Second Act Read online

  ALSO BY NANCY HERKNESS

  Second Glances series

  Second to None: A Novella

  Second Time Around

  Wager of Hearts series

  The CEO Buys In

  The All-Star Antes Up

  The VIP Doubles Down

  The Irishman’s Christmas Gamble: A Novella

  Whisper Horse novels

  Take Me Home

  Country Roads

  The Place I Belong

  A Down-Home Country Christmas: A Novella

  Stand-Alone Novels

  A Bridge to Love

  Shower of Stars

  Music of the Night

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2019 by Nancy Herkness

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503905337

  ISBN-10: 1503905330

  Cover design by Letitia Hasser

  Cover photography by Wander Aguiar

  To my sister, Damon, and my cousin Robert, with profound gratitude for your unwavering support.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  He had just enough power left in his burning lungs and spent legs to sprint around the next street corner, trying not to skid on the wet, slushy sidewalk. The pounding footsteps behind him punched an extra shot of adrenaline into his system, giving him a burst of speed as he leaned into the turn. He spotted a break in the row of facades just ahead. Five strides, four, three . . . and he was there, cutting hard left between two multistory brick buildings into an alleyway where his pursuers couldn’t shoot him for the next few moments, at least.

  “Oof!” The last lungful of breath was forced out of him as he slammed into a body that wasn’t supposed to be there.

  “Ow!” said a female voice.

  His arms went around her as he spun his back hard against a wall to keep from crashing onto the dirty, cracked pavement. Hugh exerted every muscle in his carefully trained body to maintain his balance and that of the woman in his arms. But she was struggling to get loose.

  He held on to his temper as he sucked in gulps of oxygen. “Lady, you should not be here.”

  “But I almost had her,” she said, her face turned away. “Now you’ve scared her back into hiding. Would you please let me—?” She finally looked up at him, her gray eyes opening wide. “Oh my God! Hugh!”

  Hugh had the strangest sense of being pulled backward through time as he stood with his arms locked around the squirming woman.

  “Cut! What the hell?” The director’s furious voice echoed off the walls. “Where did she come from?”

  “She came from my distant past.” Hugh gazed down at the astonished face of his ex-fiancée, her long, silky brown hair twisted into the same lopsided bun he’d found so endearing the first day they’d met. Her eyes held surprise but also the soft light of compassion that had drawn him to her from the start. The generous curves of her mouth reminded him of the first time he’d kissed her, hoping he’d read the signals right and that she would kiss him back. When she had, his world had shifted under his feet.

  “Hello, Jess,” he said.

  It had been eight years since he’d last seen her—the day she’d handed him back her engagement ring before she left him—and he had no idea what she’d been doing in the intervening time. Jabs of guilt and regret lanced through him because that was his fault. His pride had kept him away from the woman he’d once loved with all his young heart and soul.

  Bryan stomped up to them, his bushy red hair sticking out in all directions, with the movie’s crew, bundled up in their motley array of cold-weather gear, trailing behind him. “I don’t care if she’s known you since you were in diapers. This is an active movie shoot.” He glared at Jess. “Did you not see all the barriers and signs? And where is our goddamn useless security?”

  Hugh released her with an odd reluctance. “Jess, meet Bryan Ostroff, the director of Christmas Best,” he said. “Bryan, this is Jessica Quillen, my ex-fiancée.” He felt the group’s attention sharpen and focus on the woman at his side. He wrapped his arm around her slight shoulders in a gesture of protectiveness.

  Even Bryan stopped shouting long enough to give Jessica a once-over. “I didn’t know you had an ex-fiancée,” he said before his anger returned. “And I don’t give a shit, since she ruined the fourth and about-to-be-perfect take of the chase scene.”

  Jessica shrugged off Hugh’s arm and stepped toward Bryan with her hand held out. “Please accept my apologies, Mr. Ostroff.” The director hesitated only a moment before he took her hand. Hugh had seen Jess handle even tougher customers the same way, so he wasn’t surprised that she had disarmed Bryan’s indignation with her sincere good manners.

  “I’ve been trying to catch a pregnant stray dog for about a week now,” she continued with an earnest smile. “I was so focused on following her that I guess I didn’t notice all this.” She gestured toward the array of cameras, barriers, and people. “I’m so sorry.”

  When there was an animal in need, Jess didn’t let anything stop her from going to its aid. Her total commitment to caring was what had made her shine like a beacon to him all those years ago on another movie set. “You haven’t changed,” Hugh murmured.

  “I told you I wouldn’t,” she said, her tone holding a glimmer of sadness.

  Old pain and regret ripped through him. She’d been true to herself.

  “Can you have this touching reunion on your own time?” Bryan said. “We need to finish this scene before we have to bring out the floodlights.” He beckoned to one of the assistants, a clipboard-toting woman in a sweatshirt and cargo pants, before turning back to Jessica and moderating the exasperation in his tone. “Almost Mrs. Baker, could you please go with Margaret here? She’ll take you to Hugh’s trailer to wait.”

  “I wasn’t planning to stay,” Jessica said, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her quilted maroon jacket.

  “Fine. Whatever.” Bryan was already walking away as he shouted instructions at the cameramen.

  “Please wait. I’d like a chance to talk,” Hugh found himself saying.

  Jessica glanced at the purple sports watch strapped around her wrist before starting to shake her head as she looked back up, her expression guarded. This was a new Jess. In the old days, she had never hidden her feelings from him.

  Hugh gave her the seductive smile that made millions of women fall in love with the suave secret agent he played. “Doesn’t your ex-fiancé rate as much time as a pregnant stray dog?”

  Her
sweetly curved lips flattened into a frown. “The dog needs help. You’re well taken care of.”

  “I very much want to know what you’ve been doing. Find out how you came to be here in South Harlem. It’s been a long time.” Hugh injected a subtle note of pleading into his voice.

  “It’s been a really long time, so why do you suddenly care about what I’m doing?” Fury sparked in her eyes before she made a gesture of apology. “Sorry, that was uncalled-for. I’m just frustrated about losing the dog again.”

  He hadn’t expected the anger. “No, you’re right, it’s been too long. I’d like to apologize, but I can’t right now.” He nodded toward the bustle of the film crew. “If you can spare the time . . .”

  She hesitated, so he threw in a bribe. “There are sandwiches in my trailer, just in case you haven’t eaten recently.”

  He knew the memory had caught her when the corners of her mouth twitched. Back when they were a couple, she had worked at a large emergency animal hospital in Los Angeles. When things got hectic, she would work through lunch, the hunger making her cranky by the time she got home. If she snarled at him when he said hello, he would make a beeline for the kitchen and assemble a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich at top speed, handing it to her without another word.

  “That’s not why I’m in a bad mood,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “But you’ve convinced me to stay.”

  A surprisingly powerful wave of satisfaction rolled through him. “Thank you, Jess. We’re almost done with this scene,” he said. “Then they have to reset the cameras to shoot in the alley. That’s when we’ll get a rest period.”

  He waved the waiting Margaret forward. As the two women walked away, he watched his ex-fiancée’s back, noting the slush-spattered jeans and thick-soled, black leather boots. Another wave of nostalgia rolled over him. Jess had never cared what she wore, and yet her very unconcern had made her more beautiful in his eyes.

  “Hugh!” Bryan’s voice yanked his thoughts away from the woman who had dumped him. “I want you on the main street again. You need to get back up to full speed before you take the turn.”

  He banished Jessica from his mind and returned to the role every moviegoer in the world knew him as: Julian Best, super spy.

  Jessica sat with her hands cupped around a mug of hot tea, gazing around Hugh’s trailer. With its four “slide-outs,” it was almost the same size as the apartment they’d lived in together eight years ago in Los Angeles and far more luxurious than the South Harlem Victorian row house she owned now. The trailer’s built-in tables and cabinets were all done in a burled blond wood that gleamed in slashes of late-afternoon sunlight. A crystal bowl of fresh fruit and a vase of purple-and-white flowers stood on the table in the fully equipped kitchen.

  In the seating area, the chairs and sofas were upholstered in cognac leather, their plump cushions inviting her to relax in front of the giant television. Margaret had told her that Hugh watched the dailies on the huge screen. She’d even showed Jessica Hugh’s bedroom, which included one entire slide-out devoted to a brilliantly lit, mirrored makeup area.

  “Not that Mr. Baker needs much makeup,” Margaret said. “He has one of those faces that the camera loves. And he gets better as he gets older.” There was adoration in the woman’s voice.

  Jessica had been too shocked and then too distracted to examine her ex-fiancé’s face closely, but she’d watched him mature through his movies. Margaret was right about his camera appeal, but it was more than his brilliant turquoise eyes, his sharply sculpted jawline, and that sinful mouth she remembered too vividly, all framed by thick, nearly black hair. Hugh had charisma and a seductive edge of darkness. When he was in a scene, all the other actors faded into insignificance. It was impossible to look away from him. She’d been engaged to all that, but once she’d accepted that she couldn’t stay with him without losing herself, she’d known she needed to get out of his way.

  However, because she’d loved him so deeply that it seemed embedded in the marrow of her bones, she’d been happy for Hugh as he rose to stardom after she’d given back the ring. It was good to know that she’d done the right thing, even though it had ripped her guts out.

  She had watched every one of his movies on the day it was released. The first one had been agonizing because the pain of their failure as a couple was still so fresh. Seeing Hugh larger than life-size on the big screen had stirred up memories both joyful and miserable, and she’d spent the entire two hours with tears streaming down her face. Thank God she’d gone alone.

  Over time, the anguish had lessened and she could appreciate the movies themselves, seeing Hugh more as Julian Best and less as the man she’d loved too much to hold him back. This was what he’d been born to do, and she applauded the drive and talent that had rocketed him to the top of his profession, despite the fact that it meant leaving her behind.

  His palace on wheels illustrated the level of what he’d achieved in a concrete way. Pushing away the contrast between her situation and his, she picked up one of the double-decker sandwiches from the platter Margaret had insisted on setting in front of her. She lifted the top slice of artisanal bread to reveal a thick layer of perfectly cooked steak. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes to savor the way the tender meat melted on her palate. Then hunger got the better of her and she devoured the rest of it at high speed.

  She eyed the abundance on the platter and considered stuffing a sandwich in her pocket to lure the stray dog out of hiding. She hadn’t intended to spend her day off chasing down a terrified dog, but she was afraid the starving creature would give birth before dying as she tried to care for her puppies. And then all of them would perish. The thought sent a pang of guilt through her as she sat in luxury, waiting to chat with a world-famous movie star.

  Which brought her to the question of why Hugh wanted to talk to her after eight years of silence. In the months after their breakup, she’d called him several times, getting his voice mail and leaving messages. He’d never returned them, so she’d given up.

  His total withdrawal had been like a knife blade in her heart. She’d become an obstacle to his career, a weight that she didn’t want him to have to carry as he climbed ever upward, but she’d thought she could still be some small part of his life. He’d called her his best friend as well as the only woman he’d loved wholeheartedly. But he had cut her out of his world as though she hadn’t existed.

  The misery came slashing back, and she jolted to her feet in search of a diversion.

  She poked around the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the well-stocked refrigerator. She stopped to inhale the potent fragrance of lilies from the flower arrangement before spotting a couple of photos on the wall. The one that caught her eye was of Hugh and Gavin Miller, the bestselling author who wrote the Julian Best books. She’d heard that they had become friends. The photo must have been taken at some sort of awards ceremony, because both men wore tuxedos and sexy smiles, which evoked a nearly breathtaking effect.

  A wave of desire surged through her as she recalled what Hugh looked like under the tuxedo, all lean, hard muscle, the kind of body that made him believable as a highly trained secret agent . . . and made his love scenes steaming hot.

  She gulped down some cold water just as the door flew open. Hugh bounded into the trailer to stand in front of a vent set in the polished wood paneling, shivering in a white dress shirt that clung to every curve and contour of his shoulders and torso. He held his hands up to the flow of warm air and threw her a wry look. “It’s fu . . . rrricking freezing out there.” He turned his hands to warm the palms, and she remembered the way those long, powerful fingers had once played over her bare skin, sometimes with gentle seduction, sometimes with rough craving.

  She’d never thought of herself as wildly passionate until she met Hugh. It wasn’t even his looks that had made her want to jump into bed with him every time they came within ten feet of each other—although they didn’t hurt. It was that he held nothing back when they made lov
e. All his formidable barriers dropped, which brought out an answering intensity in her.

  A frisson of awareness ran through her. She really needed to get away from Hugh and the memories he kept dredging up.

  He rubbed his hands together and turned to her with his slanting smile. “Sorry, but I didn’t want my fingers to fall off due to frostbite. Let me grab a sweater and we’ll catch up.”

  Jessica nodded because words had deserted her. She pivoted to watch him stride into his bedroom, the tailored wool of his trousers pulling tight over the muscled planes of his butt. He returned, tugging a silver-gray sweater over his head and down the expanse of his chest. Settling the hem at his narrow waist, he said, “Ahhh, that’s better.” Then he ran his fingers through the dark waves of his hair, smoothing out some of the rumple the sweater had given it.

  Jessica curled her hands firmly around the water bottle because she wanted to finish the job of fixing his hair for him. Then she noticed something familiar about the sweater. “Is that the one I gave—?” She cut off her question, because it was absurd.

  Hugh looked puzzled for a moment before he glanced down at his chest and back up again. “Yes. You sent it to me when the first Best movie came out.” He winced. “I never thanked you for it, did I? Forgive me for being a total ass.”

  Pleasure and pain surged through her in equal waves. He’d loved beautiful clothes but couldn’t afford them when they were together. Just before the premiere of the first Julian Best movie, she’d wanted him to know she was celebrating for him, despite his refusal to return her calls. So she’d gone to an Armani store with her credit card in hand. When she had touched the sweater in the store, the knitted silk had flowed over her fingertips like a soft Caribbean sea. The price tag had made her choke, but she’d closed her eyes as she signed the receipt.

  “I can’t believe you still have it.” Or that he remembered he hadn’t thanked her, a discourtesy that had sliced a fresh wound in her heart.

  He ran his palm down the flat plane of his abdomen. “It’s my lucky sweater.”

  “I thought you made your own luck.” It had been one of his favorite sayings when he set off for yet another audition.