Page 5 of Star Rucked Lovers

“Thank you!” She hurried to the door, looking back over her shoulder to flash him another heart-stopping smile, and he stood with his hand over his heart for several moments. He had the curious sensation of waking up from a dream, as though she hadn’t quite been real.

The door opened again to reveal a different young woman standing there; the one who’d escorted him to Myst’s dressing room. Jessie, he thought her name was, and looking at her closely now, he wondered if she and Myst were related. Jessie had the same pale blue eyes, the same waifish build, though she was a couple of inches taller, and her dark hair was cut in an edgy pixie style with a bright blue stripe in the front.

Jessie folded her arms and stared at him, taking him in. George had the uneasy feeling that he was being weighed and measured, and quite possibly found wanting.

“She’s safe with me. I promise,” he said.

“Physically, I believe you.” Jessie nodded, still watching him intently. “Her heart? Not so sure. I’ve never seen her like this with anyone, and I’ve known her all her life.”

“Are you her sister?”

“Cousin.” Jessie’s smile was a brief thing, sharper and more cynical than Myst’s. “She’s three years younger. My earliest memories are of listening to her singing and playing the piano.”

“I’m glad she has someone to watch out for her who’s not just here for the money,” George said sincerely. “Who’s here because they love her.”

Jessie seemed to soften a little bit at his words. “I do love her, and trust me, if you break her heart I’lldestroyyou.”

“I’m not planning on it. I’m not a player; I really wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship, but when I saw her yesterday it was like someone flipped a switch. Ihadto meet her.”

“She said pretty much the same thing about you,” Jessie noted wryly. “Well, if we’re doing this thing, you’d better give me a phone number where I can contact you direct. That PA Zoe’s very nice, but we need to keep this as tightly held as possible if you don’t want the paps breathing down your neck.”

George recited his phone number and saved the one she gave him in return. He also offered up a private email address he used on a messaging app, strictly with close friends and family.

“Gotcha.” Jessie entered it into her phone. “I’ll pass that on to Myst, and I’ll be in touch once we get to London, figure out a time when she can meet with you.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

She looked up from her phone to meet his gaze, nodded crisply. “There’s a car waiting at the stage door for you, to take you back to your hotel. Don’t thank me, thank Zoe,” she added when he began to thank her again. “I’d take her into your confidence, if I were you, swear her to secrecy. You’ll need at least one person in your camp who can cover for you and she seems both competent and capable of maintaining confidentiality.”

“I’ll think about it,” George said. “She’s employed by the team management, rather than me, so if management asked her a question, I’m not sure if shewouldcover for me.”

“Hm. Maybe a team-mate you trust, then?” Jessie shrugged as though to say,your problem not mine.

“I’ll think about it,” George said again, but he knew she was right. He did need somebody on his side who’d back up his cover story, because otherwise the gossip network would kick in real fast, and there were actual journalists travelling with the team, staying in the same hotels. They were sports journalists, true, but some of them at least would have links with social and gossip correspondents, and the Australian team captain dating a pop princess was too juicy a tidbit to keep quiet.

He made it back to the team hotel with just a few minutes to spare before midnight, slipped into the lobby with a cheerful good evening from the assistant coach who was ticking off everyone as being present.

“Enjoy the concert, George?” the coach asked.

“Loved it. She was great, a real star performer. I’d love to go again sometime,” he said, hoping he was planting a seed when the coach smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, all the others have been saying they enjoyed it. G’night.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket as he reached his room; slipping it out, he smiled to see a message from Myst had popped up.

I’m sorry I didn’t have more time to spend with you tonight, I’d have loved to talk to you more.

Me too,George typed back.Tell me something.

Something?

Something about you not everybody knows. I’ll go first, if you like. I’m the youngest of five and the others are all girls. I have eleven nieces and nephews and I’m That Doting Uncle who does stupid stuff like buy them drum kits.

LOL! OK then. This is a deep, dark secret so you must never share it with anyone, but my real name is Joanna Jones.

I see why you took a stage name. Myst suits you better. Joanna Jones is ordinary and you’re anything but.

That means so much more coming from you than all the asskissers I had to deal with fawning over me tonight. Thank you.

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