I thought I’d get away with locking myself in my large master suite and pretending the party wasn’t happening. Tyson must have anticipated my plan because he placed the DJ directly below my rooms. The floor buzzed and thumped, and I could hear the growing crowd cheering.
I ripped open my door and marched down the hallway, determined to find somewhere else to avoid the party entirely.
At the third locked door, I let loose a long line of obscenities. Tyson, always diligent, had gone through the mansion and locked most of the doors on the second floor in order to keep the party contained. My keys were in the old roll-top desk in the library, and I had no choice but to sneak downstairs to get them.
The party guests had not made it back as far as the library, and I happily closed the door behind me. They would be content for a few more hours with the paparazzi flashing pictures on the front steps, the wild performance artist engaging everyone in the main foyer, and the dining hall packed with everything tempting and delicious.
“You really outdid yourself this time, Ty,” I muttered out loud as I heard more cheers from the front of the mansion.
“I did. You should go enjoy it,” Tyson said.
I jumped a foot in the air and spun around. “Jesus! What are you doing in here?”
Tyson chuckled and held out my keys. “Looking for these?”
“All right, fine. You caught me. What do I need to do to get my keys and a little peace and quiet back?” I asked.
My manager tipped his head from side to side, contemplating the many things I could do for him. Then he grinned. “I’ll make you a deal. Play me that tune you’ve been humming, and I’ll give you back your keys and let you go be a humbug.”
“Tune?” I realized that subconsciously I had been working on the tune the woman in town had inspired. “No. It’s nothing.”
Tyson pocketed my keys. “Then why don’t we head to your bar and get this party started?”
I scowled as he threw open the library door. Tyson herded me down the wide hallway as if I might break and run. I considered it, I was in much better shape than my manager, and it would be funny to see him chugging up the stairs behind me, but just then a clump of party guests appeared.
I braced myself but not a single person recognized me. To test it out, I made my way into the ballroom with Tyson close on my heels. My pride stung a little, but it was nice to walk more than three steps without getting accosted. Fame had always been so uncomfortable to me. I was just starting to enjoy myself when I saw her.
The woman from town, the intent photographer, stood next to the ballroom fireplace. She scanned the crowd and then the tall French doors as if she, too, wanted to escape into the garden.
“Grab some champagne, will you?” I asked Tyson. “And two glasses.”
I took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t be any different once she recognized me. I had liked her shy smile when we met in the record store; there wasn’t any false flattery in it.
“Nice to see you again,” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Cora.” She smiled and brushed back her short, unruly hair.
“I thought it was Victoria,” Tyson said. He handed me one champagne flute but held the other out of suspicion.
She narrowed her eyes right back at Tyson. “Cora’s my nickname. Don’t you have a rock star to conjure up?”
I burst out laughing. She didn’t recognize me! For once, I had the chance to get to know someone before all my baggage buried the relationship, and it was happening in my own mansion.
Before Tyson could open his mouth and ruin it, I said, “My name’s Sean.”
‘Sean’ was code, meaning I wanted to be incognito. Tyson rolled his eyes and handed me the other champagne flute. He then poured two glasses, tucked the rest of the bottle under my arm, and disappeared back into the crowd with a muttered, “Good luck.”
Cora helped me by taking one of the champagne flutes. “That’s Storm Morris’ manager,” she said.
I chuckled. “Yeah, he and I have run into each other before.”
We clinked glasses and took long sips. The ballroom was packed with a motley group of guests. Some were locals come to view the mansion out of curiosity. Some were fans of mine that had, thank god, completely missed the fact that I had grown up and changed my look. Most were die-hard fans of my father’s who had made the pilgrimage out of fear it would be the last time. And the rest were a wild, lively bunch of new rockers that Tyson and the record label had rounded up to make the party happening.
“Want to find a quieter corner?” I asked Cora. She stood close to the wall and showed no interest at all in joining the dancers.
“Yes, please. I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” Cora said.
The DJ started another set to big cheers as I led Cora out of the ballroom and back down the hall toward the library. She stumbled, as most people did, when she realized the painting at the end of the hall was a real Cezanne.
“So, where’d you get your invite?” I asked Cora.
She shrugged, a little uncomfortable, as she studied the beautiful painting. “It’s a big party. To be honest, I didn’t think Storm Morris had this much pull anymore.”
“Yeah, me neither. Think we’ll see him tonight?” I swung open the library door and peered dramatically inside. “Nope. No aging one-hit wonder in here!”
Cora smiled. “To be fair, he was a really good guitar player.”
We toured the library, and it was fun to see all my father’s antiques and oddities appreciated by someone new. I poured her more champagne and wondered how to bring up her work at Caroline’s art studio. I still wanted to see the photographs that had put such a passionate light in her eyes.
Cora stopped at the base of the wrought-iron spiral staircase and pointed at a low door carved into the library’s wood-paneled wall. “Is that a secret passage?” she wondered.
“I bet it’s just a bathroom,” I said.
Cora discovered it was with a delighted laugh. “I hope Storm doesn’t mind but I really have to go.”
I took her champagne flute and told her to meet me by the library fireplace. Cora slipped into the hidden bathroom and shut the door just before Tyson appeared from behind the stacks.
“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.
“Just checking on you. She seems familiar, but I can’t place her.” Tyson scowled.
“Seriously, Ty? First, you want me to join the party and now you’re going to get all suspicious of my guests?”
My manager crossed his thick arms over his chest. “She doesn’t know she’s your guest. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
“I’d think it odd if more than eight people here recognized me,” I said. “Face it, old man, we’re history. That’s why it’s time to sell this place and turn to a new page.”
“And you’re going to start this new page as Sean?” Tyson asked.
It was my turn to scowl. “Just for a little while. I’m feeling things out. It’s been a while, you know.”
Tyson’s square jaw loosened into a sad sigh. He knew my last relationship had torn me up, and it had been almost two years since I had looked at a woman with sincere interest.
“Are we trespassing?” Cora asked when she reappeared.
“No,” Tyson sighed. “Any room that’s unlocked is open to guests. Just be careful.”
I answered Tyson’s pointed advice with a slap on his wide shoulder. “Thanks, man. Any chance we could get some more champagne?”
Tyson scowled. “No problem, Sean. I’ll send one of Storm’s servers in with a fresh bottle.”
It was ridiculous to keep up the façade, but I appreciated Tyson giving me a chance to get to know Cora on my own terms. Even he had to admit the real reason he had thrown the party was in the hopes that I would find someone who peaked my interest. Tyson was one of those fools who thought love could sort everything out, even my screwed-up life.
When he was gone, Cora gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “He’s a real mother hen, huh?”
I chuckled. “I’ll have to tell him later that you remind him of your strict mother.”
Cora burst out laughing. Actual tears formed in her dark blue eyes as she struggled to get her merriment under control. “Sorry, it’s just that… It’s just so funny what you said. My mother is so far from strict you wouldn’t believe.”
The champagne, the laughter, and the bright flickering light from the fireplace warmed Cora’s cheeks. I found myself chuckling along with her, caught in the sparkle of her eyes.
“All right, now you have to tell me all about your mother.” I gestured to the soft leather sofa in front of the fireplace, but Cora was too restless to sit down.
She shook her head as she strolled past more of my father’s curio cabinets. “It’s a shame I haven’t met Storm Morris yet. My mother would give even his crazy father a run for his money.”
I was dying to know more but I liked how Cora roamed my mansion, really noticing the little treasures and details my father had so carefully placed over the years. It made me almost like the place.
“Hey, want to see a real secret passage?” I asked.
Cora raised an eyebrow. “How do you know so much about the Morris Mansion?”
“Superfan,” I said.
Luckily, watching me select the book entitled Physical Transcendence and opening a narrow section of what appeared to be a solid wall was enough to distract Cora from her question. Small faux-candle wall sconces illuminated a winding staircase, and Cora started climbing with an adventurous grin.
It popped us out behind the large Jimmy Page portrait that dominated my music room wall. The champagne was taking full effect as we both stumbled through the secret passage and burst into the room with smothered laughter.
“Oh, wow,” Cora breathed.
“You a music fan?” I asked as I filled up her champagne flute.
Cora put a slim finger to her lips but nodded. “Shh, don’t tell anyone but I loved Ian Morris. Both Morris boys. There’s just something about a good guitar riff and those guys had ‘em.”
I gave her a minute to explore the room while I tried to figure out what was so attractive about her. Cora was obviously slim in her blue satin skirt and tight little sweater, but her understated curves were causing a strange kind of static in my head. The champagne had loosened her movements, and she was no longer the shrinking, reluctant party-goer I had first spotted in the ballroom. I watched her long, silky legs as she danced around my music room and felt a tug of desire.
“What’s that you’re humming?” Cora asked.
“What? Oh, nothing.” I went over and rattled the music room door. “Looks like we’re locked in. Better take the secret passage back down.”
Cora giggled and let me take her hand. Once in the close confines of the passage, I paused and pulled her a little closer. I heard her excited intake of breath and, despite the dim light, I was sure I saw a spark of desire in her dark blue eyes.
“Careful, Sean,” Cora said. She shimmied past me, purposefully pausing when our bodies were pressed tight and tipping her face up to smile at me. “You’re very attractive but I’m on a secret mission.”
I let her go in order to catch my breath, but Cora reached back and grabbed my hand again. Lust fired up my arm from where our skin met, and I happily let her pull me along.