One Fine Day

One Fine Day

TERESA F. MORGAN

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollinsPublishers

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

Copyright © Teresa F. Morgan 2015

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Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover design by HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd

Teresa F. Morgan asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

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and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Ebook Edition © December 2014 ISBN: 9780007550555

Version 2014-12-17

One Fine Day is dedicated to my mum – who needs another book to read.

I would like to say a big thank you to Liz Wood, June Bastable and Jacquie Franks for their tremendous writery-support.

And to all my friends and readers who enjoyed my first book, Plus One is a Lucky Number, and have given me encouragement and praise; I really hope you like this one even more.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Also by Teresa F. Morgan…

Teresa F. Morgan

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Prologue

August

Steve Mason grinned and waved, stepping out of the air-conditioned limousine, the evening summer heat engulfing him. Then he gallantly held out his hand to help Erica Kealey out of the car with grace. She emerged looking stunning, wearing a sparkly, silver sequined evening gown which accentuated her slim figure – too slim, Steve had sometimes worried – and the press went berserk; snapping cameras and shouting questions. Even in her four-inch heel Jimmy Choos she was still slightly shorter than him. They walked the red carpet laid out in front of the five star Hollywood hotel, and he kept one hand on the small of Erica’s back, protective and loving. They briefly posed for photographs, but Erica felt tense in his embrace. They faced a barrage of paparazzi questions.

“Have you set a date?”

“When will the engagement be announced?”

“Have you thought about a location for the wedding?”

They didn’t stop to answer tonight; they were questions Steve couldn’t even answer, yet. He kept on smiling and walking with Erica who was in a rush. She’d hardly said a word to him in the limo, and now in front of the press her smile appeared strained. Only he could see it though, she was a brilliant actress. But Steve knew.

A slight niggle in his subconscious told him Erica was behaving oddly. She appeared ever gracious, knowing the paparazzi were eager to snap celebrity couples, but something was bothering her. Rumours could spread fast if the paparazzi detected any friction. He checked his tuxedo pocket; the ring box was safe. He wanted to quash any rumours. He wanted the world to know the love he felt for this woman.

Entering the hotel, he relaxed, the cooler air refreshing him, and they followed the throng towards the ballroom. The glitzy, Hollywood birthday party – a black-tie affair – was for their director in Perfection, Jimmy Petersen. The big man had big movies behind him and practically every A-Lister in Hollywood was attending. Steve was almost used to walking among them, but still had to pinch himself occasionally – he’d earned the right to be with the stars. Erica fitted with this crowd naturally as her father, Robert Kealey was a well-known actor and director so she’d been born into stardom,

As they entered the busy ballroom, Steve grabbed two champagne flutes from the nearest waiter. He turned to find Erica had wandered off, and he weaved through the guests, nodding and saying hello to familiar faces as he caught up with her.

“Erica, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Steve said, frowning as he handed her a glass. Her bad mood was rubbing off on him and he hated the distant feeling between them. Erica smiled weakly, looking troubled, staring into her champagne flute. Steve stroked her arm tenderly with the back of his finger. “Are you all right?”

“I have something on my mind.” She shrugged and sipped her drink. “That’s all.”

“You look like you need cheering up,” he said more happily, feeling excited suddenly. “I didn’t want to mention it in the limo, I wanted to surprise you.” With his right hand, he fished out the ring box from his pocket, and flicked it open to show her the large solitaire diamond set in platinum. “I picked up the ring. Thought we’d make it official. We could do it tonight—”

“No!” Erica hissed, shielding the box from view of others. “Put it away.”

Steve frowned, quickly snapping the lid shut and pocketing the box, all of his enthusiasm draining. “I thought with the press outside, we could use it to our advantage.”

She mumbled something but Steve didn’t quite hear. Or did he? His stomach churned and his mouth became dry. He swallowed some champagne, but a lump had already formed in his throat. “What did you say?” She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Erica, is everything okay?”

She took a deep breath, and spoke fast, “I’m sorry, Steve. But I can’t marry you. It’s over.” She dumped the half-full champagne flute on a table and headed for the exit. Steve stood mouth open, all the air whooshed out of his lungs as his world imploding. What had just happened? He glanced around; guests stared at him, whispering, pointing. Then mentally shaking himself back to reality – how long had he stood there, dumbfounded? – he hurried after Erica.

Her elegant shoes clicked along the polished walnut floor in the corridor, the party in full swing behind them.

“Wait, Erica!” Steve said, discarding his empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Can’t we even talk about this?” He grabbed her arm to stop her, turning him to face her. “We can fix this. I love you.” He reached to stroke her face.

“I don’t love you!” she snapped, pushing his hand away. Steve froze, shocked at her words. Her eyes glistened and her lips trembled before she spoke more calmly, “I’m sorry, Steve, it’s not what I want. I’ll get my PA to come pick up my belongings from yours tomorrow.” She’d never properly moved in, they’d each kept their own homes. She owned a property in Beverly Hills, and tomorrow, her assistant would remove all traces of Erica’s existence from his life out of his rented luxury apartment. He remained silent, unable to think straight. What words could he say to make this better? This couldn’t be happening. An hour ago he’d been blissfully happy, now his life had been shattered like broken glass. Thousands of tiny shards inside his chest.

She started walking again.

“What do you want?” he said, pacing beside her. “I thought I was everything to you. That’s what you told me.”

“That was then. Things have changed.”

“Tell me what I have to do to convince you, and I’ll do it, Erica.” Steve combed a hand through his hair, hating that he sounded desperate, but he was. “I love you. Only you.” Everything about her was beautiful. Her auburn hair fell onto her shoulders, framing her perfectly made-up face. Erica stopped and frowned. They were in a quiet corridor, with a door leading out to the back of the hotel. A doorman waited outside as if on guard.

Erica looked around, then at Steve, hesitant. “These past few months have been hard,” she said, lowering her voice. “You’ve been filming Nothing Happened. I’ve been half way across the world filming too. We’ve drifted apart, Steve.”

“We can make this work, I know we can,” Steve said, reaching to touch her hand, but she shifted her weight so he couldn’t.

“Steve, our schedules won’t gel.” Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone from her purse and made a quick call. “Yes, I’m round the back.” She hung up, but remained clutching her phone as she focussed on Steve again – he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “One of us would have to sacrifice our work. I’m not prepared to do that, and you’re not either.”

“How do you know? I’d give it up for you.”

“I don’t want you to give it up for me. You’re on the verge of being the hottest new star in Hollywood. You should be happy.”

“I am but I want to be happier – with you.” He couldn’t believe he’d never hold this woman again, never kiss or make love to her. The thought made him miserable. He couldn’t imagine life without Erica Kealey. How did he make her see they were perfect together?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I never meant to hurt you.” Then, hesitantly, she gently kissed him on the cheek. The doorman pulled open the door, and Erica confidently sashayed out the back of the hotel to her awaiting limo. There were a few opportunist photographers, held back by some security. Like strobe lighting effects, camera flashes followed her. Steve watched her elegantly step into the limo, disappearing into its blackness. Tomorrow the whole world would know Erica Kealey had dumped Hollywood heart-throb Steve Mason.

As the limo drove off, the pressure building in Steve’s chest rose to his throat and his eyes stung. The last time he’d cried was at his mother’s funeral, and even then, he’d hidden his grief from prying eyes. In the privacy of his apartment, he could allow his emotions to show, but not here. He needed to return to the party.

How was he supposed to appear happy, when the woman he had planned to spend the rest of his life with had just walked out of it?

Chapter 1

Sunday 6th October

Steve stretched and yawned. He was only half way through his eleven-hour flight to London. At least, travelling first class, he could sleep for some of it, but he never truly allowed himself to fall into a deep sleep. He had to keep his wits about him, especially as he’d left his bodyguards behind. The stewardess had come along and put a blanket over him and constantly checked he was comfortable.

Of course she would do, he was Steve Mason, after all.

Like all stewardesses, she wore perfect make-up and precision styled hair. She looked pretty, but he did wonder what she’d look like with the cosmetics removed. Yet it made the flight pleasant. He wasn’t going to complain when a pretty girl gave him attention. She had to be around her mid-twenties. Some of the flight attendants were older, but this particular stewardess was his, it seemed. All the other travellers could whistle; she only had eyes for him.

When he couldn’t snooze he put his nose in a book or watched the in-flight movies. His latest movie, Perfection was available but he skipped that one. How vain would it look to be watching your own movie?

However, a glimpse of Erica would have been nice.

He couldn’t believe how much he still missed her.

“Are you ready for some breakfast, Mr Mason?” the stewardess said, in her beautifully British accent, which was from somewhere around the London area.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, sounding very American. He adjusted his chair with the ever-helpful stewardess assisting. He checked her name badge. “Thank you, Suzie,” he said, giving her his best smile. He had been fortunately blessed with straight teeth.

“So is this trip for business or pleasure?” Suzie placed a breakfast tray in front of him. She was flirting, he knew that, the way she looked at him out the corner of her eye, the smile in her voice. He was used to women flirting with him, he preferred it to them reacting oddly, acting either incredibly shy, or throwing themselves at him, claiming they loved him and wanted to have his babies.

At least she hadn’t done that yet.

He used to get plenty of attention from the ladies before he was famous – now it was a given. He was up there with Robert Pattinson, having women’s underwear thrown at him.

“I’m going to see my sister.”

“You have a sister in London?”

“Not quite in London, no.” Maybe it was best not to give Ruby’s location away, he didn’t need the press chasing after him. The idea was to lay low for a bit. “But not far.”

“Well, I hope you brought your winter jacket, we’re having a cold October.”

“Yeah, I’ve packed my sweaters.” He winked, and she coyly smiled.

Suzie attended to another passenger – who had been huffing loudly at all the attention Steve had been getting – then returned with a coffee pot. Steve had started eating his breakfast, welcoming the food. For some reason, although he found others complained a lot about it – especially the celebrities – he really liked in-flight food. But then he’d been brought up never to be fussy – and to clear his plate.

“Coffee, sir?”

“Please, need something to wake me up.”

“You know, I’m sorry you and Erica Kealey didn’t work out. I thought you made a beautiful couple,” Suzie said, pouring him a cup of coffee. Steve’s expression must have shown surprise. He closed his mouth and blinked. “Oh, I am sorry.” Even with her heavy make-up Suzie couldn’t hide her blushing – he watched her neck flush pink.

He laughed and waved it off. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting someone to comment, that’s all. The whole affair wasn’t too pretty.”

And he wasn’t quite over Erica. He still missed her – loving her, and being loved back. He’d hoped she’d be the one. She’d left a huge void in his life.

“I’m sure you won’t be on your own for long.” Suzie said, not quite meeting his gaze.

His stewardess was persistent, he’d give her that. But he didn’t mind, she was actually talking to him like he was a human being and not a god. She was prying, but then, they were all nosy when it came to fame and fortune. Suzie, albeit flirty and unprofessional, was still pleasant to talk to.

“No,” he said, laughing it off. “If I was, wouldn’t you know? The press know our secrets before we do.” He raised his eyebrows knowingly as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, you celebrities have a way of hiding things, you never know what to believe in the press. I don’t read the papers myself.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t. Most of it isn’t true.”

“Or it’s blown out of proportion,” she said.

“Yes, that’s true.” He sighed. “Basically, I need a vacation. Preferably without the press hounding me.”

He never thought he’d say this but he needed time out of LA. He needed time away from Hollywood and the limelight. His popularity had erupted suddenly and he still hadn’t adjusted. Hopefully, in the UK he might fade into the background a little, if he kept a low profile. Even his agent had suggested him taking a couple of weeks off, seeing the fallout from Erica’s betrayal.

He’d just finished filming his next movie, Nothing Happened, which was due out next summer, plus all the other stuff that went with a movie release. He’d still had to do the rounds for Perfection; TV chat shows, magazine interviews, radio shows. His schedule had been hectic over the last few months, and he wanted to remove himself from it, slow things down.

Steve had locked up his Hollywood apartment, handed the keys to his personal assistant Marie, and told her he was taking a vacation. While he sneaked out of LA, his PA arranged for a guy who’d doubled for him on Perfection to spend a couple of weeks sunbathing in the Caribbean at an exclusive resort with a private beach, in the hope of fooling the tabloids. Steve had some time before he started shooting his next movie, so this was a good time to get away and catch up with Ruby.

He’d last seen her at their mother’s funeral, and that had been fleeting. Although the paparazzi wouldn’t gatecrash the wake, he’d had to return to LA, back to filming, so he hadn’t stayed as long as he’d have liked. Ruby felt like a stranger to him.

For a moment sadness and regret filled him. His mother. He’d hardly seen her in the last fifteen years, intent on making it big in Hollywood, plus flights home weren’t cheap when he hadn’t been making money. And then it had been too late, cancer took her in her prime.

He clenched his fists, reliving his anger. He should have been told sooner. He would have come home.

Thankfully, Suzie left him to eat his breakfast in peace, remembering that there were other first class passengers to attend to – especially the huffy old dear a row behind him – letting him dwell. The flight wasn’t busy – there weren’t many people flying in first class. He hadn’t made a fuss, wanting to retain a low profile, and it had worked. The cabin crew had been very surprised when the actual Steve Mason had boarded their plane.

After the breakfast trays had been cleared away, Steve must have dozed off, because he was gently woken by Suzie checking his seatbelt was fastened, and telling him they were approaching Heathrow.

About to disembark, Steve slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and felt a piece of paper in there. He didn’t remember having anything in his pocket. He took it out and read it: a note from Suzie, apologising for being unprofessional but providing him with her number, ‘in case he was staying anywhere near Richmond and needed company.’

He turned, winked, which made her blush and giggle, then walked off the plane.

Nothing personal, but he wouldn’t be calling Suzie, although he couldn’t just throw away her number, so he left the note in his pocket for now. He’d discard it later, discreetly. However much he would like to find love again, he knew Suzie wouldn’t be the one. She was in love – well, lust – with the star, the glamour, the money; not the real Steve Mason.

In pursuit of his luggage which he’d put through fast track, Steve tried Ruby’s work number. She was manager at a small hotel in the posh end of Bristol, as she’d put it.

“Good afternoon, Durdham Lodge, you’re speaking to Lydia. How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi, could you put me through to Ruby Fisher, please?”

“I’ll try her number for you. Who’s calling please?”

“I’d rather not say, I want it to be a surprise.” Steve wondered if he should have waited until he was out of the airport, the noise and bustling of people was making it hard to concentrate. He held his hand over his other ear. He’d wanted to call before boarding his plane, but with the time difference and everything, the need to just get out of LA, (he was the prime example that men couldn’t multi-task) – it had been the middle of the night in England – he had decided to leave it until landing.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I do need a name to transfer you. It’s company policy. What is the call regarding?” What did Ruby do that ensured her calls needed to be vetted? Even his own PA, Marie wasn’t this tough on private callers.

“I wanted to surprise her. Lydia, it is Lydia, yes?”

“Yes.” She had a soft voice. She sounded young, and he imagined her to be pretty…as pretty as Suzie, but telephone voices could be deceiving. Probably about fifty, married and looked like a dragon, knowing Steve’s luck. He’d have to ask Ruby about Lydia.

“My name’s Steve, and I’m family. We’ve not seen each other in a while; I’d like to surprise her, even if it is on the phone,” Steve said, trying to convey his smile down the line. “Can you trust me on this one? I’ll owe you big time.” A loud tannoy sounded over the arrivals lounge.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. There’s a lot of noise in the background,” Lydia said.

“Sorry, I’m at the airport. I’ve just landed.”

“Oh, okay.” Steve had to hand it to Lydia, he understood why she was doing her job properly. He’d often relied on a good receptionist’s vigilance to keep the prying paparazzi from finding out he was staying in a hotel. “So you’re definitely not trying to sell something?” She giggled. It was infectious. If only she knew who she was really speaking to, would she be so at ease?

Steve chuckled. “I promise, hand on my heart, I’m not trying to sell her anything.”

“Okay, I’ll try her line for you.” There was silence, then Lydia came back on the line. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s not in her office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, no, I’ll try again later.” Steve grabbed his case as it finally passed him.

“She’ll be leaving around six tonight. Try her at home after then, maybe?”

“Yes, I’ll do that, thanks for your help. Oh and please don’t mention that I called. Like I said, I want to surprise her.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Lydia said, then, more hesitantly, “Will we get to meet you?”

“Um, I’m not sure yet. That’ll be up to Ruby. But if we do, I owe you a drink. Thanks for your help, Lydia. It’s been nice talking to you.” Even though disappointment lingered in his thoughts, his spirits had been lifted with his brief conversation with Lydia. She hadn’t known who he was, so had reacted to him normally. If only life could be that simple, maybe he could find a girlfriend.