Christ… now I feel the need to hug Bebe, but I restrain myself. Besides, Joslyn beats me to the punch and leans over to wrap the woman in her arms. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Thank you for sharing that.”
Bebe gives a slight shrug as Joslyn pulls back. “It’s nothing. I put it behind me long ago.”
While her words are strong and her tone staunch, there’s something dark in her eyes that makes me doubt it. Bebe’s been through a lot in the last several years. Blackmailed, arrested, and sent to prison, raped at some point in that time frame.
Torn from her son.
I make a mental note to talk to Dr. Ellery about Bebe. I don’t have any doubts about my hiring of her, but the rape is an added element I need to keep at the forefront of my mind. I don’t want to put her in any scenario that could be harmful to her psyche.
Smiling, Joslyn looks around the kitchen at us. “How about I make breakfast for everyone? French toast?”
“Sounds delicious,” Rachel agrees lightheartedly. “Then Bebe and I have to get packed.”
“Packed?” Joslyn asks as she moves around the island to where Rachel is standing. She brushes by her to reach into the cup cabinet so she can fix her coffee. “Where are you two going?”
“Back to Vegas,” I answer on their behalf. “Rachel has to get back to running the office there, and I’m going to have Bebe go there until we get the Pittsburgh office up and running.”
What I don’t say out loud is I’ve arranged for Bebe’s mother and son to meet her in Vegas for a reunion next week. I know she’s been in phone contact with them, but since she’s jumped right into this case with Joslyn, it’s sort of put her family on the back burner. I want her to get reintegrated into society and family life as quickly as possible. That’s going to go a long way toward her healing.
“Well, I’ll send you off with your bellies full at least,” Joslyn quips as she turns for the refrigerator. “It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done for me.”
Both Rachel and Bebe smile at Joslyn with a natural fondness that’s developed quite quickly between the women. I wonder when this is all over and done, will Joslyn remain friends with them?
With me?
I mean, surely there’s at least that when we eliminate the threat.
Right?
I don’t know the answer to that. Even if the answer were yes—that we could still be friends—it bothers me more than I care to admit I’m wholly unsatisfied with that.
CHAPTER 16
Joslyn
Harry walks into my bedroom with Lynn following along behind him. He’s got three large wardrobe boxes in his arms, which he gently sits on the end of my bed. “There… all three of these outfits are stunning, but my recommendation is to go with the Alexis Mabille. The blue will make your eyes pop on camera.”
Harry and Lynn have come over today to do preparation for my appearance on Cara Peterson tomorrow. I’ve been a little out of sorts since Bebe and Rachel left about an hour ago, and I’ve been hiding in my bedroom ever since. Kynan set up a temporary office in my kitchen. I feel like I’m intruding if I go in there, or even the great room into which the kitchen naturally bleeds. I didn’t realize how much of a buffer Bebe and Rachel were between Kynan and me until they were gone. But the minute we watched their Uber pull away to take them to LAX and Kynan reset the alarm to lock us securely inside, I felt completely vulnerable without them.
Not that I’m in danger with Kynan or he would hurt me, but that we might have to actually talk about the issues between us. After we left my mom’s last night and flew back from Cunningham Falls, Kynan has admittedly been a lot easier to get along with. He’s tried to make small talk with me, and he hasn’t even glared once. He seems to be over his anger about me not trusting him more twelve years ago, and I also feel the slap I gave him was really all the retaliation I needed.
Still… it makes things confusing now, especially because if I’ve learned one thing since Kynan has come back into my life it’s that I remember just how easy it is to love a man like that. I simply can’t afford to let my heart get broken again, ergo… I’m hiding in my room.
“You try those on,” Harry instructs me. “I’m going to go make some calls from your office and work on the finishing touches of the press release that’s going out after Cara’s show goes live.”
Cara tapes in front of a national audience, and our interview won’t go live until tomorrow morning. The news outlets will pick up the story I’m now “engaged,” and Harry has several more interviews for me throughout the week—both on camera and via phone. There’s a large part of me that hates this ruse I’m perpetrating on my fans, and I can only hope they will forgive me once we catch this stalker and they know the reasons why I’m doing what I’m doing.
“I’d have rather gone out shopping,” I mutter as I put my phone down on the nightstand and pull my legs up. Wrapping my arms around my shins, I tell Harry pointedly, “Thank you for doing this for me.”
“It was no big deal,” he says airily, and then breezes out of my room.
Normally, I would relish the chance to go shopping with Harry and Lynn. We’d hit a few boutique stores on Melrose before going out for lunch. It’s one of the best things about living in this area and I actually don’t do it often, so it’s a great treat.
But Kynan nixed the idea of us going out shopping. He said it wasn’t safe. I told him it was if he was with me, to which he replied, “I’ve got other things I need to do that take priority. You’ll just have to stay here.”
I wasn’t happy about that. I’m a prisoner in my own home, and I’ve never had my freedom curtailed this way. At least, not since before I met Kynan and my mom was “managing” me.
I’m not sure what expression my face held when Kynan told me I couldn’t go, but before I could even take a breath, he’d drawn me into his arms for a protective, sympathetic embrace. I was stiff and held my arms to my side at first, not understanding a damn thing about what was happening. But Kynan just wrapped his arms around me, squeezed gently, and kissed the top of my head ever so gently. He then murmured, “I know this is hard on you, Jos. It will be over soon, though. I promise.”
I succumbed. My arms went around his waist, and I let him hug me. I let him envelop me in his strength, and I relished in the comfort and security.
“What if this drags on?” I asked while pressing my cheek into his chest and trying not to notice how great he smelled. “What if he doesn’t come after me right away? You have a new business you’re trying to get up and running. I know you can’t stay here forever.”
Kynan’s chest rumbled with an easygoing laugh. “Then I’ll have to cart you off to Pittsburgh with me, I guess.”
I didn’t tell him that was a ludicrous notion, even though it absolutely is. I didn’t press him for a better answer. Instead, I let my mind wander for just a moment about what it would be like to leave this life and start over again somewhere else.
With Kynan.
My musings were cut short, though, when Kynan released me. I coughed to clear my throat, turning away so he couldn’t see my red face. I muttered something like, “I’m sure it will all work out for the best.”
I then retreated to my room, called Lynn, who called Harry, who then went shopping for me.
And here they are.
Lynn steps further into my room, then plops down on my bed. “Save yourself the time and just go with Harry’s suggestion.”
I chuckle, crawling onto my bed to sit opposite of Lynn. Eyeballing the boxes, I decide to take her advice. Harry’s got better taste than I do.
“Saw Kynan working in the kitchen,” Lynn remarks as she pulls her legs up and crosses them Indian-style. “He said Bebe and Rachel left to go back to Vegas.”
With a nod, I mimic her movement. I pick at a piece of nonexistent lint on my yoga pants. “Feels weird with them gone, even though they were only here for a few days.”
“And now you’re forced to deal with Kynan,”
Lynn quips, and my head snaps up in astonishment.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a level of hysteria in my voice.
Lynn rolls her eyes. Such kind eyes most of the time. Lynn has become a second mother figure to me after I let my own mother go as my manager. She shakes her head, which is covered with a short cap of the most luxurious premature silver hair I’d ever seen on another human. I once tried to get her to admit to me she colored it, but she swore on her dog’s life—a Yorkie named Bob—that it was her natural hair.
“Come on, Jos,” she chides. “Kynan is something to you. You haven’t told me what, and I’ve tried to mind my own business, but since we’re sitting here talking and all… why don’t you just go ahead and spill it?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply lamely, dropping my gaze so I’m not looking directly at her as I lie.
“Joslyn.” Her tone is low and warning in nature. “Don’t even think to bullshit me. I see the way that man looks at you. You have your head stuck in the sand most of the time when it comes to men. Half the time, he looks at you like he’s seen a ghost come back to life. The other half, it’s with a hunger that actually makes me fear for you. In a good kind of way, you know?”
Her words send a tremble up my spine. “Really?”
“Really,” she replies with a firm nod. “So what’s the deal with you two?”
I stare a moment, wondering if I should tell her about the real story between us. Because if I do, I’m going to have to tell her about my jumbled-up feelings. Once I do that, it becomes real.
Ultimately, I open my mouth and the story just comes pouring out. I told her about how my mom insisted on hiring his company to protect me even though I thought it was stupid, but that once he’d been assigned to me, I quickly changed my mind. How we spent so much time alone together, hours just talking about everything under the sun. I told her with no shame about the attraction, but we didn’t act upon it because he was a professional and I was too inexperienced to know how to make a move. But once we did come together, the fireworks we produced were shattering to me. No one since has come close to replicating those feelings.
I also told her how we ended, and how, just recently, we realized my mother’s role in deceiving us both.
“Oh wow,” Lynn murmurs. “That’s why you went to Cunningham Falls yesterday?”
I nod.
“This is wonderful, though.” She sighs dreamily. I even get a sappy smile from her. “It’s your second chance at love.”
“No, it’s not,” I snap so fast she jerks her chin inward as her eyes widen. Calming my tone, I shake my head. “It’s just… there’s too much anger there, and we’re totally different people now. I mean… he’s a one-night stand kind of guy and I’m all about commitment.”
“Bullshit,” Lynn replies.
“Excuse me? What’s bullshit?”
“That you’re a commitment type of person,” she says blandly. “You’ve not had a relationship last longer than six months. You always break it off when things get too serious.”
I open my mouth immediately to argue with her, but it snaps shut just as quickly as I realize she’s right. I shy away from the type of feelings that could lead to heartbreak. Still, I won’t outright admit that. I merely say, “I just haven’t found the right person yet. If I did, then I’m all for commitment.”
“Or maybe you have found the right one.” The expression on her face is sly and mischievous.
“No way,” I deny. “Too much hurt. No way we could work it out.”
“Or you could say it’s water under the bridge and take a shot.”
“No,” I reply with an adamant shake of my head. “Besides… Kynan hasn’t been so quick to forgive me. Even though my mom orchestrated the false investigative report, he’s got some hard feelings for the fact I didn’t trust him enough.”
“How do you know?” she asks lightly. “Have you talked?”
Something like that, I think. I’m not about to tell her about our sexcapades and the way he left me so abruptly.
True, Kynan’s playing nice and professional now, and we’ve seemingly put that behind us, but I know what I did is probably unforgivable in the long run.
CHAPTER 17
Kynan
I have the freedom to watch Joslyn, and she has no clue. She’s stuck in a chair at a dressing table, her makeup and hair being done by two separate people. I’m off to the side where she can’t see me in the mirror’s reflection, and I’m enjoying the view.
It brings me back twelve years ago when she was in Vegas. I’d sat in her dressing room on many occasions while she was being made up to surpass the perfection she already was. Her bubbly personality always shined bright as she horsed around before she was set to go on stage. She and her stylist always cracked jokes, mostly too stupid to even remember, but I loved how purely effervescent she was to be around.
My memory hitches a bit and then falters as I recollect those days.
“Hey,” I say, interrupting the chatter of the makeup and hair stylists working on her. “What happened to your stylist in Vegas? I can’t remember his name.”
Joslyn’s hair is currently held hostage in an iron, so she can’t turn around, but I can see the side of her jaw. Her dimple pops, which means she’s smiling. “Michel.”
“That’s right, Michel,” I reminisce. “He was a bloody hoot.”
“He’s still back in Vegas,” she replies with a laugh. “Married and has two kids.”
“No kidding,” I say, fondly remembering the overly exuberant, extremely dramatic, but anti-relationship gay man.
“Yup. Married a really nice guy,” Joslyn says. “A tow-truck driver, believe it or not.”
Chuckling, I shake my head over the fact it actually doesn’t surprise me at all. “Vegas has everything.”
It’s the first time in a long time I’ve been able to think back on my time with Joslyn and not be offended by it. Hell, the memories are actually producing warm and fuzzy feelings for the first time in forever.
And maybe it’s because the stroll down memory lane has me feeling slightly nostalgic, and I don’t want to have to think about Joslyn going on national TV soon to tell the world we’re a couple. It’s not that I mind the attention. Never been a shy bloke.
But after this show is done taping, then it’s game on. Her stalker—if the plan works right—is going to make a showing. I hope it’s sooner rather than later. The longer this goes on, the more stressed Jos is going to become. Besides that, I have a life I need to get back to and I’d be lying if I didn’t say being around her is difficult.
I have to admit I’m not angry at her anymore. I’ve reminded myself she was nineteen and under her mother’s control for a long time. While I am solid with the fact I loved her and she loved me, I also know a young girl confronted with seemingly legit evidence of my betrayal would be affected differently than she would today at age thirty-two with some experience behind her. I have to forgive Joslyn for not knowing any better.
And the minute I did that, I sure as fuck started itching to have her again. Just hugging her yesterday in her kitchen felt so goddamn great I could’ve just been happy standing there for hours. Bloody hell, but feelings have resurfaced for me and it’s a mind fuck for sure. I’m getting ready to let her perpetuate a lie to the world that we’re in love, except it doesn’t feel like a complete and utter lie to me.
More importantly, we have got to sell this if her stalker is going to believe it. I need him to believe so he gets pissed—hopefully sloppy—and decides to come after her so I can end the bloody ponce.
This job has become way too personal now. What I really want is for Joslyn to have peace and be happy again.
The makeup artist finishes and leaves the room. After a few more fluffs of Joslyn’s hair, the hair stylist leaves and it’s time for Joslyn to get dressed. She brought a light blue dress the same color as her eyes and a pair of high-heeled booties in a camel
color to wear with it. It’s hanging on a hook beside the mirror. Joslyn pushes out of her chair, nabbing the outfit. She raises a brow pointedly. “Want to step out while I get dressed?”
I smile slowly, a silent admission I’ve seen everything she has to show me. She glares and I merely turn, giving her my back. “We need to talk so go ahead and get dressed. I promise not to peek.”
She makes a delicate snort that has me grinning bigger, but then I hear the unmistakable sound of her removing her jeans. The distinct sound of the zipper coming down makes my blood turn hot.
Shaking my head, I put that aside. “Look… you have got to sell this out there. To the audience.”
“I know,” she says with a resigned sigh. “They need to believe we’re in love.”
“No,” I say sharply, then turn my head just enough I can see her in my peripheral vision. She freezes in her panties and bra, eyes wide. “He has to believe it. He has to watch this interview, and he has to become enraged. So you have to do more than sell it, Joslyn. It’s going to be the biggest acting role of your career.”
“I’ve got this,” she snaps, and it’s enough to prompt me to face her.
“Do you?” I taunt, trying my damned best not to ogle her. A quick glimpse of her body in that sexy-as-fuck white lace lingerie is seared onto my brain. “Because things are kind of strained between us.”
“Well, yeah,” she snarls in outrage, completely glorious in her near nudity as she stares daggers. “I’m a little ragey still that you fucked me and then treated me like garbage after.”
“Joslyn—”
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