Ten Years Later

JT stood on the dock and watched his home disappear. He was due to return to his private island just off the shore of Silver Cove, Maine, in less than a month, but he hated seeing the place shrink in his view. When his heart kicked up with the first signs of anxiety, he turned away to watch the horizon he was heading to instead.

The longest he’d been away from his home, or from Maine for that matter, was last year when he’d been in LA for the casting calls. Who would have thought that his first mystery book, Crescent Creek, would be turned into a movie? Not him. He’d started writing out of boredom, not to make money. The fact that he had barely been able to pay his rent hadn’t been a factor. His loft, which sat over the only bookstore in town, was hellish, but he’d enjoyed being out on his own.

He’d moved out two days before graduating from high school, since anything had been better than living under the same roof as his old man.

Even after his younger sister had been murdered and his father had hit the road, he’d stuck to living under his own roof. Lori’s death had been a shock to everyone in his family, but it had hit Kayla and their mother the hardest.

Even though Lori had been only three years younger than JT, he had never really been close to her. Kayla was six years younger, but he’d felt a stronger connection with her.

After his old man had left the family, his mother had retreated into madness and begun hoarding, all while pushing her children as far away as possible.

Kayla had finished school and then hightailed it to New York to try and make something out of herself. Three years ago, she’d moved to Florida and had a son, Connor. Now she was back in Silver Cove. They were helping their mother clear out the cluttered life she’d retreated to after Lori’s death.

He supposed losing touch with his sister was his fault. He’d gone his own way and had never really looked back.

Since the night of Lori’s murder, his mind had retreated into darkness. He’d channeled his fears and his demons into his books.

While he’d started writing out of boredom, he’d continued because of the release he got when he wrote. There was something therapeutic about finishing a book.

For once in his life, he felt like he had finished something. Something he could call his own. Something that no one else could take from him.

When the boat docked, he shifted his bag over his shoulder and headed towards the shiny limo that was waiting to take him to the airport.

The production company had insisted on arranging all his travel, and he was probably in for first-class seats, something he knew he’d hate.

He preferred driving his ferry and the run-down motorcycle that he stored in a garage on the mainland. He didn’t like the fuss.

Since he’d published his first novel, everyone in the small town of Silver Cove had treated him differently. He was famous now, and he had tried to steer clear of the mainland as much as he could.

With his first big paycheck, he’d purchased the old Johnson place. With almost five acres on his own private island, he could come and go as he liked without dealing with all that craziness.

It had taken him almost two years to rebuild the dilapidated buildings. He’d written another book, then another. It seemed like he’d blinked and suddenly he had over a dozen best sellers. People called him all hours of the day to arrange interviews.

For the first year, he’d played their games, allowing himself to be shuttled around the country, answering the same questions over and over while bright lights shined in his face.

But after he’d made enough money to feel secure, he cut back on the travel, then stopped altogether.

The papers called him a recluse and tried to crack his outer shell. He’d ignored them all.

He’d hired one of the local kids to deliver groceries and basics necessities to him, and he’d locked himself away to write. When he got bored, he drove the ferry from the mainland to East Haven Resort. The kind of people he shuttled out to the ritzy retreat wouldn’t bat an eye at who he was.

When the limo parked at the airport, he opened the door before the driver could rush around.

“Thanks,” he said under his breath as he tossed his bag over his shoulder.

“They’ll check your luggage…” the driver started to say, but JT shook his head.

“I’m good.” He headed in to start the process of going through security.

He had always traveled light. He knew there would be parties in LA, but figured he could get whatever he needed in town. All he carried in his bag was his laptop, shaving gear, and clothes. That’s all he ever needed on these kinds of trips.

Of course, this visit to LA would be a lot different than last year’s. Last time, he’d had to sit through more auditions than he could remember.

He’d gotten to handpick the actors who would play the leads in his movie. He’d picked Wyatt Grayson to pay Liam Adams and Mark Rayes to play Dylan St. Clair. They had been easy to decide on at the first casting calls, but the actress who would play Hannah Rodgers had taken some time.

The production company had tried to sway him into hiring an established and well-known actress, but he hadn’t liked any of them. He’d spent an extra few weeks in the city to find his Hannah.

Emma Wilder was a new actress who had just moved to LA from Savannah, Georgia. Her long blonde hair, silver eyes, and perfect mouth had fit his description of his character to the tee, but it was her soft voice and incredible acting skills that had won her the leading role in his very first movie.

He’d gotten to know the cast over the next few weeks as they started production. He hadn’t known how much went into making a movie before the cameras started rolling.

He’d had to weigh in on clothing and set designs, and there were long days of practice and perfecting each character.

He’d had to work one-on-one with each of the actors so they had a better understanding of what he was looking for. The director and producers were there giving their input as well, but he had been surprised at how important his say was.

Now, almost a year after production had started, they were wrapping up filming and he was needed once more. So, he strapped himself into his first-class seat and prayed that this trip would be faster than the last.

When he landed, it was dark and he desperately wished for a long walk. But he didn’t know the city well, and he hated the idea of getting lost, so he allowed the limo to take him to his hotel. He could always strap on his tennis shoes and hit the gym.

When the car pulled in front of his hotel, he was surprised to see a crowd of people standing out front waiting for him. Camera flashes went off as people yelled questions at him. He ducked his head and made a beeline to the front door.

Once safely inside, he checked in and waited for the hotel key.

“JT?” a soft voice said from directly behind him.

He felt something deep down in his body shift. That voice would forever be seared in his memory.

Turning around slowly, he looked into the sexiest pair of silver eyes he’d ever seen.

* * *

Emma had just had the worst night of her life. She’d just finished one of the last full days of shooting her first full length movie. There would be reshoots and lots of photo ops, but the bulk of the filming was behind them, so she’d gone out with the rest of the crew to celebrate.

She’d been going out with Mark Rayes for almost three months now. Hollywood had gotten wind that they had become an item while filming Crescent Creek, which had given them elite status almost instantly. It didn’t hurt that Mark was already an established actor with top billing in eight movies on his resume.

When he’d started dating an unknown, it had caused a ruckus, and she’d been tossed into the spotlight. Every detail of her life had been plastered on the covers of tabloids. And the movie hadn’t even come out yet. She had hated every minute of it.

So, after taking off her stage makeup, she’d followed the crew, on Mark’s arm, to the nearest nightclub. She knew that if she wanted to get anywhere in this business, she had to look and act like a star, so she wore a tight skirt and blouse that she’d just purchased. It still got to her when she thought about how much she’d paid for the outfit. A little more than a year ago, she’d scrambled for change to buy a cup of coffee. Now, she was spending as much as her rent on one outfit.

The night had progressed and Mark had drunk too much, like he often did. He’d gotten louder and rougher as the night went on. When he’d gripped her arm tightly, she’d quietly hinted for him to be gentle. He’d exploded and his fingers had tightened even more on her arm.

She’d cried out with pain, and he’d shoved her aside and called her names. She’d excused herself and disappeared into the bathroom where she had called a car to pick her up. He was too far gone to pay attention, and she knew she could disappear without him even noticing.

The car had dropped her off at the side entrance of the hotel due to the mob out front. She figured it was for her, but then she noticed the stretch limo out front. She decided not to give the paparazzi any more ammo.

Standing in line for her messages, she glanced in front of her and felt her breath catch.

“JT?” She waited until the man turned around.

My God, why hadn’t this man gone into acting? He was easily one of the best-looking men in Hollywood. The fact that he sat behind a desk and wrote stories instead of acting in front of a camera had not gone unnoticed by only her.

“Emma?” His smile did something to her insides that even Mark’s had never done.

“I thought you were coming in tomorrow.” She took his hand and gave him a kiss on his cheek. It was a stupid Hollywood move that she’d had to do more times in the past year than she could count. When her lips touched his razor-deprived cheek, she got a whiff of his cologne and felt her knees go weak.

His large, warm hand covered hers.

“Technically, it is tomorrow.” He smiled and nodded towards the clock above the counter.

She held in a groan. “Right.” She smiled. “Are you just checking in?”

He dropped her hand but didn’t move away.

“Yes, I figured I’d get a few hours of sleep before Jim called me.”

She chuckled. “Jim is a workaholic.”

Jim Cartyn was the director of Crescent Creek. The man didn’t know the meaning of rest. Of course, he was one of the youngest, most successful directors in Hollywood, which meant he didn’t have time to rest.

“Are you just coming back from filming?” he asked just as the clerk behind him handed him his room key.

“No, we were out celebrating.” She rolled her eyes. “Which, in its own way, is a form of work.”

“Tell me about it. Last time I was here, I think I only had a few hours of sleep each night.” He moved aside and waited while she got her messages. There were only three letters and she quickly tucked them into her purse and walked with him to the glass elevators.

“Are you staying long?” she asked as he pushed the up button.

“I’m scheduled for only a week, but something tells me it will be a little longer.”

She walked in as he held the elevator doors open for her. She gave him her floor number and noticed him push the button for the penthouse. She wondered what it would be like to have the entire top floor to herself. She’d lived in a small hotel room for the past five months since they’d moved filming to LA.

“I hope you didn’t have to drop too much to come out here.” She leaned against the glass wall, then realized that, once the elevator started moving, her short skirt would give the first floor a view that the paparazzi would kill for. She quickly moved closer to the doors away from the glass wall.

JT must have guessed what she was doing because he moved between her and the wall of glass.

When she’d met him over a year ago, they had instantly hit it off. He was easily one of the sweetest gentlemen she’d ever met. The fact that he came in a sex-god wrapping was the icing on top.

“So, how’s filming been going?” he asked as the elevator started moving. She’d hated the damn things the entire five months she’d lived there. They traveled at a snail’s pace and often broke down, leaving only two working out of the six.

“We only have a few more reshoots to finish up. Then everything goes to editing and graphics.” She tucked her purse under her arm so she could get her hotel key from her cell phone case.

“How was the experience?” he asked, glancing up when the elevator stopped at her floor. She wished there were a few more floors to travel so they could finish their talk.

“How about we finish this in the morning?” She stepped aside as he held the doors so they wouldn’t slam shut on her.

“Six a.m.” He sighed. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” He smiled at her as she shifted out of the elevator.

“JT, it’s good to see you again.” She waved as the doors closed shut on one of the sexiest men she’d ever met.

Just as she let herself into her small hotel room, her cell phone chimed. Glancing down, she groaned and rolled her eyes at Mark’s message.

-Where’d you go?

-I was tired, I’m back at the hotel.

-I’ll be there in 15.

-No, I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow a.m.

-Are you sure?

-Yes, goodnight.

When she finally crawled into bed, there were less than four hours until she had to rise. She thought she’d fall fast asleep, but instead, a pair of kind blue eyes consumed her mind.