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‘I know, I know, you said they had a tough childhood, but that doesn’t justify—’
‘Juno, listen to me,’ Daisy interrupted her. ‘They haven’t seen each other since Mac was ten years old. Connor is pretty sure he spent the whole of his teens being shunted from one foster home to another.’ She let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’m not making excuses for him. It really is complicated. And I don’t think he’s as shallow as you think. He’s just careful to guard his emotions.’
Juno closed her mouth. Not sure what to say. She didn’t want to think about Mac as a child, unloved and alone. It would make him seem vulnerable again.
‘The thing is, Juno, you don’t know him either,’ Daisy said. ‘And the little you did know you liked. I believe you said yourself, and I quote, “Mac was really amazing.” Why couldn’t you have enjoyed a bit more of that amazing? And got to know him while you were at it? Instead of running off before you gave yourself the chance?’
‘You think I overreacted?’ Had she overreacted? Had she let herself down? Reverting to her old cut-and-run technique at the first sign of intimacy? Was that why she’d been feeling so empty, so disillusioned ever since she’d crept out of that hotel room? Not because she’d been mooning over Mac, but because she’d taken the coward’s way out?
‘Maybe a teensy-weensy little bit.’ Daisy gave a reluctant laugh. ‘There was always the slight chance Mac wouldn’t have kicked you out on your bum the instant he woke up.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ Juno said, smiling despite the crushing feeling of disappointment pushing at her chest. ‘That makes me feel so much better.’
The sudden barrage of noise from outside startled them both.
‘Quick, hold Ronan and I’ll take a look.’ Daisy passed the baby to Juno and scurried to the window. ‘Maybe it’s the police.’
Juno breathed in Ronan’s sweet talcum-powder scent, not caring about the police or the press any more. The reporters would leave soon enough when they realised her ‘Night of Passion’ with Mac Brody wasn’t going to be repeated. The feeling of disappointment got bigger, squeezing the air out of her lungs.
Why had she been such a coward this morning? She’d already taken a chance on Mac—and then she’d totally chickened out. Would it really have been so terrible to stick around? To stand up for herself for a change and see what happened?
Daisy flipped open the curtain and peered out. ‘Well, well, well.’ Sending Juno a bright smile, she beckoned her over. ‘Take a look at this.’
Juno walked to the window, Ronan heavy in her arms as Daisy pulled the curtain back.
Her head spun as she stared at the tall figure taking the steps to Daisy and Connor’s door two at a time. With his chin up and his eyes shielded by dark glasses, Mac Brody seemed oblivious to the explosion of camera flashes and shouted questions going off like gunshots around him.
Juno’s pulse spiralled out of control as Daisy whispered, ‘Maybe Mr Really Amazing’s going to give you a second chance.’
Chapter Nine
‘WE’RE booked on the ten o’clock flight.’ Mac paced across the study. Yanking one hand out of his pocket, he glanced at his watch. ‘You’d best be getting together whatever you need. We’ve not long before we have to leave.’
‘What flight?’ Even though she could hardly breathe, Juno knew when she was being bulldozed.
Mac stopped pacing and looked at her at last. ‘The flight to LA,’ he announced, as if she had a problem understanding English. ‘I’m not leaving you to the mercy of the press. You’ll be staying with me for the next couple of weeks, till all this nonsense blows over.’
‘Stay? With you?’ she sputtered. ‘But I can’t do that.’
Okay, she couldn’t deny the thrill that had made all her nerve endings tingle when he’d stalked into the study. His charismatic presence had sucked all of the oxygen out of the small room as soon as Daisy had excused herself to give them ‘a little privacy’.
She’d been overjoyed to see him and pathetically flattered that he’d followed her all the way from France.
But being excited to see him was one thing, completely losing her grip on reality quite another. ‘I can’t go to LA. I’m managing the shop tomorrow,’ she said, trying to bring reason and practicality to a conversation fast spinning out of control.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said, as if he were being the reasonable one. ‘You won’t be able to get near your shop. They’ll have the place besieged. They’ll stalk you and your customers, scour your bins, stake out your place next door and hunt down your friends until they get the story they want.’
‘They can’t do that,’ she interrupted him, shocked. ‘I’ll get a restraining order.’
‘It takes days to get a restraining order, by which time they’ll have made your life a misery. Believe me, I know. I’ve been in this circus for five years.’ He stepped towards her, cradled her cheek. ‘Come to LA. I’ve an estate in Laguna Beach with proper security where they can’t touch you. They’ll have moved on to their next kill in a few weeks and then you can come home.’
As his knuckle stroked her cheek she stared into his eyes—but the impossibly blue depths were filled with so much sincerity, she immediately smelled a rat. Something wasn’t right. He hadn’t come all this way to save her from the paparazzi. Surely.
She took a step back. ‘Why would you do that? Why would you go to all that trouble? We hardly know each other.’
His lips quirked, one black brow lifting. ‘Something we can certainly remedy while you’re in LA.’
She swallowed, her mouth bone-dry. ‘So you’re not really here to rescue me from the press?’
