A Beautiful Star (Beautiful Series, Book 5) (5 page)

When we finally get home, mum and I drive past my house, and seeing that there was nobody staking the place out, we went inside.

“Well this is nice,” mum comments as I let her walk ahead of me inside and she spots a large floral arrangement that sits in the centre of a brand new dining setting. “They must be from that Marcus fellow since he came in here and lost his shit,” she says, causing me to laugh a little to myself as she isn’t a huge swear word user, but when she does swear, it all sounds very proper. “Oh dear,” she adds with a frown as she reads the card that was attached to them.

“Oh dear, what?” I ask, taking the card from between her fingers and reading over it myself.

It wasn’t an act. J x

She points at the card. “I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I’m pretty sure the ‘j’ stands for Jonathan. Is there something you want to tell me?”

I scrunch up the card in my hand and shake my head. “No mum. There’s nothing. This is just a man who’s used to getting what he wants feeling petulant because for once, he didn’t get it.”

“Oh I see, he tried something and you turned him down. What?” she adds when I raise my brows in her direction. “I know how these things work. I’ve had my fair share of unwanted suitors.”

“Well, this is definitely, an unwanted one,” I say, picking up the vase and walking straight outside where I drop it in the bin, just as I hear the click of a camera shutter. “Isn’t there something more interesting you could be taking pictures of?” I ask the photographer who stands in my driveway.

“Not really,” he states, taking another shot as I stand and look at him with my hand on my hips in annoyance. Then, rolling my eyes, I head back inside to where my mother is waiting.

“Back to my place then?” she asks.

And I nod. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

***

After packing a bag and heading over to my parent’s house, I don’t really have any further problems with photographers. But it is nice to be around other people instead of alone in my own home–even if I do miss my own, much larger, bed.

And while the shots of me throwing the flowers in the bin run in the paper the next day, I manage to go to work without too much drama coming my way. That is, until the courier comes in and I’m given tickets to some sort of red carpet event.

“Take them back. I’m not interested,” I say, refusing to sign for them and leaving the courier feeling a bit put out.

My phone beeps within the hour.

Jonathan:
First you throw out my flowers and then you refuse the tickets. I’m wounded.

Me:
The flowers were dead and I’m busy tonight. Perhaps choose one of your other women. Maybe take your fiancée.

Jonathan:
You should read the news more often. There is no fiancée anymore. And I don’t want to choose another woman.

I shake my head after reading the last text message and wonder where a man like that gets off. If someone doesn’t want your attentions, it doesn’t mean you should just try harder, it means you should back off. Even if you’re name is Jonathan Masters and that name is on the hottest men on the planet list. Just because he’s divinely good looking, doesn’t mean he can have everything he wants. And if I’m really honest, then yes, I am attracted to him, and yes, I did feel a chemistry between us. But I have to put that down to him being who he is, and I am a woman, and just like all women, I’m prey to my hormones at times. It doesn’t mean that my brain can’t win and make a logical choice.

A logical choice like Brad, for instance. He could be the real one for me. I mean, you think about the way we met. I was in the lift alone and when he stepped on and said hi, I said ‘oh my god, you can see me?’ I was in a weird mood and was just dicking around. He grinned and reached out and took a hold of a strand of my hair, giving it a tug before saying a simple, ‘yep’. We laughed and he asked me for my number and we went for a drink. It was a nice, simple way to meet someone. It’s the way these things are meant to go.

Now, the drink we had together wasn’t really the most fun date in the world. I had just had a teeth pulling interview with a girl band who thought they were too big to do a press junket with the other big acts at a music festival.  Not only that, but he had seemed a little preoccupied as well. Although we did get along, and I do find him very attractive. The conversation between us still flowed so we set up another date that fit with both our busy schedules, and that’s when I stood him up.

My phone beeps again, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look down, expecting to see another text from Jonathan, but instead, I find one from Brad and wonder if he somehow read my mind.

We still on for tonight?

Me:
Absolutely. I’m looking forward to it.

Brad:
Will meet you after work in the lobby.

I reply in the affirmative then immediately go and delete the texts from Jonathan, something about the action allowing me to push him to the back of my mind.

Stubborn man.

“You're looking stunning,” Brad comments as I exit the lift wearing the simple black skirt and a pale blue silk sleeveless blouse that I wore to work this morning, knowing I had a dinner date as well.

I grin, blushing slightly, as I admire his tall lean build as he waits for me by one of the mocha columns in the neutral coloured lobby. With fashionably messy dark hair and even darker eyes, Brad is looking comfortably stylish in black dress pants and a crisp white shirt, which he’s left casually open at the neck. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, revealing forearms covered in colourful tattoos.

Pausing beside him, I give him a nudge with my shoulder in greeting. “You don't look so bad yourself,” I comment, feeling a little shy around someone so new to me. I take a deep breath and try to still the nervous butterflies that are flitting through my stomach. “So where are you taking me to dinner? Or I should say, where would you like
me
to take
you
to dinner? After standing you up last time it's only right that I pay to make up for it.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it. I actually thought we could go to Quay. It's got great views of the harbour, and it doesn't get so loud that you can't hear each other talk.”

“Quay? That place isn't very easy to get into with only a few days’ notice.  How did you manage to wangle that?”

Placing his hand on my lower back, we begin to walk outside to hail a cab as we continue to talk. “I just know some people,” he says, scanning the busy Sydney street for some transport. “It's no big deal.” He raises his arm as a white taxi with its vacant light can be seen heading towards us on George Street. Then, opening the back door he guides me inside and gives the cabbie instructions as to where to take us.

“So, who do you know?” I ask, my curiosity, a tight pull in my stomach that I can’t ignore. “The chef? The owner?” Then, our conversation over drinks begins to revisit me. “Oh, hang on, now I remember. You mentioned that you work in hospitality when we went for drinks. Is Quay where you work?

He grins, his eyes crinkling closed a little as he looks at me, letting out a light chuckle as he shakes his head. “Basically, yeah.”

“Basically, yeah,” I repeat, as my mind goes over the few things I know about him. “Okay, I can play this game. Let’s see if I’m right…so, you were in my building, and when I met you, you were getting into the lift from the advertising floor, which means you either know someone on that floor, or you were there on business yourself.” He watches me, an amused smile playing on his lips as I lay out my observations. “Considering you were wearing a suit at the time, I'm assuming you were there on business. You've told me you work in hospitality, which at first I took as you being a waiter, or a bartender, or something. But now, I'm thinking it's more than that. I'm thinking…that you either own Quay or you’re the manager there, maybe even a...” I pause and meet his eyes, his eyebrows raised as he waits for me to announce my conclusion. “A chef. You're the chef." I grin, knowing I have it right as the pieces begin to fit together. "You are. You're Bradley Rae, the head chef they poached from that little boutique hotel. I remember reading an article about it.”

I sit back against the leather seat of the cab and let out a contented sigh, feeling very pleased with myself for putting the clues together.

“Well done,” he grins. “You’ve definitely got a knack for investigative reporting if you ever decide to quit interviewing celebrities for Voyeur Magazine.”

“Ah, someone else has been paying attention too,” I laugh, although he shakes his head.

“No. I admit I don’t quite have your skills, and I may have looked you up on Google after I saw you on the news last week.”

“Oh god. Don’t remind me. That was a huge nightmare. I should really explain that whole thing. I don’t want you to think I’m regularly involved with fighting actors and musicians. It was all just a crazy ploy to try and help my friend.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. It’s really none of my business. It happened. We’ve rescheduled our date, and I’m happy about that. I even prepared this really awesome almond and citrus dessert. You don’t have any nut allergies do you?”

“No. Not at all. It sounds amazing, and I’ll eat anything…well…except strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Why do they have such a bad rap?”

“I don’t know. Something about their smell and the texture of the flesh and the seeds. I just don’t like them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for future reference,” he says as the taxi drops us off outside the restaurant, and being a girl, I can’t help but smile at his comment that tells me he’s obviously very interested.

***

Dinner is
amazing
. Before tonight, I hadn’t eaten at Quay before. It’s one of those places that you need to book a year in advance because it’s so popular. You are literally overlooking Sydney Harbour no matter where you sit.   The walls are curved glass so even in the centre of the restaurant, you still have a great view. And the food. Wow. It’s like my tongue is having an orgasm with every bite.

“Oh my god, I feel like my tongue has never tasted food before. These are all your creations?” I ask, as I sit across the table with Brad watching me amusedly. He’s been eating, but I think he’s enjoying the fact that I’m in food heaven right now, and he’s the one who took me there.

“Yeah. This is my menu. But of course, I didn't do all the cooking tonight. I just oversaw the prep work before I came to pick you up.”

I lick my dessertspoon, the tanginess of marmalade mixed with a rich creamy almond ice cream and sweet meringue make my taste buds buzz in excitement.

“Well, I'm definitely impressed. Is this what you do with all the girls you meet in elevators?” I ask, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip to get that perfect mix of bitter and sweet after eating dessert.

He lets out a chuckle and relaxes back in his seat. “Not at all. To be honest, you're the first girl I've ever met in an elevator and actually wanted to take out. I had to be sure you weren’t really a ghost,” he laughs, referring to the joke I played on him when we first met.

I smile, biting on my lip as I gently place the china mug back on its dish. “That was a bit weird wasn't it?”

He shrugs. “Not weird so much as it was funny. Although,
intriguing
might be a better word for it.”

“Intriguing?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was intrigued by what would make a beautiful girl, such as yourself, decide to play a prank on a random stranger. At first I thought you might have been filming it for YouTube or something. Then I realised you were just doing it for your own enjoyment. And
that
, intrigued me. I thought a girl with looks
and
a sense of humour would definitely be worth knowing.”

“I suppose I must be missing a bit of a filter,” I laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s nice to know you think I’m beautiful though.”

“That could be my own lack of a filter.”

“Saying what you think is never a bad thing. It shows honesty and that’s something I most definitely appreciate.”

“That sounds like a comment from someone who’s been lied to before,” he queries with a raise of his brow.

I shrug my shoulders. “Haven’t we all?” I return.

“I suppose we have,” he nods, his eyes watching me carefully–interested. “So what did you think about your first visit to Quay?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I think it’s totally worth waiting a whole year for.”

“And yet, you didn’t have to wait that long.”

“And I feel very lucky as a result. But most people do wait a year, so I definitely feel the food is worth it. It’s like Christmas for my mouth.”

He chuckles. “I like that description of it. I should write that in the menu.”

“You should. You’d be even busier than you are now.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I could handle being busier than I am now.”

“The life of a head chef at an exclusive restaurant is a hard one, huh?”

“It is,” he admits. “It’s actually very rare that I get to do something like this. I’m not the easiest man to date, I’m afraid.”

I lean forward, folding my arms on the edge of the table. “There’s that honesty again,” I smile.

He tilts his head slightly to the side. “Well, you need to know what you’re in for.”

“Ok. Lay it on me.”

“Well, I travel a lot while researching new menus. And when I’m home, I tend to work six out of seven days and even then I’m working on something at home.”

“A bit obsessed with your craft?”

“Sort of,” he smiles, reaching out to take a sip of his iced water.

“Ok, well, I’m not always the easiest person to date either. Not counting the whole, chased by the paparazzi thing from last week, normally, I can be a bit hard to pin down because I work a lot of nights to get my stories and sometimes I travel too. So, if this is something you’d like to do when we’re both free, then I suppose we can both work around each other?” I suggest, my brow raised in question as I wait for his response. I could have taken his whole ‘hard to date’ comment as a brush off, but something in the tone of his voice and his body language suggests that he’s just trying to warn me so his busy schedule doesn’t become an issue for us.

“That would be perfect because, I’m kind of in like with you,” he says, his voice gentle with a hint of amusement as he speaks.

Smiling, I sit back in my seat. “That happens a lot. I’m a pretty amazing person you know,” I respond, keeping my voice steady and cool. In truth, my stomach just did a little flip-flop thing. It’s been a long time since a man has said that he likes me. Actually, it’s been a long time since I’ve actually been around a guy I wanted to date.

After the whole incident with Marcus Bailey, I’ve done my best to keep my professional and my personal life very separate. And since my professional life does lead me to a lot of music clubs, concerts and parties, I find that my personal life is a quiet night out with a friend–it’s why Lisa and I got along so well, she wasn’t into the whole party scene either.

“Amazing and modest too,” Brad laughs, signalling to the wait staff that we’re finished. “Come on. I’ll take you for a walk along the harbour.”

“Whoa, that’s very romantic,” I tease. “Watch yourself Bradley Rae, or you’ll find that I’m in like with you too.”

He places his hand on my lower back and guides me toward the exit. “Well, that’s kind of the plan, you know. I have to be sure you remember me until we get the chance to go out again.”

“When a girl who survives on take out, meets a man with culinary skills such as yours, it could be a decade and she wouldn’t forget,” I counter as he leads me outside into the cool sea air. Once outside, we link arms, and slowly we make our way along the water’s edge to Circular Quay, chatting comfortably the whole way.

***

“I had a really great time tonight,” I tell Brad at the end of our evening as he sees me to a cab. “You’re a lot of fun.”

“Fun? Wow, I was hoping I was more than just fun.”

I rise on my toes and plant a soft kiss on his lips. “Fun is exactly what I need right now,” I whisper and he catches my face in his hands, bringing his lips to mine as he sucks gently on my lower lip, his tongue dancing lightly across the entrance of my mouth as it brushes upward, teasing my top lip with a promise of more to come before he pulls away.

“Fun is good,” he smiles and I nod, feeling a little heady after his kiss. He seems so kind and easy going that I didn’t expect him to do something spontaneous and passionate like that. It was disarming and made me feel a little out of control, but in a good way.

I pull away from him and look up into his handsome face. “Fun is very good,” I agree, before thanking him for dinner and getting into the cab to go home. Although, I don’t go back to my place, I still head back to my parent’s–I’m still not comfortable staying at mine because honestly, I’m afraid of the paparazzi. Not because I think they’ll hurt me, but because they’ll run any sort of gossip they can piece together. I don’t feel comfortable being watched, and there are some who don’t give a damn whether Jonathan and I are involved or not. They’ll find a story, and if they can’t find it, they’ll just make it up.