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    Don't Tell My Secret
    Don't Tell My Secret
    Don't Tell My Secret
    Ebook206 pages3 hours

    Don't Tell My Secret

    By Mark Stewart

    ()

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    About this ebook

    How far are you willing to go to keep a secret?
    James Buxton is summoned to his publicist office. He’s not brave enough to tell her he’s suffering from writer’s block. She tells him to write a romance novel. At first he refuses; explaining he writes crime. She gives him a seductive kiss then says go write me a romance novel. When he arrives at a bed and breakfast hotel, he meets an attractive woman, Mia Garnett. Did fate bring them together or something else? James meets an elderly woman, Eloise, who wants to dictate a romance novel to him. She tells him to take all the credit for the book. The story is about a woman living in the1940’s and her struggles to survive when her husband goes to war. Lilly and her friend Suzie commit a horrific act. They vow to take the unspeakable deed to their grave. As James types the novel, he falls in love with Mia. After a romantic dinner at a restaurant they dance to the juke box with the song queue full. At the end of the night they are informed the jukebox queue hasn’t worked in years. When Mia hears the truth behind Eloise, will the discovery put a rift between her and James forever?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMark Stewart
    Release dateNov 21, 2013
    ISBN9781310691966
    Don't Tell My Secret
    Author

    Mark Stewart

    Mark Stewart is an acclaimed author. He loves to write fiction right across the board from romance adventure to crime and onwards to science fiction. His fast paced novels will keep you on the edge of your seat from the first word to the last.Mark lives in Melbourne Australia and tries to keep to the Aussie lingo and customs. His only gripe is he never has enough time to feed the writing enthusiasm inside him.Mark lives in the picturesque region of the Mornington Peninsula, a full one hour drive from Melbourne.He has been married to his wonderful patient wife for over thirty years. He has four adult children and two grand children. Everywhere he looks there is a story waiting to be told.Contact Mark to leave a comment about one of his books or just to say gidday, (hi) he would love to hear from you.email: mark_stewart777@hotmail.comAll reviews are gratefully accepted.To all the readers who follow Mark's work. Thank you.

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      Book preview

      Don't Tell My Secret - Mark Stewart

      Don’t Tell My Secret

      Mark Stewart

      Copyright Don’t Tell My Secret 2013: Mark Stewart. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author. This story is fictitious and a product of the author’s imagination. Resemblance to any actual person living or dead is purely coincidental.

      ISBN: 9781310691966

      Smashwords edition license notes.

      This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Edited: Rosemary Cantala

      Revised Edition:

      More novels by Mark Stewart:

      Fire games

      Heart of a spider

      I know your secret

      Romance

      Kiss on the bridge (series)

      Kiss on the bridge two

      Kiss on the bridge three

      The perfect gift

      Blood red rose (Vampire romance adventure)

      Blood red rose two

      Blood red rose three

      Legendary Blue Diamond

      Legendary Blue Diamond two

      Legendary Blue Diamond three

      Planet X91 the beginning

      Planet X91 the new home

      Planet X91 the underwater cave

      Planet X91 the storm.

      Planet X91 the drought

      Planet X91 the fire

      Planet X91 the plague

      Planet X91 the doorway to time

      Planet X91 the new earth

      PlanetX91 alien amongst us

      PlanetX91 the derelict

      PlanetX91 wayward asteroid

      In this series

      Don’t Tell My Secret

      201 May Street

      The Girl from Emerald Hill

      Ladie’s Club

      Mistress

      Book of secrets

      DON’T TELL MY SECRET

      CHAPTER ONE

      March 1st 2013

      JAMES, I loved your last crime novel. It’s been a huge success.

      Thank you; Fire Games took quite a while to write.

      James Buxton sat opposite his publicist, Amanda Daltry. After interviewing other authors, he discovered she was in her early forties and twenty-years his senior. Somehow, she always got what she wanted. In the four years since they met, she talked straight to the point. She saw things in black and white. A writer either liked or loathed her.

      James sat on the fence.

      He respected Amanda for the business-woman she portrayed, and he disliked her at the same time. The only place they ever talked happened in her office after he’d finished a book. Since their first meeting, he’d seen her out at night only twice. The first time happened by accident when his close friends insisted, he meet them at a Melbourne nightclub. He saw Amanda sitting at a table amongst five ladies. She held a wine glass firmly in her hand. The second time they crossed paths; he sat in his BMW convertible, watching her kissing some bloke in a car at a supermarket carpark. He felt surprised she opened the passenger door to the Mercedes sports car and walked off in the rain. What surprised him even more; Amanda didn’t look back at the car. He thought she might change her mind when the driver started the engine. Then he thought she’d wait for the car to draw level to her. Neither guess had been correct. The car completed a slow U-turn. At speed the male driver drove the vehicle along the road. It didn’t take long for the engine noise to fade and the tail lights to vanish.

      James sat in the driver’s seat of his car thinking about the scene. A crime novel started unraveling in his mind; something he’d always been able to do quite easily. He finally made up his mind Amanda must have been ending an affair, though speculation always got him into trouble.

      Sitting further back in the office chair, Amanda eyeballed James through brown eyes. He saw her frown and flick a few strands of long blonde hair from her face.

      James walked across the thick cream-colored carpet to the window. He stood watching the cars buzzing past in the Melbourne CBD. He loved the city for the rush. He used to sit at his favorite café observing people going through their daily life while he waited for inspiration to begin a new novel. He didn’t have the courage to tell Amanda he’d slipped into the vortex of the dreaded writer’s block.

      James turned from the window and focused on Amanda. From the first day we met, you represented someone who never gets nervous about anything. Today you seem on edge over something?

      You have an insight many authors don’t possess. Your ability to sense how people are feeling has seen through me.

      What are you nervous about?

      Those who pay my wages have insisted I find an author to write a romance novel. You’re the next in line.

      I don’t write romance. I write crime. Fire Games was just the beginning. In a few short years, there’s going to be a shelf full of crime novels. They’ll be great.

      James, you’re probably not aware of the fact we receive at least two hundred emails a day from your fans.

      So, what does that tell you? he interrupted.

      I know where this conversation is heading, hinted Amanda.

      It’s plain and simple; readers love my crime novels.

      James, write me a romance novel. I’ve booked you into a bed and breakfast hotel in Mt Martha for the next four weeks.

      I have already explained the fact I can’t write romance.

      Of course, you can. You’re a handsome bloke. Kiss a woman then write a fantasy about her. Better still; go and meet her at a local dance. Chat the woman up for a few hours and go to a cheap hotel somewhere. You know what to do from there.

      What do you have in mind?

      Do I have to spell it out?

      I’m not the kind of bloke who jumps into bed with any woman.

      James, go write me a romance novel.

      What will you do if I refuse?

      Amanda Daltry strolled majestically across the room to the window. Leaning against James’ arm she lifted her hands, placing them on either side of his head. He felt her long fingers and red polished nails being buried in his dark hair. He stood exactly six feet tall. Amanda leveled her gaze on his eyes. She leaned closer; her long blonde hair brushed his cheek. She swept her lips across the surface of his. On their return, she kissed him. For a long moment, they stood at the window in the sunshine locked in the seductive French kiss.

      Back stepping, Amanda used the tips of her fingers to tap James playfully on the side of his cheek. She turned and slowly walked across the room, sitting cross-legged again at her desk. The provocative grin she threw James faded, replaced by the professional business-woman in her.

      James, there’s a love story in all of us. Go, write me a romance novel. I expect to see an almost finished product on my desk no later than the fifth of April.

      You’ll have it on time, he grumbled.

      James didn’t look back, walking across the office floor. He yanked the door open to the startled expression of Amanda’s personal secretary. Just for a moment, he wondered if she suspected anything on what transpired between him and Amanda. He also deliberated if she could tell his eyes were ablaze; full of excitement. He’d never been kissed so passionately by a woman. He thought about the scene at the supermarket carpark. Amanda Daltry didn’t come across as someone who might be afraid to kiss a man; any man. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d been turned on by a woman. He reasoned they only wanted his money, so he avoided women by diving deep into his work.

      To greet James at eye level, the young attractive secretary pushed her chair back and stood. To avoid any lost time waiting for the elevator, James ran down the stairs to the main entrance.

      Outside in the fresh air, the sun felt hot. Summer had been extended for at least a month; so, the weatherman reported. James threw his tie and brown suede jacket on to the rear seat of his BMW convertible and slipped behind the steering wheel. He turned the ignition key and eased the sports car into the flow of traffic.

      Still trying to outline a plot over the kiss Amanda unexpectedly gave him, James saw his two-storey mansion. The quaint room he worked in boasted a floor to ceiling double glazed window that faced the west. He loved watching the sunset each evening. The moment the sun touched the sea, he’d stop writing, sit back and consume the wine in the glass while he enjoyed the view.

      James spent most of his time in the room. The fake gas fire looked realistic. It should be. He paid a fortune for the unit. It did a great job keeping him warm in the winter. An air conditioner on the wall kept him cool in the summer. Situated opposite the window, the kitchenette and bar fridge were always stocked full of drinks and quick meals. Three identical laptops were on his long narrow desktop. He didn’t need to travel twenty minutes down the road to the bed and breakfast hotel for inspiration. Before the writer’s block overtook him James rarely left the room. Lately, he didn’t watch the sunset. He strolled through the shopping malls and ate out most nights hoping to stumble upon inspiration. Ideas that flowed easily had left him high and dry.

      Maybe a change of office space is actually what I need? said James.

      Swinging the car into his driveway, he clicked the remote. The garage door slid up. He pressed the second button on the same remote. A bell sounded. After opening the narrow door, he stepped into the elevator.

      The four-foot square metal plate lifted him silently to his bedroom. James changed into lighter, less formal clothes, packed two suitcases and rode the elevator back down to his car.

      Inside ten minutes, James drove his car along the coast road to Mt. Martha. The foot of the mountains remained on his left while the sparkle off the surface of the bay was on his right.

      The location of the bed and breakfast hotel situated on the esplanade overlooking Port Phillip Bay was an hour’s drive from the Melbourne CBD. In the distance, James could see the skyscrapers. A slight haze covered the sky obscuring the mountains on the other side of the bay.

      James parked his car opposite the hotel’s main door. The manicured gardens full of flowering shrubs and tall, mature Japanese Maple trees looked a welcoming sight.

      When James stepped down from the car, he could smell the sea air. The breeze immediately brushed his light blue shirt and long white shorts. After swiping his two suitcases from off the rear seat, he focused on the hotel as he squared his shoulders. The old-style building looked cold and sterile. Still, he did agree to Amanda’s request. Maybe she liked his attitude. If he said he would do something she must have figured out he’d do it.

      ‘It could be the reason why she walked away from the car ignoring the rain. The driver didn’t live up to her expectations,’ James, thought, walking to the hotel’s main entrance. A good beginning to a crime novel, he whispered.

      The only noise James heard came from an old pale green two door sedan. The vehicle rolled into the carpark and stopped next to his car. James turned away and entered the hotel, luggage in tow. James walked up to the main desk where he waited patiently for the mid twenty-year-old woman to look at him. Eventually he placed his suitcases on the red short pile carpet and stood to full height.

      Good morning, Sir, may I help you?

      Apparently, I’ve been booked into a room for a month. I’m James Buxton.

      The girl studied the ledger on the computer. Yes, you’ve been placed in room one on the first floor overlooking the pool for thirty-one days. An anonymous caller paid for the room.

      Why room 101? Is there something unique about the room?

      None I’m aware of, replied the girl. I’ll call for the Porter to carry your bags.

      It won’t be necessary. I prefer to carry the bags myself. One suitcase has a laptop in it.

      I can guarantee our Porter will see to the safety of your bags.

      Thanks for your thoughtfulness. I can manage, insisted James slightly more forceful.

      Totally absorbed, he watched the smiling girl’s every twitch and move she made, willing his imagination into rejuvenation. At long last, the cogs in his mind were grinding, slowly. James hoped they’d continue picking up speed. He’d gather then group the fragmented clues to begin a possible new crime novel. Amanda’s kiss, the car parked next to his, now this room 101 overlooking the pool and the girl’s standard cordial greeting.

      Thanks again for your thoughtfulness, repeated James, studying the girl’s cheerful expression. Although she displayed a luring smile, he dismissed any romantic connection she might have been thinking and, side stepping, he collected his luggage.

      James saw the driver of the old pale green two door-sedan enter the hotel. For far too long he watched the woman walking across the lobby to the reservation desk.

      When the young lady looked his way, James walked to the elevator. He pushed the call button. The clock was ticking. He must think up more ideas for this so-called crime novel forming in his mind and even more ideas just so he can turn it into a romance novel.

      James looked back at the reservation desk, noting the lady’s black hair just covered her shoulder blades. Her three-inch heels on her feet made her look tall. Just like Amanda Daltry, the woman wore a black mini skirt and red button up shirt. She appeared slightly younger than James and resembled a fit athletic woman who played tennis. At the age of twenty-three, James decided he and the game of tennis should part ways. The same day James dropped his racket into the bin he dived head first into writing. In four years, he’d already finished his seventh novel. Amanda Daltry must have seen a natural ability in him. She signed him up the first time they met.

      When the bell above the elevator sounded, James heard the woman’s words echoing in his ears. The tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He felt electricity shoot from the top of his head to the heels of his feet.

      I’m Miss. Mia Garnett. I’m led to believe I have a fully paid room for the next four weeks?

      The girl behind the hotel’s reservation desk studied the ledger for the second time in as many minutes.

      Yes, you’re in room 102. She signaled for the Porter to help carry the luggage of their newest arrival.

      James tried hard not to watch Mia Garnett’s impressive walk while she followed the man carrying her suitcases to the elevator.

      James and Mia stepped into the elevator at the same time. The young man placed Mia’s luggage next to her right foot. He announced in a confident voice.

      I’ll meet you when the elevator arrives on the first floor. I prefer to take the stairs. They help to keep me fit.

      ‘Interesting,’ thought James, filing the man’s words in his mind. When the elevator door closed, he spoke. It seems we’re neighbors.

      "I hope

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