“What do you want?”
Everything? Anything? To go back in time to earlier this evening, or to that night he’d kissed her in the lobby? The private gallery where he’d stripped off her dress? Or maybe to the day when she’d first come in and he’d seen her through the security camera?
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” she whispered. “This would have been so much easier if you’d simply come downstairs and introduced yourself on day one.”
He didn’t ask her to explain, knowing exactly what she meant. “Yes, it would have. Believe me, I’ll regret that decision for the rest of my life. So what do we do about it?”
Breathless, nervous, and hopeful, she said, “I think we—”
“Can I cut in?”
Shocked, Jessica swung her head around as a man’s voice spoke from beside them. She felt Reece’s body tense against hers. He went very quiet and very still. Well, more quiet and more still than he usually was. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve contributed to programs fighting teen drug addiction for years.”
Good lord, if Reece grew any stiffer, he’d be a board. “Oh.”
“It can’t compare to what you’ve done. Congratulations. Sounds like you’ve made a real difference in the lives of needy kids. Your speech was great.”
“The organization does the great work. I just throw some money at it,” he said.
He still hadn’t let her go, one arm around her waist, a hand holding hers. If anything, he pulled her closer. It didn’t look like he was going to allow the stranger to cut in.
But more, she wasn’t about to step out of Reece’s arms and into somebody else’s. “I’m happy where I am, thank you.”
The stranger laughed. “Touché.”
Reece didn’t relax, eyeing the other man with some unidentifiable emotion. She couldn’t call it dislike, precisely. She’d seen Reece interact with people he didn’t like; despite his acting ability, he could rarely hide it. With this man, it was something else. Something more subtle.
“So, old friend, are you going to introduce us?”
Reece let out a long, slow breath. “Of course. Jessica Jensen, meet Steve Baker.”
He extended a hand, as did she, managing to hide her reaction to his identity. Steve Baker. Childhood actor. Half of the Steve-and-Rachel teen supercouple.
Steve and Rachel had been the king and queen of every tweenage girl’s heart, their “pure” romance unique in Hollywood. Then Rachel had wound up dead in the street. The public had turned on the boyfriend who had supposedly led her down the powdery-white Cocaine Road.
Although still handsome, he’d aged a lot. Redness in his cheeks and on his nose, and deep lines in his forehead, hinted he’d lived hard since his fall from grace. He was also heavy, not the wiry teen he’d been. She couldn’t help wondering what his life had been like in recent years.
“Uh, I remember your TV show, of course,” she mumbled to fill the silence. Baker had played the middle son in a sitcom called Dear Family. She’d never liked it, though much of America had…at least until the scandal. It had gone off the air shortly after Rachel’s death.
Baker, who was probably about five years Reece’s senior, though he looked even older, groaned. “Please don’t ask me to say the line.”
She knew what he meant. His character was famous for asking if he’d been adopted by his wacky family. The line had been repeated verbatim in almost every episode. She’d always considered it lazy writing. “I promise, I won’t.”
“So Reece, if you won’t let me steal her away for a dance, how about a drink? My treat.”
“It’s an open bar,” he replied.
“Okay then, I’ll treat you both.”
His joke landed on the floor between them, the silence thickening like a dry sponge tossed in water. It was noticeable, uncomfortable, and completely understandable. If she were to come face-to-face with someone who might have contributed to her sister’s spiral into addiction and death, she wouldn’t be able to even look at him, either.
“So, uh, are you still acting, Steve?” she asked when the two men stopped talking.
“Yes, I do, overseas. I hope to get back into the spotlight in the US.” He cast a quick glance at Reece. “Maybe you could toss me a bone?”
Reece remained silent.
“Sorry, not the place. I’ll have my agent get in touch.”
She squeezed Reece’s hip to get him to say something. Finally he muttered, “Do that.”
Steve beamed. “Thanks. But seriously, I’m not in town to audition. I have to settle some issues regarding my late father’s estate.”
“Your late father? I’m so sorry.”
Reece’s turn to pinch. He squeezed her waist in warning, telling her to be quiet.
She understood why when Steve responded, “My father was Harry Baker.”
It took her one second and then she put it together. “Oh, God,” she whispered, recognizing the name, of course. How had she never heard the famous Hollywood agent had been actor Steve Baker’s father? She felt like the most insensitive person in the world to have brought up the conversation. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.”
“Not a lot of people put us together. He and my mother divorced when I was young. I’d been out of the public eye here, living in Europe for many years by the time he…died.”
The common surname had probably helped, too. Still, it surprised her that someone embroiled in the Rachel Winchester scandal wouldn’t have been of interest to those seeking answers about his father’s death.
She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? “Sorry somebody murdered your famous dad in his Beverly Hills home six years ago.” Or “Sorry the killer got away with it.” God, no wonder the son had stayed away. He’d probably never been able to escape the shadows of his past. And she’d just dragged them out and shone a spotlight on them.
“Please forgive me, Mr. Baker. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”
“It’s okay,” he said, rescuing her from her own embarrassment.
She doubted the murder of a parent could ever be okay. How could a son live with knowing his father had been found, shot dead, in a pool of blood in his own home? The news coverage had been relentless, the details salacious. It was like a film plot—a murder mystery about a movie insider whose client list read like a who’s who of the industry. The unsolved case had never been far from the public’s mind, kept there by tabloids, or salacious revisits on the murder channels. Nobody had forgotten the story, and she doubted anyone would. It was Hollywood legend.
“I’m in town to deal with the last details of the whole business. My father’s house was tied up in legalities for years. When I was finally cleared to take possession again, I knew it wouldn’t be easy to sell. I think it’s been on the murder tour since the day after it happened.”
She winced at his matter-of-fact tone, wondering how people could be so dark and twisted as to want to visit sites of such horror.
“I’ve finally got a buyer, though. Property values triumph over blood spatter.”
Morbid, though she knew black humor could help. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“Me too. God knows I was never going to move into that house again.”
“I can’t imagine what it must be like,” she said, reaching out to put a hand on his arm.
He covered it with his own, and squeezed. “Thank you. I miss him every day.”
She’d lost a parent. More than one, really, since both the mothers in her life were now gone. So she understood his pain and empathized with it. “I’m sure you do.”
“Jessica, it’s time to go.”
Okay, he didn’t like being around the guy, but Reece could have picked a better moment, or at least a slightly warmer tone. The man had been grieving over his father, for heaven’s sake.
Steve immediately dropped her hand. “So soon?”
“Yes, I’m afraid my intern and I were about to leave. Good seeing you, Baker,” R
eece said, taking her arm in a firm grip. “We’re going.”
“Nice to have met you,” the man said as Reece ushered her off the dance floor.
He practically dragged her toward their table. “What’s wrong?”
“Other than the bloody scab you just ripped off?”
“I know. I feel like such an idiot,” she mumbled. “I was caught off guard. I didn’t mean to be insensitive or to pry. I had no idea who his father was.”
“Don’t say another word about him,” he bit out from a jaw cut from marble.
Jessica sucked in a shocked breath as he turned into a stranger, an icy man whose entire body was rigid with what she immediately recognized as fury. “Reece, I didn’t mean to—”
“Get your things.”
Her irritation rose. “I’m trying to explain.”
“Don’t,” he snapped, his tension alive and sparking, a live wire on a deadly circuit.
“But—”
“Enough. You’re meddling in things that are none of your business.” When she gaped at him, he thrust a hand through his hair, as if realizing suddenly who he was barking at. He closed his eyes and put a hand over them, rubbing at the corners.
“What’s going on, Reece?”
“I…you…” His hand fell. He stared at her. Without another word, he spun around and strode across the banquet room, ignoring the people who put hands on his sleeve or tried to step in his path. He wasn’t running, merely walking purposefully, like a man on a mission. But something in her knew: He was running from something. Maybe her. More likely the past.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled, knowing it was her fault. By foolishly opening up an entry into Steve Baker’s history, she had also thrust sharp daggers into his own.
It all came back to Reece’s sister. He had to associate Steve with Rachel, and when he saw the man, all those memories flooded in. Steve was a living reminder of the life Rachel had been denied. He’d had years to grow up, to laugh, to love, and to have relationships. While Reece’s sister was remembered only for the swan dive she’d taken in her last moments on this earth.
“Way to go, dumbass,” she told herself, grabbing her purse and going after him.
“Lovers’ quarrel?” a bitchy-looking woman asked as she strode by.
Jess kept walking. Her only response was to lift one hand and flip the woman the finger over her shoulder. Hearing a gasp of indignation, she suspected the message had been received.
Now she had to deliver one to Reece. At least, as long as she could find him.
* * *
Watching Reece ignore everyone and stride toward the exit as the crowd parted like a god was passing through, Steve Baker couldn’t prevent a frown. The stunning redhead hurried after him, trailing like a lackey, when, in truth, Winchester was damn lucky to have the beautiful woman on his arm. But, like all golden boys, he never appreciated anything, never even noticed that he had it all while others had nothing.
“All hail the king of Hollywood,” he muttered, realizing he probably sounded bitter. But if anybody had a right to, he did.
He could have had that life. He should have had it.
Once upon a time, his star had been on the rise, just like the Winchester family’s. No, he hadn’t landed any movie deals, but he would have. He and Rachel were in talks to star in a remake of an old teen beach romance. With their popularity, there’s no doubt it would have been a major summer hit. More, it would have been his chance to break out of the TV sitcom middle-son role and really make something of himself.
“Gone,” he muttered, walking off the dance floor and heading toward the bar. A few people eyed him, trying to place his face. Nobody did. Just another Hollywood has-been hanging around to try to recapture some glory.
He ordered a scotch and lifted it in a toast. To you, Rachel.
God, how he’d loved her.
Everyone had called theirs the teenybopper romance of the decade. It had never felt small or juvenile to him. Rachel had been his whole world. They’d planned to marry, to have kids, to blend their Hollywood dynasty families and produce a new one such as this town had never seen before. She’d wanted all those things as much as he had.
Right up until the moment she hadn’t.
She’d stomped on the dreams, not to mention his heart. While he’d worshipped her as an angel, she’d chosen some new, exciting friends over him, and they’d pulled her into a life of drugs and partying. He never knew who they were. He just knew she’d rejected him, shattered him, and crushed all his dreams, personal and professional. He hadn’t been sure he could survive it.
Then she died. He’d been free of her and the pain. Or so he’d thought. Because he’d suddenly found himself the one blamed. His career disappeared along with his friendships. He’d had to practically flee the country to get any work at all.
Meanwhile, Rachel’s brothers grew and thrived, becoming rich and famous.
He swallowed the alcohol, letting the heat wash down his throat to warm his stomach. Not much warmed him these days, not since he’d been back here, on a quest and learning the truth about all the mysteries that had haunted him for so long.
He knew most of the story now, after speaking to the one person who could tell it to him. He’d been digging to find the rest, unearthing secrets and planning what to do with them.
Funny how the Winchesters were always tied up in those dark secrets.
Funny how they didn’t even realize how much he knew.
Funny they had no idea he intended to expose them and bring their world crashing down.
Funny.
But not.
* * *
As Jessica exited the ballroom, she saw Reece disappear through a set of double doors leading deeper into the hotel. She hurried after him, dodging men who tried to talk to her and women who probably wanted to trip her. Reaching the doors, she shoved through them and found herself in another hallway, much like the last one, with rooms all down the sides. Meaning there were two hallways, exactly alike, separated by double doors right down the middle. Weird.
Ahead of her, she heard a click as one of those unmarked doors closed. Taking a guess on where the sound had come from, she hurried to it. A twist of the knob and she stepped into a supply room with shelves stacked with tablecloths, napkins, centerpieces, candles, and other regular banquet supplies. A tall, shadowy form stood a few feet away. Even in the low lighting, she could see the gleam of his eyes as he watched her come in after him.
“I can’t believe they left this thing unlocked. Somebody shady could steal the silver.”
Nothing.
“Reece, are you okay?”
“You shouldn’t have followed me.” His voice was low, a growl from the darkness. “I needed a minute alone.”
She supposed she should be grateful he’d taken that minute alone in a supply closet and not in his limo. Given his tension, he might have ridden away, stranding her. She didn’t think he would be that rude. Then again, he’d obviously been desperate to get away from Steve Baker.
“I’m so sorry.”
He crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Forget it. I overreacted.”
“No, I don’t think you did. I didn’t understand. Now I believe I do.”
“I doubt it,” he said, sounding dry and almost amused in a jaded way. “Go back to the party, Jessica. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“No thanks. I’ll wait for you.” Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall, too, intentionally matching his pose.
But not for long. He straightened and stepped closer to her, all tension and heat. “Do you ever do what somebody asks you to do?”
Taking a step of her own, she went right back at him, “You didn’t ask me. You told me.” I’ve never responded well to orders.” That could explain why her face was hot and her heart thudding.
His jaw flexed; she could almost hear his teeth grind. “Will you please go back?”
She tossed her head. “Look, dude, I am not walkin
g back into that vipers’ den alone. Those people are toxic.”
“Yes. I suppose we are,” Reece replied with a bitter laugh.
His own character assassination really pissed her off. “Stop comparing yourself to them!”
“You’re right. I’m worse.”
Now hers were the teeth clenching. Frustrated, angry he’d even consider putting himself on the level of the assholes who thought they lived in a world one level higher than everyone else, she grabbed two fistfuls of his jacket collar. “Shut up, Winchester.”
He stilled.
“Shut up and let me apologize. I’m sorry about what happened back there. But I am not going to let you stay in here and fume by yourself. If you want to fume, you’re going to have to do it with me.”
A long pause. Then, out of the darkness, his hand lifted, and he sank his fingers into her hair. He stroked it, stepping closer, and she immediately felt a change in the air. The angry tension had shifted. It had become something…else. Still tense, and maybe a little angry. But oh, there was so much more.
“There are many things I’d like to do with you,” he said, his voice smooth and seductive. He moved again, until his powerful body pressed against hers. “Fuming isn’t one of them.”
She arched toward him instinctively, her hips thrusting against his, and she shivered when she realized he was fully erect, rock hard and massive, beneath those fine tailored clothes.
The passion of their argument had turned into another kind of passion altogether.
Her heart danced, and her blood became a river rushing through her veins to deliver all the cells carrying excitement to her organs. A lot of it went right between her thighs. With nothing but a touch of her hair and his sexy voice whispering seduction, she was wet and swollen, aching with need.
“Oh really?” she asked, trying for light, knowing she’d failed. How could she not? A strong, sexy, angry man was pressing her back into a wall, his dick hard, his hand in her hair, another suddenly landing on her hip, strong and solid. “What, exactly, would you like to do?”
“Your turn to shut up, Jensen,” he said.
She just barely had time to suck in a deep breath before he pulled her toward him and slammed his mouth on hers. She gasped, she groaned, she burned, she flew. Most importantly, she opened her mouth and plunged her tongue against his, hot and demanding. She met his anger and frustration, giving them back to him as pure desire. It wasn’t like the languorous kisses they’d shared in the car earlier tonight. It was powerful and wild, all thrust, sound, and fury. A mind-blown, I-think-I’m-gonna-die, soul-shattering kiss.
Watching You Page 18
