Jay Barwell looked out into the stadium, squinting against the lights to try and make out even the front row of the audience. He was losing them. He could tell that much, even if he couldn’t see them.

All those adoring fans who’d trailed around after him whenever he was out in LA or London or Dallas with Milli. Those loyal followers who’d been listening to Dept 135’s music practically since he and his brother Harry formed the band. The casual listeners who heard them on the radio and found themselves humming along, who’d come to a gig to see if they were as good live.

He was losing all of them.

The band could feel it too, he knew. Harry’s guitar riffs sounded tense, somehow, and Nico’s beat on the drums wasn’t as crisp as it should be. Even Benji’s bass guitar was just off, somehow. And Jay knew it was all his fault. He was off his game, had been ever since Milli walked out on him.

He needed to pull it together. He needed to put on a show—one worthy of the ticket price these people had paid to see them play.

Jay just wished he knew how.

He was too far inside his own head, that was the problem. Too caught up in his own failings to be good at anything. Maybe Harry had been right, maybe going out on such a long tour so soon after the break-up was a bad idea. But Jay had been sure it was what he needed—a distraction from the rest of his life falling apart. From the discovery that all the things he’d thought he had were fake all along.

The song wound to a close, going out with a whimper rather than a bang. There was applause, of course, but it felt more polite than genuine.

Jay turned to the side of the stage and saw Daisy Mulligan, their support act, watching with a frown, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was young, new on the circuit, technically still star struck by them all—and yet even she could obviously tell something was off tonight.

If it had been one bad gig, Jay might have written it off—every band had an off night now and then, right? But this whole tour seemed to be one bad gig after another, and he just didn’t know how to fix it.

At least the next item on the set list was a duet. He and the guys had met Daisy at a festival in Copenhagen a couple of years before, where she’d ended up onstage with them singing one of their bigger hits, ‘With You’, adding harmonies and a whole new level of meaning to the simple love song. When she’d agreed to come on tour with them as their support act, Jay had suggested they add the duet into the set list. Which was just as well, since night after night it seemed to be the only song that got a genuine response from the crowd.

Picking up her trademark mandolin, Daisy crossed the stage to join him.

‘You okay?’ she murmured as they took their positions, her words masked by the cheers from the auditorium. They’d already heard Daisy play once tonight and, unlike Dept 135, Jay had to admit that the young singer-songwriter was having a stellar tour. At least the label would be pleased about that much, he supposed. As long as she could continue to keep her notorious firecracker temper in check.

‘Fine.’ He shook his head. ‘Let’s do this.’

The difference was obvious the moment the music started. With Daisy onstage beside him, he could focus on her rather than the crowd. He felt the chords vibrate through him, the high counterpoint Daisy played on her mandolin cutting through their more usual riffs.

She caught his eye as they both took a breath, ready for the first words, and for the first time since they’d last sung together the night before, Jay felt centred. Ready. As if he was where he needed to be.

These days, he seemed to be living for these few minutes when he managed to lose himself in the music again, in a way that had been eluding him ever since Milli left. Since he’d realised that what he’d thought was true love was actually all just another performance.

The crowd could obviously feel it too; a hush fell over them as Jay and Daisy sang, the harmonies rising and soaring above their heads. Jay felt the tension start to leave his shoulders. Hopefully they could finish this gig on a high, if he could keep this energy going into their finale number, next.

Maybe he wasn’t completely washed up at thirty.

He’d leaned in closer as they sang, he realised, and so had Daisy. There was so much emotion in the words, in the music, that it felt natural. They were singing a love song, after all.

She smiled up at him, her eyes dancing, and he realised—not exactly for the first time—that she was gorgeous. Big green eyes under dark hair, her petite form meaning she barely came up to his shoulder.

Perhaps it was that revelation, or perhaps just the relief that the crowd were back on side, that this song at least sounded good. Whatever the reason, as the last notes faded away Jay wrapped an arm around Daisy’s waist and held her close, while the crowd cheered in a way they hadn’t since he’d stepped onto the stage.

He leant closer, meaning to murmur his thanks to her. But then he got caught in those eyes, in the cheers, in the atmosphere. And before he even knew what he was doing, Jay pressed his mouth to Daisy’s—the brief kiss sending the audience into ecstatic cheers, and his body into the sort of reaction he hadn’t felt in months.

It was only as he pulled away and watched the dazed look fade from Daisy’s eyes, instantly replaced with a more familiar flashing anger, that he realised how much trouble he was going to be in when he got offstage.

*

The sound of the crowd still rang in Daisy’s ears as she stepped off the stage two nights later—and into her own personal hell.

‘Daisy! That was a great gig. You must be so pleased. Do you think you and Jay will celebrate together later? Will you join him back onstage for an encore? Off the record, can you confirm anything about your relationship?’

No. Because there is no relationship.

She could tell the damn reporter that, but Daisy knew from experience she wouldn’t believe her. And why would she, after that bloody kiss Jay had planted on her after their duet in Philadelphia, two days ago?

He’d apologised afterwards, of course, muttering something about trying to put on a show for the crowd—and Kevin, their manager, had been thrilled. Photos of the kiss had been all over the Internet in a matter of hours, and sales for the remaining nights of their tour had seen a sudden surge with all the speculation about their supposed relationship.

The truth, it seemed, didn’t matter so much in situations like this. Another thing to learn about being an almost celebrity.

Daisy knew it was all just an act. But knowing that didn’t stop the buzz of connection that had hummed through her like a melody when Jay had kissed her…

The reporter was still waiting for an answer. Daisy yanked her thoughts back to reality and belatedly found some words for her.

‘Yeah, it went well. Great crowd out there tonight.’

That much, at least, was true. Unlike all the rumours about her and Jay.

There were more questions—there were always more questions, and too many reporters asking them. Daisy had never imagined anybody being quite so interested in her life offstage. Hell, she’d never imagined them being that interested in her music onstage. But ever since that festival in Copenhagen, life had generally been beyond her wildest expectations and dreams.

Copenhagen had given her more than her career though. It’d given her friends too. Not just Jay, and the rest of his band—Dept 135—but also it was where she had met her two best friends in the world. Two women she’d spent mere hours with in person, on that one day at the festival when they’d helped an old lady, Viv, and her dog, and ended up hanging out the rest of the night.

They might not have seen each other since that day in Denmark, but they’d stayed in touch. In fact, Jessica and Aubrey had been a lifeline for Daisy in the months that followed, as her whole world turned upside down when fame came calling.

They’d had their own issues too. Aubrey had been seriously ill, although finally seemed on the mend, and ready to take on life on her own terms again. Jessica, meanwhile, had just been offered an exciting job opportunity in New York.

While Daisy had everything she’d ever dreamt of. She was performing nightly on a world tour, singing her own songs, playing her own instruments, supporting one of the biggest bands in the world. And if you believed the media, she was also involved in a wild romance with Jay Barwell, voted world’s sexiest man three years running.

Of course, that part was total fiction, one that had been doing the rounds even before the infamous kiss. Daisy happened to know that Jay was still totally hung up on his ex-girlfriend—American popstress Milli Masters. She suspected that was the real reason he’d kissed her—to show Milli he was over her, even if he wasn’t. Daisy could understand that, and could live with the rumours to a point—after all, she owed Jay a lot.

Just not enough to have to deal with the paparazzi quizzing her about her sex life every night after a gig.

Forcing herself to smile, she pushed through the crowd—stopping to sign a few autographs for fans at the edge of the throng—ignoring more shouted questions about her imaginary love life.

‘Daisy! Is it true Jay took you to Paris for your birthday?’

‘Do you think he’s going to propose soon?’

Oh, how disappointed they’d all be if they knew that Daisy had spent her birthday alone in her hotel room, apart from a video call with Aubrey and Jessica during which they sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to her. She hadn’t even told Jay or the guys that it was her birthday. It was a rare night off in the tour schedule, after a day of travelling to the next location, and all she’d wanted to do was sleep. That was all she ever seemed to have the energy to do between gigs, these days. The glamour of the celebrity lifestyle had definitely been exaggerated in her case.

As for proposing. Ha! Even if they were dating, Daisy knew that wouldn’t happen.

She wasn’t the settling-down type. Staying in one place too long had never been her scene. In fact, she’d spent the first sixteen years of her life fighting to get out of the place she’d been born and brought up. There was too much world to see, too much life to live, to settle down and stay with just one person.

Her home was on the road, her people were the musicians she met there and her true friends scattered across the world—Aubrey in Australia and Jessica in Canada, or New York, now. The only things she held sacred were her guitar, her mandolin, and her own voice.

What else did she need, really? Except perhaps a decent night’s sleep somewhere that wasn’t a bus, and the space to clear her head for a few minutes without someone asking her something or calling her name.

‘Daisy Louise Mulligan?’

Somehow, through the clamour of the crowd, the music still raging through the speakers around the stadium, and the questions she was trying to ignore, Daisy heard her full name—spoken softly, but insistently.

Frowning, she turned to try and figure out who’d spoken it. Her eye fell upon a nondescript man in a grey suit. Not a pushy paparazzi for sure, and definitely not one of her typical fans.

‘Yes?’

‘If you could come with me, please, I have some important legal information to share with you.’

Daisy shrank back. Oh, she didn’t like the sound of that. In her life ‘legal information’ usually meant a lot of trouble. Except she was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything even vaguely illegal since she left home at sixteen.

Maybe she was being sued. That was the sort of thing that happened once you started to get famous, right? Jay had definitely been sued before—although the case was thrown out of court because of course he hadn’t done anything wrong. Jay was a sweetheart. That was why the whole world loved him so much.

Of course, the rest of the world didn’t have to see him moping around about Milli bloody Masters, or deal with his grumpy moods since they split up six months ago. That probably helped.

But back to the problem at hand.

‘Am I being sued?’ she asked.

The man in the suit gave her a faint smile and shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite, Miss Mulligan. In fact, I have some very good news for you.’

Daisy drew back a little more. Somehow, the idea of good news made her even more nervous. She was used to bad news, to disaster, to problems. And she figured she’d already used up all the good luck she was entitled to in her whole life by getting the gig as the opening act for Jay and the band.

Whatever this news was, Daisy was certain there’d be a catch. Good things didn’t just happen to people. Daisy knew that there was always a price to pay somewhere. If her childhood had taught her anything it was that she had to work for anything good that came her way—she couldn’t just rely on hope and the kindness of strangers.

‘If you could just come with me?’ The man held out his arm for Daisy to take.

Her eyes widened even further, and she took a step back.

He dropped his arm, seeming to get her measure. ‘There’s a coffee shop, just across the way. Brightly lit, plenty of people. If you will join me there, I’ll be able to fill you in on all the details of your inheritance.’

Daisy looked across the road and saw the coffee shop he’d mentioned. It looked safe. And not full of reporters asking her questions.

Then her brain caught up with his other words.

‘My inheritance?’ She didn’t have anybody who owned anything to leave her, as far as she knew. Her own family had barely had enough money to buy food for the many kids crammed into their council house. ‘Someone left me something? Who?’

But the man in the suit didn’t answer the question she asked. Instead, he answered a different one.

‘Yes. You’ve been left a house—well, a cottage. A villa, perhaps? In Italy. Now, if you’ll come with me…’

She followed him in a daze. A cottage? Why would anybody leave her a cottage, in Italy of all places? A cottage sounded like…well, like a home. And she hadn’t had one of those since she’d run away from Liverpool at sixteen with her mother’s old mandolin and a change of clothes, and barely looked back.

This had to be a mistake. She’d go with the guy, figure out what confusion had sent him here, to her, and then she’d get back to her regularly scheduled life. Her manic, overloaded, exhausting life, full of fake news about her romantic status.

Great.

*

Another day, another lousy gig. The duet with Daisy had been the only bright point, yet again—although he’d managed to keep his lips off her for the last couple of nights, so even that hadn’t gone down as well as it had in Philadelphia.

Jay handed his precious guitar to the stagehand, waved wearily at the rest the band—ignoring a concerned look from his brother, Harry—and headed for the stage door. He should go back to the dressing room, he knew. Get changed, freshen up, hang with the band, listen to their manager, Kevin, tell them what a great job they did tonight. But to be honest? He couldn’t face it.

Daisy had come back out for an encore with them, at the end of their set, which he hoped meant she’d forgiven him for the kiss—but might just mean she was trying to save him from himself. She was good, Jay had to admit. From the first time he’d seen her play in Copenhagen, two years ago now, he’d known her talent was something rare and special. It was a point of professional pride that he had brought her on board, although it helped that her music and style, while complementing theirs, was different enough from Dept 135’s offerings that they were never in direct competition.

She got on well enough with the rest of the band too—and Jay knew from previous experience that wasn’t always the case with supporting acts. Overall, it had been a good decision to ask her to open for them on this tour. But Jay had a feeling it was starting to get to her.

The touring lifestyle wasn’t for everybody. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it was for him, and he’d been doing it for the better part of a decade now. But it was what you had to do to make it in the music industry these days. And Daisy was great onstage, always had been. The problems only started offstage.

Jay knew that in his current state of mind, he probably wasn’t the best choice to be lecturing anybody about positive attitude, or the benefits of not snapping at the management—especially since it was his lips that had increased the pressure on her from the paparazzi. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that, as her mentor of sorts, it was his place to have a word with her before she really hacked someone off. Even Harry, the most even-tempered guy Jay knew, had raised his eyebrows when Daisy had stormed off straight after sound check, leaving her precious mandolin behind for someone else to store safely until the gig that night.

When they’d first met, Daisy had hugged that mandolin like a safety blanket. Jay couldn’t help but think that this afternoon’s mini strop signalled worse things to come, and it was his job as band frontman, and Daisy’s sort-of mentor, to try and nip that in the bud.

Leaving the others to head back to the dressing room for a well-deserved drink and pat on the back from the management, Jay followed Daisy’s retreating figure out through the stage door instead. She had a head start on him, but he could just about see her mop of dark hair bobbing through the crowd of journos and fans. She stopped to sign some autographs, which was a good sign. When she stopped making time for the people who listened to her music, then she’d be in real trouble.

‘Jay!’ Pamela Pearson, one of Jay’s least favourite music journalists—if he could call someone who only ever reported on the personal lives of musicians, rather than the music they made, that—elbowed her way to the front of the crowd at the stage door to grab his arm. ‘It’s so good to see you again! And looking so happy, too. Are we to assume that’s since you brought Daisy on tour with you this time…?’

She didn’t actually wink, but she might as well have done.

Last year, when they’d toured, Daisy hadn’t been enough of a name to join them as an opening act, and they’d already had a commitment with another band for the slot, anyway. But ever since Jay had introduced Daisy to their manager, dragging Kevin to see her play in some dive bar in London, after he recognised her name from that festival in Copenhagen, their musical stars had been somewhat linked.

Phoenix Records, their label, had a great reputation for nurturing new talent, and part of that was pairing new artists with established stars to help them through the growing pains that every musician went through, trying to adapt from playing music for themselves and twenty people in a pub to making music for millions. Jay had been an obvious choice to mentor Daisy, so they’d stayed in touch through the year.

Then, it had been low-key enough that no one outside the band or the label had even noticed. Well, apart from Milli, but Jay wasn’t thinking about her. Ever again.

Although, it had been his break-up with Milli that had made him so adamant he wanted to get back out on the road, and quickly. He’d assured Kevin and the label that they’d be able to work on the new album while touring, which everyone had to know was a lie, but they’d let him get away with it anyway. Perhaps they knew as well as he did that staying at home, noticing all the places Milli wasn’t, wouldn’t help him at all.

Heartbreak was supposed to be good for inspiration, but so far Jay hadn’t found any music in his misery. At least, nothing that was repeatable to the world at large.

Bringing Daisy on tour had suddenly brought her to the notice of music journos—and gossip reporters—everywhere. And given that Jay was her main friend, supporter and mentor on this tour, people had begun jumping to the usual boring and predictable conclusions. Helped out by that accidental kiss in Philadelphia.

They were wrong, of course, but it did serve as a nice distraction from the endless articles about how he was moping over Milli, while she was off holidaying with some billionaire businessman in the Maldives.

Not that he read those articles. Much.

Mostly because Harry confiscated them.

‘Pamela, I’m always happy after a great gig like tonight.’ He flashed the reporter a blinding smile, just one more person in the industry he was obligated to charm. ‘And having Daisy on tour with us is just an added bonus. She’s fantastic fun, onstage and off.’

Dammit. Jay regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth and cursed himself doubly when he saw the shark-like grin that spread across Pamela’s face. She was going to take that as further confirmation of their relationship and run with it, Jay knew. And since the Daisy being fun offstage part was currently a total lie, he knew he’d pay for it once it reached her ears.

‘I must say, as a friend, it’s just so lovely to see you happy again, Jay.’ Pamela laid a hand on his arm, and he resisted the urge to shake it off. They weren’t friends, they were barely acquaintances. But that wouldn’t stop Pamela butting into his private life. ‘Might we keep hoping for an official announcement soon? Maybe even a shot of Daisy flashing some extra-special jewellery?’

In for a penny, in for a pound, as his gran always used to say. If Pamela was going to write about him and Daisy anyway, it might as well be a story that would show Milli he really had moved on from her and her betrayal. One that didn’t talk about how tired he looked, how downhearted, how he’d lost his way and his music was suffering. He was so sick of those articles.

‘Never give up hope, Pamela. That’s what I always say.’ And with a wink, Jay headed out into the crowd to find his wayward support act, hoping she wouldn’t actually injure him when she discovered he was fuelling the rumours about their romantic lives.

 

 

 

• 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.