates. He had a card too.

What are we?

She let out her breath in one huge gasp. How on earth had Reuben managed this?

Dylan smiled. He was known across the planet as one of the nicest guys ever.

‘It seems Reuben Tyler has just let the love of his life slip through his fingers because he couldn’t find the right words. It’s not that he didn’t know them—he did. He just couldn’t bring himself to say them. And now he feels like a total idiot.’

There was a huge twinkle in Dylan Bates’s eyes. He leaned forward.

‘I’ve waited a long time to see Reuben slayed by the love god, and it seems that it’s finally happened. Lara Callaway, come and stay with me and my family in Los Angeles.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘I can give you lots of stories from years ago that you’ll be able to use as blackmail material for years.’

He sat back.

‘In the meantime, give him a chance. Everyone deserves a chance. Particularly this guy.’ He held up his hands. ‘What are we? You can bet Reuben Tyler knows.’

The screen faded to black.

Lara looked over her shoulder. It was almost as if she expected him to be standing there. That was it. Nothing else.

She looked back at the screen. Surely he would appear next and say something—anything?

But, no, the screen remained blank. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

For some reason her feet carried her to the door. She had no idea what she expected. Maybe the delivery guy would still be there with some other kind of message?

She yanked the door open and went to step outside. But her foot stopped midway. The step was blocked.

By a familiar shape dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. Beside him was a huge cake box. His head turned at the noise of the door opening.

Every little hair on her body stood on end, prickling her skin. Her breath caught in her throat. She left the door open and thudded down on the step next to him.

This was the oddest apology she’d ever had.

‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hey,’ he replied. He gestured towards the box. ‘I brought you a present.’

She gave a little nod and lifted the lid on the box. It was biggest strawberry cassata cake she’d ever seen. She tried not to smile. There was a spoon right next to it. She picked it up and dug right into the middle of the cake, pretending not to notice his eyebrows rising, and lifted a huge spoonful into her mouth. It was the real thing. She could almost hear the noise of the Piazza del Miracoli around her. She swallowed and waited a few seconds. It would take more than a cake to win her round. ‘That was some video. Were you trying to tell me something?’

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘You’re not going to make this easy, are you?’

She gave a little smile. ‘I think I’m going to make it as hard as possible.’

He shook his head. ‘Call it like you see it. That’s why I love you, Lara Callaway.’

Now she really couldn’t speak.