Page 67 of One Bed

Bea couldn’t allow Parker Kane to be tainted by her association with Lou. ‘I still keep a really low profile, and I never tell anyone Lou is my mother,’ she said, hoping Gib would read between the lines and reassure her, again, that her secret was safe.

‘Navy and I won’t tell anyone, Bea. But you should. If she wasn’t a columnist, would you step out from behind your pen name?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I guess.’

‘Then you’re allowing her to affect your life, to have a say in your career.’

He didn’t get it. ‘But what if she does a review? Criticises my books?’ she demanded, sounding a little shrill.

Gib shrugged. ‘It’ll send a whole lot of people to your books, they’ll read them because they’ll want to know what the fuss is about and then they’ll realise she’s wrong. And you make bank.’

She’d never thought of it like that, but still wasn’t sure she could do it. ‘I don’t want anything to do with her,’ she stubbornly insisted. ‘Freezing her out works for me.’

‘I think you’ve built this up in your head, making more of it than it needs to be. The anticipation is always worse than the deed, Bea.’

No, she was pretty sure she knew what would happen. If it came out that Lou was Parker Kane’s mother, social media would explode. She’d be painted with the same brush as Lou and her career, and brand, would take an enormous hit. She was still convinced it was better to stay as far away from her mother as she possibly could

‘Could it be that you’re allowing your fear of being criticised to dictate your actions?’

Maybe. But it worked for her.

But did it really? She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. God, she was tired. She’d emotionally vomited all over Gib, and she now felt empty and exhausted. She just wanted to go back to bed, sleep, and not think.

Bea pulled in a deep breath and finished her water. ‘Cass said that Nadia is serving breakfast up at the villa if you’re hungry,’ she stated, deliberately changing the subject.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asked her, pushing a heavy strand of hair behind her ear and trailing his fingers down her jaw.

She shook her head. ‘I think I’m going to take an aspirin and go back to bed.’

He gently held her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘Don’t shut me out now, Bea.’

‘Why not, Gib? You do it to me all the time.’

Leaving him white faced and without a comeback, she stood up, walked back into the bedroom, threw back a couple of aspirins and climbed under the covers. Today could carry on without her.

* * *

Bea’s parting shot was a punch to his gut.

Gib looked at the closed bedroom door and scrubbed his hands over his face. She wasn’t wrong. She’d told him pretty much everything and he’d given her nothing, hadn’t trusted her with anything but the basics.

But how was he supposed to change a habit of a lifetime and start bleeding words and feelings? Keeping his own counsel was as innate to him as breathing. Even if he managed to find the courage to talk to her, he didn’t know if he wasphysicallyable to talk to her, if the words would come.

Gib stood up and walked onto the deck, wrapping his hands around the balustrade so tightly his hands turned white.

This wasn’t supposed to get so complicated, but he had to admit this thing between them wasn’t superficial. They’d tried hard to keep it light and fluffy, but somehow, when they weren’t paying attention, they’d slipped into something deeper, something –goddammit– meaningful.

He liked her, more than he’d liked a woman in a long, long time. Was that due to him being able to take the time, spending many hours with her instead of rushing through dinner dates as he usually did? Maybe the reason he’d caught feelings was because he was on vacation, and didn’t have the excuse to run off to work, or check a report and take a meeting.

Caught feelings…

It was such a trite phrase, but it was disturbingly accurate. He just wasn’t sure what they were and what the hell he was going to do with them and what they meant.

Finding out she was Parker Kane the other day had been a revelation, and he appreciated her talent. He’d read the first book, and was three quarters of the way through the second. He thought, mistakenly, that he’d skim through it, but he’d found himself lost in the story, thoroughly enjoying the depth of her characters, their banter and the pace.

If any of his business rivals heard he was reading a kids book on vacation he’d be booted out of boardrooms all over the world, but she was –and he wasn’t just saying this because he was fascinated by the woman –a damn good writer. If you could hook a jaded thirty-five-year-old and make him forget that the woman he was sleeping with was the books’ author, then she was something special.

It wasn’t a surprise that Navy wanted to act as her agent. It was a no-brainer.

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