Jess had gotten her first kiss when she was eleven. Early bloomer, one might say, though one would be wrong. It wasn’t exactly her choice, but rather the forceful demands of an older foster sibling. Thank God he hadn’t gone any further.
Since then, she’d decided kissing was one of those skills you really had to work on because not everyone could do it right. In her experience, most men actually did it badly, all thrust and no precision, all brute demand and no subtle seduction. Reece, though…Reece was again the exception to the rule. Because, oh, dear lord, he was the world champion of kissing.
Jess forgot she was being kissed by a Hollywood legend. All she knew was that in the arms of a sensual, seductive man, every other thought was pulled from her head except that this must be what heaven felt like.
His perfect mouth, a mix of strength and softness, melted against hers, both asking for and demanding her surrender. His lips were soft and supple for a man who seemed so rigid, and she whimpered as he coaxed his way inside. Sweeping his tongue against hers, he teased her, tasted her, and she loved the warm, wet, give-and-take. Then he grew more serious, more demanding, hungrily exploring every corner and crevice of her mouth.
He tasted of fire and scotch. She was burned and intoxicated.
If she were in a regular world—in her normal persona, not surrounded by erotic art, not wearing a designer gown, not a little tipsy from one strong drink—she might have been able to keep this whole thing in perspective. But perspective was the last thing she wanted right now. This didn’t need to make sense, and she didn’t have to know what would happen next or what it meant. For once, she was simply going to enjoy herself.
He pulled her closer, until they were glued together from chest to thigh, all her softest parts meeting his oh-so-very-hard ones. He was a tall man, but not a brawny one, and every inch of him was firm and rippling with muscles she could feel pressing against her. His hand still cupped her jaw, and he tilted her head to the side, demanding more—as much as she could give. She welcomed him, meeting each rapacious plunge of his tongue with a thrust of her own.
Jess was reborn, coming to life in his arms, his kiss awakening something inside her she hadn’t even realized had fallen dormant. Or had never flowered at all. She’d always been sure of herself, where she stood, what she liked, what it took to reach her on a deep, intimate level. It was a place no man had ever really found his way to or even cared enough to try.
Reece did. He plumbed into her, discovering her like an adventurer on expedition to a new, uncharted land. She lost herself in him completely; there was no man other than this one, no other world outside this room. His kiss was magnetic, the fingers on her back stroking her to an insane level of excitement. Her sighs of pleasure turned into helpless whimpers when he let go of her face and traced his knuckles down her throat, the thumb brushing against the hollow. He stopped at the deep V of her dress, and she arched toward his touch.
“Please,” she whispered into his mouth, letting him know he didn’t have to stop at all.
“Please what?”
He was going to make her beg, wasn’t he? Always in control, leading her to the precipice but insisting she be the one to jump off. He wouldn’t push her or pull her. She was on her own.
“Please keep touching me” was as far as she would leap.
It was enough. He caressed the inner curves of her breasts, revealed by the low-cut dress, and she made no effort to stop him when he began to kiss his way down, following the path his hand had taken. Dropping her head back, keeping her fingers twined in his hair, she let the table support her. She arched toward him, dying as his hot mouth pressed kiss after wet kiss down her throat, until his smooth jaw brushed against her breasts. Then he was nudging the fabric over.
She remembered one second too late what she was wearing beneath the dress.
“What in the hell is that?” he asked.
Realizing immediately what had shocked him—and it wasn’t the, if-she-did-said-so-herself, nice breast he’d just revealed, she groaned. “Oh, crap.”
“What have you done to yourself?” he growled, his jaw as hard and rigid as the plaster used in Liza’s artwork.
“Whoops. Sorry. I forgot,” she said, trying to sound light and unconcerned, though embarrassment clawed at her. “It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever worn these dumb things. I never imagined somebody else would be undressing me tonight.”
Or that she’d be so disappointed he’d stopped.
Yeesh, so much for out of her league and not gonna happen. She’d been ready for the full-court press and some bits of gluey plastic had interrupted the play and blocked the hoop.
He straightened and pulled away. Swallowing hard, she couldn’t decide if she was furious or glad this was ending as quickly as it began. Maybe both. She was furious she’d let herself go so fast and so far, but was glad it hadn’t gone so far she’d have to do the walk of shame through her best friend’s big art opening.
Or maybe she was furious it had stopped at all, and glad she got to be in this man’s arms at least once.
She quickly discovered, though, that it was not over. Her unfortunate choice of undergarments hadn’t entirely killed the moment. Because, without saying a word, Reece reached for the thin straps of her dress, which draped over each shoulder, and pushed them off. She gasped as both sleeves dropped down her arms, taking the front of her dress with them. The blue silk was stopped from falling all the way off her only by the curves of her hips. The cool, air-conditioned room brought goose bumps to her nearly bare, very vulnerable, upper half.
And then his warm fingers were on her, tugging at the fabric, and the dress hit the floor.
Too surprised to react, she could only stand there as he studied her. His stare was frank and deliberate, raking across her, top to bottom, in long, slow strips, his expression not only approving but covetous. Goose bumps? Ha. She suddenly feel incinerated where she stood. Jess instinctively wanted to cross an arm over her breasts and another down between her legs, in an Eve-old pose of modesty.
But she didn’t. No. She stood there and let him look at her, let the warm hunger rolling off him wash over her. His obvious appreciation was arousing, thrilling. Never in her life had she been more thankful the cut of her dress hadn’t allowed her to wear Spanx, and that her panties were jet black, lacy, and sexy as sin.
Unfortunately, she was not as sexily clad up top.
His attention returned to her chest. “Those are the most appalling things I’ve ever seen.”
Tossing her hair, she arched a brow, trying not to think about being naked but for her high heels, a few triangles of lace, and a couple of angled pieces of rubbery tape—in front of a man she’d met an hour ago but had fantasized about for a decade. “Actually, I’ve been told I have pretty nice breasts.”
“They’re gorgeous,” he snapped. “But those”—he gestured toward the two coverings, through which her dark nipples were easily visible—“are an abomination.”
“Have you seriously never seen a woman wearing these?”
“No. Never. Why in God’s name would you?”
“This dress couldn’t be worn with a bra, and I can’t very well go braless.”
“Yes, you can. And the next time you wear something like that, you will.”
All because he said so? Yeah, right. As if he’d know, or care. “I’m too busty.”
“Trust me, there’s no such thing,” he said, the voice as dry as dust.
“As my mom used to say, gravity will inevitably defeat perkiness.”
“Enough,” he said, ignoring the basic truth. “Get them off. I want to touch you.”
Her heart jackhammered at his demand. The feminist within her rebelled. She should protest. She’d never had a one-night stand, hadn’t had sex in a year, and she’d had absolutely no intention of sleeping with the man when she came up here with him. Who the hell did he think he was, making such an assumption?
But the devil on her other shoulder reminded her of another truth: She’d been fascinated by Reece Winchester for a long time. Now, having met him, she wanted him like a junkie wanted her next high, and she might never have a chance like this again. Jess felt as if she were being torn in half, want warring with wisdom. She couldn’t say if the smart feminist was going to win this internal struggle…or the little devil was.
“You want me, too, I know it,” he growled.
Unable to deny it, she tried to deflect. “I barely know you.”
“Your body knows everything it needs to.”
“You know my body so well, do you?”
He gestured toward the statue, reminding her he did, indeed, know her body very well.
“This is crazy, Mr. Winchester,” she insisted, trying to be strong, even though she knew she was close to consenting to a life-altering interlude. But it might also be something she would regret tomorrow, when she was not under the influence of one Flaming Orgasm and desperate for another, of a very different kind. “I’m not one of your Hollywood bimbos who will bend over when you say you want to insert tab A into slot B.”
“I never said anything about tabs and slots, Miss Jensen,” he said, edging closer, crowding her. He swallowed, his throat working, and she saw the tension in his form, as if he was holding back a storm of raging want. “I’ve been obsessing over you for weeks. I thought I could wait for you, get to know you. But the truth is, I can’t.”
He glanced over his shoulder at something in the far corner of the room and frowned. She couldn’t see what he was looking at. Whatever. She wasn’t sure her brain would process anything except that tall, sexy body standing right in front of her. Especially since she kept hearing obsessing over you for weeks.
He’d really been wanting her for so long?
Yes, she really thought he had. The desperation was unmistakable. She had the feeling if she refused him, he’d walk over and toss the statue out the second-story window.
That would be a darn shame. Someone walking on the beach below could be hurt. She wouldn’t want someone’s injury on her conscience.
She still knew this was a bad idea, and that she should at least try to resist. “Um, taking these things off would be easier said than done,” she said, gesturing toward the stick-on bra. She hadn’t exactly said yes. But she hadn’t said no, either.
He apparently viewed her words as a plea for help. Without another word, he reached for the sheer tape, tugging at the top corner. The stupid glue was incredibly strong, and in his efforts, he pulled at her skin. When she winced, he immediately stopped.
“Did I hurt you?” Although his voice was gruff, she heard concern in it.
“A little. I think NASA invented that glue—it’s superstrength. And, to be honest, I can’t remember how to get them off. I might have to use baby oil or something. The directions are on the package at home.” She was not exaggerating. If he wanted her as much as he said he did, he might have to live with the boob tape.
“I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t carry baby oil in my pocket.”
A saucy inner voice almost asked if he had lube—he certainly seemed to jump at sexual opportunity pretty quickly. But she stayed quiet. Especially because she didn’t like the thought. Was he always this fast with seduction, or was she a rare exception?
Who was she kidding? The question was ridiculous. There was nothing unique about her. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” she said.
“Jesus, I’m thwarted by a sticky chastity belt.”
She couldn’t help snickering.
“You think it’s funny?” His voice was low, his eyes narrowed, and he focused one hundred percent of that intensity on her.
“Yeah, it’s kinda funny,” she said. “I mean, it could be worse. It’s not literally a chastity belt.” She shuddered, picturing the sticky stuff on her more sensitive parts.
He shook his head slowly. “You’ve got a strange sense of humor, Jessica.”
“At least one of us has one,” she mumbled, feeling like she was baiting a bear.
The bear reacted, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her onto the table she’d been leaning against. Although he was manhandling her, and frustration made his eyes darken to near brown, he was careful not to hurt her. “Apparently I don’t when it comes to you.”
He drew in a deep, audible breath, pulling back, dropping his hands. She almost saw the cogs turning in his brain as he regretted the quick lapse into emotion and reined himself in. It was fascinating to suddenly be able to read someone who been so enigmatic a short time ago.
Their breaths were the only sounds in the room. She saw his jaw flex as he gritted his teeth, and the way his body tensed and tightened. Nothing about his mood or his body language frightened her. She knew the battle being waged was purely inside him. He hated to lose control. She had gotten under his skin, taunted him into reacting without thinking, and he didn’t like it.
The tension was unnerving, and she wondered if she’d pushed him too far. Perhaps he’d decided she and her sticky breasts were not worth the effort, and he was about to storm out of here, go downstairs, and pick up one of those Hollywood bimbos she mentioned. One whose nipples weren’t superglued to a rubber covering.
Finally, though, a long, low exhalation eased from his mouth. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and rolled his shoulders back in a slow stretch. He’d gotten back the control he’d so briefly lost. He didn’t head for the door; he merely offered her the slightest smile.
She almost sighed in relief, at least until he licked his lips, and she saw his smile was the half-quirked, dangerous kind. The gleam in his eyes as he stared down at her was all the warning she needed. Predator.
This prey again regretted baiting him. But she was also more excited than she’d ever been.
He lifted his hand and ran his fingertip across the slope of her breast. Though it was only the faintest scrape of skin on skin, and much of his touch was blocked by the tape, she quivered in response.
“Still think it’s funny?” he asked, bending down to lick along the same path. His tongue was hot and wet, and she wanted to cry as he slid it over her nipples, covered by the hateful barrier, just thick enough to prevent her nerve endings from soaking up the sensation. “Because I, for one, am not amused that I can’t suck you and leave my mark on you.”
Jess forgot how to breathe.
Stepping between her parted legs, he pushed her back until she was lying on the table, braced by her elbows. She was quaking now. Unable to say a word, she watched and felt him kiss his way down her front.
“What about now, Jessica? Still laughing?” he whispered against her midriff.
“No,” she managed to choke out.
Oh, no. She was not laughing. And neither was he.
His warm, strong hands dropped onto her thighs, his thumbs stroking the inside. They began to move up. And up. Meanwhile his hot mouth continued to move down. And down.
She arched toward what she wanted. Everything within her not already soft and wet got that way at once. She groaned as he dipped his tongue into her belly button, and his thumbs moved under the elastic of her skimpy panties to tangle in the curls between her legs.
Close. Oh, God, he was so close. She almost screamed with the need for him to move his hand the teeny, tiniest bit. The faintest brush of his fingertips was going to send her into the stratosphere, and she wanted that touch more than she wanted to live until the sun rose.
As for his mouth…she wasn’t sure she could even take it.
“Please, Reece.”
“I like hearing you say my name,” he growled.
She’d repeat it a hundred times if necessary. Pride was long gone. She didn’t even care that she was nearly naked while he wore a perfect, unmussed suit. It might look wicked to anyone who walked in on them, but she truly didn’t care, she just needed him to…
As if her own imaginings had brought calamity on them, the door to the room suddenly swung open. Jess had just enough time to gasp and leap off the table. Reece stepped smoothly in front of her, blocking most of her from view, before the overhead light switched on, flooding the interior with bright illumination.
She peeked around Reece’s broad shoulders. Two men stood in the doorway. One of them was Sid Loman. The gallery manager met her eye, and she swore for a second she saw a smirk on his face. That was probably because of the second man, who held a professional-looking camera. A camera he was using.
Son of a bitch. This intrusion was intentional—a complete setup.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Reece barked.
“M-Mr. Winchester,” Sid stammered. “Uh, I had no idea anyone was in here. I was giving a private tour of the gallery to a member of the press.”
The guy wasn’t merely a perv; he was also a crappy liar. The interruption was for his own amusement or financial gain. If the creep hadn’t set this up to try to embarrass Reece, and her—who’d barely given him the time of day when he’d made a few fumbling come-ons—and to make a fast buck from a guy who looked like pure paparazzi, she’d eat her boob tape.
“The press.” The very word sneered. “Miller, I thought you and I had an agreement.”
The photographer clicked away, trying to edge around to get a better shot at naked little old her. Jess glued herself to Reece’s back, clinging more tenaciously than the stick-on bra.
“I had no idea you’d be in here, Winchester,” the intruder said, still photographing.
“Take another step and you’re going to have to sue me again.”
The tone was so calm, so reasonable, it took a second for the words to sink in. The photographer had sued him? Why would he have to…Oh. She got it. The two men had tangled before. Physically, she suspected.
“Don’t do anything you might regret,” Miller said.
“I never have regrets.” Reece’s calm voice was belied by the rigid tension of his body. He was ready to fight, she could feel it in the flex of his muscles, and hear it in the seething anger disguised by the rational-man conversation. “How much did you pay for your camera?”
“A lot,” the guy said.
“I’d like to have one. Maybe I could buy it from you. Would thirty thousand cover it?”
Jess was so shocked she lurched back, forgetting she was naked but for some tape on her breasts, skimpy panties, and spiked heels. Unfortunately, her legs were still shaky from what they’d been doing before the interruption, and she stumbled. Before she could land on her ass and make this situation go from bad to abso-fucking-lutely mortifying by landing spread eagle on the floor in front of three men, Reece saved her. He swung around, turning his back to the men, and put his steadying hands on her hips. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t you dare let that man extort you!” she snapped.
“I don’t like my privacy invaded.” He kept his voice low, intimate, and his eyes softened as he looked down into hers.
“Seems to me mine is the privacy being invaded.” She glared over Reece’s shoulder. “And, buddy, if you even think about selling naked pictures of me to the tabloids, I will sue your ass so hard you won’t even have time to say the words peddling pornography.”
“Let me handle this.”
“He can’t sell naked pictures of people, not if I don’t sign a model release or something.”
“Do you think female stars who make the mistake of going out without underwear sign releases before their crotch shots spread all over the internet?”
Oh. Right. Though she never kept up with such gossipy garbage, even she had heard of a few A-listers whose privacy had been so brutally invaded.
“You’re disgusting,” she said to the cameraman. He was young—early twenties, maybe. She memorized his face for her hit list in case she ever decided to become an assassin.
“Guy’s gotta earn a living.”
“Do we have a deal, Miller?” Reece asked, his back still to the other men.
“I think I could part with this equipment for thirty grand.”
Reece still didn’t turn around; he was focused only on Jessica. “Done. Put the camera on the table and get out. My office will take care of the payment.”
Although infuriated by this blatant extortion, Jess didn’t interfere. She also, however, didn’t take her eyes off the photographer as he unlooped his camera from around his neck and placed it down as directed. No way would she trust him not to try to slip out a memory card.
“If those pictures turn up, I’ll know where they came from,” Reece said, continuing to shield her bare body from anyone else’s view. He sounded calmer, but his arms, to which she clung, continued to flex and bulge with tension and protective anger.
“They won’t,” the guy said. He nodded at her and smiled. “Nice to, uh, meet you?”
“Go to hell,” she snapped.
Offering Sid a shrug, he headed out the door. The manager started to follow, but Reece, his sixth sense apparently in overdrive, barked, “Don’t you move.”
“Me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Pull your dress up,” he said, his voice low, “while I deal with this.”
He turned slowly, shifting on his heel, providing a concealing barrier for her as he pivoted around to face his employee. His body was broad enough for her to quickly bend down, grab her dress, and yank it up into place. She had the willies just thinking of creepy Sid seeing any more of her than he already had.
Focusing on shoving herself back into her clothes, she missed the first few words of the conversation, but there was no mistaking it when Reece said, “You’re fired.”
Sid’s eyes bulged. “You wouldn’t…”
“I just did.”
“But you can’t!”
“Of course I can. You’ll get a month’s severance. Sharon is more soft-hearted than I am, so I suspect you’ll also get whatever commissions are owed to you from tonight. But I want you out of here immediately.”
Heat washed the older man red, right down to the too-tight collar of his dress shirt. “I’ll sue you for wrongful termination.”
“You signed a privacy contract,” Reece retorted. “Bringing a photographer up here, to the staff-only part of the gallery, violated it. That’s sufficient grounds for termination.”
The other man’s mouth opened and closed, then Sid visibly deflated as he realized his catastrophic error. “Look, it was a mistake. You can’t hold me responsible. How was I supposed to know what you were up to in here?”
Oh, she had no doubt the creep had known exactly what they were up to. Jess’s skin crawled thinking about it.
Reece, as if knowing she was now covered, walked away from her, stalking toward the other man, punctuating each angry step with an equally angry word. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
Sid lurched back, but Reece was in his face now, towering over him, so physically intimidating that Jess felt nervous for the perv. But only a little.
“You were trying to set us up. You hoped to make some quick cash and humiliate a woman who didn’t want anything to do with you.”
The man’s eyes darted toward her, narrowing in anger. “What has she said to you?”
“Only enough to make me wonder what other women you’ve harassed.”
“You need me,” the other man pleaded.
“I need you like I need a rodent infestation in this building. Frankly, I wonder if there already was one. Were you actually watching us like some filthy rat, waiting for the right moment to walk in?”
If flames could spew out of someone’s eyes, Reece would be in need of an asbestos jacket. Sid looked enraged as he sputtered. But suddenly, his attention shifted. He cast a quick glance toward the rear corner of the room and visibly calmed down. It was like watching a switch flip as he retreated back into the role of smarmy manager. “I’ll go collect my things.”
Reece grunted and turned away from the older, smaller man. “Your things will be held for you. You can come back for them tomorrow. Put your keys on the table and go.”
“But I need…”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” He swung around again, his anger reigniting. Now it was an almost tangible, electric presence in the room. She suddenly realized Reece had turned his back on Sid to try to let the man get away before his rage could completely engulf him. “Do you think I’m going to leave you free to wander around and worm your way into Sharon’s office so you can download a copy of the security tape from this room?”
Gasping, she realized what, exactly, Sid might have been looking at before the little smirk. Spinning around, she confirmed her worst fears, noting the small security camera in the back corner, hugging the ceiling. It was just like the ones downstairs that monitored every inch of the gallery floor. She hadn’t even noticed this one when they’d come in. It would have a clear view of every part of the room. Including the table on which she’d been lying, spread out and nearly naked, like a pagan sacrifice.
The whole truth washed over her. The comment Reece had made about a rodent watching them hadn’t been rhetorical. The disgusting manager and his paparazzi cohort might have borne witness, through the lens, to everything they’d done.
A cry rose in her throat and threatened to choke her. She had to lift her fist to her lips to hold it in. Jess was not entirely successful. Because, suddenly, something else popped into her mind, and her sob erupted from her mouth in a low, harsh whimper.
There’d been a moment earlier when Reece had glanced behind him, toward that corner of this room. He’d known the security camera was there. He’d looked at it and had to know it was recording. And he’d still gone ahead and…and…oh, God.
Humiliation poured into her as she remembered how blatant and erotic the interlude had been. She’d been utterly exposed, not only to him, but to the prying eyes of an electronic spy, one to which Sid, Sharon, and who knew who else—maybe the security guy—had access.
“I didn’t even remember there was a camera in here.” The man smirked. “And I wonder if your guest knew there was one,” Sid said, sounding smug as he lobbed the verbal grenade.
He had reason to. It had definitely exploded, erupting in the middle of the room and destroying the moment. Exactly as the pig had wanted.
He left. Reece didn’t try to stop him, didn’t say anything. Neither did Jess.
She couldn’t speak, could barely think. All she knew was she was standing alone with a man she’d been about to have sex with…the complete stranger she’d fantasized into something he obviously was not. Far from being a hero, a character from one of his movies, the famous director was apparently as much of a creep as Sid. He’d planned to videotape them having sex, and she would never have known. He could have done anything with that tape—kept it, shared it, posted it on the internet. Her life could have been ruined, her career here in Hollywood definitely so. In some respects, she supposed she should thank Sid. He’d stopped her from making the worst mistake of her life.
Now there was just one thing to do. Walk away from Reece Winchester and pray to God she never set eyes on him again.
* * *
For a long moment, Reece stared at the door through which Sid had departed, calling himself ten kinds of fool. He’d handled this whole thing so badly—made mistake after mistake, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her through the security system. The very first day, two months ago, he should have gone downstairs and introduced himself. Looking back, it seemed so logical, so easy, and he would hate himself for a long time for not doing that. It was his own arrogance—his desire to set the stage, to put her in a gown, in jewels, in the rich setting she deserved—that had fucked all this up. He’d been going for the long scene, the payoff moment, not just taking things as they came, putting out his hand and saying hello.
His brothers said he thought too much. Planned too much.
Right now, he’d have to say he agreed with them.
He finally turned to face her. “Jessica, I’m—”
She responded by slapping him right across the face. Hard. So hard his ears rang. He didn’t react, knowing he’d deserved it.
“How could you? Is this your typical seduction routine?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“I should have known. You can have any woman who catches your eye…and do just about anything to her. Including secretly taping her, humiliating her, ruining her.”
“I didn’t do it intentionally.”
“Are you going to try to tell me you didn’t remember the camera was on?” She sounded the tiniest bit hopeful, but then frowned. “But I saw you look back there.”
“I knew it was there, and that it was on.”
She lifted a hand to slap him again. He remained still, ready to let her do it.
The hand dropped. Instead of lashing out physically, she took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and turned toward the door. She was going to walk out of here without another word.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “I intended to erase the tape.”
“Oh, sure you did.” She swung around and glared. “You were carried away, huh?”
“I swear it. I remembered it was there after it was too late and made a mental note to erase it later.”
“Don’t bother lying, Mr. Great Director,” she snapped. “I should have realized this was a setup as soon as you admitted you lured me in here after seeing me through the security camera.”
That sounded bad. Really bad. Sid-the-Creep bad.
Reece thrust a hand into his hair, frustration making him shake. “Look, those two didn’t see anything except you ducking behind me,” he insisted. “The overhead lights were off when they came in. As for the camera, they couldn’t have seen anything. The video monitors are in Sharon’s office, which was shut and locked. An alarm rings when it’s opened with anybody’s key but hers and mine. Sid gambled on walking in here and catching us.”
“Doing exactly what we were doing? As if he knew because you do this all the time?”
“Absolutely not.” He stared at her, silently urging her to believe him. “The point is, nobody was watching, and nobody else would ever have seen that recording.”
“Until when? Were you going to have a party and invite friends over for a viewing?”
“Damn it, Jessica, how many times do I have to say it? I would have erased it the minute I could.” He grabbed her arms, gripping her tightly, feeling as though something important was about to slip through his fingers for good. And it was entirely his own fault.
“You’re hurting me.”
He immediately loosened his grip. “Stay. Let’s talk. Get a drink. We can talk about the weather, or movies, or politics. I don’t care. Just…stay.”
Her eyes were so big, luminous, and her lips—plain, all lipstick kissed off—were trembling. For a second, he let himself hope he hadn’t screwed this up beyond repair.
“Please leave me alone,” she finally whispered, blinking rapidly as angry tears formed in her eyes. “I’m not used to this world you live in, and I don’t want to be a part of it. You’ve humiliated me enough for one night.”
Reece always knew what to do. Always. He made his plans, he acted on them, he didn’t veer in unforeseen directions, never got off course, and he never apologized. So he was completely out of his depth here. “It was never my intention to hurt you.”
“I don’t know or care what you meant to do, Reece. All I know is I’m embarrassed, and I’m angry, and I want to forget any of this happened. Now, I’m going downstairs to spend the rest of the evening celebrating my sister’s big night.”
He waited one more long moment, searching her face, looking for an opening, some hint of softening. She ground her teeth, jutting out her jaw, completely determined. He’d blown it completely.
“I handled this all wrong,” he finally said, dropping his hands and stepping away. “Tonight wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“Oh, you had it all planned out, how it was supposed to go?” When he didn’t deny it, she barked a humorless laugh. “Bravo, the great director. Jesus, you’re as bad as Sid.”
He flinched. The insult had been about as low as she could go.
“It’s been…interesting getting to know you, Mr. Winchester. But frankly, I hope to God I never lay eyes on you again.”
It was an exit line if he’d ever heard one, and he’d heard plenty. But although she turned to the door and reached for the knob, she didn’t open it, and she didn’t go through it. She stood there in the silence for a moment, finally whispering, “Maybe I’ll wait a minute.”
His pulse sped up. But she didn’t turn back toward him. Instead, she let go of the knob and walked over to the large window overlooking the beach. The sand below was dark and shadowy, the ocean beyond it a vast blackness, visible only by the gleams of moonlight dancing lightly on the surf.
“Do you think they’re gone yet?” Her voice was low and shaky. “Sid and that guy? I don’t want to run into them downstairs.”
Reece knew he was the last person she wanted comfort from right now, but nobody else was available. He hated to see her hurting so badly. Her anger had faded; now she was sad and humiliated. And alone. So he went to her, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened, resisted for a second, and then allowed him to pull her close. She buried her face in his neck. He felt moisture there as she silently wept.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. But he meant them like he’d never meant it before. He gently stroked her hair, wanting her to believe him. “So damned sorry, Jessica.”
She drew in a long, hitchy breath, and he wondered if she’d calmed down enough to realize he had been telling the truth about his intention to erase the tape. He hoped that was what she was about to say, anyway.
Before she could say anything, though, the world exploded.
A crack ripped the night, and even as the noise reached his ears, the large window erupted inward, showering them with glass.
It took less than a second for his brain to place the sound he’d heard right before the window shattered. It had been a shot. Someone had fired a bullet at them through the window.
He had one reaction, only one thought. Jessica!
Reece didn’t plan, didn’t fear, didn’t worry a gun might be aimed at his head. All he could do was dive on her, taking them both down to the floor, up against the front wall of the room. They were under the window; the cement block construction would protect them as the glass had not.
But shards from the window still rained down, landing on his back and littering the carpet all around them. She was so soft, so exposed in her sexy dress, and his brain screamed as he thought about thousands of tiny bites being taken out of her skin. So he wrapped himself around her. He grabbed her head, tucked it into his neck, and lifted her up off the floor into his arms, pulling her frantically against his chest, covering her, shielding her.
Reece didn’t know who fired or what might come next. He only knew he would keep her safe until his last breath.
He had put her in this situation, and he’d make damn sure she came out of it unscathed.