Blackthorne: Heart of Fame, Book 8 (5 page)

“For Matt to come home?’ Caitlin cut him off. “How can I let his parents know we
were
over before he left without looking like a callous bitch?”

It was a ridiculous question of course. Caitlin knew that.

Seven months and twenty-nine days ago, her fiancé of six months, her boyfriend of two years had told her he was heading to Somalia to work with Doctors Without Borders. She hadn’t been surprised. Matt was born to be a doctor and he’d always put others above himself. Nor had she been surprised when he suggested they take a break while he was there.

She’d been the first to admit they’d grown apart since their wild, university-days romance when everything had been safe and real life hadn’t impacted them. Since graduating and absorbing themselves in their chosen professions, they’d become a walking cliché—two people who had fallen in love before reality could demonstrate they really never should have been together.

She’d agreed to the split, her heart aching even as she’d known it was the right move. When he’d asked if they could wait until he returned from his three months in Somalia before announcing it to their family and friends, she’d agreed to that as well. She did love him, dammit, and hadn’t wanted to make the horribly right decision more…horrible. After all, his parents would be heartbroken and she was in no rush to cause them that pain.

That pain—the pain of their son and his fiancée going their separate ways—was nothing, however, compared to the pain of learning he was possibly dead.

He hadn’t been seen or heard from since his Doctors Without Borders’ camp in Somalia had been raided by Al-Shabaab militants a week after he’d arrived. The chances of him being alive were, according to the representative of the Australian government assigned to Matt’s disappearance, slim.

Caitlin knew it was unlikely he was coming back. But
knowing
it was time to move on and actually
doing
so were two very different things, especially when everyone, from his parents and sister to the Australian Prime Minister still believed her to be his grieving fiancée.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell them she and Matt had ended it. Matt’s parents had clung to her for support at the news of his disappearance. And the Australian Federal Government…the government had elevated her to poster-child status, a shining, heartbroken example of the dedication and determination Australians had in the face of tragedy.

The only person Caitlin had confided in was her uncle, a man she loved and trusted damn near more than her own father. As much as she hated to admit it, she’d needed support for the emotional burden she’d placed upon herself.

“It’s time to think of
you
, kiddo,” Uncle L chided gently through the phone. Love filled his calm voice. Love and concern. It was an emotion she was familiar with, especially from her family and closest friends. She’d heard it for eight months now. “I’m not telling you to jump into bed with Josh—”

“Uncle L!”

“I’m just saying maybe going out for a drink with him might be what you need to do
to
start
thinking of
you
. If nothing else, cook him dinner one night. I did tell him how delicious your lasagna is, after all. Do you really think the rest of the country will care? Is it any of their business anyway?”

The lump in Caitlin’s throat grew thicker at the thought of uber-famous Josh Blackthorne in her apartment. She pictured him sitting at her small dining table, the one she’d bought at a garage sale, with its stick-figure fairies etched in the wood with pink pen by the previous owners’ artistic daughter.

She pictured him relaxing on her sofa after the meal, the first male in her home that wasn’t a family member, friend or tradesperson in eight months.

She pictured the smile Josh had given her, the one that didn’t look mastered by countless photo shoots. The one that looked natural, not the smile of a rock star known for his seductive flirtation, but a guy who was enjoying sharing a moment of joy.

She thought of the photo of Matt hanging on her wall, staring down at Josh. The one she hadn’t been able to put into storage with the rest of his belongings.

“I don’t…” she began, her stomach churning.

“Do you remember what you said to me a lifetime ago, kiddo?” her uncle asked. “When you were seventeen and I was messed up over my feelings for Chris? Do you remember? You told me to think with my mind, listen to my heart and be true to myself.”

A thick lump filled Caitlin’s throat. She remembered that night, those words of advice she’d given her uncle when he’d doubted if he and Chris had a future together.

“You also told me the worst thing a person could do is reject themselves in fear someone else will. Aren’t you doing that now? In a roundabout kind of way?”

Raising her head, she stared at the painting Matt had given to her months ago, a breaking-up present, as it was. “I was a precocious teenager, wasn’t I?”

Liev laughed. “Hell, yeah. And an intelligent one
and
a stubborn one, just like you are now—smart and stubborn. But it’s time to stop being stubborn and start being a realist.”

“I feel guilty, Uncle L,” she whispered.

“Guilty?”

Her stomach rolled. “When I find myself laughing, when I find myself forgetting him, forgetting what I’m meant to be to him…I feel guilty. And even though we weren’t still together, I hate myself for forgetting him.”

“Oh, kiddo.” Concern and sympathy cut her uncle’s words. “God, I wish I was there right now. I’d hug you silly.”

A wet chuckle slipped from Caitlin. Hot tears prickled the back of her eyes. She swiped at her nose, sniffling. “I think I’d take that hug, even if you are trying to set me up with a rock star.”

Liev returned her chuckle. “A nice-guy rock star. Do this for me, eh? The uncle you love and cherish and miss like crazy.” He paused. “
And
who used to collect you from night clubs and take you home when you were underage so your dad wouldn’t know what you were doing and ground you for months.”

Caitlin laughed again, a little stronger this time. “Way to ramp up the guilt, Uncle L.”

He sniggered. She had no difficulty seeing him do so, his blue eyes—so like her own—twinkling with mirth. She really did miss him. “This kind of guilt is healthy. Good for you in fact. Productive,” he said. “And I’m not opposed to using guilt on a family member when it’s for the right reason.”

“And me cooking dinner for Josh Blackthorne is one of those reasons?”

“No kiddo,” her uncle spoke, his voice steady. “You living again is the right reason.”

Caitlin closed her eyes. “I love you, Uncle L.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual. Now get off the bloody phone. I expect a full report within twenty-four hours, including how well Blackthorne kisses.”

Razing heat flooded Caitlin’s cheeks even as a smile pulled at her lips and an unsettling flutter filled her tummy. “You’re depraved.”

“Your dad’s been saying that for years, kiddo. Now go have some fun.”

And with that, her uncle ended the conversation.

Returning her phone to its cradle, Caitlin sat in her office and stared at the painting on the far wall. Silence surrounded her. Oppressive and suffocating. She grabbed the remote for her iPod dock and hit mute again. Bach emanated from the room’s speakers, a piano concerto that normally made her feel at peace.

She and Matt had met thanks to classical music. She’d been looking in the music department of Target for a Christmas present for her dad and Matt had been looking for something to listen to as he studied for his final med-school exams. They’d bumped shoulders as they both reached for the same CD on the store’s display rack. The almost clichéd collision had resulted in Caitlin dropping the chopping board she’d bought only a few minutes earlier for her mum, which had promptly landed on Matt’s flip-flop-shod foot.

He’d let out a yelp, she’d gushed out an apology, and an hour later they were sharing sushi and swapping life-stories. A fairytale HEA was in their future—the soon-to-be-doctor and the soon-to-be-business major had fallen in love at first sight.

She’d never listened to classical music before Matt had entered her life. Now she played it to remind herself of him, to remember the relationship they’d had, the one everyone
thought
they still had. The one a part of her wished they
still
had.

It was she had to admit, a guilty, messed-up situation.

So why was the sound of Bach filling her office making her feel so…so…irritated now?

She snatched up her iPod dock’s remote control and killed the music.

The faint sound of the music playing in her nightclub filled the silence. Rock music. Not hip-hop or dance music. Rock music.

She narrowed her eyes, listening to the almost inaudible bass throb. It was familiar.

It sounded like…

Her mobile phone burst into life on the desk. For some reason, her heart slammed into her throat. Picking up her phone, she frowned at the screen. She didn’t recognize the incoming call.

Beyond the wall of her office, the rock music continued, an alluring pulse beating in time with her heart. In her hand, her phone continued to ring.

She stabbed at the accept key, raised her mobile to her ear and yanked it away again at the deafening sound of rock music blaring through it. Good rock music. The latest chart topper by Synergy, in fact. Without the walls and sound-proofing to dampen it, she could make it out now. Synergy’s Number One hit, “Silken Ropes”. The
very
music her DJ was playing in the club.

An image of Josh Blackthorne filled her head, smirking at her, his grey eyes devilish. Her heartbeat quickened.

Returning her phone to her ear, she closed her eyes. “Hello,” she said with a loud voice, the sound of the carnally sensual song about a woman tying up her lover thrumming in her head. “This is Caitlin Reynolds. Who is this?”

“I just bought everyone in your club a drink,” Josh Blackthorne declared through the connection. “Except you, ’cause you’re not out here.”

“No, I’m not,” she answered. “And that was way too generous of you.”

“What?” he called, the thrumming music of his band and the seductive sound of his own singing in the background almost drowning him out. “I can’t hear you.”

“I’m not out there,” she said, louder this time. “And you shouldn’t have bought everyone a drink.”

“I can’t hear you,” he shouted into the phone. “The song the DJ is playing is too damn loud. Good though, don’t you think?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. Not at the ridiculously shouted tête-à-tête they were having, but at the laughter in Blackthorne’s voice. He was enjoying himself.

And so are you. You’re smiling.

The realization she was, in fact, smiling sent a tight lick of confusion and surprise through her. She caught her bottom lip and turned from the painting opposite her. “It’s not too bad,” she yelled back, her tummy fluttering.

“What?” he called. “I still can’t hear you. I tell you what, why don’t I come in there and we can talk without all the shouting. Or you can come out here to me and I’ll buy you that drink?”

Unable to stop herself, Caitlin laughed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

She could hear his chuckle over the carnal sound of Synergy in the background. “I’m a lot of other things as well. Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

Her tummy fluttered again. This time, however, the unsettled sensation was rivaled by the heavy pulse in her pussy.

Oh boy…

Gripping her phone tightly, she shook her head. “I think we’re both better where we are,” she answered, closing her eyes. “Enjoy your night here at the Chaos Room, Mr. Blackthorne.”

And before he could respond, before her uncle’s words of advice could whisper through her head again, she disconnected the call.

Slumping back in her chair, she stared at the painting opposite her. Studied it. Thought of what it stood for and who had given it to her. A few minutes later, heart fast, pulse pounding, she turned from the painting and switched on the CCTV screens showing her the floor of the club.

A second after that, she found what she was looking for. Josh Blackthorne.

She didn’t know
why
she was looking for him, but she was.

He leant on the main bar, his back to it, his elbows resting on its marble counter as he spoke to Zach who stood beside him. Her second-in-charge was laughing. Josh Blackthorne was grinning. Not his patented smirk, nor the relaxed smile she’d seen on his face here in her office, but a playful, boyish grin. She watched him take a sip of what looked like scotch. Watched him nod at a woman who came up and asked something of him. Zach straightened beside him, a menacing scowl falling over his features. Apparently, in the time she’d been in her office talking to her uncle, her second-in-charge had taken on the role of protective bodyguard to the rock star.

Hmm, she didn’t know how she felt about that.

The woman—a fan, going by the way she was squirming and giggling and constantly touching her cleavage—tried to give Josh a kiss. Zach stopped her with a hand. Josh shook his head, smiled at Zach and then gave the woman a wink and a quick kiss on the cheek. There was nothing dirty or condescending about it. Nothing conceited or arrogant. Caitlin couldn’t help but be impressed. If nothing else, the guy knew how to interact with his fans without causing them to be upset.

The fan giggled some more, held out a napkin to Josh—Cailtin could just make out some black numbers written on its surface—and then flittered back into the crowd. Josh smiled, said something to Zach who smiled in returned, and placed the napkin on the bar behind him. He didn’t crumple it up and throw it away, but neither did he put it in his pocket. Again, there was nothing malicious or sleazy about the guy’s actions or attitude.

Caitlin drew a slow breath, pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger and watched him.

Continued to watch him, noting the way he put people at ease when they approached him, noting Zach’s complete lack of suspicious hostility while talking to him—which was Zach’s normal MO when dealing with people he didn’t know well. She noted the way Josh spoke to her other staff, with a friendly smile and open warmth. She smiled when his friend—Rhys McDowell—grabbed him in a massive bear hug, hauling him off the floor and jiggling him up and down a few times. She let out her own soft chuckle as Josh laughed at McDowell’s enthusiastic embrace, his grin for the man filled with happy love. She watched him cast a curious inspection over the couple McDowell left with—a tall guy with dark hair and eyes and a willowy blonde in a micro-mini and ten-inch heels—protective concern on his face.