Miles Ahead (The La Jolla Series 1.5) Read online

  Miles Ahead

  Willow Aster

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  And more…

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Willow Aster

  Miles Ahead

  The Miles Series, Book 1.5

  Copyright © 2019 by Willow Aster

  Editing: Christine Estevez

  Beta: Jennifer Mirabelli

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trade-marked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trade-marks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  I stand and watch as the girl I thought I loved marries the one she loves. It was ridiculous to ever fall for her—I knew better practically from the start. I should’ve known that her heart was not available from the very first day we met. But even now, when I should long be over her, my heart thinks it’s still hers…at least until I meet someone who can take her place. So far no one has ever come close to taking Mirabelle Hart’s place.

  Even now I’m behaving like a coward, lurking in the shadows overlooking the beach where they’re exchanging vows. I thought it would help to see her marry Jaxson, who despite wanting to pummel him for part of our high school years and beyond, has turned out to be decent. I have to hand it to him: he has managed to have it all. Meanwhile, as I stand here, sweating—over my heartbreak or the setting sun, I’m not quite sure which—I face the realization that the old saying is true.

  Nice guys finish last.

  1

  Miles

  Two years later…

  The sun is scorching as I walk to my car, suit jacket in hand. I have one more appointment before calling it a night and hitting the beach. I contemplate putting the top down on my new car but decide it’s too hot for that; I’ll wait until the sun goes down.

  As I pull into the driveway of a house way out of my league, I wonder what kind of person will be able to afford this property. I got into the real estate business during the summers when my mom and I lived with my now former stepfather. After they divorced and he moved to Vancouver, I stayed on at Buchanan Realty, going full-time once I graduated college. It’s a surprisingly good fit for me. I’m a straight shooter—honest and forthcoming, even to the detriment of a sale at times—a trait that seems to surprise people in Southern California.

  This house is beautiful, and as I step into the chef’s kitchen, I have to admit I’m looking forward to meeting…I glance down at my paperwork…Cort Sellers. I feel that familiar buzz I get when it’s a house of this magnitude. I still can’t believe I’m in this business and staying afloat, thriving even. So far, the Mercedes sitting out front and looking right at home is the only way I’ve splurged.

  I make my way to the foyer when I hear the doorbell and open the door wide. My mouth struggles to not drop as I take in the hot blonde standing there. Coming to my senses quickly, I hold out my hand. “Miles Stark,” I say. “You must be Cort.”

  She glances behind her and quickly rushes inside the door, holding out her hand just as I’m dropping mine. “Sorry, yes. Nice to meet you.”

  We shake and I pull back before my hands get too clammy. She is stunning. I stare at her another moment and she swallows hard, looking antsy.

  “How is the alarm system here?” she asks, glancing around the living room. She goes straight to the back windows and frowns when she sees there are no curtains. “I’d need to get shades right away,” she says under her breath.

  “And cover up this view?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  She glances back at me like she just remembered I was there and I think to myself that I need to just keep my mouth shut and let her buy this house. Anything to keep her close by. Scratch that creepy thought. Anything to get another chance to see her.

  “The security system is top of the line,” I tell her. “I have the details about it here.” I hold up the booklet the previous owner left. “Ready to see the rest of the house?”

  She nods and I begin the tour. When we enter a room, I expect comments on how nice it is, how beautiful…most women would kill to live in a place like this, but she goes to every window, looking out and watching for long minutes at a time before moving to the next. My eyes fall to her ass and get stuck there. Fuck me, it’s perfection. I walk behind the counter so my dick can settle down.

  “I can recommend a great decorator—Jodi Williams,” I finally say when we get to the master bedroom. “She’s the best in the business and I’m sure she could set you up with just the right window coverings and whatever else you might need.”

  Cort nods, her face a solemn canvas. “I’ll take it.”

  “Jodi’s information?” I ask dumbly.

  “The house.” She backs away from the window and walks out of the bedroom, leaving me to hustle behind her.

  A few nights later I wake up in the middle of the night and read a few chapters of Stephen King’s new book. When I’m still wide awake an hour and a half later, I give up on going back to sleep and get up to put on my sneakers. It’s still dark out when I close the door behind me and head for the beach. I run a mile or so and falter when I see a curvy silhouette up ahead. I keep running, eyes focused on the woman. Hair flying behind her, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen with the moon shining on her.

  She must hear me coming because she whips toward me suddenly and holds up something. I slow down to a jog.

  “Cort? Is that you?” When I get closer, I realize she’s holding Mace. “Hey, it’s Miles? Your real estate agent?” I stop and hold my hands up. She looks terrified. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you following me?” she asks.

  I put my hands on my hips and tilt my head, trying to figure her out. “What? Why would I be following you?”

  “Most people aren’t out running at this time of night.”

  “It’s technically morning,” I correct her.

  She rolls her eyes and I notice she still hasn’t put away the Mace.

  “No, I wasn’t following you. I couldn’t sleep. I normally run around six and thought, ‘I’m awake now, why wait?’”

  That seems to appease her. She tucks the can away and I breathe a little easier.

  “Look, i
f I’ve made you uncomfortable in some way, I apologize. I can have one of my colleagues work on finishing up the rest of your closing, if you’d like.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she says softly. “I’m sorry for being so rude. I shouldn’t be out here like this.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m just gonna go.” I hold up a hand and wave, moving past her.

  I’ve only gone a few paces when I hear her coming up behind me. She moves next to me and we run the next two miles without saying a word.

  I run at my normal time the next week and look for her every time. But it’s not until the day of her closing that I see her again. She comes into the office with only two minutes to spare until her appointment. I know because I’ve checked my watch every minute for the last hour. When she walks in, I smile, holding my hand out to shake hers. I stare at her for a long moment, unable to look away. She swallows hard and freezes when Shel, the receptionist, gasps. We both turn to look at Shel, but not before I see the grimace on Cort’s face.

  “Cortlyn Whitaker,” Shel gasps. “Oh my God.”

  I look at Cort again and her features are arranged in polite acceptance. She looks at me again and I think she almost seems apologetic.

  “You two know each other?” I ask.

  Shel snorts. “I wish.” She steps closer to Cort then and gushes. “I’ve been a fan of yours for so long. When I saw Closer Still, I thought I was going to die of the heartache. But you made it up to me in Love Me Like You Do…oh my God, I can’t believe Cortlyn Whitaker is here.” She looks at me with shiny eyes. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”

  “I—I’m sorry?” I say, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Who are you?” I finally ask.

  I get a heavy thwack on my arm from Shel. “You’re kidding, right? Only the best actress of our time...”

  “Retired actress,” Cort says softly. She smiles weakly at me.

  I swallow hard. Of course she’s a movie star. That explains a lot. “I have some movies to catch up on then,” I tell her and she shakes her head.

  “Please, don’t bother. I’ve never watched any of them, no reason for you to either.”

  “Oh, that just sounds like a dare to me,” I say.

  Her cheeks flush and I stare at her, heart picking up a bit.

  “Trish will be your closing agent today. I told her I’d show you to her office.”

  “I came to this company because I heard how discreet you are.” She looks at Shel as she says this. “I know word will get out eventually, but I’m hoping for a little time…”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I will keep my mouth shut,” Shel says. “Just meeting you is enough for me. I don’t need money from the paparazzi, and I love my job more than anything. I have no reason to sell you out,” she adds. “But please, say you’ll reconsider retiring! We need actresses like you.”

  “Thank you,” Cort says graciously, but I notice she doesn’t make Shel any promises.

  I lead her to Trish’s office and she takes it from there. When everything is finalized and Cort has her new keys in her hand, I stop by Shel’s desk where I’ve left the gift basket I order for every client who buys a house from me. I went next level for Cort’s basket and Shel will be giving me a hard time about the extravagance later, I already know it. I stretch the basket toward Cort. “I hope you love your new place.”

  She thanks me and I try to think of a dozen reasons to stop her when she walks out the door. I come up short. I shuffle up the stairs to my office and shut the door, feeling a bit hollow at the amount of money I just made…and even more hollow that I no longer have an excuse to see Cort. I sigh and try to focus on work, but it’s hopeless.

  Why does the first woman I’ve shown any real interest in besides Mira have to be a movie star?

  2

  Cort

  I spend my first night in my new home putting up curtains and shades. It’s not the look I’d prefer—the living room, in particular, deserves to have the ocean showcased with bare windows—but I can’t afford to get too comfortable. Maybe if I’d moved somewhere like Montana, I could’ve basked in the view outside, but the two and a half hours between La Jolla and Hollywood—too close for comfort. I just couldn’t stand to leave; California has always been my home.

  And I don’t want him to win. Clive Carver doesn’t know what I’ve done yet, but when he does, all hell will break loose. I’ve been turning down roles left and right and telling my agent Bev for over a year that I’m done, but after finishing the press for my last movie a month ago, I gently reminded her that our contract was up and I wouldn’t be renewing it. She doesn’t believe me and calls every day, but I’ve started letting her go to voice mail. I don’t know how many ways to say leave me alone. I tried so hard to let her know what was going on with me, but she was in denial and didn’t want to hear what I had to say. It was painful to leave a seven-year relationship with Bev, but the need to be heard and respected outweighed everything else. In the end, I felt neither from her.

  I love acting. I love immersing myself in each role and living out the story, but behind the scenes with men like Clive and even women like Bev who want to keep the peace at the expense of others…I can’t do it another day.

  I finish the living room and step back to admire my work, already missing the moonlight shining over the water. The kitchen is done, the living room, and the downstairs suite. Just the four bedrooms upstairs and I’ll be finished. I probably should’ve gone with a smaller house, but this one seemed isolated enough and is so beautiful, I figured either I could build a home here or the resale value will be fantastic…what can I lose? I groan as I haul the boxes of curtains up the stairs.

  Why is he controlling me even now? I’ve always felt like a strong woman, but at seventeen, when I first met Clive, he charmed me with his good looks, confidence, and belief in me. He worked his way into my life slowly and it wasn’t until my third film with him that I saw him for who he truly was. I didn’t want to believe it at first—I was like Bev, not wanting to ruffle any feathers, and hoping to keep my career…

  I try to shake my thoughts from Clive. I need to stop obsessing over this. He’s consumed too much of my life already. I turn on some music and decide to only do my bedroom before calling it a night.

  I need a dog, I think before turning off my light. Someone to watch over me and take runs with me and…keep me company. It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone. I’ve longed for solitude and don’t miss the entourage following me and taking care of me nonstop, but I could use a dog to feel less isolated. Someone who will give me unconditional love…and won’t talk back. I look at the time on my phone. It’s three o’clock and Miles Stark’s face comes to mind. I picture him getting up and running in just three hours and the thought makes me smile. When he opened the door to this house the day we met, I thought someone that good-looking had to be a jerk, but every time I’ve been around him, he surprises me. The last thing I need is to get involved with anyone though, especially with what’s just around the corner.

  When I wake up at five thirty a few mornings later, I tell myself to roll over. Sleep. But I keep envisioning Miles out there running and I enjoyed the security I felt running with him. It’s strictly to stay in shape, I tell myself. The fact that he’s insanely hot and seems genuinely nice has nothing to do with it. I’m putting on my running shoes before I can talk myself out of it.

  As I step onto the beach, my heart does a little skip when I start running toward him. All about fitness...mm-hmm.

  He glances at me and smiles and out of all the actors I’ve shared the screen with, he is the most beautiful, hands down.

  “Mornin’,” he says.

  “Do you have a bit of a Southern accent?” I ask.

  “Lived in Indiana a while—my parents are from there,” he says. “No one has ever called me out on it before though.”

  “It’s very faint.”

  We run in comfortable silence for a while and when we slow do
wn, I put my hands on my knees and breathe.

  “Are you getting settled into your place?” he asks, wiping his forehead with a towel and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t have much to move,” I admit. “I got rid of a lot when I moved out of my house a year ago. I was on location for months at a time and never really felt comfortable in that house.”

  “And what about this house?”

  “It will feel better when I have more furniture, but I’m taking my time picking out what I really like. Someone else has picked out everything for me for the past seven or eight years, which was fine. I was usually in another state or country when I was being sent pictures of fabrics and furniture, but I want it to be different this time. So far all I have is a bed and curtains though. And a chair for the living room…and a card table for the kitchen.” I open my mouth to say something else and stop, embarrassed by how much I’m opening up to a stranger.

  “Sounds like my place, but replace the curtains with a couch.” He laughs.

  “A minimalist except for when it comes to your car, I’m taking it…”

  He laughs again. “Yeah, it would’ve been wiser to invest in a house than the car…but I’ve been happy with my decision.”

  We stretch and his eyes meet mine. I feel a bit shy now that the sun is out and we can see each other better.

  “It was great to see you again. Sorry to say I have to rush off for an early appointment. Same time tomorrow?” he asks.