Mr. Winchester? Ms. Jensen is here.”
Reece jerked his head up from the pile of crew reports he’d been shifting around on his desk. He’d kept his eye on the clock more than the paperwork, knowing his new intern was scheduled to come in today and wondering which Jessica he was about to see.
The sultry beauty who’d been in his arms in the gallery?
The enraged wronged woman who’d slapped him across the face?
The college student? The faithful sister? The terrified victim covered with glass?
She walked in.
Ahh. The prim professional.
She wore a blouse buttoned to her throat and a plain knee-length gray skirt. With her hair twisted into a tight bun on the back of her head and a pair of glasses perched on her nose, she could have come out of central casting as a secretary from a 1950s period piece.
He had to laugh.
“What?” she snapped.
“Nothing, Jessica. Absolutely nothing.” Rising from his desk, he walked around to greet her. “Thank you for coming in.”
She extended her arm straight out from her body for their handshake. “Mr. Winchester.”
Hiding a smile, he shook, and then stepped closer, reached for her chin, and tilted her face up. He studied her, looking for the cuts he’d seen on her cheeks last week, seeing redness and one or two tiny scabs. God, how they enraged him.
“How are you?”
She licked her lips and stepped away. “Never better. What about you?”
“Totally fine.”
“Did you ever see a doctor?” she asked.
“Not necessary.”
Her head swung toward him and her eyes narrowed. “Yes it was. You had blood on the back of your neck and your hands, and shards of glass on your clothes and your head.”
“Paying pretty close attention, were you?”
As he’d been paying close attention to her. They’d both apparently worried about the other more than themselves.
“Only because of the glass,” she insisted. So stubborn. So sexy in a buttoned-up schoolteacher way. He could come to like this woman even more than he wanted her.
“I was fine. No real damage done.”
Except to his mood. He’d walked around for days in a state of rage that someone with an ax to grind against him had endangered a completely innocent woman. Whether it had been Sid, the psycho who’d burned down his house, or someone else, he hoped he got to them before the cops did. He ached for payback for every tiny mark on her face.
He didn’t doubt the shooter would be caught. After the fire, he’d hired a private investigator recommended by his brother Raine. Now the man had more work to do. He trusted the police, but it seemed clear Reece was in somebody’s crosshairs. While he could take care of himself, he wasn’t about to let anybody else be endangered.
“Have you heard anything more about the investigation?”
“Not really. Whoever did it was smart enough to stay out of range of the security cameras covering the exterior of the building.”
“I heard.”
“As for any other clues, well, footprints on a popular beach in June won’t help. They did say judging by the bullet they recovered in the gallery wall, the gun was a nine millimeter.”
According to his brother, that was a good thing. Since the shot had probably come from down by the water, it had been a long-distance gamble to take with a handgun. Rowan had told him if a rifle with a scope had been involved, it could have been a lot worse. The shooter could have hit his target. Or worse, missed his target and hit this woman.
“So whoever did it probably didn’t plan ahead, or he’d have brought a better weapon,” Jessica mused. “This was more…passionate. Spur of the moment.”
Wondering what she was thinking, he said, “Sounds likely. Why?”
She paused for half a second, and then quickly shook her head. “Just playing detective.”
“Don’t. Please, let the professionals handle it.”
“Of course. I was merely thinking, not acting.”
“Good. No way do I want you to confront a deranged person.”
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I’ve had enough of those in my life.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He didn’t pry, knowing he had to respect her boundaries—though thinking about her rough childhood, her years in the foster-care system, sent his imagination to dark places. He hoped one day she would trust him again and open up about her thoughts and feelings.
“Have they been able to find Sid?”
Reece’s eyes narrowed as he thought of the weaselly man. The longer the former gallery manager stayed out of sight, the more Reece suspected him. “There’s been no sign of him.”
“I know you think he might have done it, but I’m not convinced he did,” she said. “I mean, he’d just left the building. He would’ve had to have a gun on him.”
“Given the value of the merchandise at the gallery, he might have qualified for a license to carry.” Rowan would undoubtedly find out.
Wanting to distract her from what had happened the other night, he said, “Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward a trio of chairs fronting the window of the office. It looked out onto Santa Monica Boulevard, so there was no great view, but it was a sunny day, and he liked the way the beams brought out the gold highlights in her hair.
She smoothed her skirt as she sat down, and he took the chair opposite her.
“This isn’t an interview,” he explained. “You already have the job.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you had spirit and imagination, and I need an intern.”
Her sneer was accompanied by an eye roll. “I figure it’s more likely either you wanted to get me into bed or you felt guilty about almost getting me killed. Maybe both.”
This was a battle he’d anticipated. He grabbed a folder from his desk and gave it to her. “Look.”
“What is this?”
“Lists of other student interns we’ve hired in the past. Dozens of them. All with your experience level, all with appropriate salaries.”
Opening the folder, she thumbed through the documents. She reached a page and stopped. “This is my application from last summer.”
“Yes.”
She shoved the glasses up onto her head and lifted the page to read without them. Jessica had either put them on as a costume piece or usually wore contacts only for distance. He almost laughed. Damn, he’d laughed more around this woman in the couple of times he’d met her than he had in the past month.
“There’s a notation here in the top corner, with ‘Next year’ written beside it.”
He didn’t have to read over her shoulder. “It means you were evaluated last year, came close, and were earmarked for consideration again this summer.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered what he was saying, and then she finally slipped the paper back into the folder. “You mean I was already on a list for this job? Before we, uh…met?”
“Before I ever even laid eyes on you through the security camera.”
A slight flush rose in her cheeks. “Don’t remind me. I’d like to forget all about it.”
She might. He never would. “My staff keeps track of the best people. We usually don’t hire until a student is close to finishing school and might consider taking a full-time position if things work out. That’s why you weren’t interviewed sooner.”
She sucked her lips into her mouth, probably remembering what she’d just said about his motives for hiring her. He waited for an apology, already knowing he probably wouldn’t get it.
“I guess that makes sense,” she finally said.
No I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you. As expected. Considering what he’d put her through, he didn’t blame her one bit.
She lifted the folder to hand it back, but despite her calm tone, her fingers were shaking, and several pages slid out. They both moved to catch them, his hand brushing hers, her slim calf sliding between his pant legs. The connection was electric, as it had been the night they’d met, and they both froze as tension and attraction flared between them.
She pulled away first. He let her.
He retrieved the papers, slipped them back into the folder, and put it back on the desk. “So why did you tell me you work as a waitress rather than admit you’re studying screenwriting?”
“Because screenwriting doesn’t pay the bills.”
Maybe. Or she didn’t want him to know for fear he’d think she was about to make an elevator pitch. Literally, considering how long they’d been in the gallery elevator. He hoped so, anyway. He liked her independent streak, and he already knew she wanted to get where she was going on her own merits. Which meant finding her name in a personnel record, with a note from someone in HR, had been more than a stroke of luck. It had seemed almost fated.
“Is it typical for the CEO of a production company to interview the new intern?”
“No. But this isn’t an interview. As I said, you’ve already got the job.”
“Why did you bring me in, rather than someone in HR?”
“Because I know you’d think I found out what you were studying and set this whole thing up to get you into my clutches.”
“You clutched me plenty the other night,” she grumbled.
There she was wrong. He definitely had not. He hoped there would be a lot more clutching in their immediate future. But not until he got her to trust him. “You would have been chosen even if we hadn’t met Friday night.”
She licked her lips and lowered her gaze, averting those brown eyes. “Really?”
“Really, Jessica.”
She finally relaxed, settling deeper into her chair. He knew she’d come in here wearing pounds of mental armor, to go along with the physical armor she’d donned in choosing her prissy outfit. The woman had pride.
“So, do you trust me again?”
“Who said I did before?”
Direct hit. “Ouch.”
“You didn’t give me much reason to.”
“Yet you chose to meet me at the elevator Friday night.”
“That required some trust. This requires more.” She crossed her arms, eyeing him. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble over me, Mr. Winchester. You saw me on camera and arranged Liza’s signing. You had her bring me back for the meeting so you could watch me again.”
He didn’t reply. How could he defend himself? Could anyone understand the camera lens was his security guard—his weapon against invasions into his thoughts and his private life—and he was armed at all times? Putting something between himself and the rest of the world had been natural to him for years…ever since his fucked-up childhood. He’d had his fill of being watched, and now he preferred to be the watcher. That had been one reason he’d left his adult acting career as soon as he’d had the clout and the money to switch solely to directing. But it did sound pretty bad when she put it that way. “I wasn’t…”
“You also bought the statue and lured me up there to see it.”
“It was an invitation,” he pointed out, knowing his defense sounded weak.
“And then stripped me naked and put me on a table.”
“I didn’t strip you all the way. Speaking of which, did the baby oil work?”
He’d swear a flush of color rose from her throat, up her neck, and into her face. She was trying to sound cut-and-dried as she raked him over the coals. Instead, as she dissected his actions and his motives, she looked pretty damned adorable.
“It was fine.”
“Did you throw those horrible things away?”
She tossed her head, making the one silky strand of hair bounce against her cheek, and brushed it back impatiently. “That’s none of your business.”
“Actually, I am still holding a grudge against them.”
“Don’t distract me. I wasn’t finished telling you off.”
“Oh, please, do continue,” he said, settling back in his chair.
She sucked in a deep breath, and then slowly blew it out. “You obviously had somebody spying on me because you found out where I went to school.”
“It wasn’t hard to find out,” Reece said with a shrug. “My twin’s a cop. My other brother owns a security company. Family benefits.”
Her eyes rounding, she finally left off the verbal barrage. “Raine is in security?”
Startled, he quickly realized that of course she would know his youngest brother’s name. Raine had been the cheeky, smiling star of a bunch of commercials when he was a toddler. Hell, they still ran them sometimes on an old cartoon network.
“His company’s called Hollywood Guardians.”
That was how his brother saw himself, as a guardian of the young and vulnerable. No surprise, given what their family had endured. The youngest Winchester had seen the worst of the worst, which was why there was nothing his older brothers wouldn’t do—hadn’t done—to protect him. Hell, maybe they should all be called guardians. Not angels, though. Oh, no. Unless they were fallen ones.
“Raine sparkled from a young age. I thought he might follow in your superstar footsteps, as a kid, and as an adult. Why didn’t he?”
Reece didn’t like the way this conversation was going. In fact, it had already gone further than he ever allowed with people who weren’t related to him by blood. Considering he’d almost gotten her shot the other night, however, the least he could do was admit a few of his secrets.
“He grew out of it. Now he runs a business protecting children.”
“Sounds pretty specialized.”
“But necessary in this town,” he replied in an even tone. He didn’t want to elaborate, however, and admitted something else. “We were all pretty burned out when we left. As you can imagine, we were targets of the press before Rachel died. Afterward, the media attention was brutal. Dangerous, even.”
Jessica’s curious expression shifted into sadness. She didn’t say it, though. Didn’t say those words. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Of course she didn’t.
Not sure why, he went even further. “My dad and Aunt Sharon came from the East Coast. They offered to stay and let us continue in the business, if we wanted to.”
“But it wasn’t what you wanted. Not after what had happened to Rachel.”
Not after what had happened to Rachel.
Not after what had happened to their mother.
Not after he and his twin had done things that should never be asked of a kid in order to protect the family they had left.
“Exactly,” he said, hiding the darkness that gnawed at him every day of his life. “So we went. Tried to have a normal life.”
A tiny smile. “How did that work out for you?”
“Let’s just say middle school wasn’t my favorite time.” Or high school. Or any place where he was treated like either a movie star or an entitled prick.
“I’ll bet. Then you grew up and all of you came back to the left coast.”
“Right. Rowan started law school but dropped out to become a cop.” His twin had said his hypocrisy only went so far. “Raine left for the army the day of his eighteenth birthday.” Reece’s jaw might have tightened, but he kept his fists from clenching on the armrests of his chair as he thought about the night right before his kid brother had left. “When he got out, he started his business here.”
“Starting up is never easy, especially in this zip code.”
Reece shrugged. “He had some investors.”
She understood. “The same ones who helped your aunt with the gallery?”
“Maybe. It turned out to be a very sound investment.”
“Aren’t there a lot of security companies out here?”
“Yes.” Justifiably so, as the fire at his house had proved a couple of months ago. “But Raine’s company is specialized. The studios hire him a lot. He focuses only on protecting child stars; he has some army buddies working for him, and they take their jobs seriously.”
They had to. God knew Hollywood was full of predators and psychos. He didn’t just mean the sicko fans who saw kids in movies or on TV and formed disgusting obsessions. There were also the monsters who lurked in plain sight. The ones who’d found their way into the business and indulged their darkest proclivities. Those were the ones every show-biz parent should be worried about, and they were the particular ones Raine protected children against.
If only somebody had done the same for the Winchesters all those years ago, their lives might be very different now. More of them might be alive, anyway.
She remained silent. He wondered if she had any idea he’d just told her more about himself, and his family, than he’d revealed to anyone in years. Maybe it was because he owed her, considering what had happened at the gallery. The sight of her covered in broken glass wasn’t something he’d soon forget. But he also knew it was because he wanted her to trust him. Wanted to make up for the admittedly controlling way he’d directed her into his arms.
“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” she finally said. “Raine seemed as comfortable in front of the camera as you were. Rowan doesn’t surprise me. He was never as good as the rest of you.”
He had to grin. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”
“Oh, no, please don’t! I meant, he didn’t seem as into it as the rest of you, whereas he appears to be the perfect cop. He was so thoughtful Friday night. He even called to keep me posted on the investigation.”
“He called you?” Reece stiffened. “The case isn’t even in his jurisdiction.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips. “Well, I guess he was just being nice.”
He knew exactly why Rowan had stayed in touch with Jessica: to piss Reece off. Oh, yeah, and he was good at his job. But his call had been about needling more than anything else. Reece would lay money on it.
“He’s also very handsome,” she said, looking at her own hands.
He heard a note of mischief in her voice. She was trying to make him jealous. Progress.
“Remind me to kill my brother.”
A giggle slipped out from between those pink lips. His tension eased. He let the dark memories fade away as he focused on sitting in the sunshine with this woman who utterly fascinated him.
She crossed her long legs, her skirt rising above her knee. Reece let himself look for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the reaming out she was giving him.
“So, are you finished?”
“Finished what?”
“Prying into my history.”
She gasped in indignation. “I did no such thing. You’re the one who kept talking.”
Yes. How strange. “Well, are you at least finished calling me a creeper like Sid?”
Her shudder preceded her words. “Creepy Sid.”
Glass in her hair, on her skin, tearing her dress.
God, how Reece would like to get his hands around the man’s throat.
“But you’re not a creeper.”
“So what was that character assassination all about?”
“That wasn’t character assassination,” she said, her voice softer than it had been. “I was just laying out the reasons I might find you untrustworthy.”
She fell silent, as if wondering if she’d gone too far. Considering Reece felt like utter shit, he probably should tell her she hadn’t. After all, she’d said nothing but the truth.
“I really would have deleted the footage. But you’re right.”
Her brow shot up.
“It was pretty fucking creepy.”
He couldn’t tell her why he’d done it. Couldn’t reveal that, to him, life was about planning the scene, shooting the angles, sticking to the script. How could he admit having her come back to the gallery was an establishing shot? That he’d visualized the setting, knowing how she’d look in it? Crescendos had to be built toward; everybody knew tension was absolutely required before the big moment.
How could he possibly explain that he always removed himself from the action, remained separate, the director overseeing the world, rarely stepping into it? Could he admit aloud that there was something about her—something unique, special—that had drawn him into the scene?
“I apologize, Jessica. You are right about everything. I was completely out of line, and I’m truly sorry,” he said. He fell silent. What more was there to say?
She looked directly at him. Reece didn’t offer justifications or try to couch his apology with self-righteousness, or do a politician’s cop-out: I’m sorry if you were offended. She had called him on his bullshit. He’d deserved it. He regretted it. He just hoped she saw it that way, too, and was willing to move past the bad beginning he’d inflicted on them both.
Finally, after she’d studied his face for so long he wondered if she was a mind reader, she nodded. “Apology accepted.”
A beat. A moment of acceptance. The faintest realization that they were starting over.
His heart pumped hard, his blood surging. This was his second chance to really get to know her, with no preconceived ideas or plans. They were on even footing now. He was going to have to give up control and see what happened, not an easy thing for him.
Everything he’d thought he knew about her before faded as he came to recognize something else about her. Not many people in this town were as forgiving, as open, including him. She’d just revealed a kindness, a generosity of spirit she usually hid beneath her sassy mouth and ridiculously sexy curves.
The woman was likable. Not only to-die-for fuckable, but nice.
She offered him a tentative smile, her wide mouth tugging up at one side. A dimple appeared in her cheek, one he’d never seen before. It went straight to his heart.
Reece had to smile back, broadly, completely charmed and knowing they’d turned a corner. Seeing his reaction, she gasped. Her cheeks heated up, and he had to wonder why she seemed more affected by a simple smile than she had by a sincere apology.
He didn’t understand her, not yet. But he was going to. He would just do it up front, out in the open from here on out.
Her face flushed, she got back to business. “So, I’m your intern. What does that mean?”
“It means you’re at my beck and call.”
“During work hours,” she pointed out.
He didn’t try to soften the truth. “Sure. Plus after hours. Late nights. Weekends. It all depends on how busy I am. And believe me, I’m always busy.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
“As you probably noticed, the office is small, mostly for administrative functions. I travel a lot and am usually on set at one of the studios I’m working with or renting. Or I’m filming out of town. I have to go to Colorado next month to check out some locations my scout is recommending. You’ll come with me.”
A suspicious furrow appeared between her brows.
“It’s part of the job, Jessica. Don’t go doubting me now. You can call my last intern, Walter, if you want a reference—he’ll tell you I’m an asshole and a perfectionist. He’ll also tell you he worked sixty hours a week, traveled everywhere, and had no personal life.” He smiled. “And that he landed a job with Miramax right after graduation.”
Her relieved smile said she found the thought of being worked to death comforting. “We will have separate rooms during all these trips?”
“Of course.” At least until she decided she didn’t want to.
“With all these hours and the travel, I guess it’s just as well I lost my other job.”
Reece frowned. He suspected he knew why—the publicity might have been good for business, but it was probably also a distraction. He had to be honest, at least with himself, and admit he wasn’t unhappy she wouldn’t be working there anymore. He hated that men might sometimes put their hands on buns other than those on their plates. But he also hated that her association with him had cost her something more than a dress and her peace of mind.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, reaching for her purse. “You’re paying me more.”
Then she couldn’t have been making much. He wondered how she supported herself and went to school in Southern California on a waitress’s salary. That had to require some serious dedication and work ethic. “It’s not enough. I’m giving you a raise.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t.”
“Actually, I’m the owner, and I can.”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to start out here as the teacher’s pet, or be thought of as the bimbo who got her job because the boss wants to jump her bones.”
She was right. He didn’t want her viewed that way by any of his staff. Even though he did, very much, want to jump her bones. “All right. We’ll start you where we start all interns, and reevaluate in a month, based on performance. Fair?”
“Fair. So, boss”—she dug in her purse until she found a pad of paper and a pen—“reminding you to kill your brother is the first thing on my to-do list. Anything else?”
Damn, she was sharp. He’d never had a smart-ass for an assistant, and he suspected he was going to like it. Most employees—as well as rising actors and Hollywood wannabes—treated him with head-down respect. This gorgeous, red-haired, aspiring screenwriter would give as good as she got. He could hardly wait to get started.
“Thanks for the reminder. Your second task will be to write a speech for me for a dinner being held one week from tonight. I’ll also need you to attend with me as my date.” Seeing her mouth drop open on the word date, he explained. “It’s part of the job.”
“Did Walter go last year?” she asked, sounding suspicious.
“He would have, if I’d attended. Besides, we should appear in public. I have to introduce you as my new intern. It will help with the rumors.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I know this town. It will dampen the whispers about why we were alone in the gallery.” He couldn’t lie to her, adding, “That doesn’t mean all the talk will stop, but it could help.”
“Do you always show up at big events with your intern?”
“Call Walter and ask him.”
“You expect me to believe he was your arm candy last year?”
“I guess you didn’t see the tabloid articles,” he said with a sigh.
“Oh, I saw them,” she admitted. “But nobody in the world could convince me you were gay. And that was before you got me naked on the table.”
Jessica. Naked on the table. Christ.
He had to shift in his seat to relieve the sudden tightness in his pants. How was he going to keep this professional, at least long enough for her to trust him again? The only way he’d have another chance with her was to wait until she decided she wanted to give him a second shot. He’d consigned himself to a special kind of hell and a devilish torment.
“Are you going to tell me what this speech of yours is for?”
He wasn’t comfortable talking about his philanthropic work. “I’ll have my administrative assistant, Abigail, email you the details as soon as we’re finished.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a formal event.”
Nibbling her lip, she nodded slowly. “Got it.”
He thought about her blue dress, torn by glass and stained with flecks of blood. Hers and his. Did she have anything else to wear? Well, he’d make sure she did. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to argue about it, and knowing she would.
“Anything else?”
“When can you start?”
“My last final is tomorrow morning.”
“Perfect. You’re mine full-time after that.”
She considered his remark. “As long as we both remember it’s just for work.”
“Oh, of course.” At least until she dropped the pretense that she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her. He rose from his chair. “Now, if you’re finished telling me off, and I’ve groveled sufficiently…”
“You didn’t grovel,” she pointed out, rising as well. “You simply apologized.”
“I’m not good at groveling.”
“Color me shocked.”
The woman was hard on the ego. “Come on, let me show you the building and introduce you around so you can hit the ground running.”
She followed quickly, as if pleased at the prospect. Jessica had already met his administrative assistant, and they seemed to like each other. They talked for a few more minutes, the older woman advising her to bring a sweater since the building could get cold.
They hit the break room for fresh-brewed coffee, and then he showed her where she’d be working—in a small cubicle appropriate for an intern. Then he walked her around the technical spaces. The building contained a green room where he sometimes did touch-up shots, and a small cutting room, which he seldom used in favor of a larger one they rented from time to time. There was also a soundproofed studio where he held readings, plus a storage room filled with original prints of past projects.
She asked pertinent questions, showing she knew her stuff. And she was friendly and professional with his other staff members: two people in HR, one in accounting, four in media, and one in legal. If any of them had seen the news reports and wondered why he’d hired her, they were professional and loyal enough not to show it. He knew she’d had the same worry, but he could feel Jessica relaxing with every introduction.
“Do you have any questions?” he asked when they’d finished the tour.
“No, I think I’ve got it, and I’m raring to go.”
He nodded, agreeing with her. She had already shown him she had energy, ideas, and talent. If he had never laid eyes on her before today, he would still have been impressed as hell.
Knowing himself, he also suspected he’d have been asking himself if it would be totally out of line to kiss her. Kind of like he’d been doing all afternoon.
If he didn’t, he might just lose his mind.
Yes, he was putting the decision into her hands, and he wasn’t going to push her. That didn’t mean the smallest nudge would be totally wrong, did it?
They were in the building’s lobby. Because the entrance was key coded, with an intercom outside, they didn’t use security. The entire first level housed the technical and storage rooms, no offices. That meant it was completely empty. They were alone.
“So, tomorrow’s your first day as my intern,” he said, looking down at her. Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Yes, and I can’t wait to start.”
“Meaning today is not.”
She tilted her head in confusion. “I guess so.”
“Good.”
He didn’t say anything else, merely sinking his hands into her hair, wrapping the one loose strand around his fingers, and pulling down all the rest from its bun. She looked about to complain, but before she said a word, he covered her mouth with his, and her indignation quickly became a sigh of acceptance.
Those luscious lips parted for him, her tongue welcoming his as the kiss became hotter, wetter. Carnal. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he tilted her head so he could explore her deeper. With her soft, curvy body pressed against his, he couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to watch that dress fall to the floor Friday night. The images had haunted him every night since. He’d gone to sleep thinking about her long legs, curvy hips, slim waist, and full breasts…even if they had been covered with tape.
They weren’t now. He felt the erect points pressing against her blouse. God, how he wanted to unbutton it and touch her, skin to skin. He wanted to stroke her nipples, draw them into his mouth and suck them while she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him even closer.
He dropped one hand to her hip, and then cupped her perfect ass. She groaned, arching into him. His rock-hard cock nestled into the warmth at the top of her thighs, and he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting. His heart thudded when she shifted her legs apart to let him.
A car honked from outside. She stiffened, snapping out of the spell that had enveloped them both. With one last hungry exploration of her mouth, he ended the kiss and stepped away.
Jessica’s heavy breaths matched his, and he suspected her heart was pounding, too. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red and swollen.
Her eyes, of course, held fire.
“What was that, Mr. Winchester?”
“A kiss, Miss Jensen. Just a kiss.”
“Bosses aren’t supposed to kiss their employees.”
“Ahh-ahh, you agreed that you become my employee tomorrow.”
“That was very sneaky.”
“A man who won’t be sneaky to get a kiss from the woman he wants can’t want it very much.” She rolled her eyes, so he stopped yanking her chain. “Look, it was the last time. I respect you, and want others to as well. That means I won’t be kissing you again.” He lowered his voice into a hungry whisper. “At least not until you decide you’re ready.”
She pushed her loose hair back and tucked it behind her ears. He’d made a mess of it but couldn’t say he was sorry. “So that was a goodbye kiss?”
“If you want to call it that. Personally, I’d call it ‘See you later.’”
“I thought you said that was the last time, and it wouldn’t happen again.”
“I think you need your hearing checked. I said it wouldn’t happen again until you’re ready.”
Her smirk was made of sheer bravado. “Hate to tell you this, but you’ll be waiting a long time.”
He noticed the top button of her blouse was undone, and he stepped in to fasten it, and finally replied, “No, I don’t think I will.”
“You really are a cocky bastard.”
He laughed out loud, liking that someone finally had the nerve to tell him what they thought of him, especially here, in the building he owned. “Yes, I am a cocky bastard. Admit it, though. You like that about me.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I have been.” The button finished, he scraped the tip of his index finger up her throat. “All joking aside, Jessica, I really don’t think it’s going to be too long until you realize the truth.”
“And that would be?”
“Whatever happened Friday night, whatever mistakes I’ve made since the day I first saw you…” He leaned close enough to brush his cheek against her hair, inhaling to capture the tropical scent. “You want me just as much as I want you.”
* * *
Jessica arrived at work even earlier than she’d promised. Knowing she had kicked ass on her last exam that morning, she couldn’t stop smiling. Now she got to start her new job, really becoming a part of the industry she’d been so passionate about for years.
The thought of working side by side with Reece Winchester didn’t hurt her mood any, either. Even if she hadn’t entirely forgiven him for that hot kiss he’d laid on her yesterday, which had left her confused, achy, and horny as hell.
Nope, nope, nope, she reminded herself.
Bopping her head to some cheerful music playing on the radio, she pulled her dilapidated PT Cruiser into the parking lot, seeing Reece sitting in the driver’s seat of a nearby sedan. Its engine was running, and Reece was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, watching her closely as he talked into his phone. His frown said his mood wasn’t quite as upbeat as hers.
He lowered his phone. “Come on, we have to go over to Sunset Bronson,” he called.
She took his command in stride, actually pleased he was all business right from the first minute. That kiss yesterday had been amazing—mind-altering—however, it had also worried her. Yes, he’d promised to step back to within appropriate boundaries, but she hadn’t been entirely sure until now that he would do it.
She grabbed her laptop bag, hurried as quickly as was possible in heels to the other side of his car, and slid into the passenger seat. “Good morning.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
She pointed toward his dashboard clock. “It’s seven minutes before eleven.”
“I didn’t say you were late,” he said, his mind obviously elsewhere. Gesturing toward two foam cups in the center console, he added, “The one in back is yours.”
“Oh, thanks. The coffee on campus is horrible.” She took a sip and sighed. “How’d you know how I take it?”
“I made you some in the break room yesterday.”
“I’m surprised you noticed. Or remembered.”
“I have a pretty good memory.”
“So what’s up? Why are we going to the studio?”
“I hire space there. My editing team discovered a problem with something we filmed in New Mexico a couple of months ago.”
“The new Reynolds film?”
“Yes. I really don’t want to call the cast and crew back there to reshoot, so I’m going to see if we can do some creative cutting or rewriting and salvage what we’ve got.”
“Sounds great,” she said, enthused at the prospect.
“That’s not how I’d describe it.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it’s great that you have to fix a problem like that.” What a way to start her job—being happy about her boss having difficulties with his work.
“Forget it, I understand. Is this your first time in a big studio?”
“I went on some backstage visits for school, and obviously there’s a nice setup on campus. But almost all of my experience has been on student films. I’ve never been involved with detailed editing of a major motion picture.”
“Well, welcome to your crash course.”
“I can’t wait. Did you just direct or did you write the screenplay?”
“Both.”
“What’s it about?”
He gave her a quick synopsis of the film, a sexy thriller with a romantic triangle and lots of twists. It was the kind of movie he was perfect in, and she wished he were starring in it, too. But she had the feeling his acting days were over.
“Sounds awesome. I can’t wait to see it. What happened that you have to fix?”
Shaking his head ruefully, he replied, “Same old story—some local screwed up the shot. The crew didn’t even notice him hamming it up on the roof of the building next door.”
These days, everyone tried to be famous by mugging for the camera whenever one was around. “Oh dear. I guess that’s the danger of filming outside the studio.”
“Definitely. Anywhere that’s harder to control increases the chances for a screw-up. There are some infamous ones that slipped through editing and made it on screen. They’re almost legends now.”
“I remember the modern truck driving by in the background of a John Wayne Western.”
“Not to mention the magical moving duffel bag in Stripes.”
“The white van in the battle scene of Braveheart. The kid covering his ears in North by Northwest.”
He looked impressed. “You do know your movie trivia.”
“I could play this game all day. I told you, movies were my escape as a kid. I was an addict even before my mother died. When she was in hospice, I’d curl up with her on her bed and we’d watch old classics on TCM.”
Seeing the way he looked at her, with warmth and sympathy, she wished she hadn’t said anything. To prevent him from trying to come up with a suitable reply, she quickly asked, “Has anything like that ever happened with one of your other movies?”
“Twice,” he said, following her lead. “Neither error made it all the way through the editing process into the final product.”
“Are you certain?”
“With today’s critics and audiences? If there’s a mistake, you can guaran-damn-tee it’ll be pointed out on Rotten Tomatoes before it even goes wide.”
She had to nod, conceding the point. The consumer had gained a lot of power in this business, which, as a movie lover, she considered a positive change. But it did seem a shame that some films got shoved into streaming services or secondary channels because early word of mouth was negative. Not any of Reece’s, certainly, but it happened to others.
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way to fix it.”
“I hope so,” he said, his jaw tight. “Because the film certainly won’t make much sense without the main murder.”
“That is a problem in a mystery.”
“The editor has tried everything from tightening to overlaying, but there’s a key close-up where the guy looks like he’s coming right out of the killer’s ear.”
“From every camera angle?”
“Sounds like.”
“Bad luck. If you can’t find a workaround, will you have to go back on location?”
“Possibly. Unfortunately, three of the leads were in the scene. I know from experience that none of them are fond of reshoots, and I think Reynolds is actually out of the country.”
He shook his head slowly, probably thinking of the cost and scheduling nightmare of trying to grab three major stars, who’d most likely moved on to other projects. While she was thinking that, as the newbie, the whole mess might be left in her lap to work out.
She could hardly wait to get started.
“So, if you have to go back to New Mexico, I assume I’ll be going with you.”
“Yes. Like I told you yesterday, this job does include travel.”
“I don’t imagine there are any location scouting trips to Paris on the schedule, huh?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Bummer. It’s number one on mine and Liza’s bucket lists. She wants to go for the art. I want to go for the macarons, éclairs, bread, chocolate, and champagne.”
He barked a laugh.
“You think I’m kidding? I’m a total foodie. That’s why I need to hit the StairMaster. It’s also why I was out jogging the first time you saw me.”
“In spandex with that high, bouncy ponytail,” he said, sounding like he was enjoying a particularly good memory. “That was a very bad day for me. You were like a beam of light.”
She thought back, wondering about the timing. She knew roughly when she had gone into the gallery—it had been about eight weeks before Liza’s showing.
Now she remembered something else that happened about eight weeks before the showing. “Oh, my God, the fire.”
He hesitated, then admitted, “Yes. Believe it or not, me having to come back to deal with the fire was why the problem happened on the set.”
Double bad luck. He must have been walking under a little black cloud in April. She wondered what to say, but not for long. Reece was generally reluctant to talk about the past. He focused on the here and now, and on the future. Such a planner. So she said, “Anyway, about my thighs…” She quickly snapped her mouth closed, realizing how that sounded. Seeing his half grin, she knew he’d finished the sentence in his head. Probably with something like: About my thighs wrapped around your hips? About my thighs opening in welcome?
“I meant, um, about the sculpture, and my food issues. Liza not only disguised my chin, I think she thinned out my thighs, too.”
His glance at her legs wasn’t exactly surreptitious. She was wearing a pretty suit, a light blue one. The skirt length was modern yet still professional. Which meant a few inches of thigh were revealed when she was sitting.
“She didn’t change a damn thing,” he said, putting his eyes back on the road. “Nor did she need to.”
Jess closed her eyes at the audible appreciation; he’d practically growled his words. The car suddenly felt very hot, despite the air-conditioning blowing toward her face. Lord, how was she supposed to maintain the distance she’d demanded, both before and after that crazy kiss yesterday, when he made his attraction to her so obvious?
Reece had said he wouldn’t make a move on her again until she made it clear she wanted him to. As much as she’d told herself that day wasn’t going to come until Satan’s palace was buried in snow, she’d already started thinking maybe she’d be ready at the end of the summer, when her internship was over.
Who the hell are you kidding? You’ll be ready by the time the day is over.
She was doomed. So totally doomed.
“You know, we shoot a lot in Canada,” he said.
The comment yanked her out of mental lust land, and she replied, with such eloquence. “Huh?”
“We’ve shot in Montreal before. They speak French there, too, though I don’t know if the food is as good.”
Her brain finally caught up. “I guess it’ll have to do.” To her embarrassment, her stomach grumbled audibly. “Darn, now I made myself hungry. I stayed up so late studying last night I overslept and didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Don’t worry about it. You will soon be introduced to the joys of studio food. Not to mention the insane, fast-paced studio life.”
She settled deeper into her seat, able to shove all other worries out of her mind. This was the first day of her new life. She’d worked long and hard for this opportunity, and she wasn’t about to let her attraction to her new boss screw it up. He had done the right thing, backing off and putting everything in her hands, and she would be able to stay strong and resist him.
But as she cast a quick, surreptitious glance at him, at the strong hands gripping the wheel, the thick arms, the broad shoulders, and oh, all the rest of him, she had to concede one thing.
Maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was.