My Secret Fantasies

“So now I have to talk you into buying the place?” He scraped a hand through his hair, frustrated.

Before she could answer, a scuffling noise sounded outside the closest window.

“Did you hear something?” Miranda asked, going still beside him.

He put his finger to his lips, listening for any other sounds. Tension threaded through him, pulled tight. Was that voices outside?

“Over there,” she mouthed, pointing to the window to his left.

He hadn’t pulled the blinds, since they were almost 20 acres from the main house and the center of the farm. But as he glanced in the direction she pointed, a bright light flashed against the glass. A shout sounded.

“Ohmigod.” Miranda clutched his arm and scrambled behind the desk. “Tabloid media.”

He’d been out of the Hollywood circus for so long he almost couldn’t compute that. Photographers? On a construction site in the middle of his property?

A quick succession of flashes followed and raised voices could be heard.

“She’s here!” someone shouted outside the glass, while Miranda clutched at Damien’s wrist and dragged him behind the desk.

“Miranda!” voices called, and a knock sounded on the office door. “Miranda!”

Her face went white as a sheet, and soon a flash went off at another window on the opposite side of the office, while the two of them sat amid still-warm blankets, the candelabra flickering on the table nearby. They were surrounded and under siege by reality TV fans.

Their time alone together had ended way too soon.

11

“HOW ARE WE going to get out of here?” I tried not to panic, but I hated that this crap had followed me so far from Los Angeles. Hated that Damien had to deal with it now.

I should have never bought into the whole “wait and see” approach. I should have bailed the moment I knew Violet Whiteman had broadcast the news of my whereabouts far and wide.

“I’ve got a plan.” Damien stood and went to the closest window. He lowered the wooden blinds and pulled the heavy taupe tapestry drapes closed, ignoring the flashes going off in his face.

He repeated the same deliberate action at three other windows, sealing us in privacy again. But it wasn’t the same being alone with him now that we could hear the hubbub of entertainment reporters and photographers just outside, looking for a quick buck. Damien blew out two of the candles, so only one burned in the candelabra.

Now we stared at one another in the dim light, the remains of our fun afternoon scattered all around us like the debris of a tornado. Empty teacups, wineglasses, luncheon plates... I wished we could go back to those moments after we’d touched each other on the couch.

“I’ll get Scotty over here.” Damien already had his cell phone out and his shirt back on. He tossed me my jeans. “He can distract the reporters. Threaten police action. We’ll have someone else—whoever is around the barns tonight—pull around back with my truck and make a break for it.”

Before I could comment on the plan one way or another, he was pacing around the office and barking orders into the cell. His expression seemed tense, dark brows drawn together and jaw flexing.

I’d done that to him. I’d stolen his peaceful haven—the retreat from the Hollywood world he’d put behind him—and brought trouble to his door.

“We’ll have reinforcements soon,” he told me as he disconnected the call and pocketed the phone. “And we’ve got a good exit strategy. Don’t worry.”

He put his arms out for me and I stepped into them before I could think about whether that was right or wrong. Just now I needed to feel his strength against me.

“Sounds like you’ve planned a few exit strategies before,” I mumbled into his shirt, planting a kiss above his heart, where I wish I belonged.

“My parents attracted big drama wherever they went, so if I didn’t want to be a part of it, I needed to be good at finding back doors, bathroom windows or exits through the kitchen.” He kissed the top of my head while the world seemed to fall apart outside in a muted roar of voices. I saw a big white flash under the door. Damien pointed to it. “They’re setting up their fill lighting to make sure they get a good shot when we come out. No shadows in the shot equals more money.”

“Why did you dislike that life so much?” I asked, seized with the need to discover more about him even though I knew our time together was coming to a close. I had to make tracks to keep reporters away from the farm, to ensure they didn’t mess up Damien’s careful plans for the future.