Celeste Hunter gripped the phone in her hand a little tighter and whispered the words she’d never thought she’d say into it.

‘What if I’m not good enough?’

On the other end of the line her agent, Richard, laughed. ‘I don’t believe it. Are you actually nervous?’

Celeste scowled, even though he obviously couldn’t see her. ‘Isn’t that a perfectly natural response to appearing on television for the first time?’

‘I didn’t think you had natural responses, darling.’ Richard sighed. She could just picture him shaking his head, his hand already hovering over his computer mouse as he moved on to more important things.

‘I am human, you realise.’

‘You’re basically a walking encyclopaedia. Or history textbook, I guess.’ She could hear his dismissive shrug. ‘You’re on a quiz show that is quite literally called the Christmas Cracker Cranium Quiz. I hardly think any of the questions are likely to stump you.’

‘You’re right.’ Celeste knew she was intelligent. She’d had an excellent education and had a phenomenal memory for detail. Those were the things that had taken her as far as she’d gone in her academic career so far. She was a great historian.

That wasn’t the part she was worried about.

‘You’re thinking about the new show,’ Richard guessed, correctly.

‘Possible new show,’ she corrected him. The TV show they’d pitched for was very much still at the discussions stage, and Celeste just knew that the production company would be watching her appearance on the quiz to decide if she really had what it took to front a history show by herself. ‘No counting chickens, remember?’

‘Where does that saying come from, anyway?’

‘Aesop,’ Celeste answered absently.

‘See! You know everything!’ Richard yelled gleefully. ‘Now stop worrying. I have to go deal with an actress with a secret lovechild with a politician. That’s real problems.’

Celeste laughed. ‘Good luck with that.’

‘And you break a leg on that show, you hear me?’ He paused, just for a second. ‘But not literally. You know that, right? It’s just a saying. Like the chickens.’

‘I know that.’ Poor Richard. He still hadn’t quite adjusted to having an academic for a client, rather than actresses and pop stars. She’d never been entirely sure what had made him take her on in the first place—she didn’t think he was, either. Curiosity, maybe. Or boredom.

Whatever, it seemed to be working out so far.

‘Seriously, Celeste. Go sit in the green room with your laptop, and work on that book of yours. Not the academic treatise on whatever it was. The fun one. The popular one.’

‘Two things I’ve never been in my life,’ Celeste joked, but even she could hear the edge to it.

‘That’s what you’re worrying about?’ Richard sighed again. He was a big guy, in his late fifties, with a bushy beard that was more salt than pepper. When he sighed, his whole body moved, like a sad-faced dog. Even though she couldn’t see him, just imagining it made Celeste feel a little better.

‘If Tim and Fiona from the production company watch this…what if they decide I’m not enough? That I don’t have…whatever it takes to be good at this.’ That elusive X factor, she supposed.

‘Have you ever not been good at something before?’ Richard asked.

‘Not really.’ Apart from making friends and not boring people. Her best friend, Rachel, was the solitary exception to the rule. Even her brother, Damon, who she was pretty sure at least loved her, found her dull, she was sure. And her parents…well. They were pleased by her academic successes, anyway. She hoped.

They certainly weren’t pleased by any of her media successes. Apparently, she was ‘dumbing down important research until all you have to say is derivative and reductive’.

‘Then have faith that you’ll be good at this, too. Theo Montgomery’s hosting, yeah? Follow his lead if you feel lost. He’s good at charming a room, whatever the papers are saying about him at the moment.’

Celeste pulled a face. She didn’t know what the papers were saying particularly, but she knew of Theo Montgomery. The sort of guy who got where he was because of his name, his face, and surface charm—but nothing underneath it. No substance.

Whereas she was nothing but substance.

Yeah, she really couldn’t see Theo Montgomery being her new role model, whatever Richard thought.

Sighing, Celeste looked down at the Christmas jumper the wardrobe department had forced her into—worlds away from her usual, safe black outfits. Maybe that was the trick—to pretend this wasn’t her here at all. She could be TV Celeste, instead of University Celeste.

Except she’d never really been very good at pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Perhaps it was time to learn. If she wanted that show…

And she did. She couldn’t explain why—especially not to her academic parents, who would be horrified she was contemplating something so…pedestrian. But she loved teaching history at the university, loved sharing her knowledge about her specialist area—women in classical literature and ancient history. And the idea of spreading that knowledge further, of getting people who might never have even thought about the subject before excited about those historical and mythical figures she loved, that excited her.

She just wasn’t sure that she was the right person to do it.

‘You’re right. I’ll go work on the book.’ Working—whether it was researching or writing or teaching—always calmed her down. She knew what she was doing there.

It was only outside that safe world where she had all the answers that she struggled.

‘Good. And, Celeste?’ Richard said. ‘Try to smile, yeah?’

Celeste scowled again, an automatic response to being asked to smile, honed after years of men telling her how much prettier she’d be if she did. And then she hung up, since her agent was clearly out of useful information.

She was just going to have to do this her own way. Starting with mentally preparing herself by focussing on something she knew she was good at. Writing her book.

And woe betide anyone who interrupted her.

*

Theo Montgomery was on a mission. Or a dare. A bet, perhaps. No, mission sounded better. More exciting, yes. But also more…official. As if it gave him a reason for being there, sneaking around the green room instead of hanging out in his private dressing room as he normally would for a show like this.

And there had been a lot of shows like this. Well, not exactly the same—the Christmas Cracker Cranium Quiz was definitely a one-off. But he’d presented a lot of special occasion quiz shows, or entertainment specials. Apparently his was the face the network liked to trot out for this kind of thing.

He wasn’t going to complain about that—especially right now. He knew that, after everything that had been published about him in the papers lately, he was lucky to still have the show. Even if it might be nice, every now and again, to be wanted for something other than his face, or his family name, Theo was under no illusions that the combination of both were what had got him where he was—TV darling, never short of work, or a date, or someone asking for his autograph.

Or where he’d been, before this mess of a break-up with Tania that was all anyone seemed to be talking about lately.

But overall, he had what he’d always wanted. What his family wanted for him, after a fashion. And he wasn’t so bloody ungrateful as to complain about it now. Not when he had a lot of viewers to bring back on side, too. Viewers who’d listened to Tania’s side of the story and jumped to the wrong conclusions.

The break-up had been amicable enough, Theo had thought. They hadn’t even been together all that long. But the British press had loved the whole alliterative relationship, Tania and Theo, the reality TV star and the presenter, so they’d earned a lot of column inches.

And Tania had been a lot happier to tell her side of the break-up—with embellishments—than he had.

His agent, Cerys, had made it clear they were on a mission to salvage his career now. It was hard to be the nation’s sweetheart when the same nation was tutting at him and saying ‘that poor girl’ behind his back.

Or, as Cerys put it, ‘They want to be wooed, Theo. Charm them back onto your side again. Remind them why they love you.’

So Theo would smile, and be charming, and ask the questions and laugh at the poor jokes attempted by the semi-famous contestants, and hint at the answers when they got stuck because it was Christmas, and nobody really took this sort of quiz seriously, right?

And talking of the contestants, that brought him right back to his current mission.

Because this was supposed to be a ‘cranium quiz,’ something a little harder than the usual Who was Christmas number one in 1989?—‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’ of course—the producers had also trotted out a higher intellectual calibre of celebrity guests.

There was the astrophysicist who did all the shows about the solar system, the kids’ presenter who made Shakespeare accessible for primary school children, the morning TV doctor who treated the nation’s bunions and STDs, the mathematician from that other quiz show, the guitarist from that band who also had a PhD in psychology and, last of all, the rising-star historian, an academic who was starting to make a name for herself, bringing the ancient world to life in guest slots on radio show interview and history podcasts.

Everyone except the historian he’d met on things like this before, or at some party or another after an awards ceremony. He’d actually been clubbing with the kids’ TV presenter, David, while the guy was still in Shakespearean dress. And he and the mathematician, Lucy, had even had a bit of a thing, for a few nights, a couple of years ago.

No, his mission didn’t involve any of them. It was centred firmly on the historian.

Celeste Hunter.

Before the show started, he was going to find her, introduce himself, maybe even charm her a little. Because he was pretty sure that Celeste Hunter was someone he was going to want to get to know.

He might not have met her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of her. He’d heard her speaking on plenty of podcasts and radio shows over the last few months, in that way that often happened in the media. Rumour had it she was lined up for her own series, soon. Once a person got a little bit of attention from one show, suddenly they were everywhere.

Like him.

And in this case, Theo thought it was a good thing. Celeste Hunter was interesting. Engaging, even, when talking about subjects that mattered to her—like ancient history.

But she wasn’t just a specialist, he knew. He’d heard her talk about periods of history throughout the ages. She was a brilliant addition to today’s quiz, and he was a genius for suggesting her to the producers. They’d joke about history, riff off some of the questions, and she’d make him look really good again for the cameras. Because, although no one would guess from his public profile, Theo liked history. He even knew a bit about it—although nowhere near as much as Celeste. He was interested though and engaged—and, knowing there was a fair smattering of historical questions in the stack for Celeste, he was most excited about that part of the show.

Theo eased his way into the green room, past an assistant carrying a tray of coffees, and smiled at the various inhabitants. There was so much festive filming going on in the building today that all the contestants had been shoved together in one of the green rooms, after hair and make-up. Luckily they all seemed in good enough spirits about it.

He greeted all the celebrities he knew, exchanging quick pleasantries and jokes, and even a hug with Lucy the mathematician.

‘It’s so great that you could all be here for this today,’ he said, filling the words with his trademark enthusiasm. ‘I really think this is going to be a “cracker” of a show.’

There were good-humoured groans at that, and he flashed them all a smile before turning to find the one person in the room he didn’t know already.

She was sitting at the other end of the green room, as far away from everyone else as it was possible to get. He’d only ever heard her on the radio, but Theo had to admit his first look at Celeste Hunter didn’t quite match up to his imagination.

She’d sounded so self-assured, so confident on the radio, he’d assumed she’d be older—older than him, at least. But the slender, serious woman tapping away on her laptop in the corner looked younger than him, if anything. Her dark hair was artfully waved around her face, something he assumed Sandra in Hair and Make-up was responsible for, given the way Celeste kept pushing it out of her eyes in irritation. She was wearing black jeans and heeled boots, her ankles crossed in front of her as she stretched out her long legs, the laptop resting on her knees. The jeans were paired with a sparkly festive jumper that he thought might actually light up, given the dimmed bulbs dotted around the Christmas tree design. It was so at odds with her serious, concentrated face, it made him smile as he approached, moving into her space and waiting for her to notice him there.

It took about a minute longer than it usually would.

Finally, Celeste Hunter tapped a last key on her laptop, looked up at him, and scowled. ‘Can I help you?’ She didn’t sound as if she wanted to help him. Maybe he shouldn’t have interrupted her work.

‘Hi there! I’m Theo Montgomery, the host of today’s show.’ He gave her his most charming smile, and hoped for the best.

‘Yes.’ Her gaze flicked back to her computer screen, then up to him again.

Right. ‘Since you’re the only contestant today I haven’t met before, I thought I’d come and introduce myself.’ Like a normal, friendly person.

This usually worked a lot better than this.

She stared at him. ‘Okay. Do you need me to introduce myself too?’

She sounded reluctant. Theo took a seat beside her anyway. ‘You’re Celeste Hunter. I liked your piece on the Roman Empire in Britain on the radio last week.’

That earned him a surprised look, but a scowl soon settled back across her face, as she looked back at her screen. ‘Apparently it was derivative and reductive.’

He didn’t contradict her, even though he hadn’t thought that at all. His opinion wouldn’t matter to her, he guessed, and even on five minutes’ acquaintance he was sure she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him so. He had enough experience of being told that his job was meaningless or didn’t qualify him to talk on any subject except charming people. He suspected Celeste would say the same about him, and he couldn’t imagine that tonight’s quiz was going to change that.

Shame. This was one guest he’d actually been looking forward to meeting, had lobbied to have included because he’d assumed she’d be as fascinating and engaging in real life as she was when presenting on the radio. He’d hoped he’d be able to talk to her about his own interest in history, his own studies and hopes to move more into that sphere.

Apparently not. This was why people should never meet their heroes.

Theo got to his feet, fairly sure Celeste wouldn’t notice or care if he just left now. Still, the good manners his mother had ingrained in him long before his agent had insisted on them meant that he couldn’t just walk away. So he smiled, and said, ‘Well, I’d better go and get ready—we’ll be starting filming soon. I’ll see you out there. Break a leg!’

Celeste winced at his words, then nodded at him in acknowledgment, before beginning to type again.

Right, then. Clearly not a people person—which was a shame, since apparently charming people was the only thing Theo was qualified to do. Celeste Hunter was uncharmable, though, it seemed.

Which was fine. After all, once they got through filming tonight’s show, he’d never have to see her again anyway.

Whistling to himself, Theo waved goodbye to the other guests and headed back to his dressing room to perform his traditional pre-show routine.

This was going to be a great show, a great night, and Celeste Hunter wasn’t going to ruin that for him.

*

Where the hell are Damon and Rachel?

Celeste paced the corridor outside the green room, waiting for her brother and best friend to finally show up. She’d tried working on her manuscript to distract her from her growing nerves and her mother’s voice in her head, telling her that this show was an insult to her PhD, but then Theo Montgomery had interrupted her with that charming TV-star smile, and reminded her all over again that this sort of show was not what she’d studied all these years to do.

God, her parents were going to be so disappointed when they found out about this. A TV series of her own, she might have just about been able to swing. Well, probably not, but she could dream… The Christmas Cracker Cranium Quiz? No. She’d tried mentioning it before, in rather vague terms, but the look on her mother’s face had stopped her even considering going into details.

Normal parents would be excited for her. Proud, even. But then Jacob and Diana Hunter had never pretended to be normal. Never wanted to be, either.

Which was why she needed Damon and Rachel to just get here. They were normal people. They’d remind her that, actually, this was fun and festive and a boost to her career. The chance to show that production company that she had what it took to front her own show. It was the kind of opportunity most people would be hugely grateful for, even if she had no idea who at the network had dredged her name out of the halls of academia to take part.

She had a feeling it wouldn’t happen again, not after that moment in the green room.

She’d been rude to Theo Montgomery. She hadn’t meant to be, exactly. She just didn’t deal with interruptions well. And since she’d already been freaking out a little bit about the company she was keeping in there—people her parents would probably recognise, and they didn’t even own a television—well, she’d sort of just reacted, without thinking about it. Damon had been trying to break her of that habit for most of his life, but it never seemed to take.

She should probably apologise. Later.

First, she needed to get through the filming.

Celeste had never done anything like this before. Radio, sure, where she just had to answer a few questions she definitely knew the answers to—that was why they asked her to come on the show, because she knew about it. They were always pre-recorded, and usually she had an idea of the questions the presenter was going to ask before she even showed up, so she could prepare.

She liked being prepared.

But this…as she’d looked around the green room it had been obvious that this was a general knowledge quiz, ranging from science and maths to literature and arts, and hopefully history somewhere in between. She would be expected to know things outside her area of expertise.

The exact opposite of what she’d been training for her whole life.

‘You have to specialise, Celeste,’ her parents had been telling her, ever since she was in her teens. ‘If you don’t know exactly what matters to you, then you won’t matter at all. Generalists never get anywhere. You need to find a niche, squat in it, and defend it with your life.’

Her parents were academics. She’d wanted to be an academic. Of course, she’d listened to them.

Her brother, Damon, meanwhile, had rebelled, gone completely the opposite way, and become the quintessential Jack of all trades. While she had settled into her niche—women in the ancient world—and only dabbled in other areas of historical research as a bit of a hobby.

A well-rounded view of world history was generally encouraged in the Hunter household. A well-rounded view of anything else was generally not.

And appearing on a Christmas quiz show that reduced human knowledge to questions about Christmas number ones was definitely frowned upon.

She’d swotted up on a lot of festive history, ready for the occasion, though. Just in case.

‘We’ll be starting soon, Ms Hunter,’ a production assistant told her as she hurried past.

Celeste’s heartbeat jumped, and she fumbled for her phone in her pocket. She needed to remember to switch it off. Or leave it in the green room, probably.

But first… She hit autodial for her last number and tapped her foot impatiently as it rang and rang.

‘Where are you?’ Celeste asked, as soon as her best friend, Rachel, answered. ‘We’re starting filming any minute!’

‘We’re here, we’re here,’ Rachel replied soothingly. But Celeste could hear a car door opening, which suggested they weren’t, actually, inside the building or anything. ‘We’ll be there any second now, I promise.’

‘Okay. Hurry!’ She hung up. Hopefully that was Rachel getting out of the car, rather than into it, or they’d never make it. And Celeste wasn’t at all sure she could do this without them. Actually, she wasn’t sure she could do it with them there, either, but the odds seemed slightly better, so she was going with it.

Three endless minutes later, Damon and Rachel tumbled through the doors into the lobby, and Celeste’s whole body seemed to sway with relief. Only for a moment, though, because really they were very late.

‘What took you so long?’ she asked, grabbing Rachel’s arm and pulling her into step with her. ‘Let me guess, Damon was flirting with your stepsisters?’ She should have predicted that. Allowed time for it. Historically, adding extra time to any schedule to compensate for Damon flirting was never a bad idea.

‘Actually, it was my fault. I had to fix a window display before we left.’ Rachel sounded apologetic, and Celeste felt briefly guilty for being so cross. She was sure that Rachel’s stepmother would have been the one nagging her to fix it. For reasons Celeste only kind of understood, Rachel was reluctant to break the fragile peace that existed in her family, so of course she’d have risked being late to make her stepmother happy.

She still reckoned that Damon would have been flirting with Rachel’s stepsisters in the meantime.

‘Are you ready?’ Damon asked, all charm and confidence and totally at ease with himself, as usual. How her little brother had got all the charm in the family, Celeste wasn’t sure, but it did seem rather unfair. He always joked that it was because she got all the brains, but his highly successful business argued otherwise.

‘Not really,’ she admitted.

But it was too late. It was showtime, and there was already a production assistant hurrying down the corridor towards them ready to usher Celeste onto the set, while Damon and Rachel slipped into the audience.

‘Break a leg,’ Rachel whispered to her as they headed for their seats.

‘Hopefully not,’ Celeste muttered to herself. But she felt better for knowing that Damon and Rachel were out there, anyway.

This would be fine.

 

• Text Copyright © 2020 by Sophie Pembroke
• Cover Art Copyright © 2020 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
• Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A. Cover art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited. All rights reserved.