Stealing Stacey's Heart

By Joanne Hill

Stealing Stacey's Heart: An unputdownable, feel-good sweet romance
A theatre that is falling apart. A man with a vision. A woman with a dream. And the most unlikely relationship ever.
For heritage researcher, Stacey Sutherland, the once glorious St George Theatre means everything. It was where she grew up. It was where she felt a sense of belonging. It was the place that saw her embark on a career in heritage. But there is a problem. The St George has declined to the point where no-one would ever invest a cent to restore it, and the new owner, businessman Jonathan Harte, is no exception.
Jonathan Harte has built his company up from scratch and while he avoids the media, he quickly learns that the passion surrounding the decrepit theatre is something else. No-one in their right mind would spend the fortune needed to repair what should have been bowled over years ago, and everyone knows it. Even the supporters of the St George know that they are on the losing end of the battle. The theatre, despite its history and its reputation, must go, and Jonathan is determined to make sure there is nothing standing in the way. He needs the best person to write the final report on the old building: someone who is as passionate about saving the old theatre as he is in bowling it. Someone who will uncover anything to find that will prevent his development from going ahead. That person is heritage researcher, Stacey Sutherland.
Only it doesn’t go to plan. Because when he and Stacey are implicated in a fire at the theatre, and when Stacey becomes the target of the people who were once her friends in the heritage world, Jonathan vows to protect her so she can focus on the work at hand: finishing up the report giving him the go-ahead. Only he never expected to find himself feeling this protective over Stacey and even more, feeling the one thing he has vowed never to feel again: love. And even more, love for the woman who could scuttle his plans.
And Stacey never expects to find that the man she has put up there with the devil himself is far from it and that he might in fact be the perfect man she never knew she was looking for as her heart slowly opens to the last man on earth she envisaged falling for.
A gorgeous, feel-good story that will bring hope to your heart and a smile to your lips, with emotion, dashes of humour and a splash of intrigue. There are no love scenes in this story. Stealing Stacey’s Heart is part of the City of Sails series and can be read as a stand-alone, but you’ll love the other books in the series, stories that celebrate family, friends, and love.
More unputdownable romance stories from Joanne Hill.
The City of Sails Series:
Falling for Jack
All About Sage
Bringing Back Emily
The Daniel Deal
Stealing Stacey’s Heart

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanne Hill
• Release date: Jun 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215868478

Joanne Hill

Joanne writes contemporary romance novels, often with a rom-com twist. She researched category romance from a Readers Advisory perspective for her masters degree, and has presented a paper on the research at the Library Association conference. She lives in New Zealand. For more information, visit www.joannehill.com.

Book preview

STEALING

STACEY’S

HEART

Joanne Hill

A City of Sails Romance

© 2023 Joanne Hill

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Stealing Stacey’s Heart, the fifth book in the City of Sails series. If you enjoy the story, please consider leaving a review or a rating. I’d love to hear what you think, and do try the other books in the series.

I send out a regular email newsletter and if you would like to subscribe, please sign up here.

Happy reading ~ Joanne.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

A NOTE FROM JOANNE

CHAPTER ONE

STACEY SUTHERLAND CROSSED the road towards the theatre, her gaze focused on the fading stonework in front of her as she repeated under her breath, This is not a waste of time, this is not a waste of time.

She reached the curb and said the phrase again as she stepped up onto the footpath outside the formerly great St George Theatre.

She studied the tower where the clock had once been, the gargoyles decorating the pillars, and the fading engravement of the name on the sandstone.

For decades it had been the go-to theatre for live shows from ballet to rock bands, to musicals and Shakespeare, and in later years the St George had been the place in Auckland to go to watch a movie.

And this is a complete and utter waste of time, she retracted, shivering at the sadness and the desolation that she knew so well.

She pulled her phone from her satchel, set it to silent, then steeled herself and made her way in through the now unlocked doors.

Inside, she scanned the foyer. The paint seemed to have peeled even more since the last time she’d walked through, and as she stepped across the terrazzo flooring, she noted cigarette butts littering it. Rough sleepers had long been finding their way in but more recently it had been kids seeking the thrill of selfies. The security, what there was of it, was a joke.

Stacey focused ahead to the ticket office, and to the three men and one woman huddled together. They wore corporate suits and were gazing up at the once magnificent ceiling.

At the sound of her footsteps, the older man turned, raised his bushy eyebrows in welcome, and Stacey breathed a sigh of relief.

Robert was one of the directors and he had great respect for her role in the project, even though his allegiance lay with Harte Limited—and more specifically, Jonathan Harte. Her confidence moved up a notch.

Stacey, welcome, Robert greeted her. You’re looking well.

He clasped her hand, and she smiled, It’s good to see you again.

She kept the smile on her face as she shot a glance over to his colleagues.

I’ll introduce you to the team, Robert said as his phone vibrated, but we won’t get underway until Jonathan gets here. He checked his phone.

Stacey lifted her chin as her confidence momentarily wavered. Did you just say, she began hesitantly, that Mr Harte will be joining us?

Robert kept his gaze on the phone. I did. He composed a text and Stacey let out a low breath. She hadn’t anticipated that. She glanced behind as if expecting to see him already striding through the foyer towards them. Jonathan Harte, she had assumed, kept to his Queen Street office and intentionally avoided dumps like the St George, even if they were his dumps.

Robert glanced up and met her frown. It was a last-minute decision. First time for everything but then, the publicity surrounding this hasn’t been the best. He intends to be more involved on this project than usual. He pocketed his phone. Stacey, come and meet the team.

He introduced her to the architectural team, and they shook hands. There was an element of suspicion on their part, even though her research to date showed there were little redeeming factors about the St George, given it had been left to deteriorate for years.

She glanced over their heads at the ceiling and mulled over the appalling condition of the theatre. For years it had been left empty, waiting for the next eager developer to come along, bowl it, and transform the site into a high-end apartment complex. Jonathan Harte was the latest owner after the most recent plan had fallen through but from what she’d seen so far, he would be the last. Harte Limited had the capacity to cope with any delays that might be thrown up, from resource management, soaring construction costs, prospective legal battles and goodness knows what else. The costs would blow out as they always did but they’d be absorbed. Because in the end, this development was going to bring them a significant profit, not to mention recognition as the tallest building in Auckland. The architects would win awards and Jonathan Harte would win acclaim for his vision.

And here’s the man himself, Robert suddenly announced.

Stacey tightened her grip on her satchel, commanded the nerves in her stomach to desist, and she turned slowly around.

Jonathan Harte was walking towards them, just as she’d envisioned, his hands shrugged into trouser pockets, observing the debris and carnage around him.

No doubt already mentally popping the cork on a celebratory magnum of champagne, she thought uncharitably.

He drew to a halt alongside Robert.

Stacey contemplated him as he acknowledged the group, and she was taken aback to realise the photographs hadn’t lied. He was over six feet tall, lean with broad shoulders, dark hair that looked as if it refused to be tamed, and a strong jaw. Finally, his eyes settled curiously on her.

And they were impressively, wonderfully blue eyes.

Jonathan, Robert introduced, meet Stacey Sutherland from Phillips Heritage. Stacey is preparing the final report for us.

Jonathan studied her for a moment, then held out his hand. Pleased to meet you, Ms Sutherland, he greeted her.

She said, It’s Stacey. She took his hand, and he gripped it. It was a nice grip. The right degree of grip. No clammy handshake or limp fingers. She said, And it’s nice to meet you, too, Mr Harte.

His gaze slipped over in a briefly assessing but non-sexual way, then back up to her face once more.

She wasn’t sure whether she approved of the lack of interest or was disappointed in it.

Approved, she reminded herself. Of course, she approved.

Because from the time her boss had been given the contract to undertake the report and handed it to her, she’d made it her job to study Harte. He wasn’t on any of the usual social channels, he never gave interviews and little, it seemed, had been written about him. Except for the past year when he’d announced his vision for the St George site. She’d combed through the few articles she could find to try and understand him, to get a feel for him, to see if there was any way he would change his mind about the theatre, but there had been little to suggest he would be sympathetic to restoring the St George.

I’m glad you could join us, he said. If there was a smile on his face, she had no idea where it was.

He turned back to Robert. Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?

Stacey opened her tablet and Jonathan gave it a quick glance. No one else appeared to be taking notes but she was leaving nothing to chance. Facts were her arsenal and she needed them all.

Robert gestured ahead. We’ll start with the foyer and check out the cinemas. And Stacey? Feel free to add any comments as we go along, seeing as you’re the expert on the social history of the St George.

Stacey gave a nod and met Jonathan’s astute eyes. The look couldn’t be any clearer that she was wasting her time.

She dragged her gaze back to her tablet. He could assume that all he liked, but he was wrong, because when it came to saving buildings, especially buildings like this, no time was ever wasted. Not in her book.

She began to take notes.

***

THE TOUR WAS OVER in twenty minutes. They had walked through the cinemas at basement level, then headed right up to the projection rooms. They had seen the dressing rooms, the theatre stage and seating, and the box office. They had stepped briefly inside restrooms that still bore the tiling of its glorious past. It was a shame about the stench.

It was also clear to Stacey that Jonathan Harte had done his homework.

As they made their way back out to the lobby and gathered for a last briefing, Jonathan stood off to the side, engrossed in a conversation on his phone. Occasionally he glanced around at the damaged plasterwork decorations and the faded posters advertising the last shows to be performed here.

Most likely dreaming of what it would be like when his apartment tower filled the space. His personal interest in the place, despite his impressive knowledge, had been zilch.

She murmured to Robert, I am genuinely surprised he knew so much about the building, considering he wants to get rid of it. She gestured around them. I mean, he knew some things about its history and its place in Auckland society over the years.

He shocked you, didn’t he? Robert followed her gaze over to him. It pays never to underestimate Jon. If he goes into anything, it’s because he intends to win. He didn’t buy this to have the project sink.

Stacey narrowed her gaze at Jonathan. For someone so tall, he wore that height naturally. It made him even more imposing, not to mention impossibly handsome in the dark suit and tie. Her gaze stopped at solid thighs, and she looked hastily away.

Hey, team? Robert checked his phone again. We need to make tracks. Stacey, if you need anything from me over the next few weeks, let me know.

I will, thanks, Robert, she said, as the architects moved their huddle outside to the footpath.

She slipped her tablet inside her satchel and followed behind them, her mind running through what she needed to do next. Catch the bus home and continue her work on the report, although she’d begun work on it even before she’d been handed the contract. She glanced back up at the ceiling. How could she not, when this theatre had once been her life?

Thank you for your input today, a voice said next to her, and she looked up at Jonathan. Her mind blanked as she wondered which part of what little she’d said he was referring to.

"Thank you for coming along," she said.

His eyebrows arched in question.

She explained, That is, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.

You did give me that impression and I apologise. I should have made that clear. He glanced at her satchel. So, tell me. Were any mouth-watering discoveries made?

Only you.

She clamped her lips shut, his eyebrows rose even higher, and she said, I’ll see when I go over my notes. It will all help inform my final report.

He studied her curiously. And the plans? He spread his hands. What do you think of those? I presume you’ve seen them.

Yes, she said, vaguely, I have.

And? he prodded. What do you think?

Given the plans meant the theatre would no longer be here, it was a hard question to answer. It’s an impressive project, she said finally.

He mulled this over. Impressive?

She shrugged, but it was true. The apartments would be spacious, there would be class in every fitting, and the views out across Auckland were going to be amazing from every angle. The 3-D visual walk through had been nothing short of breath-taking. She said, Anyone would love to live there, especially on the top floors.

He inclined his head. And would you?

She inwardly shuddered at the thought and admitted, Probably not. I’m not good with heights.

His mouth may have curled in amusement—it was hard to tell—but then he checked his watch and she glanced at her own.

Time was moving on and it was doing so quickly, and she said, It was nice meeting you, but I do need to get back to work.

Of course. He gestured for her to walk ahead of him through the front doors and as he pulled them shut, he looked up at the darkening skies.

It looks like rain, he murmured. He checked the doors were securely locked, then turned back to her.

Can I give you a lift? he offered. I assume you’re heading back over to Ash’s office?

Actually, no, I’m not. The clouds were intensifying and now Stacey noticed the heavy, damp feeling of an impending downpour. She said, I’m working on your report for the rest of the day, but from home. She stepped closer to the curb, glanced down the road and said, My bus is due down at the stop soon.

My driver will be here in a minute, he said as he pulled out his phone and sent a message. Why don’t I drop you home and save you taking the bus.

She said, That’s very kind of you, but— A drop of rain landed on her cheek. But it would be a bit more than dropping me off. I live out in West Auckland. She opened up her bag for her fold-up umbrella, felt around for it, then remembered she’d left it at home by the front door where she’d put it so she wouldn’t forget. Great. She said, It takes half an hour to get there, and that’s in good weather.

He pondered her as umbrellas began to go up, people gravitated to beneath the awnings, and a clap of thunder sounded. The offer stands. He looked warily up as rain began to fall. Look at it this way. Maybe I want you safely home so there are no hold-ups on the report.

He said it with a grin but of course he’d want that report by the deadline and not a minute later.

A car pulled up to the curb alongside them, and Jonathan beckoned to the vehicle. Consider it my good deed for the day.

He stepped over to the car, opened the passenger door and looked back at her in question.

More rain drops landed on her head, she calculated her bus was still a good ten minutes away, and she said, gratefully, Of course, thank you.

She hopped in the car.

He closed the door smoothly, jogged around to climb in the back seat next to her, and she remembered her seatbelt.

What’s your address? he asked as he looked expectantly at her.

I, um— Her mind blanked awkwardly and her body appeared to have frozen as well. It was probably something to do with the nearness of him, given her pulse showed no sign of slowing down.

Where can I take you? the driver said over his shoulder, and Stacey snapped out of it, leant forward and told him.

Thank you, she said, and she settled back in the seat, clasped her hands over her satchel, and debated the wisdom of engaging Jonathan Harte in a discussion about the merits of saving the theatre. The idea lasted all of a few seconds as his phone rang, then she focused out the window as the car waited to join in the traffic.

CHAPTER TWO

JONATHAN GLANCED AT Stacey Sutherland and pondered her.

She sat stiffly alongside him with the satchel on her lap. Steven, his driver, had programmed her address into his GPS but it had been ten minutes since they’d left the theatre and they’d barely moved a mile. Wet conditions had caused a crash on the motorway, and traffic had stalled.

Jonathan concentrated out the window as the car finally began to crawl in the direction of the motorway and to wherever-it-was she lived. Her address rang no bells, even though he’d lived in Auckland for well over a decade. He’d been born and raised in Wellington, graduated from university, and then after barely a year working for his father, he’d left that life behind and moved to Auckland. Even now, when he wasn’t working, he spent time at his house in the Eastern suburbs with its views across the gulf.

Unless it related to business, most everything else in Auckland was a mystery to him.

He glanced back at Stacey. She was a mystery to him as well, namely because he’d been expecting an older woman. Not someone more thirty than fifty. Ash Phillips had told him she recalled going to the theatre as a child and considering it had closed down close to two decades