The New Year's Wish by Sophia Greene

 
    Copyright (c) 2013 Sophia Greene
     
    All Rights Reserved
     
    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for t he use of brief quotations in book reviews.
     
    This book is a work of fiction, any similarities or resemblances to any persons, living or dead, or to any events are entirely coincidental.
     
    Visit Sophia Greene at www.sophia-greene.com
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The French Alps
    December 27
    "So you're really not going to tell me if you're meeting your secret lover in Paris?"
"Nope." Kayla sent me a sideways smirk navigating the car onto the narrow driveway leading up to the ski chalet.
She had her chestnut hair in a high ponytail and a hair clip held back her bangs. Her dimples and her chocolate brown eyes sent the butterflies in my stomach into overdrive, so I turned my attention to the impressive wooden chalet nestling by the foot of a mountain and surrounded by pine trees. It had tall windows from floor to ceiling that wrapped around the corner and continued on the other side of the house, overlooking the valley. Someone, I couldn't see who, was waving at us from one of the windows. I saw a car there already and although I hated being apart from Kayla, a part of me was looking forward to let loose for a week with the boys.
    I hadn't seen Kevin and Jackson since the film shoot. The last movie I did had given us the rare chance to work together again, to stay in one place at the same time for more than one day. It had been 6 years since our first movie together and I was really looking forward to seeing them again. Tom, my childhood friend, also an actor, in London's West End, was flying in from London, and I heard a rumor that Bobby, who was otherwise busy touring North America with his rock band, was going to make an appearance too. We had rented the house for a no-women-access-guys-only-New-Years-Vacation. A whole week of skiing, beer drinking, jam sessions and pulling pranks. I couldn't wait.
"So Mr. Peterson, do you think you can manage without me for a whole week?"
She was teasing me, as she parked the rented silver Peugeot with ease in the untouched snow.
"Oh yeah, Miss Simpson, you know we only keep you around for appearance´s sake so... ouch!"
She hit me over the arm and stuck her tongue out.
"Shut up, before your delusions gets you killed!" The twinkle in her eyes and the tone of her voice was anything but serious.
With a laugh I got out and opened the trunk to get my suitcase and guitar. Her metallic blue suitcase lay next to mine. Bound for Paris. To meet with someone she wouldn't tell me about. That's the way we worked. She knew all about me, from what size briefs I wore to how I liked my coffee (black!) and I knew very little about her. I knew she could operate on 3 hours of sleep and still be effective, chatty and friendly, all of which I couldn’t! It wasn't because we didn't talk privately, we did. But she didn't talk much about her family and if I dared to enquire about any boyfriend or the like, she clammed up and told me that it was her job to know all about me and my job to look good on screen. I didn't mind her mocking me, but I wanted to know more. A quick search on Google didn't provide much information and none of her Twitter followers seemed to match the profile of either a lover or a boyfriend. I knew her limits by now, and I was careful not to overstep them for fear of her quitting her job. She was the best assistant I could ever want, always effective, happy and in the right place. But she was so much more than that and that was the real reason, I was careful not to go too far in my poking and prodding.
"Well, whoever you're meeting in Paris, I wish you a safe flight and a happy New Year."
I held out my arm for a hug and she took a step forward into my arms. I