Victoria's Got a Secret Read online

  HelenKay Dimon

  VICTORIA’S

  GOT A

  SECRET

  HelenKay Dimon

  VICTORIA’S

  GOT A

  SECRET

  Health Communications, Inc.

  Deerfield Beach, Florida

  www.hcibooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  HelenKay Dimon.

  Victoria’s got a secret / HelenKay Dimon.

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7573-1557-2

  ISBN-10: 0-7573-1557-7

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7573-9182-8 (e-book)

  ISBN-10: 0-7573-9182-6 (e-book)

  I. Women television journalists—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3604.I467V53 2011

  813'.6—dc22

  2011002606

  ©2011 Health Communications, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  HCI, its logos, and marks are trademarks of Health Communications, Inc.

  Publisher: Health Communications, Inc.

  3201 S.W. 15th Street

  Deerfield Beach, FL 33442–8190

  TRUE VOWS Series Developer: Olivia Rupprecht

  Cover photo ©iStockphoto

  Cover design by Larissa Hise Henoch

  Interior design and formatting by Lawna Patterson Oldfield

  Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  THIS TIME WAS DIFFERENT. She made the decisions and set the boundaries. The days of acting out someone else’s fantasy faded into the shadowed past. Her new life focused on taking control.

  Her body. Her mind. Her choices.

  She could stay or leave, and she chose to stay. The new office, complete with the impressive title and growing responsibilities, proved that. So did the thick stack of papers sitting on the edge of her desk.

  Without thinking, she traced her fingertip over the signature line of the employment contract and didn’t fight the smile. The blue ink had dried days ago but the unspoken statement she’d made still pounded in her brain.

  She’d spent the first part of her career with Naked News building an image and creating a persona. Becoming the Victoria Sinclair. In interviews back then, she spoke about how women taking off their clothes as they delivered the news was the perfect mix of pretty women and information.

  She had believed the words, the concept, and most certainly in the people who ran Naked News. She had used her numerous talk show appearances and private dinners to plead her case to those she knew and those she didn’t. But in some ways she’d only said the words. Now she lived them.

  Victoria Sinclair went from a role she played to something more. A piece of the whole. The part that found strength from within and knowledge from life as well as the pages of books. She’d once hidden behind the persona, then she repressed it. Now she would nurture it, understanding the power and the need to harness it.

  Her grandmother, known to the family as The Duchess, taught her to respect her body and use her mind. The Duchess insisted a woman could be anything and didn’t have to give up part of her soul to accomplish her goals.

  The Duchess was right.

  One

  You don’t choose love. Love chooses you.

  —Grandma Gladys, The Duchess

  SHE’D SEEN HIM AROUND ST. CLAIR’S SECONDARY school. Blondish-brown hair swept long over his ears, giving him the look of a sexy brooding musician despite his wide smile. He was the guy who got along with everyone, moving from the jock crowd to the popular crowd to the artsy crowd with ease.

  His name was Paul, and he was a year older. A touch of mystery surrounded him, which made him all the more attractive. Nothing like a guy with a bit of experience and access to a car to make him interesting. Being cute didn’t hurt either.

  Jennifer pegged him as charming with a bit of the devil in his sparkling green eyes. But touching him was the memory that stuck with her. Lean fingers and a firm hold. The moment came from ninth grade when the gym teacher paired them up in square dancing.

  Jogging over to her, he wore a leather vest and faded blue jeans that hugged his thighs and showed off his love of sports and physical activity. His arm slipped through hers and her stomach bounced. She’d kissed a boy at camp once, but this, the skin against skin contact, sucked the air right out of her.

  With Paul, swinging around in a circle didn’t seem silly or embarrassing. The world whirled around her as they clapped and stepped. She wanted the dance to last forever.

  But this meeting months later was different. No laughing students or dumb music. They were alone in his room.

  Her big sister Heather usually agreed to have her tag along on social stuff, but this time Heather had wanted to be with her boyfriend. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. Being dumped would have sucked for Jennifer if Heather hadn’t done a little matchmaking and arranged for the dumping to happen at Paul’s house.

  Snow fell outside as cold air blew off Lake Huron and wrapped around Sarnia, the harbor city in southern Ontario where they lived. Pink Floyd echoed off the walls of the dark basement.

  After hours of talking about his most recent hike and the bands he liked best, of her talking about her offbeat family and its focus on learning and reading, they took a long breath and looked up. Hours had passed as they sat locked together, hands touching and heads bent in conversation.

  She knew he was different from the boys at school. He listened, looked at her like her words mattered, and seemed to understand her better than any boy she’d ever met.

  To break the spell she felt weaving around her, she glanced around the sparse underground space. No one had bothered them. No parents to separate them or demand she head home. If this were her house, her dad would have checked in more than once by now. Probably would have lingered around until he scared Paul off.

  But nothing about the room or the moment reminded of her of her usual life. She lived in a house with books stacked in every corner and on every shelf and a piano at its center. Her days were filled with music and heated discussions where she took one side and her mom took another.

  Paul’s surroundings carried a note of loneliness. Quiet and dark. Stuffing peeked out of the frayed edges of the pillows. The rug was worn through to the cement below in a several places. The stacked stereo looked like it cost more than everything else in the room combined.

  “Where is everybody?” she asked.

  “Out.”

  A typical Paul response, short and a bit cryptic but spoken with laughter in his voice. “That’s specific.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re here by yourself?”

  “No.”

  “Really?”

  He gave her a you’re-losing-it look.
“You’re here.”

  “Oh, right.” Her gaze lingered on the bed before returning to his face. “Your parents let you sleep down here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alone?”

  “I like privacy,” he said, not really answering the question.

  “What’s this?” She stood up and went to the odd assortment of treasures lined up on top of his dresser. Her fingers brushed over each item.

  “Nothing.”

  She grabbed his sleeve when he started to turn away. “No, really. Tell me.”

  He shrugged. “Do you really care?”

  As if there was anything about him that didn’t matter to her. She doodled his name in her notebook, and just seeing his face in the halls at school made her stomach bounce around with excitement.

  Yeah, she cared. Like, couldn’t stop thinking about him cared. “Just tell me.”

  Still he stayed quiet. He bit his lip. Even frowned at her. Finally, he cleared his throat and started talking. “It’s all the stuff that matters.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated, then shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t get it.”

  He picked up the stone chips and fingered the dried rose with a reverence that made him seem years older than sixteen. “From Marie’s grave.”

  Pain washed through his voice as he talked. His usually sunny face pulled tight with a grim line across his lips.

  Jennifer knew the story. He’d had a steady girlfriend with cystic fibrosis who died the year before. Jennifer didn’t ask if he loved Marie because Jennifer wasn’t sure she wanted to hear him say it. But knowing he could feel something deep like that convinced her that, living in a basement or not, she was right where she wanted to be.

  His smile came out of nowhere this time. “Your sister told me about you.”

  Heather had filled Jennifer in on that part. Heather was three years older and ridiculously protective of her clothes and had all kinds of rules about Jennifer not wearing them, but they got along. Heather answered the big questions about boys and make-up.

  And she’d mentioned Paul. Jennifer just realized that while Heather was talking about him, she might also be filling him in on Jennifer. It was a scary thought, especially since there hadn’t been many details on Paul but Heather had way too much ammo on Jennifer.

  “What did she say?” she asked.

  “Have I got a girl for you.”

  She missed something. Jennifer put down the photo of him with a group of boys she recognized but couldn’t name and focused on the conversation. “What?”

  “That’s what Heather said.”

  “A girl.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She was talking about me?”

  He moved closer, pushing in close and stopping only when Jennifer’s hands brushed against his chest. “Is there a third sister I don’t know about?”

  Jennifer had never heard him laugh before and it sent her heart tumbling to her feet. “No.”

  “I like your shirt.” He ran his fingers over the ruffle.

  Her breath caught. “Why?”

  “Because it’s pretty . . . like you.”

  His eyes went to the clock on the wall. “It’s almost midnight.”

  She started the mental countdown. New Year’s, it was the perfect time for him to kiss her, and she prayed he would. As the seconds ticked by, a voice in her head screamed for him to do something.

  She followed the second hand until it hit twelve. “And now that it’s midnight . . .?”

  He didn’t move, but his sweet smile turned to something else. “Happy New Year’s.”

  She tried to say it back to him, but the words stuck in her throat.

  His palms cupped her cheeks.

  His warm lips touched against hers, soft and not completely sure. They pressed once and then parted. His eyes opened and he stared down at her.

  “Can we do that again?” she whispered the question before she could stop the words from coming out.

  “As much as you want.”

  Her heartbeat hammered in her ears as he lowered his head again and his breath blew across her cheek. “Really?”

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Really.”

  Then his mouth was on hers and she forgot about everything else. Her fingers played with the soft hair at the base of his neck. Her breath caught while her body tingled.

  Wrapped in his arms, listening to the mix of synthesizer and guitar in the background while his lips moved over hers, she felt free. Her body melted against his and her mind want blank. She wanted only this. The comfort and warmth, the sense of security and acceptance.

  She’d known even then this make-out session was just the start, that they’d continue to date and get to know each other. She wasn’t too young or confused. This meant something. It was special.

  “Paul.” Jennifer shoved against his shoulder and struggled to sit up. Being pinned to the backseat of his car with a seatbelt digging into her hip and her skirt shoved up high on her thighs wasn’t the problem. She was where she wanted to be. Heck, she picked the location for their kissing session.

  What happened if this went one step farther was the issue. The word irreversible floated through her mind.

  His mouth sucked on that sweet spot right behind her ear that made her shiver. “You are so beautiful.”

  She knew she could say the word and he’d stop, but how in the world was she supposed to slam on the brakes to the petting when he kissed her like that? He knew where to touch her.

  Then his hand slipped lower and her common sense came rushing back in a flash. She didn’t know much about boys, but she guessed they had about five seconds until they strayed into danger territory. “Paul.”

  “What?” He lifted his head. His eyes were glazed with passion and his finger brushed close to the very center of her.

  She almost laughed. Would have if he didn’t look so serious and she wasn’t right on the verge of giving in. “We talked about this.”

  He balanced over her on one elbow as his chest rose and fell. “Uh-huh.”

  “We agreed.”

  He nodded. “I said I’d wait for you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Right.” He blew out a long exhale and dropped his head for a second. His hair tickled her cheek and hot breaths brushed across her skin. “Any idea when that time is going to be?”

  She slipped her fingers through his hair as she smiled at his joke. “It’s too soon.”

  “I understand you’re worried, but you do know going all the way won’t change anything. I’m not going to stop you from doing new things.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  His head flew up and his body stiffened. It was as if every muscle screeched to a halt as the frown spread across his mouth. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m not ready.” She blurted it out and skipped over the other part, the bigger part. The part where he hid stuff from her.

  He’d disappear for a day or two and not get in touch with her. He had started hanging out with two guys who made her nervous. She’d heard the rumors about them. That they’d stopped going to school and hung out on the streets all day. The idea of Paul with them made her sick . . . and scared.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  His smile seemed forced, but he shot her one. “Hey, don’t apologize. I want you to be able to tell me anything. Even things like this that I don’t like hearing all that much.”

  But he wouldn’t do the same for her. Sometimes she’d ask questions she knew the answers to, like where he was on a Friday night, and he wouldn’t tell the truth. He kept pretending, and it drove her nuts, made her want to challenge him even more.

  “Okay,” she said because she didn’t know what else to say.

  A smile eased across his lips into something more genuine. “I can wait. You’re worth the sacrifice.”

  She wasn’t buying the complete innocent act. If he could find a way in . . . he would. “And you’re happy as long as we get to
do other stuff.”

  “Well, yeah. I’m not dead.” He kissed her then, his mouth moving over hers as his body pressed her deeper into the cushions.

  When he finally lifted his head, her lips felt swollen and her head spun with a churning excitement that hit her every time she went into his arms.

  “I won’t rush you,” he said.

  But would he ever tell her the truth? “I know.”

  His hand hovered right above her breast. “But I will keep trying to change your mind.”

  “How will you do that?”

  He brushed his mouth over hers. “Well, let me show you.”

  They repeated the scene several times by the end of the school year and most of the next. Paul would try to push the line and she would hold firm at the last possible second. Barely.

  She had turned sixteen, but they had been inseparable since that first kiss. But it still wasn’t enough.

  “I like him.” Jennifer’s grandmother threw out her opinion one afternoon as she watched Paul fix a loose fence post in Jennifer’s backyard.

  The Duchess and Jennifer sat on the back porch, lemonade in hand, and watched Paul work. Jennifer smiled as warm sun hit her face. “Me too.”

  “He’ll take some work.”

  The Duchess often said stuff like that. She’d give an opinion no one asked for and then argue her point to death. Never mind if she was the only one arguing. She was a strong presence. The person who taught Jennifer to do everything from write poetry to drink wine. The Duchess viewed life as a never-ending adventure.

  “Paul is pretty easygoing,” Jennifer said.

  The Duchess’s eyebrow lifted. “No.”

  The knowing look sent a ball of nerves bouncing around inside of Jennifer. It was as if her grandmother could glance inside and see the truth. “What?”

  “That’s not what you like about him.”

  “Of course it is.” Jennifer put her best force behind the words even as she stumbled over the last one.

  “You like his darkness. The mystery intrigues you.” The Duchess nodded her head as her gaze stayed on Paul. “I don’t know a woman alive who can resist a bad boy.”

  “Grandma!”