Island Fling To Forever

Rosa shoved the last of the Scrabble tiles aside and got to her feet. ‘I really should go and find my mother. Let her know I’m here.’

Jude inclined his head in a small nod. ‘Of course.’

She waited, just a moment, in case he was going to say anything more, but he was already studying his letters again. If those groupies could see him now—wild-child rock-and-roll star plays Scrabble. Wouldn’t they be disappointed?

Was she, though? Rosa wasn’t even sure. Already this trip home was nothing like she’d expected.

But she couldn’t be certain if that was a bad thing or not. Not yet.

She paused as she reached the archway leading into the villa.

‘Jude?’

He looked up. ‘Yeah?’

‘Did you really not know I’d be here?’

‘Honestly?’ Jude gave her a sardonic smile. ‘I would never have come if I did.’

Rosa looked away. Well. That told her.

And really, what else was she hoping for?

Shaking away the conversation with Jude, Rosa headed inside to find her mother. And some answers.

* * *

Jude watched Rosa go, then realised she’d stopped, just inside the archway to the villa.

Not that he cared.

He shouldn’t care.

He absolutely shouldn’t care enough to want to watch her every move.

Except...he did. Even after everything.

Trying not to be obvious about it, Jude tilted his chair just enough for him to see inside the villa, to where Rosa had found her mother. Both women seemed far too preoccupied with each other to be worrying about him, so he took advantage of their distraction to shift his chair around a bit more, so he could watch them properly.

It wasn’t his place to spy on a reunion, he knew. But since his own with Rosa had been so anticlimactic, he wanted to know what a real one would look like.

Inside, Sancia threw her arms around Rosa and held her tight, swaying her back and forth with her outpouring of affection.

Once, Jude had imagined that his and Rosa’s reunion might be full of love, like that. Filled with passion, at least—the same kind of passion they’d shown each other during their brief time together.

Sometimes, late at night, he’d allowed himself to picture it. Rosa coming back, finding him backstage, just as he was finishing a gig. He’d be on a performance high, anyway, and when he saw her...everything would crystallise, fall into place. He’d sweep her up into his arms and never let her go again.

Except she’d never come back, had she?

And then Gareth had died, and he’d been so lost. So hopeless, without his best friend. He’d needed Rosa, then.

But she was long gone. And even if she hadn’t been...how could he let himself love her again, knowing what that love had cost him?

From the moment they’d met, when Rosa had arrived on the tour bus and introduced herself as the person who’d be documenting their every move for the next month, her presence had filled his whole world, pushing everything else to the edges. The connection had been instantaneous, even if the physical side of their relationship had developed more slowly. Rosa had spoken to them all, of course, taking notes, filming them, her camera always to hand. But somehow, when it had been just the two of them, Jude had found himself giving up far more than she’d asked for—details about his life, his mind, his friendships, his heart. Details she’d never used in the article, because they were just for her.

Whenever the music was done, they’d gravitate towards each other, letting the others head out to party while they headed back to the bus or a hotel room. And soon, all those late-night talks had become midnight kisses, and more, as Jude had lost himself in the wonder of Rosa.

Unbidden, memories of their last night came back to him, filling his brain with the images of them together. The hotel room, the champagne, the post-gig euphoria that always came over him—and Rosa. Rosa’s eyes, bright with excitement. Her hair, loose and soft and dark as it hung over her bare shoulders. Her olive skin, so smooth and welcoming under his hands.

The feel of her against him, both of them mindless with the kind of passion Jude knew didn’t come around all that often.

Or ever, for him, it seemed, unless it was with Rosa.

It was crazy. He’d been with supermodels, Hollywood actresses—some of the widely acknowledged most beautiful women in the world.

And they’d never made him feel an iota of what he felt in one night with Rosa.

He pushed the memories aside. It was that passion, that uncontrolled connection, that had made him forget the promise he’d made to Gareth after his first close call. Jude had sat beside that hospital bed looking at his best friend—too pale, too lost, so close to being utterly ruined by the drugs and the alcohol and the life it was so easy to live as a band on the road. And he’d made the most important promise of his life—he’d promised to keep Gareth safe from then on. To be the one Gareth could rely on to steer him away from temptation, to remind him how much he had to live for.

But then he’d met Rosa and let that promise slide, too distracted by passion and infatuation to notice his best friend slipping again.

Until it was too late.

Shaking his head, he looked away as he saw Sancia putting an arm around Rosa’s shoulders as she led her further into the villa. He had to stop living in his memories.

He needed to focus on what this meant for his future.

He’d made a new promise, when Gareth died—an echo of the one he’d made him a year before, except this one he’d kept, would keep on keeping. He’d live life for the both of them. He’d have the success that should have been theirs, chase the fame Gareth had always wanted. Live the life Gareth should be there to enjoy.

The Swifts’ success wasn’t his. It wasn’t even Jimmy’s or Lee’s or Tanya’s. It was all for Gareth.

And that was why he could never walk away from it. He owed his friend, for the life he got to live, without him, and for the promise he should have kept.

But even then, he couldn’t stay in New York for the publication of that book.

He’d come to La Isla Marina with a very firm objective in mind—to stay out of the public eye for a few weeks, long enough for all the fuss about The Naked Truth to fade away again, and to give him time to think about his next move, musically.

But Rosa being here...that could change everything. He mustn’t forget that he’d actually met Rosa when she was photographing the band for some British music magazine. What were the chances she was still doing that sort of work? Just because he hadn’t seen her at any of his gigs since didn’t mean she wasn’t still in the game.

And even if she wasn’t, she was a freelance photojournalist. A few shots of Jude Alexander hiding out on a remote Spanish island, when no one else had been able to get a hint of where he was...that would pay big money. Enough for a struggling freelancer to not have to worry about bills for a while, anyway.

Would she sell him out?

Three years ago, Jude could have answered that question without hesitation: never. Rosa wasn’t that sort of person. He might have only known her for four weeks, but he’d learned more about her in one month than he’d known about his own parents in a lifetime.

And maybe it still meant something. After all, she hadn’t used his secrets in the eventual article that had been published about that month-long tour. And there was no mention of Rosa—or any of the secrets only she knew—in That Book. There were whole chapters on Gareth, his death, Jude’s guilt over it, and everything that happened next, but no mention of the part Rosa had played in everything that happened.

Of course, probably the author just hadn’t known to look for Rosa. If they had...