Guarding Jess

by Shannon Curtis

  His brow furrowed with suspicion.

  Jessica rose and walked gracefully over to the podium.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Thank you so much for inviting me to share this meal with you. It is an honor.” The fountain behind her provided a tinkling backdrop. Who the hell put a fountain inside, anyway?

  Noah palmed the cell phone out of her handbag as she started her speech. She spoke slowly, calmly, a smile on her lips. Noah watched her briefly before turning his attention to her audience. They were focused. Primed. Some were even taking notes. There was a twitter throughout the crowd when Jessica made a humorous comment.

  He glanced back to the beautiful woman who held them all transfixed. She was confident, comfortable in her own skin as she talked about respect for self and respect for others. Only he seemed to notice her white knuckles as she clutched the podium.

  Noah held the phone under the level of the table and activated the screen. He almost rolled his eyes, but stopped just in time. She didn’t even have a security code to unlock access on the damn thing. He read the message on the small, backlit screen.

  I see you’ve changed your outfit. That red suit looks better than the blue you had on this morning. I’ll be listening to every word you utter.

  Noah’s eyes rose to look at the room. The bastard was here. He scanned from one side of the room to the other. He didn’t see the artfully made-up women. He saw potential threats, and he quickly assessed them. He shifted in his seat and rose, his movements smooth, slow. Oliveria looked at him briefly before turning back to her boss. He walked until he stood a discreet distance behind the target. Anything that moved, his eyes quickly tracked, analyzing possible risks before discarding and moving on. His hands were by his sides, relaxed. He watched the gathered women. What if Jessica’s stalker was hidden among them?

  A loud bang, followed by a crash, spurred him into action.

  He jerked Jessica to him and dived away from the podium.

  And into the fountain. Water rushed over their heads as all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Four

  Jessica felt strong arms grab her, then the cold shock of water envelop her. She tried to scream. Tried to struggle. She choked on water as a vise tightened around her upper torso.

  Then she was lifted out of the water, coughing harshly as she tried to expel the water she’d swallowed.

  She leaned against the broad chest for a moment, feeling the weight of over one hundred and thirty-six pairs of eyes staring at her. Someone snickered.

  Oliveria stood three feet away from her, with stunned eyes and a slack jaw as she watched in shock. Her friend’s expression mimicked those of the audience, while a waiter mumbled apologies as he quickly piled broken plates onto the tray he’d dropped. His face was red, and he looked as though he hoped his oriental-style collar would swallow him.

  His obvious embarrassment didn’t come close to the emotion Jessica was feeling.

  The ice-cold water dripping from her hair did nothing to cool the hot flush of her cheeks. Her shoulders up around her ears, she slowly turned to face Noah.

  Equally saturated, he stared at her, resolutely keeping his eyes on her face. She looked down. Her cream silk blouse was soaked, and stuck to her like a second skin. Her lace bra clearly showed through the now transparent fabric, as did her nipples.

  She closed her eyes. If there is a God, please smite me, she thought. She stood in front of every influential woman in the city, and she looked a mess. A drowned, near-naked mess. She was tempted to dive underneath the water again, to bury her head from her embarrassment. Her eyes flicked open, and she stared up at Noah staring down at her chest.

  He’d blown it. A waiter had dropped a platter, and he’d thrown her into the fountain. He’d ruined her speech. He’d ruined her appearance. He’d ruined her hard-won reputation. And she’d worked so hard over the years to put any whisper of public humiliation behind her.

  Anger swelled inside her. So much anger that she couldn’t control it.

  “What. Were. You. Thinking?” she squeaked.

  He shrugged. “I thought you were in danger.” Jessica’s eyes popped open. He didn’t even sound apologetic. Just like the girls at the academy whenever someone had pulled a malicious stunt on the country orphan trying to get some polish. Rage flashed through her. Her hands rose and she thumped them against his chest, pushing him back into the water.

  She turned around and waded to the edge of the fountain. She clambered over the marble rim.

  Oliveria rushed over to her.

  “Ohmigosh, are you all right?” her friend gasped.

  Jessica held up her hands. She didn’t want anyone touching her. She tried to put a rein on the hot tide of seething anger threatening to take over.

  She mustn’t lose control. She was a Pennington. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene. One must never cause a scene. The memory of her aunt’s stern admonishments echoed through her mind. She took a deep breath, brushed the sodden hank of hair out of her eyes and straightened her shoulders. Ooze bloody tranquility.

  “Excuse me, please. I must go.” She said it softly. She was in control. She would not lose it. She nodded to Amelia Winthrop. The woman was still staring at her in stunned amazement, as though she’d morphed into an elephant wearing a frilly pink tutu.

  She turned on her heel and limped to the nearest exit, grabbing her purse off the table as she passed. Carpet squished under one foot, and she realized she’d lost a shoe in the fountain.

  She kept walking.

  * * *

  Noah watched through the office window as Jessica spoke on the phone. He rolled his playing cards over the backs of his hands, shuffling them without dropping them. The forensic team had finished with the building, and everything was back to normal. Gwen had organized a cleaning crew while they were out. He didn’t know how much the company charged, but from the fresh smell, the clean carpet and the shine on the furniture and accents, he suspected it was quite a lot. No one would know that a letter bomb had exploded there earlier in the day—except for the empty frames in Reception where double glass doors had once stood. New solid-core timber doors were yet to be delivered. Inside her office, Jessica hung up the phone. Her shoulders slumped. It looked like she’d received another cancellation.

  He chewed the inside of his cheek. That was—unfortunate. He sighed. He’d reacted, not acted. On reflex he’d removed his client from a perceived threat. Admittedly, a waiter dropping plates wasn’t a direct threat, but he wouldn’t apologize for putting her safety first. He could have regrets, but he wouldn’t apologize. His brow furrowed. Actually, he had a bone to pick with Miss Prissy.

  He felt someone hovering behind him. “Yes, Gwen?” he asked patiently. For a large woman she could move quietly. He put his cards back in his pocket and glanced over his shoulder.

  “How is she doing?” the woman asked softly, light glinting off her glasses.

  Noah frowned. “It looks like six cancellations, now.”

  Gwen gave a low whistle. “Well, Mr. Samuels, that is impressive. Even on my worst day, I’ve only received two.”

  Noah shot her a dry glance, then turned back to the window.

  “Here is that list you asked Jessica for, those clients she attended outings with.” She handed Noah some papers. His eyebrows rose as he flicked through the pages. The woman was busy.

  “What about her boyfriends?”

  Gwen snorted. “What boyfriends? Jessica doesn’t date.”

  “Why not? She’s attractive.” The words were out before he could stop them.

  Gwen’s lips twitched. “Yes, and she works hard. The men of her acquaintance are mainly business associates.”

  Noah glanced at the woman in the office. She was beautiful, nice even, once you got past the stick up her butt. Why didn’t she date?


  “So why are you lurking out here?” Gwen asked.

  Noah’s eyes didn’t move from the woman he was focused on. Jessica’s rounded shoulders hunched even further.

  “She won’t want me in there.”

  Gwen shot a surprised look through the glass to her boss. “Why not?”

  Surely the woman knew by now what had happened? “I threw her into a fountain.”

  Gwen waved a hand. “Oh, that’s barely a blip on the radar. Jessica’s business is correcting bad impressions like that. Besides, she never gets angry.”

  Noah’s eyes bulged. The woman had pushed him back into the damn fountain.

  “Don’t worry.” Gwen nudged him toward the office.

  Well, he did need to talk to her. He sighed and knocked on the door. Jessica looked up. Their eyes met through the glass. She looked tired. And beaten. He regretted his part in that. Her expression smoothed into a calm, controlled look.

  She beckoned him in. He opened the door and stepped to the side, waiting for Gwen to precede him. The woman shook her head.

  “Oh, I’m not going in there,” she murmured, and walked down the carpeted hall to the reception area. Coward.

  He turned and entered the office. Jessica gestured to the seat opposite. He took it and looked at her over the desk. She’d showered and changed into some sort of gray silk trouser suit thing that draped her figure in a way that made him want to touch her, glide his hand down the length of her body. The hand on his knee curled into a fist. The woman wore more damn outfits in one day than he did in a week. He could smell her crisp, floral perfume. Not overpowering, just the tease of a scent. Her hair was smooth and styled, her makeup perfectly applied. From here, he couldn’t see those sexy little freckles she was determined to hide. Pity. He liked her freckles. He cleared his throat.

  “Uh, look, about this afternoon—” he began.

  She waved her hand tiredly. “I’m fine. No need to apologize. You were just doing your job.” Her voice was quiet, calm. She even managed a tiny smile.

  He blinked. Wow. What happened to the woman who had shoved him back into the fountain? The one who’d stomped off wearing only one shoe?

  She didn’t seem upset at all. Did she normally repress her emotions? He’d dumped her in a fountain, embarrassed her before her peers, and she was fine? He didn’t understand her. He’d like to understand her. He didn’t like mysteries. He usually watched and waited until things made sense. He had a suspicion that no matter how long he observed Miss Prissy, she’d still surprise him.

  “I’m not here to apologize.” He almost laughed when her jaw dropped. He leaned forward in his chair. “I made a decision based on the information at hand.” He raised a finger. “Information you withheld from me. How long has this guy been calling you?”

  Jessica’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Noah wished he had a camera. Seeing Miss Prissy speechless was definitely a Kodak moment.

  Noah rolled his eyes. “The jerk texted you. He also mentioned your outfit from this morning.”

  She nodded. Once. “You’re right. I should have told you. I apologize. I can see why you did what you did.”

  Noah nodded. Her reaction was commendable. Generous. Stable. And he didn’t believe it one little bit. He watched her slender fingers toy with a pearl. She wasn’t going to let him in on what was going on inside her head. That irked. Just a little. He tried to convince himself it didn’t matter. She was just an assignment. Nothing more, nothing less. He rubbed his chin. She had kept some pretty important information from him, though.

  “How long has this guy been contacting you over the phone?”

  “About three weeks.”

  He couldn’t help wondering what her fingers would feel like, toying with him. He shifted in his seat and forced his attention back to their conversation. “And you didn’t think it was important to mention the guy has your personal cell phone number?”

  Jessica’s shoulders rose briefly. “Do you know how many people have that number? I hand my business card out at every meeting. Every time I meet somebody new, I give them my contact details. All of my clients need to be able to reach me. That phone number isn’t top secret.”

  Noah’s lips turned down at the corners. He knew all about the handshaking, cocktail-sipping, smarmy-smiling, back-slapping, back-stabbing networking that went on in her circles. Everyone wanted to be seen as friendly, approachable, professional. Only they usually weren’t any of those things, he’d discovered. And everything came with strings.

  “How often does this guy contact you?”

  Jessica’s eyelids flickered. “I get a letter every day, and I’ll receive texts constantly over the day.”

  Noah leaned forward. “Can I see your phone?”

  Jessica handed it to him. He flicked through some of the settings. “Where are all of the messages?”

  Jessica shifted in her seat. “I delete them.”

  Noah’s eyebrows rose. “Why? We might be able to trace him.”

  Jessica’s fingers stopped toying with her necklace, although she still kept hold of it. Noah realized she touched it when she was feeling a little unsettled. It was an unconscious move on her part. And endearing.

  “I tried to show it to the police. The number is blocked. They can’t trace it. It’s gotten to the point that I don’t want to carry around this guy’s messages. I just don’t want to hear from him anymore.”

  “What did the police do about the letters?”

  Jessica shrugged. “What can they do? There’s no law against mailing a letter. Each time there is a different postmark on the envelopes. The letters are printed on a standard office printer, and on standard stationery that’s available at thousands of locations. Read individually, even the language doesn’t seem threatening.”

  Her gaze lifted to his, her eyes serious. “I don’t know who is doing this, but even if I did, there isn’t much I can do.”

  Noah shot a glance at her, concerned by her acceptance of the threats against her, by her apathy toward her own personal security. “California was the first state to legislate against stalking. There’s plenty you can do.”

  Jessica looked curious. “Like what?”

  Noah lifted her phone. “Well, for starters, we’ll get you another phone. We’ll hook this one up to an answering machine. We’ll have a record of everything this guy says when he calls, then. We’ll keep all of the text messages that he sends. That’s another record. You’ve kept all of his letters, so that’s more records of his stalking.”

  “But what can we do with all of this?”

  “I’ll get Drew to do some tracing. We should be able to track down the sender of all of these text messages. We have programs that can access that information without the restrictions law enforcement face.” Noah leaned forward. “Stalking is a crime, Jessica. If repeated contact, in whatever form, causes you fear or anxiety, then that’s stalking. It doesn’t matter if he says he’s not going to harm you. It doesn’t matter if he says he didn’t realize he was scaring you. The fact that he is scaring you makes it stalking. Once we identify him, we can have him charged for that crime.”

  Jessica swallowed. “So, we could stop him?” He heard the hope in her voice, felt warmth at being able to give her at least that.

  Noah nodded. “Hell, yeah.” He sat back in his chair. He knew a way to speed up the process. “The more people who are aware of your situation, the safer you’ll be.”

  Jessica shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t be good for business.”

  Noah’s lips pursed. He’d almost forgotten she associated with the city’s movers and shakers. Appearance was everything. Wasn’t that what his father had tried to drum into him? Protect it, at whatever cost. A tiny spark of disappointment flared inside him. He kept forgetting Jessica was one of them.

  “Is you
r business worth your life?” Why couldn’t she put this into perspective? The fact that the stalker was becoming more aggressive was cause for concern, but she was too focused on her damned business.

  Jessica looked at him for a moment, as though mulling something over. “I can’t afford any negative publicity,” she said at last. “I have a book about to be released, and it needs to do well.”

  “Why?” he shot at her. Why did she place more importance on this damned book than on her own life?

  She hesitated. “I borrowed heavily to start the Pennington Business Academy, and its programs. I need to pay back that debt. If the book does well, it will help. If it drives more business to my door, it will help some more.”

  Noah bit back a retort. Jessica’s aunt was Jacqueline Pennington, a woman renowned the world over as the queen of the home-furnishing trade, and spearhead of a multimillion-dollar corporation, responsible for thousands of high-end stores, season collections, with a reputation in interior design second to none, and Jessica was crying poor?

  “I think your aunt will cut you some slack.”

  Jessica’s whole body seemed to freeze, before she rolled her shoulders, as though trying to relax the tense muscles. “Contrary to what you might think, Noah, my aunt and I share a name, not a bank account.” Her tone was cool.

  Noah arched an eyebrow as he scanned the elegantly appointed office.

  “My aunt doesn’t need to know, she doesn’t—” Jessica bit off the rest of her sentence abruptly. “She doesn’t need to know,” she finished, but Noah suspected it wasn’t what she’d been about to say. Jessica balked at running to Aunty for help. Why? Noah sighed. Her mouth was tight, her expression set. She wasn’t about to open up to him. Yet.

  “Fine.”

  Jessica nodded. “Thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed, just a little. For whatever reason, keeping her troubles from her aunt was very important to her.