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“Toby assured me my schedule is flexible,” Tristan said, sitting there like an oasis of calm as Belle and Sierra fluttered around setting up their presentation, tweaking a board here, a swatch of fabric there.
Toby was Tristan’s assistant and deserved a lot of credit for his success. Oh, the photographer was amazing. A great eye, incredible skill and vision had made him one of the top in California. But he tended to forget everything when he was immersed in his art. Toby kept him on track.
Much like Belle said Sierra kept her on track. Sierra knew better, of course. Sierra owed her success, and her sanity, to her best friend. Which meant she also owed her the truth.
“Ready to rock?” Belle asked quietly with a glance at her watch. One o’clock, straight up. Presentation time.
Sierra looked over and saw worry lurking in Belle’s seagreen eyes. The guilt and fear crept higher in Sierra’s belly. Confessions could wait. The truth would only make Belle upset.
An hour and forty minutes later, they wound up their meeting by shaking hands and, thank God, signing the contract. Corinne Perkins was a tiny white-haired woman who looked as if she would be more at home baking cookies for her grandkids than running a huge business. But she was the CEO for Family and a dynamo who demanded one hundred and twenty percent from herself and everyone else.
“Ladies,” she said after Tristan had flirted his way out the door, “I’m delighted with your choice. I’ll admit, I had to talk fast to get the board to agree to use a photographer with such, well, shall we say, eclectic tastes. But his work will give a modern and, I hope, urban feel to our magazine.”
“Your target demographic will love his work,” Belle assured the older woman. “Like the rest of our campaign, this will definitely bring in the type of advertisers and accounts you’re focusing on.”
Corinne smiled and stood up to hand Belle the signed contract. The stack of papers on her desk scattered and she tut-tutted as she gathered them back up. With a look of surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed it before, she slid a large envelope out of the untidy pile.
Sliding her own laptop into its case, Sierra caught sight of the plain brown envelope and purple mailing label. Her stomach took a dive.
What the hell? It couldn’t be.
Corinne slid an unmanicured nail under the flap. Sierra wanted to lunge across the desk and grab the envelope. But she couldn’t. She was frozen in her chair, her brain going a million miles a second, her body held in terrified stasis.
Corinne withdrew a small piece of paper out of the envelope. She gasped and threw it on the desk.
Sierra closed her eyes, too horrified to look.
“No,” Belle breathed. Eyes still closed, Sierra felt rather than saw her partner drop to the chair next to her.
The silence in the room was heavy.
“Care to explain this?” Corinne finally snapped.
Unable to continue hiding, Sierra forced herself to look.
Corinne was pointing a shaking finger at the piece of five-by-seven ugliness. Sierra winced. Obviously pervy boy had found a Photoshop for morons guide, because this picture looked real. Sierra, three guys and a whole slew of sex toys. Sierra was clueless as to what they even were. Apparently the men had no such problem, since they were using most of them on each other.
In danger of losing her lunch, she pressed her hand to her stomach. In bold white text across the black-and-white image were the words Sluts Are Bad For Business.
“I…” She couldn’t even speak. The words just stuck in her throat, pitiful and apologetic. A familiar feeling of being judged and found guilty washed over her.
“Corinne, I’m horrified you’ve been brought into this,” Belle said, talking fast, but with that girl-to-girl confidant tone that suggested she was sharing secrets. She went on to describe the evolution of the stalker pictures, pointing out the few clues that would assure their very uptight client that this was a digitally enhanced image. She ended with, “We’ve involved the police, and I assure you the matter is being dealt with.”
Through it all, Sierra just stared at the photo and tried to breathe. Everything they’d worked for. Everything she’d wanted since she’d escaped to boarding school—security, acceptance, independence—all seemed to be disintegrating under the weight of that picture.
“Ladies, I…” The CEO hesitated, then tapped her finger on their hard-won contract. “I believe you. I honestly do. But this isn’t the kind of thing that Family Publications can find itself connected to.”
Corinne sighed, then flipped the picture over. She grimaced, as if not liking what she was about to say.
“I hate to do it, but I might need to rethink things,” she said, flattening her hand over the contract. “While you girls have the best outline of events, programs and entertainment for our board and sponsors, this kind of thing can’t be tolerated. Family, as you know, would be horrified to find itself associated with anything of this nature.”
“There’s no way they could be,” Sierra said breathlessly. Geez, unless the creep got the board members’ faces and pasted them into the next orgy shot, how could this affect them? She was the one the guy was after. Her past was coming back to haunt her. She was sure of it. That realization froze the rest of her argument in her throat. Her past? Was it possible that her uncle had decided to stop his favorite game of blackmail and turn his dirty hand to photo stalking? No. There was no payoff here that he cared about. It was just the work of some sick pervert.
How pathetic that the idea was a reassurance.
“They don’t even have to know,” Belle interrupted. “The problem is being investigated and will be resolved any day now.”
Sierra had to force her lips together. Who knew Belle could lie to someone’s face like that?
“We’ve not only involved the police, but we’ve hired a private security firm. We’ll be happy to bring them to the events if it would reassure you.”
Another ten minutes of building on that lie and Belle had convinced the woman to leave their contract alone.
Sierra kept her face neutral until Corinne left the boardroom.
“I can’t believe you bullshitted her like that,” she hissed. “How long do you think it’ll take before she notices we don’t have security?”
“We do.” Belle stood and ripped her board from the wall. “Reece can handle the security.”
Ignoring that just the mention of his name turned her on, Sierra sneered. Reece, help her? She started to laugh, then stopped. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, he wouldn’t do it for her, but he would for Belle. He had the credentials. Mr. Security could pretend perfectly.
“Will he agree? Can you call him and ask?” This was doable, she told herself. If they handled it right, she wouldn’t even have to see the cowboy. Belle could ask him, maybe bring him around to meet Corinne and do the whole fake security-assurance thing. All Sierra had to do was smile and keep her mouth shut.
Impossible. She was ruining everything. Now Belle was having to lie for her. And worse, they would have to bring Reece into the whole humiliating mess.
“I should just step aside. I can do the behind-the-scenes work for a while.” Her offer held a hint of desperation. “Work from home, keep a low profile.”
“Don’t let this guy run you off,” Belle said. “Reece will help. That’s all we need. He’s already offered. He told Mitch and I that he’d step in at any time. You just have to ask him.” Sierra opened her mouth to protest, but Belle shook her head before she could say anything. “No. You have to do the asking. It’s only fair.”
“I think it’d come much better from you,” Sierra protested.
After all, the last time she’d talked to him, she’d patted his dick and walked away.
“Look,” Belle said as she shoved the boards into her portfolio case, “we need this account. We’ve invested too much in the job already. I don’t want you to step aside, so we need security. You need security. He’s already agreed. All you have to do is talk to him.”
Sierra sighed at the fond memory of a much less ballsy Belle. The one who’d easily backed off from confrontation and let people live—and screw up—their lives in peace.
Except this wasn’t just Sierra’s life being screwed up. Now it was her—their—business. The one Belle had brought her into. Belle saw them as equals, and it would be because of Sierra if they failed.
“I’ll talk to him,” she agreed reluctantly.
“Now.”
“I have—”
“No excuses. Go see him before he leaves town. He’s working out of Mitch’s downtown office.”
Sierra’s jaw ached as she struggled to hold back an ugly retort. Instead, she dug into her purse for a piece of peppermint candy and, with short, jerky movements, unwrapped it and shoved it into her mouth. Maybe the sugar would sweeten her mood. God knew, she’d need it if she was going to go asking favors of Reece Carter.
REECE HAD TO hand it to the twists of fate. Just when he’d written off any shot with Sierra, she walked through his door asking for a favor. Sure, she looked as if she’d rather be having a root canal and was as edgy as if she’d just killed someone. But she was here. Life was never boring, that was for sure.
“Look, I just need you to come by the client’s office and pretend to be Eventfully Yours’ security.” He noticed she wasn’t calling it her security. That would be admitting too much. “Just fake it so we don’t lose this job.”
Reece shook his head. “Sweetheart, I already offered to do the job. But the deal is, if I’m in, I’m all the way in.”
He let his words lie there between them, enjoying the image. Enjoying even more Sierra’s reaction to it. She turned pale, then blushed. As the rose faded from her cheeks, she just glared at him.
“If you want me, it’s for real. Not some fake bullshit to con your client. You’d need to listen to me, do what I say when it comes to protecting you from this creep.”
The look on her face, pure fury, told him that she didn’t want him at all. He read her body signals, the way her legs tensed, her fingers curling around the handle of her briefcase. She wanted to storm out, probably flipping him off on her way. But she stayed seated.
This must be one hell of an account on the line.
“You’re no better than the pervy jerk with the computer program,” she accused in a tone that barely disguised her underlying frustration. “It’s all about the sex for you guys. He’s trying to humiliate me with sex. You’re just out to get a piece of ass.”
It took every ounce of Reece’s training to keep his expression blank. Anger clawed at his gut, aching to be released in a slew of cutting words.
His army major’s number one dictum rang in his head. It’s nothing personal. He used the phrase to get himself under control.
“Want to let me see the pictures?” he said, shoving aside his fury with an effort. Ripping into her was pointless. She was already being terrorized. Besides, he’d get his way. They both knew it, so there was no point in hammering it home and making her feel any worse.
She stared at him in silence for ten seconds. Then twenty. At thirty, she seemed to crumble. Women’s tears didn’t scare him, but the stoic fear on Sierra’s dry-eyed face ripped at his gut. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and promise to keep her safe, to hide her away until he’d found and dealt with the asshole causing her such misery.
But then she lifted her chin and pulled a thick envelope from her case. It wasn’t until she stood and walked over to hand him the package that he realized she’d kicked off her shoes. She was tiny without them, barely reaching his shoulder. The image only added to his protective urges.
Until she opened her mouth.
“Did you want privacy to look at them?” she murmured with a shaky smirk as she held them out.
“There’s nothing I’d do in private that I wouldn’t rather do with you in the room, sweetheart,” he shot back as he opened the package. His temper lurked in the words, lingering irritation that she’d accuse him of being all about sex. Sure, he wanted her. But this was business. He was a big boy and knew the difference.
He didn’t shift from where he sat, one hip leaning on the desk, but he did come to attention as he flipped through the photos. With each one, his frown deepened. His impression from both Belle and Mitch was that this was a simple harassment situation. Some guy Sierra had blown off trying to get her attention, maybe.
Now he thought different. This was ugly. The escalating obsession, the tightening focus. The sexual threat.
The son of a bitch behind this was one sick mother. And he was obsessed with Sierra. Reece’s gut burned. He blinked twice to clear the red haze of fury from his gaze.
No point in scaring Sierra any more than she already was. But the reality was, the little brunette was in serious shit here.
“Sweetheart, I’m going to be your new best friend,” he told her with an easy smile as he tucked the pictures back in their protective brown covering and tossed them onto the desk behind him.
“I’m covered there, thanks so much,” she shot back, her usual sass returning along with the color in her cheeks. “How about you just lurk in the background and discourage perverts, hmm?”
Reece smirked, waiting.
Sierra gave a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry I called you a pervy jerk out to get in my pants, okay? I realize you’re many steps above the creep that’s pulling this stunt.”
Enjoying himself, Reece just continued to stare.
Sierra’s lips quirked but she didn’t say anything. Just crossed her arms, which was a shame since they covered her breasts, and leaned back in the chair.
Power play? Reece’s smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. No wonder he couldn’t get Sierra out of his head. He loved nothing more than a challenge. At least, until he’d conquered it.
With that in mind, he let his gaze turn slumberous. All it took was the thought of her lips under his. He recalled their encounter in Mitch’s hall a few days back. The delicious taste of her, the feel of her breath as it warmed his skin. He mentally traced those lips with his gaze, watching their glossy fullness press together in irritation.
The phone at his hip rang, but Reece didn’t take his eyes from Sierra’s. Her gaze was molten now, a deep blue filled with sexual heat and awareness. Her lashes fluttered, as if she wanted to pull away but couldn’t bring herself to.
“Mr. Carter?”
He didn’t release Sierra’s gaze to look at the woman in the doorway, but did answer her. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Driscol on line one. He’d like to discuss expanding his offer.” Her voice hesitated as she apparently picked up on the tension in the room, then she cleared her throat and continued, “He said the timing is crucial and he needs an answer ASAP.”
Driscol was a client who liked Reece’s way of doing security. He liked it so much he wanted Reece to move RC Security out here to Southern California to be on a permanent retainer.
No doing, though. Reece had already told the guy twice. Nothing could entice him to move his base here to L.A. Crowds, crime and crazies. None of which appealed more than the wide open spaces of his home in Kentucky. His family was there, his grandma and his dad. Travel was all well and good, but he needed to know he could drop in for Sunday dinner anytime he wanted. After all, that sense of family was his touchstone, his reminder of everything that mattered to him.
Mitch had been begging him to relocate here, too. But if he wasn’t going to do it for a cousin he loved, he sure wasn’t about to move for a job he didn’t need.
“I’ll call him back.”
“But…”
“I’ll call him back,” Reece repeated.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured as she left, closing the door.
“Shall we discuss terms?” Reece asked, refocusing his attention on Sierra.
“Don’t you have a contract for that?” she asked, her tone deliberately breezy. She must have used the interruption to think. And her conclusion was to ignore the heated sexual tension sparking between them.
He’d have to see how quickly he could change that.
“I realize you’re exactly the kind of client I generally turn away,” he pointed out.
“You mean the kind that doesn’t worship you?”
Reece laughed. “A little worship wouldn’t hurt. But no, I mean the kind that doesn’t listen. If I’m going to protect you, you have to agree that I’m in charge. I can’t do my job unless you’re willing to give me your complete cooperation.”
“You never struck me as the have-to-be-on-top kind of guy, cowboy.”
Reece gave her a slow grin and waited. It didn’t take more than two seconds for her to realize that she knew firsthand that he was all about equal opportunities when it came to sexual positions.
“You’ll do exactly as I say?” was all he said, though.
Her jaw tensed in a sharp line and he watched her delicate fingers tighten into fists. She stared at him, then dropped her gaze to the package of pictures on the desk. Her brow furrowed and a tiny shudder shook her shoulders. Then, as if to shrug it off, she lifted one shoulder and tilted her head toward him.
“I’ll do exactly what you say,” she agreed. Reece let the pleasure of those words wash over him. “But…”
