Guarding Gwen, page 3
“I can tell when you’re scared.”
His voice was low and deep and dark, and the jerk was in her dressing room.
Gwen froze, her hand on the knob of her dressing room door. She was on set—freaking on set—and the guy had gotten into her personal space. “How in the hell did you get in here?”
He leaned forward and turned on the nearby lamp. Illumination spilled onto Simon as he lounged in her chair. “I spoke to the security agents in charge of the production. I let them know that I would be taking over your protection detail.”
She crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her. “And what? They just let you waltz into my room? Did they even ask for ID?”
“Security sucks here,” Simon agreed as he unrolled his body and stood to his full, towering height. Simon was close to six-foot-three, and she’d forgotten just how big he truly was. He winked at her. “It’s a good thing you hired me.”
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then… “I didn’t hire you! I walked away, remember?”
He seemed to consider her words. “You actually ran. Very fast. So fast that I didn’t get to stop you before you left the building.” He shrugged. “And I was going to stop you. You came to Wilde Securities looking for me. You wanted my help.” A pause. “So, you’ve got it.”
“Simon…”
“Don’t you remember my promise, Gwen?”
She sucked in a hard breath. Yes, she remembered. It was the reason she’d sought him out. Even as he’d freaking broke her heart and said that being with her was a mistake…he’d told her…
“If you ever need me, baby, I’m there. I’d lie for you, steal, hell, I’d even kill for you.”
He gave her a grim smile, and Gwen knew he was remembering that long-ago promise, too.
Her arms wrapped around her stomach.
“So, sweetheart,” Simon finally drawled, “who is it that you want me to kill?”
She flinched. “I don’t need you to kill anyone.” She shouldered around him, and when her body brushed against his, an electric current of heat shot through her. It had always been that way. They touched, and bam, they wanted. In the past, they hadn’t held back. Hadn’t fought the white-hot desire. They’d just given in to the need.
Until they’d both gone down in flames. The fire was always so beautiful, from a distance. Until you felt the pain of the burn on your skin.
She looked around. She could use a drink. But she had a rule about never drinking on set. The last thing she wanted was to ever appear to be some drunk prima donna who couldn’t handle a professional gig. She’d worked too hard to lose everything she’d gained.
“You have a stalker.” His voice was flat. No emotion. “You want me to get rid of him for you?”
“Yes.” She wanted the bastard to disappear.
“How long has he been contacting you?”
“About six months.” Six long, nightmare-filled months.
Gwen found Simon’s gaze locked on her. His stare…She swallowed. He’d been the first man to look at her with such heavy desire in his eyes.
“Six months. What did he do that got your notice?”
How much could she reveal to him without destroying herself? “Roses.” A rough laugh slipped from her. “At first, I thought they were from the guy I was dating. Then I read the card. It just—it was off. Scary off.”
He waited.
“The card said, ‘I’ve missed you.’ There was no signature, and when I tried to track down the roses to see who’d sent them to me, none of the local florists had a record of the order. The roses were delivered to my doorstep. Someone snuck onto my property in California, got past my security cameras, and left the roses there for me.”
“The note doesn’t seem threatening.”
Did he think she was being dramatic? The actress, looking for attention? That wasn’t who she was. “Shortly after that, the pictures started coming. Pictures of me…on set. Walking in the city. Going to the damn grocery store. And…other pictures.”
He waited. The tension in the dressing room seemed to thicken. The air felt warmer against her skin.
“Pictures of me at my pool. Pictures of me with…with the man I was dating at the time.” A former co-star. They weren’t together any longer. She’d cut him out of her life. She’d had to do it. She couldn’t let anyone get too close, not then.
“Did you go to the cops?” Again, there wasn’t any emotion in Simon’s voice.
He used to run hot and fierce. And the way he’d first reacted to her…well, she’d thought that Simon hadn’t changed. Yet now, he seemed to be made of ice. Only his eyes burned, but everything else was locked down tight.
Maybe he had changed.
Only fair, she’d certainly changed, too. Changed so much. She’d had to change in order to survive.
Anger spiked in her. Anger directed at him. At the past. At everything she’d lost. “I’ve never been tight with the cops. They don’t have a history of believing me.”
She saw the understanding sink into his eyes. Gwen rolled back her shoulders. “I get creepy letters all the time. Fans who go a step too far. They see me on the screen, and they think they know me. Sometimes, they can’t see the difference between fantasy and reality.” She blew out a breath. “I have an assistant who usually keeps track of the more…creepier contacts. He makes sure my bodyguards know who to watch out for when I’m at premieres or public events.”
“But this isn’t something you want your assistant handling?”
Okay, she had to be careful here. She closed the distance between them and lifted her hand. Her fingers curled around his arm. The jolt of awareness shoved hard through her.
She’d never reacted to anyone the way she did to Simon. Not that she’d tell him that particular truth. She had plenty of secrets that she needed to keep from him. “The stalker is blackmailing me.”
His eyes narrowed. Went all cold and lethal instead of hot and fiery.
And she paused because…what did she really know about Simon? About who he was, now? She remembered the boy he’d been. The boy who’d swept her off her feet only to vanish from her life. The boy who’d protected her so fiercely, putting himself as a shield between her and the world.
Then he’d gone off to save the world.
“What’s he using to blackmail you?”
She turned away from him. Made her way to the small vanity near the right wall. Gwen slid down onto the plush seat and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The mirror was surrounded by soft lights, putting off a gentle glow and illuminating her skin. She stared into the mirror, stared at the woman there, and wondered…
Who in the hell are you?
He closed the space between them. Stood behind her. All tall and dark and dangerous-looking. His hand rose and curled around her shoulder, and his touch was ever so careful. “What’s he using to blackmail you?”
Proceed with caution. “Do you remember Xavier Gray?”
His hold tightened, just a little bit. “Yeah, I remember him.” His gaze met hers in the mirror. “I kicked the shit out of the asshole right before I had to leave for enlistment. He got handsy with you at that club back in town.”
Back in town…he meant back in Pensacola, Florida, because that was where they’d both grown up. Right in that beautiful, quiet beach town. They’d been the poor kids who worked all the summer jobs while Xavier—his parents had been the ones with the multi-million-dollar beach house. And Xavier had thought that he could buy just about anything.
Even her.
She released a slow breath. “Did you know that Xavier disappeared?”
“Yeah.” His brow furrowed. “But I didn’t exactly make a point of keeping track of the guy.”
No, of course not. “You joined the Navy. Set sail. Didn’t look back.”
“I looked back.” Right then, he was looking at her in the mirror.
And seeing a woman she didn’t even recognize.
“Gwen?”
“He disappeared shortly after you left. Never was heard from again. He’s presumed dead.” She released a slow breath. “He took his boat out, and he didn’t come back.” She pushed her hands against the top of her thighs. “Everyone says he’s dead. And the bastard blackmailing me? He thinks I killed Xavier. He says he has proof.”
“What. The. Fuck?”
She laughed, and it was a desperate sound. “So, no, this isn’t about a sex tape.” Gwen rose and turned to face him. “This is about life and death. It’s about the sins from the past coming back to bite me in my ass. It’s about murder. It’s about hell. And I need help. Help so very badly, and you’re the only person that I could think of who might be able to fix this mess and keep it quiet for me.”
Simon shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “This isn’t possible.”
“I wish. He says he has proof. He keeps wanting me to do things. Keeps asking for things. And he says if I don’t do exactly what he wants, then he’ll make sure the whole world knows I’m a killer.” There. Her secret. One of them, anyway. “The night that you fought with Xavier—when you fought with him because of me—this guy has pictures of that night. He sent them to me.”
“Show me. Now.”
She shook her head. “They aren’t here.” What? Did he think she’d just be hauling them around for everyone to see? Um, no. “They’re at the hotel I’m using. Locked up tight in the safe in my room.”
Simon’s frown deepened.
Did he think she was lying? “Jeez, you think I like having to tell you this? You think I liked having to drag myself to your door after all of this time?”
He shook his head. “You didn’t drag yourself anywhere.”
“I thought about keeping you out of this but…God, you’re in the photos, too. You’re the one hitting Xavier, and I’m grabbing your arm, trying to pull you back.” Gwen shoved away the memory. “You’re involved so that…it should give you incentive, shouldn’t it? You don’t want your name pulled through the mud, not now that you’re some big-time VP at Wilde Securities. You’ll want to stop this mess, too.”
He didn’t speak.
She held her breath. Say something! What did he want? For her to beg for his help? She was so freaking desperate and scared. “I’m at the point where I will do just about anything to stop this mess.” She had so much to lose. And she wasn’t just talking about her career. Her very life. Her freedom was on the line. “What do you want? Name your price, okay? Just do it. I can pay anything.” The girl who’d had nothing—who’d grown up in thrift store clothes and in the smallest house on the street—now she had the world at her feet.
But everything could come crashing down if she wasn’t careful.
“I don’t fucking care about my name getting dirty.” His words were rough and deep.
And they scared her. He had to care. He had to help her. “Then what do you care about?” The words tore from her. “What do you want?”
His gaze was locked on hers. So much heat in his stare. Anger. No, rage and…
Need?
“The same thing I always fucking wanted.”
“Simon?”
“You.” His head lowered. His lips pressed to hers in a hot, rough kiss. A kiss that reminded of the past. A kiss that ignited an explosive desire inside of her. A kiss that told her—going to Simon for help might have been a terrible, horrible mistake.
But, oh, God, she still wanted him.
She still needed him.
His hands locked around her waist as he hauled her closer to him.
The same thing I always fucking wanted.
Chapter Three
A rap sounded at the door. A female voice called out, “Ms. Soloman? They’re ready for you on set.”
Simon felt Gwen stiffen in his arms. Stiffen—and then pull back. She stared up at him with her incredible, golden eyes, seeming to see straight into his rather battered soul.
She didn’t say a word. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Lips that were red and swollen from his kiss.
Holy shit, had he really just kissed her? He hadn’t planned to do that. Okay, yes, he’d wanted to kiss her. He’d been desperate to taste her once again, to see if the fantasy of Gwen really lived up to the reality, but he hadn’t meant to—
“Ms. Soloman?” The woman rapped again. “Everything okay?”
Gwen licked her lips. Her pupils expanded a bit. “Everything is fine.” She cleared her throat, but when she spoke again, her voice was still husky as hell and ever-so-sexy. “I’ll be right out. Tell everyone I’m on my way.”
Footsteps rushed away. And Gwen retreated, putting space between her body and Simon. “Is that the price? Is that really what you’re saying?”
“Price?” He wasn’t sure what she was talking about. When he kissed Gwen, his mind tended to get a little foggy. It had happened when he was a nineteen-year-old kid, and it happened now. Dammit.
“The price for helping me. For finding the bastard who is trying to ruin me. You want me to sleep with you? Is that it?”
Oh, hell, no. “I kissed you because I wanted to taste your mouth. Because for a minute, I looked at you and got lost in the past.” Get your act together, man. Now. Don’t fuck this up. “And I don’t trade sex for services rendered. Jesus, Gwen, you know me. You really think I’m a piece of slime like that?”
“I don’t know you.” Her expression never wavered. “I knew the boy you were. I have no idea what kind of man you are.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. “And yet you still came to me.”
“You were involved in this mess. You were in the pictures.” A shrug of one delicate shoulder. “And when I looked you up on the Internet, I realized you worked for the biggest security company on the East Coast. A company with a base in Atlanta—the town I happen to be living in, temporarily, while I’m shooting.” She lifted her hand to her lips. Pressed her fingers against them a moment and then…her hand dropped. “It seemed like a good idea—at the time—to go to you. Trust me, I keep rethinking the plan.” She turned away. “And I keep realizing it was probably a major mistake.”
“Don’t.”
Gwen glanced over her shoulder at him.
“I am taking your case. I’m helping you.”
Her gaze searched his. “Because you want me to sleep with you.”
The woman must really think he was a piece of shit. So much for picking up where they’d left off. He should bury that particular fantasy. “Sweetheart…” Simon drawled out the endearment.
She tensed.
“What kind of guys have you been hanging out with? Hmmm? Because it sounds like they may need to be taught some life lessons. Lesson one, you don’t barter sex with a woman.”
Her gaze sharpened on him. “No sex? That’s what you’re saying?”
He took a step toward her and caught her delectable scent. “I’m saying sex between us isn’t about any kind of deal. Sex between us is only about desire. About primal need. About wanting to rip each other’s clothes off and fuck for hours just because the need is so savage and raw.”
Because he was watching her so closely, Simon saw the faint flicker of her eyelashes. The flaring of her delicate nostrils.
He smiled. “You didn’t stop the kiss. Not until the lady was knocking at your door.”
“Everyone likes a walk down memory lane sometimes.”
Is that what he was to her? A walk? “You still want me.”
“Do I?” Now she laughed. “Simon, I’m an actress. Guess what that means?” Her eyes widened expectantly.
He didn’t guess.
“It means I can act. I can kiss a man and have him thinking that I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.”
Bullshit. Her desire had been real. Hadn’t it?
“Don’t believe me?” She batted her lashes at him. “Then maybe you should watch what happens next.” She strode toward the door.
“We aren’t finished, Gwen. We need to talk about your case—”
“We were finished years ago. When you walked away.” She didn’t look at him. “And I’m needed on set. I don’t leave the cast and crew waiting. Not ever. I do my job.” Her voice was vibrating with emotion. Emotion that he couldn’t figure out. “But I do want to talk to you about the case. About a real payment for the case, but it has to be after I’m done.”
“Fine.” His hands were still fisted, mostly because he wanted to reach out and grab her. To pull her against him. How long had he thought about being with her again? About kissing her? Tasting her? Seeing if the desire would still be there between them?
He wasn’t a freaking saint. There had been other women since Gwen. But he’d never wanted them the same way. And when he closed his eyes…shit, it was humiliating to admit but…
It’s always you, Gwen.
She’d already left the room. Hell. He hurried to keep up with her. Until he found out all the specifics on this case…
He caught her arm. Pulled her close. “You’re not getting out of my sight.”
She turned her head. Gave him a slow smile. One that he remembered too well. The smile that had always wrecked him. “Going to watch me work?” Gwen asked him.
“I’m going to watch every single move you make, sweetheart.”
Her smile flickered.
“I’m sticking to you until you tell me everything about this case. If you’re in danger, then I’m going to help you.”
He thought she’d give him one of her sassy, smart-ass replies. She didn’t. She simply said, “Thank you,” and Simon realized just how scared Gwen must be.
He followed her to the set. He didn’t gawk when he saw the other actors even though he was a fan of one guy in particular. Damn, but he’d enjoyed the shit out of that fellow’s spy movies. There were cameras and cables and bright lights all over the place and—
“Closed set, buddy.” A man shoved his hand against Simon’s chest. “You’re gonna want to turn around and get the hell out.”
Simon glanced down at the hand, then back up at the asshole who’d just shoved the hand into the middle of Simon’s chest. The fellow had bright, blond hair—hair that appeared mussed but Simon was willing to bet the jerk had spent too much time carefully styling it that morning. The guy was a few inches shorter than Simon. Fit, but on the lanky side.
