Watching You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  Questions like: How was he going to maintain a professional relationship with this woman? Had he really agreed to that until she changed her mind?

  And most importantly, would week two be soon enough?

  Chapter 8

  Oh my God!”

  Jess looked up from her toes as Emily walked into the bedroom, holding a sheath of what looked like scarlet fabric in her arms. Her expression was vague, a little stunned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her new roommate gently placed the material on the bed, careful to avoid the nail polish tray. Jess had been sitting here painting her toenails, grumbling about tonight’s event. She really wasn’t interested in attending the gala, though she was impressed with the award Reece was getting for his work with a children’s charity. Despite his claim that introducing her as his intern would explain why they’d been alone when they were shot at, she had her doubts. It might look like he was sleeping with his new intern. Even though he wasn’t.

  You could change that any time you wanted to.

  But she wouldn’t.

  It’s week two.

  “Shut up,” she mumbled to the devil on her shoulder.

  “Huh?”

  “Talking to myself.”

  “Well stop it and look. A courier brought this,” Emily said, her tone almost reverent. “I’m sorry, I opened it, thinking it was a costume for Hamlet.” Em performed regularly with a local theater. Like just about everybody else around here, she wanted to break into show business, and was doing it via the familiar waiting-tables route. “There’s some other stuff, too, but I didn’t open it once I realized this wasn’t for me.”

  Jess continued to eye the slithery red material. “That had better not be a gown.”

  “Of course it’s a gown, dummy. The most gorgeous gown I’ve ever seen!”

  “Damn it.”

  “Oh, right, exactly the reaction any woman would have when her fairy godmother drops a red ball of wonderful onto her lap.”

  “You don’t get it,” she grumbled.

  Reece had been bossy and in control since day one. She wished she could say she didn’t like her new job. In truth, the past several days had been thrilling. Being with him—going from soundstage to cutting room to office to food cart on the back lot—had introduced her to the world she wanted to inhabit. A world she already loved.

  Reece Winchester was a brilliant man. She’d known that, of course, but seeing him in action—the way he thought, the imagination and the vision—was stunning. He grew more attractive by the second, and it was agony to spend hours at a time with him. Their attraction was visceral, but she knew nothing was going to happen between them unless she made “the call.”

  She couldn’t. How could she get involved with someone she didn’t fully trust? Someone she worked for?

  Well, maybe she could do it while she worked for him, as long as he didn’t treat her differently at work. And as long as nobody else knew about it. But definitely not too soon.

  Week two. Knowing Emily would think her crazy if she talked to herself again, she didn’t snap at the inner voice.

  “He’s my boss, not my fairy godmother. He has no right to send me clothes.”

  Before Emily could respond, Liza burst into the room, her eyes as round as dinner plates. In one hand, she held a pair of red jeweled shoes. In the other was a shoebox bearing a name every shoe hound in the world would recognize.

  “Ho-ly shit,” Liza said when she saw the dress on the bed, almost the exact shade as the shoes. “I think Santa came early by way of Rodeo Drive.”

  “Don’t get excited. I’m giving it all back.” She saw their crafty expressions. “Unworn.”

  Emily and Liza looked like they wanted to beat her on the head with the spiked heels of the shoes. Liza whisked the tray away, and the two of them plopped down on either side of her.

  “There’s no harm in trying them on,” Liza said, bending to slip a shoe onto Jess’s foot. Jess yanked her foot back, remembering her wet nails. Polish stains would make them impossible to wear.

  Not wear, return!

  “Whoops, guess I’ll have to model them for you.” Liza stuck her own feet in. She was petite, so the shoes were a good two inches too long, yet she still cooed in delight as she stood to display them. “If I stuff cotton in the heels and toes…”

  “You’d still be four sizes too small,” Emily said, hopping up, too. “But I’m just the stepsister to fit into them. Pretty please, Cinderella, can I try them on?”

  Jess merely sighed, watching as her roommates swapped shoes. She couldn’t blame them. They were glorious. Dream shoes. Princess shoes.

  The heels looked less enormous on Em than they had on Liza. Preening, she lifted the dress by the shoulders, held it up against her body, and let the soft drapes hit the floor in front of her. Jess spied the label and gasped, unable to imagine what it had cost. More important than the name, though, was the simple beauty of the dress. Classy, but also sexy, with a V-neckline that would skim her curves, and glimmering crystals set carefully to accentuate the hips.

  The man certainly knew what appealed to a woman…almost as much as he himself did.

  Emily spun it around, displaying a flare in the bottom folds. Jess could muster no surprise when she saw the deep V in the back. She didn’t doubt Reece remembered her weakness for having the small of her back caressed. It would provide him the perfect access.

  Wait, what was she thinking? She couldn’t wear this, couldn’t let him dress her like she was an adult Barbie doll. She had her own clothes, including a perfectly respectable cocktail dress. Wasn’t a little black dress acceptable for any Hollywood event?

  “Nope,” she said, tearing her eyes away from the dress. And those shoes. “I can’t…”

  “You can, sister, and you will,” Liza said in a tone Jess remembered their mom using. “It’s his fault your blue one was ruined. The least he can do is replace it. And damn, girl, he replaced it right! This was almost worth the hours it took to get the glass out of your hair.”

  She shuddered. “No outfit is worth that.”

  “You haven’t seen the jewelry yet.”

  “No way!”

  “I knew you would freak if you saw that first.” Liza hurried out of the room and came back with a velvet box and an embossed envelope. She shoved both into Jess’s shaking hands. Jess ignored the box and opened the letter.

  Dear Miss Jensen:

  I know you will try to refuse, but I suspect your blue gown is unwearable, for which I am responsible. Consider this a deserved replacement and just put it on.

  Oh, and wear your hair down.

  Reece

  PS: Calm down. The jewelry is borrowed from a local store famed for loaning items for Hollywood events.

  “Oh, bummer, you don’t get to keep the rubies?” Liza said, reading over her shoulder.

  Her mouth went dry. Rubies? Breathing became impossible, so she simply held her breath. Flipping open the box and seeing what was inside, she nearly dropped it onto the floor.

  Definitely rubies. Not lab-created stuff, either. These were real, deep red, and flawless. There were drop earrings with large, crimson stones surrounded by diamonds, and a stunning tennis bracelet. The necklace was what really caught her eye. Good lord, the single ruby hanging at the end of the chain was the size of a walnut. It would rest perfectly in her cleavage.

  The ensemble probably cost more than she’d make in the next decade.

  Her roommates sighed in appreciation, but she could only say, “Oh, crap.”

  Jewelry, dress, shoes…this was too much. Reece had done exactly what she’d asked him not to. He’d stepped from the boss-employee relationship she’d told him she wanted into something more personal. He’d sworn tonight’s gala was about business, and insisted any other intern in her position would have been required to attend, too. Somehow, though, she wasn’t convinced.

  Did you send rubies to Walter last year? She seriously doubted it.

&
nbsp; “Everything is perfect for you,” Liza said, tempting Jess into doing something she knew she probably shouldn’t. Like the two of them always had to each other. “Most men would have been scared to send red to a redhead, but he obviously has a good eye.”

  She did look good in red, strangely enough. “I don’t know. How can I do this?”

  Liza turned on the bed and took Jess’s hands. “Something awful happened to you. Something traumatic. For that alone you deserve an I’m sorry gift from the dude. Plus, you scrimped and saved to afford your blue dress, only to have it end up in tatters.”

  “It’s not exactly tattered,” she grumbled. “I could probably sew it up.”

  Emily looked scandalized. “Darling, you do not mend a Dior!”

  “Definitely not,” Liza said.

  “You bury it with full military honors,” Emily added, still appearing shocked at the idea.

  Liza huffed, giving Emily a Shut up glare. “The point is, he should replace it.”

  Jess glanced at the jewelry box. “And all the rest?”

  “It’s borrowed, remember?” Liza cajoled. “No crime in wearing it for a few hours.”

  “What about the shoes? I mean, I could always wear my black ones.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Liza grimaced at the thought. “Girl, if you don’t keep them so I can drool over them, I’m going to add your face to every nude woman I ever sculpt.”

  “Plus, if you try to send all this back, I’ll steal that dress and wear it on stage,” Emily said. “I’d probably get makeup all over it. Not to mention sweat. Those spotlights are pretty hot.”

  “Like you won’t borrow it if I keep it,” she grumbled. Emily was notorious for that.

  “It doesn’t matter; you are keeping it,” said Liza. “Well, except the jewelry. Bummer.”

  She was surrounded, outnumbered, every argument answered and outweighed. Jess had never been ganged up on before by her sister and her friend, and even though she knew they were making sense, she didn’t like it. “He has me in a corner.”

  Liza hid a grin. “I know. What a horrible man. He should be ashamed of himself.” Even as she spoke, she was pulling Jess to her feet and tugging her ratty bathrobe off her shoulders.

  Jess harrumphed as she stood there in nothing but a basic black bra and her regular boy’s cut underwear. She hadn’t intended to wear the old undies, not really. Well, okay, that was a lie. Maybe she’d thought about it. If she were so unappealingly clothed under her little black cocktail dress, she’d be less tempted to let Reece Winchester take it off her.

  No taking off dresses. He was her boss. She might have considered being a number on his scorecard the night they met. No more. She now knew what kind of field he played on, where paparazzi snuck in on private moments, and stalkers or ex-employees took potshots at you. Attraction be damned, she wasn’t going to play in his league, other than professionally.

  And you didn’t for a whoooole week. You’ve made your point. Now it’s week two.

  She harrumphed, wishing the naughty voice in her brain would shut the hell up and stop tempting her to do dumb things. Her roommates probably thought she was still griping about the gifts.

  “Oh man, there’s one more box,” Liza squealed. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”

  She hurried out. Jess watched her, flutters in her stomach. If her sister came back with fur, Jess would go for the can of spray paint under the sink. If it was just about anything else…

  “You have to put these on first!” Liza said as she raced back in. She dropped a box onto the bed and tore it open. Under a pile of tissue paper was more red silk, though not a lot of it.

  Jess’s heart skipped a beat as warmth surged to all her softest places at the sight of such sultry lingerie. There were lacy, wicked underpants with thin straps that would ride high on her hips, plus a contraption that looked kind of like a bra, but not exactly. It had cups, but no straps, and the back and hooks were very low, probably fitting around the waist. “What is this?”

  “It’s a backless bra,” Emily said. “For when you wear dresses cut low in the back.”

  Jeez. If only she’d asked her roomie before taping herself up the last time. Of course, if she’d done that, Sid and his slimy photographer cohort might have seen even more of her.

  “All right, no more arguing,” Liza said. “We’ll give you one hour to fix your hair and your face, and put on every single thing he sent. Otherwise, we’ll hold you down and dress you.”

  Emily tapped her phone screen. “Timer set. One hour.”

  Liza wagged her index finger in Jess’s direction as the two women left the room. As the door slammed shut, her sister called out, “And don’t you dare come out in your black dress!”

  Although she groused, Jess did as she was told. She did her hair. Down. She applied her makeup. Heavy. Then she drew on every silky, sensuous thing Reece had sent to her. Amazing.

  She didn’t think she was ever going to be able to take this dress off. She could hardly tear her eyes away from the mirror, wondering how Reece could have known exactly what size she wore, in lingerie, in dresses, in shoes. It was as if she’d stood on a dressing room platform and had obsequious salespeople cutting and stitching just for her.

  He’d been high-handed, yes. But it was also thoughtful. He planned for everything.

  Like he did the night we met.

  She didn’t feel the familiar anger about it, however. Not after his simple but sincere apology, and the way he’d treated her at work since her first day on the job. He didn’t favor her; he was just as hard on her as he was on everybody else. But he taught her, encouraged her, and made her feel like she really belonged.

  Although demanding, he was a good boss, which wasn’t surprising since she suspected he was a natural leader and excelled when in control. Shivering, she couldn’t help wondering exactly how much control he had to have in his most intimate interactions.

  “It’s been an hour,” a voice called. “Get out here.”

  When she came out of the bedroom, Liza shrieked. Loudly. “Holy shit! You look like Jessica Freakin’ Rabbit. The sexiest man of the year is gonna fall to his knees when he sees the hottest woman of the century.”

  Liza’s loyalty was unquestionable, and Jess knew she’d have said all these things to build up her confidence. Emily, though, always told it like it was. She walked in a circle, studying Jess from wavy-haired head to designer-shoe-clad feet. She smoothed a sleeve, straightened the crystals hugging her hips. She licked her index finger, then wrapped a strand of Jess’s hair around it to fix a curl hanging by her cheek.

  “Eww.”

  “Hush, the genius is at work.”

  Emily designed and sewed costumes for the theater company, so she did know what she was talking about. Finally, she stepped away and eyed her handiwork. A smile crossed her face.

  “So?”

  “So, you look like Jessica Freaking Jensen, a woman who deserves to be on the arm of a Hollywood superstar.”

  Both her roommates beamed, their excitement for her energizing the air. It leapt into her body, making her heart shudder and her stomach roll. Which only made her more nervous as she tried to remind herself to keep her expectations where they belonged. “This is a business dinner.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Jess glared at Emily. “It is. I’m his employee.”

  “Well, considering the way he was looking at you after the shooting at the gallery—hovering over you like you were the most precious thing in the world—I suspect he views you as more than that,” Liza said. “When he sees you tonight, the boy is gonna be wrecked.”

  He might be. That didn’t mean he was going to get what he wanted.

  What did he want? She wasn’t sure. She assumed he still wanted to have sex with her, but he’d gone further than most men would to get her. Another man might have sent her apology jewelry. This one had given her something she needed more: a job. He’d said he would leave control of their personal relationship
to her, and other than that toe-curling moment when he’d sucked her fingertip the other night—God—that’s what he’d done.

  Jess liked making her own decisions and was glad he intended to let her do so. But that did make it harder. It had been easy to let herself get swept away by his charisma. Now, if anything happened between them, it wouldn’t be because of any sweeping; it would be because she chose to let it. No excuses. No moonlit seductions. No sexy sculpture. It was all on her.

  Before she could stew more, a knock sounded on the door. It was crisp and confident, two hard taps saying the visitor demanded to be allowed entry. God, had any woman ever tried to deny entry to Reece? Through a door, or, um, other entrances?

  “Seriously? He’s picking you up at the door like a prom date?” Liza whispered.

  “My prom date met me at Denny’s, remember?” she shot back, keeping her voice low, too. Their door was as thick as paper. The many locks on it wouldn’t stop one strong kick. Hopefully now that they were all doing better financially—including Emily, who had made some money from a TV commercial—they would soon be able to afford a better place.

  “I thought he’d send someone up to get you,” Emily said.

  “Maybe he did,” Jess said, wondering why they all assumed it was him. Two hard knocks equaled Hollywood god?

  Emily hurried to the door, took a deep breath, peered through the peephole, and let out a tiny giggle. Mental note: two hard knocks did equal Hollywood god.

  Schooling her expression, her roommate opened the door. And there he stood. All six foot two of him, tuxedo-clad, with his golden-brown hair, those amazing amber eyes, and lean, handsome, unsmiling face. Jess melted as his gaze moved immediately to her, those lion’s eyes gleaming with appreciation. What rational woman wouldn’t?

  “Please come in,” Emily said, playing the role of elegant hostess. She was a natural.

  Jessica focused her attention on Reece as he entered the small, dingy apartment. He should have looked out of place, like a prince in a fast-food joint. Instead, his expression was easy, relaxed, and pleasant as he shook Emily’s extended hand.