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“And on the off chance you don’t book it, the audition should put you top of mind for this fall,” said Kiki.

“What’s this fall?” blurted Evie.

Nick was amazed she’d jumped in. He glared at his mother. Don’t you dare bite her head off.

“A veritable casting bonanza, my dear.” Kiki sipped her mimosa.

“Oh, don’t lie to her, Mum.” Nick swallowed again, his throat rough. “We both know pilot season doesn’t kick off till January.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The major players are getting an early jump, casting their leads now. There are some incredible projects coming up.” Kiki licked her pillow lips. “You should be in the thick of it, but if you want to finish university and throw away sixteen years of hard-earned success, well, that’s your call, not mine. Don’t come crying to me or Polly when you’re bagging groceries at Tesco, wondering where it all went so horribly wrong.”

I’m not listening to this. She has no fucking clue! Looking away, Nick sank down in his chair. I’ve worked my arse off at uni. People there actually think I’m pretty great, and it’s not because I’m famous. Who’d have thought, eh? Obviously, not my mother.

He glanced back, skimming Evie and her abandoned breakfast before landing on his mother polishing off yet another drink. I love acting, but I’m not tough like her. The rejections, the industry gossip—she feeds off it. But it eats away at me. Not that she cares. He downed another gulp of water. If only I didn’t miss it so much.

“Moments like this always remind me of that quote…” His mother stared off dramatically into space. “Excuses will always be there for you. Opportunities won’t.”

Ditto mothers. Rolling his eyes, Nick sat up. “You’re right.”

Nodding smugly, Kiki raised her empty glass. “I always am, darling!”

“It is my call…and I’m finishing uni,” said Nick. “End of discussion.”

Kiki’s unflinching glower flittered to Evie in her son’s bowling shirt and refused to budge.

TWENTY-FOUR

EVIE

Now, Saturday, July 29

“But what if someone wanders in?” Easing back onto a small 19th-century sofa embroidered with roses, Evie tugged down the hem of her daisy dress and peered across Balfour Castle’s drawing room. A slightly ajar door, the secret passageway back to the library, furrowed her brow.

“Not a chance. The shooting party will be gone for hours.” Nick whipped off his black single-breasted frock coat, flinging it onto the nearby piano.

Evie eyeballed his starchy white shirt, short waistcoat, and wool trousers as he fought with the elaborate knot of his black bowtie. Why is he dressed like a Tomlinson actor?

His collar finally open, he fell to his knees. “I want to ravish you at least twice before they’re back!” Nick made quick work of the buttons on her dress, exposing her lacy bra, which roused a naughty grin. “And we cannot forget the spider.”

Her gaze climbed the walls. “Spider? You’re scared of creepy crawlies.”

“Not this one!” His hand slid inside her bra, cupping her breast. “It’s a sexual position. It’s challenging, but so worth—”

Awaking with a snorty jolt, Evie’s eyes popped open. Gone were the ornate wallpaper, oil paintings, and relief plaster-gilded ceilings of the castle, and her hands, not Nick’s, were palming her breast and stuffed down her undies.

Shit! Stomach dropping like a freefalling elevator, her toes curled with embarrassment. Sex dreaming about Nick while touching myself beside Nick?! This is SO wrong on SO many levels! She froze. Did he notice?

Behind her, his gentle mid-slumber inhales and exhales pricked her ears, joining the sporadic crackle of the dying fire and the screech of seabirds, their flapping wings flickering the daylight spilling through the bothy’s streaky windows. Thankfully, the cacophony of driving rain and snarling winds from earlier was long gone, tormenting another isle perhaps.

She let out a breath.

Then she felt it.

Hard, unrelenting, digging into her lower back.

Oh! Evie bit her bottom lip, hemming in a smile. Hello, Nico! Fingers scrunching the sleeping bag, she rolled slowly to her right, the shift jostling Nick awake.

Hair wild and an imprint from the sleeping bag denting his left cheek, he lazily blinked his long dark lashes. “Evie? Hi…”