widened Arthur’s hazel gaze. ‘I thought you had it all in hand, you always act as though you’ve got everything under control.’
She screwed up her nose. ‘When it comes to the land management stuff, I can do that standing on my head. I assumed sorting out the gardens would be easy, but it’s such a bloody mess and I’m terrified I’ll change the wrong thing and ruin it. There’s so much riding on it …’
‘Why the hell didn’t you say something? You’re not alone in this, Iggy, we succeed or fail together.’ Arthur’s admonishment stung all the more because it was the very same words she’d said to him not six months ago flying back in the other direction.
‘God, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ She was laughing as she said it, rubbing her chest to acknowledge the accuracy of his verbal strike.
His grin was unrepentant. ‘I did, rather.’ He grew serious. ‘Look, if you’re worried about the money, don’t be. When I felt overwhelmed with everything after Dad died, I found the only way to get through it was to finish a single task on the to-do list. Forget the big picture. Stop panicking about what you might or might not get wrong and tell me one thing right now that will make a real difference.’
He was probably expecting her to request a fancy piece of equipment, but there was really only one answer. Iggy might not have the vision to turn the gardens at Bluebell Castle from their current disaster zone to a visitor’s paradise, but someone did. ‘I need Will Talbot.’
‘You’re on the wrong side again,’ Melody Atkins hissed at Will Talbot as he reached down to help her out of the back of the white stretch limousine their talent agency had sent to collect them for yet another interminable evening out. Film premiere, nightclub opening, reality TV show party, after a while they all blurred into the same old bollocks. A scrum in front of the banks of paparazzi, warm alcohol and half-hearted attempts at conversation shouted over too-loud music. This was their third outing in four nights, and he’d lost track of what this evening’s event was supposed to be celebrating. He’d been told to wear a tuxedo tonight, so probably a film premiere. Once the lights went down, he might even manage to fall asleep during the movie and catch up on some rest.
‘Sorry.’ Trying to rein his temper, Will stepped to the other side of the door and offered Melody his left arm. Melody hated the scar on the right side of his face, and had visibly shuddered in the past when she’d felt the puckered skin brush against her own. It was why she always insisted she stand on his left, why she’d made him practise the correct angle to pose at when they faced the banks of cameras outside these events.
At the first click of a camera shutter, her scowl of impatience shifted to a beaming smile that displayed her laser-whitened teeth. The brace she’d worn to straighten some non-existent imperfection had been removed a few days ago, leaving her free to dazzle the press pack with her brand new smile. Knowing the effort it’d taken her to get into the limo in the skintight gold sheath dress, Will braced his feet and gave her a good pull so she could propel herself upright without bending her legs too much.
‘Hold on a minute.’ Melody turned into him, lifting a hand brushing away a non-existent speck of dust from the satin lapel of his black dinner jacket. A solicitous gesture, the kind any girlfriend might make. Taking his cue, Will bent to kiss her cheek, making sure his left cheek touched hers. A barrage of camera flashes exploded, and he held himself in position a few extra moments as he waited for the shadows across his eyes from exposure to the harsh white light to fade.
Melody beamed up at him as though he held all the answers to her prayers. She might have started out on a reality show, but there was no sign these days of the sweet, pretty girl who’d won the nation’s admiration and first prize in last season’s series of Bootcamp Babes. Her naturally wavy blonde hair had been dyed a dazzling platinum almost as white as her shiny new smile and there was not so much as a hint of curl in the sleek curtain it had been ironed flat into. ‘Ready?’ he whispered, and when she nodded, he hooked his hand around her waist and steered her towards the waiting cameras.
When she’d signed with the same talent agency as him six months ago, Will had been happy to accept his manager’s suggestion that he escort Melody to a couple of events until she found her feet. Having her on his arm had proved a welcome buffer against the scores of girls who tried to pick him up-not that Will was averse to the attentions of a pretty girl-especially after a couple had sold lurid stories to the papers about him.
Once they’d got chatting, Will had discovered for himself that the smart, funny person who’d been such a hit with the public was very much the real Melody. The outside might have changed, but that was all, and in a world where appearance was everything he couldn’t blame her for submitting to the stylists’ pressures to change up her look for something sexier.
In an effort to gain control of the narrative, they’d hatched a plan one night and decided to pose as a couple. Will could keep the trophy-hunters at bay, and at the same time offer some protection to Melody from the more persistent types who wanted a favour in return for promising to assist her career. They’d let their manager in on the secret, and he’d been over the moon with the plan. They got on well enough together-he just wished she didn’t make such a big deal about the scar on his cheek.
The camera flashes were starting to give him a headache. In a practised gesture, Will turned his face as though pressing a kiss to Melody’s temple. ‘Enough, yeah?’ he murmured, low enough for her ears only.
Leaning back a little more into him, Melody spoke through her unshifting grin with a skill that any ventriloquist would be proud of, ‘A few moments more.’
Will flexed his fingers on her hip but didn’t protest as he straightened up and resumed his supporting man pose. Melody had mentioned on the way there that she had a couple of auditions lined up, so he stood his ground and gave the cameras a moody glare. It was the kind of stuff they lapped up. According to the press, Melody was the girl next door who’d tamed Will’s wild lad-about-town ways.
It was true, to some extent, but not in the way the press imagined. When he’d first got a taste of fame it had gone to Will’s head somewhat, and the gossip columns had been full of pictures of him stumbling out of nightclubs. There was even one notorious shot of him snarling at a photographer who’d shoved a camera in his face and nearly blinded him. With his scar twisting his angry expression into something fierce and ugly, he’d looked like the archetypal thug they liked to infer he was. He’d been moaning about the press hassling him that night when he and Melody had hatched their plan.
‘Stop giving them what they want, then,’ she’d said, rolling her eyes at him as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘What I want is for them to leave me the hell alone,’ he’d muttered into his vodka and coke.
‘You’re in the limelight now, so that’s not going to happen. Not unless you become a hermit and stay home every night, and you can’t afford that when you’re building your brand.’
‘You make it sound like I’m selling myself, but I’m just out to have a good time.’
The pitying look she’d given him had fairly withered him on the spot. It shouldn’t be possible for a woman who barely reached his shoulder to look down on him, but she’d done a bloody good impression of it. ‘You’re an idiot, then.’ With a quick move she’d switched their glasses around. ‘Take a sip.’
When he did, he’d realised
