A Flight of Fancy (Scottish Island Escapes Book 6) Read online

  ‘Yeah,’ said Taylor, her cheeks burning as she looked into his eyes again. She had to; something magnetic pulled her. What a stunning shade of blue, clear and bright like the sea. His chiselled cheekbones and well-proportioned nose smacked of Hollywood, but he had a rugged realism about him. A butterfly storm erupted in her midriff at his smile.

  ‘Are you having a good birthday?’ he said. If he was a fan or a groupie, he was doing a great job. She should feel threatened by him and want to call security. But an overwhelming sense of calm surrounded her. The butterflies had settled and were blowing happy bubbles now, filling her with peace. She felt like she could tell him anything. Maybe that was his skill. Still, she didn’t dare mention she wasn’t Skylar. Her parents would have her shunted back into therapy and locked up before you could say that’s show business, if they knew what she was doing. Not only had she skipped her room but she was out in a public place talking to people.

  ‘Not really,’ she said, hating the self-deprecation in her voice because she wanted to laugh and smile at this guy.

  He tilted his head. ‘I’m sorry about that. Can you just not wait for the party to start?’

  ‘No. I don’t really want that either.’

  He shook his head a little. ‘I thought all this was tailormade for your desires.’

  Hearing him saying ‘Taylor’ and ‘desires’ in the same sentence set off the butterflies again. How insane am I?

  ‘I guess you never get to show your real personality,’ he said. ‘It’s all about the public image.’

  ‘If the face fits.’

  He leaned his arms on the table. The warmth of his smile seeped through her walls and her lips twitched. Unlike the grinding pain of trying to keep the expression plastered on for her therapist, this had the opposite effect, her shoulders relaxed and her cheeks were pleasantly warm.

  ‘That’s quite sad,’ he said, and his expression filled with concern. ‘What would you rather do instead if you could really choose and didn’t have to put on a show?’

  Taylor sucked in her lip and tried to grasp a coherent thought to put into words. ‘I don’t really know. I’m not sure what I like doing or even who I really am some days.’

  ‘Aw, I’m sorry. That must be tough.’ Her hand was on the table, inching ever closer to his. She wanted to shift her fingers so they touched his but she didn’t dare. He looked down, then back at her, and his eyes smouldered, matching the feeling inside her completely. With a tiny laugh that was almost a sigh, he moved his hand over hers. ‘You’re a sad lost soul, aren’t you?’ She stared into his eyes, knowing he didn’t require an answer. The only thing he didn’t know was her true identity, but otherwise her soul was bared before him. ‘I hope I haven’t upset you, asking these questions.’

  ‘No.’ Her voice was barely a whimper. The warmth from his hand was overwhelming; it seeped up her arm, through her veins into every cold, dark cavity, filling them with light and hope. ‘I’m good.’

  He didn’t speak, just looked. She did the same. Her heartrate steadied and she felt connected to him on a level so far beyond the physical it was terrifying.

  A movement near the bar caught her eye. She blinked and swallowed. The man lessened the pressure on her hand.

  Skylar and some celebrity friends had arrived. Skylar glared at Taylor, raised two fingers to her eyeballs, then pointed the same fingers at Taylor. The gesture said I’m coming for you clearer than words. She pulled out her cell. In a few seconds bodyguards would swoop in with Bianca and Sammy. They would carefully remove ‘Skylar’ and she’d be locked up for the rest of the day.

  ‘Maybe I’ll catch you later, at the party,’ the man said.

  ‘What?’ Taylor looked back at him. Had he mistaken her distraction with Skylar as disinterest? His back was facing Skylar so he wouldn’t have seen her.

  ‘Only if you want to,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I do.’ And if she did, she needed to get back to her room quick. Her parents wouldn’t entertain the idea of her going out if she was caught misbehaving. ‘But right now, I have to go.’

  ‘No worries,’ said the man. He released her hand and stood up. ‘I do too.’ Their eyes locked again. ‘But I look forward to seeing you later.’

  ‘Yeah, me too. I’ll look out for you.’

  With a brief smile, he stood and headed out, apparently not noticing the real Skylar at the bar. Taylor sucked in her lip, licking the inside as she admired his backside. Once he’d left, Taylor downed her Coke and skirted around to the other side of the booths so she could leave without passing Skylar. Hopefully, if she met the man later, she’d be standing next to her sister, and she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

  As she slipped into the foyer, she walked straight into her father and two bodyguards. She edged back, turning around to glance at her sister. Skylar’s eyes bored into her as she stirred her cocktail slowly and deliberately. Taylor swallowed. Everything about that look contained a warning. Skylar looked ready to strike, but before Taylor could think about anything else, the bodyguards seized her arms, and she was frogmarched towards the elevator.

  Chapter 2

  Magnus

  Magnus straightened his black tie and entered the high-ceilinged room, brushing past some guys in tuxedos and almost stepping on the long dress of an older woman. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said.

  The woman glanced around. ‘Oh, that’s quite all right.’

  He strode through the crowd. A band struck up a chirpy tune over the murmur of voices and the clink of glasses. A sea of unfamiliar faces swarmed around, but he didn’t mind.

  A booming laugh alerted him to Courtney’s agent deep in chat with one of her PR guys. Magnus strolled towards them. Any port in a storm. Making friends wherever he went wasn’t something he found difficult but it was easier if someone familiar showed up. The PR guy was brash and new; the one who’d made some crass suggestions in the bar earlier, before he’d noticed Skylar Rousse right beside them.

  Skylar wasn’t at all what he’d expected. The paparazzi had her pegged for a ruthless bitch who tore down everyone and everything, but she hadn’t seemed like that. Her expression was so lost and sad. Maybe she was suffering Hollywood burnout and he’d caught her on a bad day. But she’d stirred his heart and now he wanted to see her again, check she was ok and maybe get to know her a bit better. The way she’d looked at him gave him the chills – not in a creepy way – just something he wasn’t used to. Women hit on him all the time and he didn’t care; most of the time he was just as bad. But that wasn’t what this girl had done. How bloody confusing and unsettling. Though she was a talented actress by all accounts so maybe the whole thing was fake.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, stepping towards the guys. ‘How’s the work?’

  ‘Ha, yeah, whatever. We are working though,’ said PR guy, rubbing his scrubby beard. ‘It might not look like it—’

  ‘Too right it doesn’t,’ said Magnus with a grin. ‘You guys have it easy.’

  ‘Says the man who’s a glorified bus driver.’

  Magnus smirked. ‘Yeah, remember that the next time we’re thirty-five thousand feet up and we hit turbulence.’

  The man laughed. A new tune started from the band and Magnus adjusted his cuffs, squinting around as he continued his chat with Jake the PR guy.

  ‘Are you coming to the club after the meal?’ asked Jake.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Magnus said. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Upstairs.’ He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. ‘This hotel is a one-stop shop. I guess that’s why Miss Rousse chose it.’

  ‘Wow, cool. Yeah. I might look in.’

  With hundreds of guests, a hierarchy developed and Magnus was in the lower echelons. He didn’t catch a glimpse of Courtney or Skylar during the meal and wondered if they had a private suite somewhere. His dinner companions were fun and he knocked back the free champagne, sharing various stories about his worst flights.

  ‘Have you ever had anyone give birth on a flight?’ asked
a rotund middle-aged woman, sitting to his left.

  ‘No,’ said Magnus, ‘but when I was a co-pilot on a small flight, we had a man who had a heart attack and we had to make an emergency landing with him lying in the aisle. That was quite dramatic.’

  ‘Oh, goodness.’ She raised her hand to her chest. ‘How terrifying.’

  As they moved through the courses, the champagne and stories flowed profusely. Magnus sat back and held his stomach. He kept fit and the occasional big dinner rarely touched him but he felt like he’d eaten the side of a cow, a twenty-pound salmon, plus half a field of vegetables, and they hadn’t even started dessert.

  ‘My god,’ announced the woman by his side and he followed her sightline to see what she was looking at. An enormous cake was wheeled onto the stage. ‘I guess we’re doing the cake cutting before dessert,’ said the woman.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Magnus. ‘I need to fast for three days before I touch anything else. I haven’t got room for another bite.’

  ‘Oh, there’s nothing on you.’ The woman batted his arm.

  Everyone fell silent. A drumroll was followed by raucous applause and Skylar teetered up the stairs to take her place at the mic, beaming at the cake.

  ‘Oh my god, thank you,’ she said, raising her hand for quiet then placing it on her neck. ‘You’re all so awesome. Thank you for coming, and check out this cake.’

  The towering creation was almost the same height as her, even in her six-inch heels. How could this be the same woman he’d spoken to earlier? She must be a great actress because she was transformed into the all-glitter princess the media loved – or at least loved to hate. So much for not wanting this for her birthday. She looked in her element.

  She smoothed out her tiny figure-hugging dress and flicked back a flurry of blonde hair. The perfect barrel curls reached her flat bottom. Jeez, she’d had a whole new head of hair fitted since the afternoon. Magnus tossed back a drink. This was Hollywood after all.

  As she blew out the candles, cheers rang out and the room erupted into a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. Magnus joined in before withdrawing with everyone else. He joined the throng, waiting to exit.

  The various areas of the hotel were opened like a theme park with something for everyone. On an upper floor, he located the club. Two thickset bouncers guarded the door. Leaving the corridor for this darkened room was surreal. Music throbbed with a modern vibe as opposed to the mellow ballroom below.

  Inside, the music intensified and neon lights flickered around. Magnus slipped through the crowd of bodies, exhaling upwards, trying to cool his forehead in the stifling heat. He approached the bar and waited in line to be served. A couple beside him made out loudly. He watched in horrified fascination for a few seconds before looking away. The line got closer and eventually he had a cool cocktail in hand.

  ‘Hey, you.’

  He glanced around. From amidst a gang of friends, Skylar waved. He raised his glass.

  ‘I wondered if I’d bump into you,’ she said, breaking away from her group. ‘You know who I am, right?’

  ‘Of course.’ This was getting weirder.

  ‘And…’ She scanned him up and down. ‘We spoke earlier, yeah.’

  He sipped his drink. ‘Yup. I haven’t forgotten.’

  ‘Good.’ She smiled her Hollywood smile – white teeth sparkling and blue eyes flashing.

  ‘You seem a lot happier.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Was I too morbid before? Sorry about that.’

  He furrowed his brow and squinted, trying to hold her gaze and reopen the connection, but there was nothing. Maybe she’d taken drugs or something.

  ‘You know that thing I told you before.’

  ‘Which thing?’ he asked.

  ‘You know…’ Her expression turned coy.

  ‘The thing about this kind of party not really being your thing?’

  ‘Did I say that? Jeez, what a case. Shoot me now.’ She threw out her hands and her lips parted.

  Magnus sipped his cocktail and frowned. Was this method acting? Whatever it was, she was so different, it was uncanny. Was she putting on a show for her friends?

  ‘I don’t recall your name,’ she said. ‘Maybe you told me, but I meet so many people, sorry.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you. It’s Magnus Hansen.’

  ‘Ooh, I like it. Handsome Hansen.’

  He smirked and looked away. ‘Nice.’

  ‘Well, handsome. I don’t know about you but it’s a bit hot in here.’ Her eyes scanned around then slipped back to his face.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Come with me.’ She took his hand and led him through the crowd. He’d packed away a substantial amount of alcohol that evening but, through the brain fog, he guessed a string of bodyguards and onlookers were following.

  A door swung open, ushering a shift in the air, definitely cooler than inside. Holding his glass high, he made his way through the crowd circulating on the balcony. Skylar had his hand in a grip lock. Sambuca stench mingled with expensive perfumes and body sprays filtered into his nostrils, making him nauseous. The dull thump of the music pounded inside and the doors clicked open and shut as people followed them at a distance.

  At the balcony edge, Skylar stopped and put her back to the railing, pulling Magnus closer. ‘So,’ she said. ‘How do you like it out here?’

  ‘Great,’ he said, releasing her hand. He leaned his elbows on the railings and looked out, holding his glass over the street below. Skylar’s eyes bored into him. Now, she was behaving like all the other women in his life. He knew what she wanted but, hell, he wasn’t that easy. Not even for a Hollywood movie star. And something wasn’t right. If she was drugged up, he couldn’t touch her.

  She trailed her fingertips over his hands and up his forearms. No shit. He almost dropped his glass over the edge. So much for his resolve. He stood tall, examining her.

  Before he could think, her arms wound around his neck and he stepped back, holding his cocktail glass high; a few drops splashed from it. ‘Whoa, steady,’ he said as the cold balcony rail pressed into his back and the neon lights dazzled him in the soft evening darkness. He was as drunk as her if not more so. Did that even things out?

  ‘I am steady,’ she whispered. ‘And ready. How about you, handsome?’ She looked into his eyes as she spoke. And shit, she was beautiful. Far too perfect. All legs, tumbling blonde curls, straight teeth, and eyelashes he could hang his shirt on as soon as he could get it off. Where had the meek and mild girl from earlier gone?

  Keeping her focus on him, she leaned in. Somewhere a voice told him not to, but when did he ever do what he was told? Their lips touched. Alcohol induced or not, the kiss was hot – at first. His attempt at going softly was quashed; she moulded closer until every slender curve of her long, lithe figure pressed against him. But it was fake like everything else about her. Or maybe he’d just drunk too much. This wasn’t how he’d imagined kissing her earlier.

  Someone wolf-whistled. Magnus pulled back, his top half over the edge of the parapet, painfully aware they weren’t alone. But she didn’t let go. Laughter and shouts echoed from below. Skylar anchored her fingers behind his head. He had no chance of moving. The contact deepened. Their mouths parted, and her tongue touched his. Alcohol or something on a more visceral level blocked the sensations he was expecting, instead a bland feeling barely more exciting than chewing a steak swept over him.

  Still holding his cocktail in one hand, he used the other to roam over the contours of her body, barely sheathed by her tiny satin dress. Finding the small of her back, he rested his palm on it. This was insane. Maybe she wanted to get him back to her room. Would she morph back into her ‘real’ self if they were alone? What the hell was he thinking? The pilot from the Scottish backwoods and the glittering Los Angeles movie star, Skylar Rousse, was quite a story but he’d be lucky to keep his job if he took this any further.

  Skylar grabbed the back of his shirt, hoisted it out of his jeans and slipped her hand up
his back. ‘Christ,’ he muttered, barely breaking the kiss but spilling his drink. ‘Everyone’s watching. We should stop.’

  She rolled her eyes in a wide arc. ‘One of the perks of my life. I don’t get to do anything without an audience.’ Unhooking her arm from Magnus, she swung around to face her entourage, breaking through the hoots and laughter with a loud, ‘Hey!’ She stamped her foot. Magnus used the moment to knock back his cocktail and ditch the glass. ‘Will y’all stand back and give a girl some privacy.’ She loomed larger than life, verging on dangerous, in her skyrise heels.

  Adjusting his shirt collar and deliberately not looking at the assembled group, Magnus heard movements, footsteps, chatter, doors opening and the music blaring, then quietening. He needed to get out of here too.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Skylar. She took hold of Magnus’s shirt and pulled him round so his back was to the door, then she slipped her arms under his and pulled him close. Leaning out from behind him, she shrieked, ‘And you. Butt out.’ Then she snapped at her bodyguard. ‘Get rid of her, you know she’s not allowed out here.’

  Magnus made to turn around to see what was going on, but Skylar had pushed onto her tiptoes and sunk her lips onto his again, robbing him of the ability to move.

  Now

  Chapter 3

  Taylor

  Taylor forced herself to breathe slowly. She gripped the edge of her reclining seat. Take-off was always the worst but that wasn’t why her heart was racing. She closed her eyes and rested until the plane levelled. Peering out the tiny window, she checked they were up. Skylar’s private jet pilot spoke through the intercom, telling them they could remove their belts. Taylor didn’t.

  ‘Good god, what are you fretting about now?’

  Taylor slowly opened her eyes to see Skylar standing over her. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Skylar sat beside her.

  Once, it had been like looking in a mirror when Taylor looked at her sister, but not so much now. Taylor had ditched all attempts at style. Where Skylar’s hair tumbled down her back in perfect barrel curls, Taylor’s was shorter and straggly in comparison. Skylar’s clothes were handpicked to match the latest fashions. Taylor settled for her cast-offs, which were fine even if Skylar sneered and screwed up her face at ‘last year’s look’. And Skylar loved make-up; she was plastered in it. Taylor settled for barely there – if she bothered at all.