Falling Star

By Kate J Squires

Sometimes it takes finding your heart to find your voice...

It wasn't her fault…

Somehow a run–in with a handsy, but influential, talk show host has landed Briana Brite in big trouble with the press, and even though it was the host that wouldn't take no for an answer, Briana finds herself banished until the scandal blows over.

It's not his place...

Gareth might work for some of the richest people in the world, but his job as a masseur at the luxurious Star Island resort is just that – a job. And he really needs the money and the tips and the hours. Getting involved with resort guests is grounds for immediate dismissal, so the last thing Gareth needs is a troubled pop princess making waves.

It's not meant to be...

However, when Gareth meets Briana, he realises that she's more than just her voice, more than the media storm, more than even her management knows. But when it comes to his job and his livelihood, how much will he risk for a holiday fling?

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Aug 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781489249050

Kate J Squires

Kate J. Squires is a Gold Coast girl with a love of all things romantic. Her career has been strange and varied, from working for Disney to professional fire dancing and performing with dolphins. She even spent time working behind the scenes of Big Brother many years ago, accumulating the stories to make this book happen. Currently she travels around Australia working with public speakers in between spinning her romantic yarns, and teaches hot yoga in her spare time. She is a self-proclaimed wordsmith who always wears odd socks and is grateful every day for the opportunity to use her talents.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Briana looked around the stunning six-star suite with its glorious view over the ocean, and sighed deeply.

Her assistant sprang into action. Connie scurried around the room, panicked, looking for whatever had offended her boss. ‘Oh no, Briana—what’s wrong? Don’t you like the room?’

Even if she didn’t have a silent persona to maintain, Briana still wouldn’t have the words to explain her mixed feelings about the suite. What a very pretty prison … With a shrug, she lowered herself into a chaise lounge, folding her limbs in to protectively, as if her tanned arms could shield her from the internal pain roiling in her gut.

Meanwhile, Connie twisted her hands anxiously. ‘I can see if there’s another room? I mean, this is meant to be the best, they’re all the best, but maybe there’s something better?’

There wasn’t anything wrong with the beautiful bungalow, except Briana wasn’t there by choice. No matter how elegant the aqua and white décor, or how soothing the sound of the sea outside the wide balcony, this place was a jail. A luxury jail, but still.

But it wasn’t Connie’s fault she was there, so Briana waved both hands at her assistant, letting her know it was fine.

Connie swallowed, and began to uneasily explain. ‘I thought you’d really love it here. Everyone has been talking this place up; it’s the Taj Mahal of island retreats. Incredible suites, beach views, private pool, outdoor bathrooms, an activities center… And the staff are meant to be the most amazing part. You have your own butler and chef on call, plus the day spa staff will come to you. Hair, nails, massage, whatever you like. Or you can have treatments done on the beach. That sounds nice, right?’ Connie fluttered to the windows, adjusting the sheer curtains to meet. It was something Briana noticed Connie did no matter where they were, and without having to question her assistant, Briana knew it was to give her more privacy from the unrelenting public eye.

Briana internally thanked the other girl for the small kindness, hoping Connie sensed her gratitude somehow. Every day since she was seventeen, Briana had used silence not only as part of her mystique, but as a defense—and occasionally a weapon. Still, there were times when it worked against her.

Connie turned back towards Briana with a nervous smile. ‘So, I think you’re going to be all set here. Is it okay if I go now?’

With a nod, Briana waved off the other woman.

Connie smiled widely, reaching for her suitcase. ‘Awesome! Well, have fun! I’ll be back in two weeks, okay?’

Briana snapped upright, her eyes locking on Connie. What?

Connie blushed so pink, her skin looked like watermelon flesh. ‘Remember, I asked you a few days ago? About … g-going home?’

I don’t remember that. Briana rose in suspicion.

‘It was just after …’ Hesitantly, Connie spoke. ‘It was the day after The Evening Show stuff. I’m sorry, I know there was a lot going on, but I told you about my parents’ thirtieth anniversary party, and I’d need to be at home for a few weeks, and since you are going to be here anyway and you won’t really need me …’

But I do need you. Briana swallowed down her rising despair. She might have been banished to this godforsaken green dot in the middle of the Caribbean, but she’d planned on having Connie there to keep her company with her endless chatter. The two women were both twenty-five, and although Briana had never said it, she considered Connie a friend—or at least the closest thing to a friend she had these days. She’d been entertaining vague notions of the two of them having mud baths and snorkeling, and whatever else people did when they were supposed to be on vacation.

But apparently, Briana’s imprisonment was going to be solitary confinement. Trying not the let the hurt show, she held a hand up to Connie’s face and turned away.

Connie winced. ‘Okay, I’ll head off now,’ she said softly. ‘I will miss you, Briana.’

Briana reached for a remote, aiming it at the enormous television. I’m fine. Just go.

Out of the corner of her eye, Briana watched a downcast Connie collect her massive shoulder bag and drift towards the door. Briana did remember her assistant talking about her parents’ anniversary, but the topic of family was something Briana always tried to tune out these days. A loving, supportive family like Connie’s was the one thing Briana didn’t have, couldn’t buy or bribe her way into, and she found herself inexplicably envious of the other girl’s close relationship with her parents and sisters.

As Connie struggled with her bags, her phone rang. ‘Hey, Penny! Yeah, I’m just about to jump on a helicopter for the airport. Oh … I can’t believe the quote is that high. Well, can Brian put in any extra? Look, I’m tapped out too. It doesn’t matter; the carpet isn’t that bad … Maybe we’ll just get them a nice vase or something?’

Briana watched Connie’s face fall in disappointment, and she recalled hearing during one of their one-sided conversations that Connie and her siblings were having her parents’ crummy carpet replaced as their anniversary gift. Connie had described the current situation in great detail. ‘It’s the same carpet they’ve had since they got married—it’s purple and green flowers, so tacky and just so worn …’

As Connie continued to reassure her sister on the phone, Briana reached for her phone. Not speaking out loud meant organizing her life digitally, something Briana was adept at. Within two minutes, she had located Connie’s home address, ordered a premium carpet installer in the area to drop by with samples the next day, and arranged to have the carpet of their choice charged to her credit card. All anonymously, of course. Briana didn’t want to make Connie feel like her rich boss had to rescue her or anything.

But how many rich people did Connie actually know? Chances were, she’d work out who the mystery sponsor was. Briana allowed herself to picture how Connie would react. Would she insist that Briana go home with her as the guest of honor? What would it be like to spend a few days in a normal house, surrounded by normal family, the love and laughter filling the hollow places inside her?

‘’Kay, Penny, I’ll see you at the airport in the morning.’ Hanging up, Connie turned back to her boss and smiled. ‘Briana, I hope you have a good break. You deserve some time away from … everything.’

There were no words needed between them to explain what everything meant. Briana rewarded her assistant with a small smile and a gentle wave, and for a moment, both girls hovered uncomfortably. Briana could sense that Connie wanted to hug her, but that kind of contact just wasn’t who she was.

Eventually, Connie said, ‘Okay, then, bye,’ and she was gone with a flick of her mousy ponytail, out the door, on a plane, away to a life that Briana couldn’t share.

Trying not to feel abandoned, Briana began to flip through channels on the giant TV, settling on the entertainment network primary because her own face was on the screen. The image of the beautiful blonde girl with tanned skin, sparkling brown eyes and lithe limbs didn’t feel like her—it was like staring at a stranger she knew vaguely from somewhere.

A nasal voice narrated the news story. ‘Briana Brite, the silent superstar, is in some very loud trouble. The singer was due to appear on The Evening Show last week when she had an incident with the beloved host of the show, Pete Rogers, and the world is taking sides.’

Pete appeared on the screen, and his grinning face gave Briana a chill. The clip was from his monologue on the show a few nights after their ‘incident,’ and his black eye was still showing, which gave her great satisfaction. His words were another matter, and he spoke in a jesting tone, obviously fresh from making jokes at her expense. ‘Now, we should be serious for a moment. Briana Brite is a mentally unstable young woman—I think we all agree that an adult woman, a singer, who refuses to speak, has got a few bats in the belfry anyway. The other night, she assaulted me viciously without cause, and I plan to make sure she is held accountable for her actions.’

My actions? Briana cried at the TV inside her mind, bolting upright. What about your actions, creep?

He continued. ‘She might be a huge talent—and I do mean huge!’ He winked and the audience tittered, everyone in the world aware of Briana’s struggles with her weight between tours. ‘But that’s no excuse for acting like a violent brat.’

Violent brat. She might have tried to act tough and fearless that night, but she hadn’t felt fearless when she’d been cornered in her dressing room with Rogers, a huge exbodybuilder who’d found talk show fame with his toothy good looks. Don’t think about it. She didn’t want to remember that feeling of powerlessness, didn’t want to talk about it with anyone. Her label had pleaded with her for a week to give them a reason to defend her actions with, but she’d refused to address it, even by email.

The report on the TV was wrapping up. The reporter said, ‘Our insiders tell us that Briana has been sent off to a secret location while her label goes into damage control. But with one of the most powerful men in entertainment out for her head, sources indicate that preparations for her upcoming Star Brite tour have been put on hold.’

Those sources were right. The label executives, freaking out like a bunch of scared little kids in the face of Rogers’ threats, had taken the cowards path of halting her tour prep and sending her to the middle of the ocean until everything blew over. It was their way of making sure she wasn’t seen while they went into damage control. ‘You deserve a vacation,’ they’d said while informing her with this unexpected trip.

Frustrated, Briana tossed the controller at the television and pushed off the couch. She might be a prisoner, but she didn’t have to sit there and watch the world dissect her career.

She padded barefoot to the wide balcony and followed the stairs down to the pool, which glistened in the afternoon sunshine. Across the boards, she strode until she hit the sand, her feet leading her to the beach which arced away from her bungalow in a pale crescent.

Scattered along the beach at intervals were umbrellas, but apart from a couple of island staff members packing up a massage table, Briana was alone. How did that work? She was the most desired, most envied woman in music, a mysterious goddess with a stellar career. She should be on stage surrounded by adoring masses, not stuck by herself, lonely on a foreign beach.

Am I lonely? She felt a hot streak of surprise. No. Loneliness implied that she was weak. Sexually frustrated, maybe, but not lonely. It had been a while since she’d been close with anyone, and being on holiday only heightened the sense that she wasn’t meant to be here solo.

Her toes clenched in the sand as she walked, as if her tension was trying to physically transfer itself into the grains below her feet. Vacations were hard for single people. Holidays were for friends, families, couples. She imagined how much more pleasant walking along the beach would be with someone beside her instead of being trapped alone with her thoughts on a loop like a stuck LP.

The sound of laughter made her glance up. She was closer to the two staff members now and not wanting to engage with anyone, she sidled under the cover of the palm trees and waited for them to leave.

As she watched the men, something surged inside her—unexpected sparks rolling in waves from her navel to her heart. It wasn’t the blond guy in the wetsuit that caught her eye, even though he was clearly sporting a six-pack and a panty-slaying smile.

No; she found herself unable to look away from the tall, silent man, folding up the massage table. His broad chest was evident beneath his white shirt, where embroidery over his heart read Gareth, Masseur. His long fingers captivated her, even from a distance. She caught a vivid flash of those fingers gripping her firmly around the waist, pulling her close.

But mostly it was his eyes, a shady blue with calming depths, that drew Briana in. She needed those eyes on her, desiring her and consuming her. She’d never been so captivated by a stranger before; she’d had gorgeous men flocking around her since the day her first single was released almost ten years ago, but she’d never felt a pull like this – ever.

It was a sign. Forget Rogers and her label and the lonely feelings. Those blue eyes would fix all her ills, at least for a short while. Maybe she couldn’t have a friend or any family to share her vacation with, but she could find a willing participant to lose herself in for a while.

How do I do this? She smoothed her long hair down, trying to think. Normally, she initiated her liaisons by keeping the man in question around her until her silent allure drew them into her bed—no words required. But this wasn’t a backup dancer or a production manager, someone already in her circle. How do I hook up with a guy who doesn’t know I exist?

She could start with a massage. A hopeful grin tugged at her mouth as she backtracked the way she’d come, along the path to her bungalow. She needed to get to her emails and make a booking for a massage; she was desperately overdue for a rub-down.

Chapter 2

‘I’m telling you, man, I don’t know how you do it.’ Gareth’s best friend shook his head, Ed’s sandy hair falling in his eyes. ‘If I had naked women on a table in front of me all day every day, I’d be walking around with a permanent hard-on.’

Ed thrust his forearm out in a crude imitation of his imaginary erect penis, then he laughed, his voice echoing over the deserted beach as he said, ‘Like this, dude. For real. You must have the bluest balls this side of the North Pole. That’s pretty much a whole hemisphere’s worth of balls, and yours are the bluest.’

Gareth half-smiled. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, but he enjoyed the company as he packed up from his last client’s beachside massage. ‘It’s not the same as having a naked woman in bed, Ed. I’m a therapist, a healer. I don’t see my client’s bodies as sexual objects.’ He dusted the sand from his folding massage table and started walking back up the beach.

Ed followed, not letting the topic go. ‘That’s bull. Even healers get hard-ons. You’re telling me, you look at a sweet, apple-shaped ass and you don’t want to grab that thing in two hands and take a bite?’

‘No.’ He genuinely didn’t. When Gareth saw his clients, he didn’t see skin or curves. It was almost as though he saw through the surface to the issues lying hidden below. Knotted muscles, twisted pelvises, compressed spines—these were the things he saw, and those ailments definitely weren’t sexy. ‘Besides, not all my clients are naked women. Here comes my latest client now.’

The two men looked along the path to where a happy fat man in a striped towel waved to them. ‘Hey, Gareth! You’ve got some magic hands there, my friend,’ said the man, who owned one of the largest phone companies in the world. He shook Gareth’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Thanks for that—I feel like a million bucks.’

Even though the very hairy tech wizard was worth at least three thousand times that amount, Gareth smiled at the compliment. ‘Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure.’

‘Until next time, then.’ The man handed Gareth a wad of bills and wandered off towards his bungalow, humming and happy.

‘Ew,’ whispered Ed when the client was out of earshot. ‘At least he’s a good tipper. How did you massage through all of that hair, anyway?’

Gareth ignored him and counted his tip. The gratuity was never expected but always welcome. Every dollar counted; every dollar was a step closer to his dream, and getting him off this island. Tucking the money into his pocket, he