the whole time. Well, maybe not the whole time. She’d been accepted by the ‘in’ crowd for about two weeks towards the end. But that hadn’t been real. That had been set up to lull her into a situation that wasn’t unlike the way ranchers corralled unsuspecting brumbies into hidden yards and then yelled ‘gotcha’. Only the kids at West Preston High hadn’t yelled gotcha because they’d been too busy laughing.
When she had returned to England her aunt had told her that the best revenge was to live well and Chloe had done that. She’d put the events of her past behind her and focused on her career. Focused on creating a steady, comfortable life for herself. And she’d succeeded. She was happy. Or she would be when she got this horrendous interview out of the way.
Suddenly an electric ripple ran down the line of waiting journalists. ‘He’s here,’ the journalist in front of her announced unnecessarily. Chloe glanced at him wryly. She’d already guessed they weren’t all a-twitter over the cleaning lady.
***
A fantasy she had constructed on the Tube journey came back to her. A fantasy about how she would walk into Liam Hunter’s room and he would be so bowled over by her new look and compelling sophistication that he would fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness and ask her to go out with him for real, only to have her frown down at him as if he was slime on a rock and say ‘whatever for?’ or some such put down of equal merit.
Of course she’d immediately discounted the idea. She did not want Liam Hunter to find her attractive. Now or ever. She was here because if she hadn’t shown up she’d be most likely sacked from the dream job she’d landed six month ago.
So why the short skirt and fitted blouse?
‘Don’t be nervous, love,’ the man in front said reassuringly, pulling her attention away from her skirt that was not short by today’s standards and her professional, not fitted, blouse. ‘I hear Liam Hunter is one of the good guys.’
So many responses to that statement played on the edges of Chloe’s lips but in the end she just smiled weakly. The Golden Boy’s reputation continued to soar and frankly she didn’t know how he did it.
The line inched ever closer and Chloe’s breakfast churned alarmingly in her stomach. Nerves. Dammit all.
‘Well, good luck,’ the man in front doffed his cap at her and Chloe fiddled with the strap of her shoulder bag as she realised she was next.
She should be thinking about her questions. Thinking about how she could shorten five minutes to two. Thinking about how she could show Liam Hunter how over that whole experience she was. Instead she stood in front of the glossy cream door separating the two of them and thought about the past. It was so clear in her mind she might as well have been standing outside the prom in the awful purple dress she had bought with the last of her savings and which had rubbed under her armpits. Once again she could feel the warmth of that summer night on her skin. Hear the cicadas as she walked into the dance hall where the covers band played loud and true. Worse, she could still see the sweetness of Liam Hunter’s smile and smell his wonderful male scent as he’d leaned forward and kissed her. Kissed her for the first time.
Chloe’s hands started to shake as the rest of the memories came crashing in. The excitement of turning up at his best friend’s house for the privileged after party for all the rich kids in town. The confused moment when she’d walked into the main room to find it lit by what seemed like a hundred candles. The soft music playing from an unseen stereo. And the large banner on the back wall. ‘Chloe Tyler, will you marry me?’ She still remembered with cringe-worthy clarity that moment of complete exhilaration that the boy she had fallen in love with loved her in return. It was only afterwards that she’d thought of the absurdity of the proposal. At the time she’d been buzzing from equal parts wine and happiness and she’d thrown her arms around Liam Hunter’s neck and declared her love for him for all to see.
That was when the main lights had come on and everyone had fallen about the room laughing. Oh, she remembered the laughing but even if she hadn’t the video had captured every stunningly awful moment. It had also captured the look on Liam Hunter’s face.
Pity.
He’d looked at her as if she was the most pitiful creature in the whole world. And after the video of her total humiliation they’d titled ‘a social experiment’ came out on YouTube everyone had agreed with him. Including Chloe.
God, the only thing missing from that horrible night had been the pig’s blood. It had been an out and out prank and she’d been the gullible fool who had – for one brief, thrilling moment – fallen for it.
At the time Liam had tried to blame his friends but Chloe didn’t believe him. One of the girls who felt sorry for her had told her the whole story and… dammit, she didn’t want to keep thinking about it. She wasn’t a frizzy-haired social misfit anymore. She’d grown up and she was a budding career woman in charge of her own destiny.
‘Next.’ A beautiful woman who looked like an LA supermodel but had whip-like authority in her voice that said she could lay you out cold with her little finger stood waiting impatiently in the open doorway.
A budding career woman who was about to throw up all over the plush Axminster carpet between them. Chloe couldn’t go in there. She just couldn’t. No way. No how. No–
Of course you can go in there, she admonished herself sharply, and you will.
Yes, good.
Chloe patted the sides of her head to make sure her sleek bun was still in place and smiled at Miss LA before raising her chin and sailing past her into the room.
A budding career woman who already had a reputation for being polished and professional under pressure and Liam Hunter was still the rich, spoilt – most gorgeous man she had ever seen.
Chloe’s heartbeat boomed like a drum inside her head as she stared at her nemesis slouched in a bucket chair. His long jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him and seemed to take up half the spacious room; his broad shoulders and wide chest took up the other half. A hot flush crept up Chloe’s neck and she fought to draw what little oxygen was in the room deep into her lungs.
Thankfully he wasn’t looking at her; his head bent over his mobile phone so that the caramel-coloured shoulder length hair that had made every woman swoon in the cinema the night before at the private press screening fell artfully forward, hiding his chiselled jaw. She wondered if Miss LA in the sleek black suit had tousled it into place just so for him.
Her eyes drifted to the enormous poster pinned to the wall between the two chairs. It was of Liam and Bethany Lord standing side by side in all their medieval glory. Bethany in her suit of armour and Liam with his black fur cape billowing out behind him and his shiny silver sword crossed over the opposite shoulder; a fierce scowl on his face that said he could conquer the world – with his bare hands if need be. The words ‘The Most Wanted Man’ were emblazoned across the bottom of the poster followed by his name. An unnecessary addition if ever there was one. Liam Hunter’s charisma and powerful presence made him that alone – his handsome face and lean muscular body just finished off the package. And the film, a moving epic about war and loyalty and love had been phenomenally good. As had Liam Hunter as the heroic star.
‘Liam, this is Candy Lane from Globe magazine.’ Miss LA’s voice pulled his head up, a genial smile already curving the edges of his lips in that sexy, confident manner she had grown to hate. Realising that her magazine had forgotten to inform his staff of the change
