Sid Loman was never going to feel anything again.
* * *
Although he’d warned her that the hours would be long, Reece had watched for any sign that Jessica was getting tired of working her ass off. They had both been in the office more than out of it since Wednesday, and so far, not one complaint had come out of her mouth. She’d just put in a full thirteen hours, on a Saturday no less, and insisted she was fine to come in early the next morning.
It seemed the more he piled on her, treating her exactly as he would any intern, the more she thrived. She’d sucked up everything she could learn, starting with sitting in the cutting room with him on her first day, listening to him curse, and offering suggestions that, while not workable, were worth considering. And when he’d realized there really was no help for it but to redo the screwed-up scene, she’d taken on the task of pulling the reshoot together like a pro.
He knew she was looking forward to her first location shoot in New Mexico, scheduled for three weeks from now. He only wondered if, by that point, she would still be pretending she didn’t want a personal relationship with him. No matter what, they would have separate rooms—he didn’t want her treated with disrespect.
That didn’t mean, however, that the rooms couldn’t adjoin.
So far, she was being amazingly resistant, even though he caught her watching him closely when she thought he wouldn’t notice. Once, after he’d whipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, he caught her staring at his hands, and had to repeat a question three times just to get her attention.
She wanted him. But her stubbornness was keeping her from doing anything about it.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?” he asked as they walked out of the building a little after ten p.m. Saturday night.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We’ve been working a lot of hours.”
“I’m fine. As long as the duct tape holding my car together holds up, I can come in as much as you need me to.”
He eyed her tired gray PT Cruiser convertible, the only other vehicle parked in the lot, aside from his. He always heard the thing from his office when she arrived. It rattled. It squealed. It groaned. With its rust spots and faded top, he pegged the car as more than a decade old. “You’re putting a lot of wear and tear on that car. Maybe you should use…”
“Forget it, I’m not using a company car,” she said, throwing a hand up to silence him.
“How do you know I wasn’t going to say city bus?”
Gasping, she drew that hand to her chest. “Was that a joke, Mr. Winchester?”
His own lips quirked. “Maybe.”
Tsking and shaking her head, she replied, “I must be a bad influence on you.”
She could be. Or maybe she could be a good one.
Working with her so closely over the past four days, he’d realized Jessica brought out something youthful and fresh from inside him. Those were things he barely remembered being. It caught him by surprise. He hadn’t needed anyone except his family since he was a kid. But he had found he needed her around, if only to bring a smile out of him every once in a while.
“You really don’t have to walk me to my car,” she said.
“It’s late,” he said, noticing the streetlights weren’t bright enough to banish all the shadows.
When they reached her convertible, he waited for her to unlock the door, then opened it for her. Before she got in, he caught the faintest whiff of smoke. Reece reacted to the scent reflexively, his muscles tensing. He’d been that way since the day he’d come home to find his house in ashes.
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
Crouching down to look inside, he saw a black spot on the passenger-side carpet. He gestured toward it. “Did you have an electrical fire?”
“Not exactly,” she replied before catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
He knew the gesture, having seen it a few times before. She was uncomfortable, or she was hiding something. While he’d been ready to say goodbye, he couldn’t until he found out the rest of the story about the smoky smell. So he slammed the door shut.
“What are you doing?”
“Let’s go to the diner across the street and have coffee.”
“It’s ten o’clock at night.”
“They have decaf.”
“Does any self-respecting person in Hollywood really drink decaf?”
Ahh, she was catching on. “Come on, you need to build up your tolerance anyway.”
“But I thought we were finished for the day,” she said, looking puzzled.
“We’ve been working so hard, I don’t think you’ve even had a chance to go out for lunch this week. I need to introduce you to the local cuisine.”
“I brown-bag it,” she said. Her chin was up, and she sounded proud of herself. He only wondered when she’d had time to eat anything from that brown bag, considering he’d kept her on the run every day since she’d started.
“One day you might forget. You’ll need to know where to grab a sandwich to bring back to the office. I’m such a workaholic, you’ll rarely get to take a full lunch break.”
“Did Walter?”
“Never.”
“Okay. I only hope they make their tuna salad with mustard.”
Grimacing, he could only shake his head. “Disgusting.”
Entering the empty shop, he greeted the owner, Charlie, with a nod. “We’re just going to have coffee. We don’t intend to keep you late.”
“Ha, keep me as late as you want. It’s better than going home to snotty teenagers and a perpetually pissed-off wife.”
Jessica’s brow went up as they walked to an empty table in the back. “So are his kids really snotty?” she asked, taking a seat across the booth from him.
“Yes. I think that’s why his wife is perpetually pissed off.”
“Or it could be because her husband spends all his time here and isn’t home to help with them.”
“Good point.”
After they ordered their coffee—fully leaded for both of them—he got around to the reason he’d brought her here. He couldn’t stop thinking about the burned interior of her car. Arson was his trigger lately, and he wanted to know what had really happened.
“Now, tell me about the fire.”
She tilted her head in confusion.
“In your car.”
Charlie, working alone tonight, set down cups of coffee in front of each of them. Jessica smiled her thanks, and then took time to add cream and sugar to hers. She stirred, blew on the surface, and then sipped. “Mm. Great coffee.”
“Quit stalling.”
He saw her brain working to figure out what to say, and finally she answered in her typical blunt manner. “You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with a stalker.”
Reece stiffened. “Oh?”
With a humorless laugh, she said, “We ought to form a club. Stalkers “R” Us. We could show up at our meetings in wigs and trench coats, waving our matching restraining orders.”
“Not funny, Jessica,” he said, fearing the worst. If she’d been so reluctant to talk about this, especially after what happened last weekend, it must have been pretty bad. “Tell me.”
Her explanation came grudgingly. “I was dating a guy. His name was Johnny.”
He blew out a breath. “That’s a child’s name.”
“He has a child’s maturity level. Anyway, I ended it a year ago. He, uh, didn’t take it well.”
His hands clenched together in one large fist under the table. “How badly did he take it?”
“He became angry. Violently so.” She gazed out the window, her expression pained. “To be honest, he put me through hell.”
Funny how the air in a room could turn red. At least, that’s what color it appeared to be through his furious eyes. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not really.”
She swallowed, which told him she might not have been entirely forthc
oming. Reece used all of his acting ability to not let her see his desire to throw furniture, punch walls, and find the miserable coward who’d dared to lay a hand on her. Which he knew that piece of shit had done.
“He took away my sense of security. I never knew if he was watching, if he would call, or show up at work.” She sighed. “Or break into my car and burn all my stuff.”
There it was. The answer to his question. Judging by the smell still lingering inside the convertible, the crime couldn’t have taken place very long ago. Considering the breakup had been last year, the ex was not getting better with time.
“That spineless bastard,” he snapped, bending forward over the table.
Ignoring their boss/intern boundaries, he reached for her hand. Their fingers entwined, and he squeezed, offering support and commiseration. Reece understood the destruction of fire, and how it felt to know your possessions had been sent up in smoke. He’d been relieved no one had been hurt in the flames at his house, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t regretted the loss of some irreplaceable things. He hadn’t cared about the financial cost of anything he’d lost. The emotional one, however, had been painful.
Fire wasn’t just dangerous physically. It destroyed memory.
“I guess if anyone understands, it’s you. I lost some books; you lost your entire house.”
“It was just a house,” he mumbled. “I had insurance. My dog was okay, and nobody was hurt. That was all that really mattered.”
“But what about the things in it?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, your Oscars!”
“The statue’s not as important as the credit on a résumé. Not a big deal. Other things were a lot more important.”
“Such as?”
He had brought her here to talk about her problem, not his. But he admitted, “Some personal stuff that was hard to lose. My sister and I did one movie together…”
“Together at Last!”
Not surprised she knew, he smiled faintly. “After filming ended, she asked me to sign her script. Then she signed it, too, and wrote something about the wonderful Winchester stars.” He shrugged. “Silly, just a pile of bound papers with some signatures.”
“That must have broken your heart.” It was her turn to squeeze his hands, offering kindness and understanding. She had grasped right away why he’d been more upset about a memoir of a special time he’d shared with his lost sister than a dumb gold statue. Not a lot of people would…but she had.
Charlie came back to refill their coffee, and Jessica slid her hands from his, curling them around her cup as she declined a top off.
Reece had gone back to sad-memory land quite enough for one night. He’d been distracted from the real issue, but he wasn’t anymore. “So, this Johnny pile of shit. Did you get a restraining order?”
She shook her head, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I was afraid it would escalate things and set him off even more.”
Which this Johnny had probably counted on. That’s what all abusive pricks hoped for when they harassed their victims. A vulnerable woman could wave a piece of paper with legalese on it saying he had to stay away, but it was a gamble that he’d obey. Considering that piece of paper was often the match that lit his violent flame, the odds on that bet weren’t great.
“It’s a catch-22.”
“Exactly,” she said. “He backed off a couple of months ago, after I threatened to turn him in for the vandalism of my car. I’d reached my breaking point.”
She sipped her coffee, looking out the window again, intentionally avoiding his eyes. There was no telling lip nibble, but he knew there was more she wasn’t saying. He also knew what it was.
“And now he’s back.”
She lowered her cup and gave him her full attention. “How did you know?”
“Are you forgetting I am a watcher? I pay attention to things. It became pretty obvious when you were talking about him. So what happened?”
“I got a call from him earlier this week. The same day I was coming in to talk to you, in fact. He saw the news coverage and claimed he wanted to see if I was all right.”
He knew better than to think that was all Johnny the Big Baby had said. “What else?”
She hesitated before admitting, “He wanted to know about you.”
“What did you tell him?”
She looked into her half-empty cup. “Um, I told him you and I were…involved.” Jerking her head up, she quickly added, “I’m so sorry, I know I shouldn’t have. I was hoping if he believed I’d moved on, he might leave me alone.”
He didn’t tease her about the confession because he knew men like this Johnny. Telling him there was someone else had probably only made her more desirable in his eyes. “Has he been in contact again?”
Her deep sigh and lowered lashes said he had. “I’ve spotted his car around.”
“What’s his full name?”
She peered at him intently. “Why?”
Because I want to break his arms for hurting you, and kill him for making you feel unsafe. “As certain as I am that it was the person harassing me who took the shot last Friday night, we have to at least consider the possibility it was this Johnny.”
If he’d known the words were going to bring tears to her eyes and make her mouth tremble, he wouldn’t have said them.
“Oh, please no.”
“It’s a long shot, Jessica. A thousand-to-one chance. I’m the one with the enemies and unhinged fans. Still, the police should know.”
“I know.” She sniffed. “I’ll die if it was him, if I was the one who put you in danger.”
“That makes two of us. But if I was the target, do you blame me for what happened?”
“Of course not!”
Shrugging, he simply replied, “Then how could I possibly blame you?”
They fell silent, and he relived that moment, that shot, the glass, and her ragged dress. No, she might not blame him, but he would forever blame himself.
“So what’s his full name?” he asked. “I’ll call the detectives and let them know.”
No-go. “I’ll call them myself. I don’t want you to get dragged into it.”
As if he wasn’t already? But despite how much he asked, she would not give him the rest of the details and said she would not give them to Rowan either. Apparently she’d realized there wasn’t much the brothers didn’t share. She instead insisted on calling the detectives in Venice.
Fortunately, Rowan and the guy were friends. He’d get the name. And then Reece would figure out a way to make sure that prick Johnny-whatever never set another fire. He did, after all, have experience doing whatever it took to keep sick bastards away from their victims. It had been his life’s work when he’d first come back here at eighteen.
After they finished their coffee, they headed back across the street to the parking lot. She would have a company vehicle by next week, like it or not. Before getting into her car, she turned to face him, lifted a hand, and straightened the collar of his shirt.
The brush of her knuckles on his neck sent electricity straight through his body. It thrummed and sizzled, probably because he’d been thinking about her touch every time he’d been with her at work. And when he hadn’t been with her at home.
“Thanks for the coffee, and the conversation,” she murmured.
Reece lifted a hand and caught hers, holding it against his chest. He stared down at her, and she gazed up at him, her dark eyes catching a gleam of moonlight. Despite the car horns and the rumble of traffic, they fell into a strange silence. The night felt hotter than it had before. Steamy. Sticky. He’d touched her in the diner, when she’d needed support and strength. But this was different. Very different.
Their stares locked, and he was back to last Friday night—before the shot. How it had felt to kiss her, to touch her. How much he’d wanted her. She let out a tiny sigh, and he knew she was thinking the same thoughts.
“I think I’m soon going to have to apologize to you again,” he said.
&nb
sp; “Why?”
“Because I know I’m going to kiss you sooner rather than later.”
Her expression something between a smile and a glare, she jabbed a finger at him. “You said you’d back off, that we’d be entirely professional.”
“We will be,” he insisted. “Except for one kiss.”
“Did you kiss Walter?”
“Would it help if I said yes?”
She wagged her brows. “Depends on if there are pictures. Could be kinda hot.”
“Not funny.” Realizing he never should have threatened to kiss her, he said, “Forget I said anything. It’s your call whether anything else happens between us.”
She was close, so close. So beautiful with her sassy grin and her shining hair. He couldn’t stop himself from stepping toward her, putting a hand on her hip.
“Don’t think that means I’ll find it easy to wait,” he whispered. He leaned forward, inhaling deeply the scent of her hair, and her warm, fragrant body. “Or that I won’t try to tempt you to make that call.”
She licked her lips, breathing deeply. He saw the way her heart fluttered in her throat, just above the collar of her prim blouse. Her pretty nipples pressed against her blouse, and a flush rose into her face.
She still wanted him. There was no denying it.
“Jesus, Jessica, you working here might kill me.”
Putting her hand on his forearm, she leaned up on tiptoe until her kissable mouth was all he could focus on. “Reece?”
The parking lot spun. Or his head did. “Yes?”
“The ball’s in my court, isn’t it?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingertips, sliding one in his mouth and sucking gently. “Mm-hmm.”
She pulled her hand away, but she didn’t flounce off. Instead, she came even closer; he felt her warm breaths on his neck. Then she whispered, “I’m not going to change my mind.”
He blew out a slow breath.
Her lashes fell to half-mast, hiding her eyes. “At least not in week one.”
His heart stopped, and then roared to a start again as he took her meaning. Grinning, he watched her get into her car and drive away. She never looked back, leaving him standing there in his own damn parking lot. He remained there for a long time, shaking his head, trying to cool off and answer the questions swirling in his brain.
Watching You Page 13
