Natalie looked between them in puzzlement. “You two know each other?”
“Your sister and I met some time ago while we were both on vacation.” There, that sounded nice and neutral.
Obviously not neutral enough. Natalie looked at her sister in open-mouthed astonishment. “Is this the guy who—”
Reggie cut her off with a look that would curdle milk.
Natalie pressed her lips together and slyly ran her eyes down every inch of his six-foot-three frame. “Small world.”
Gabe wanted to howl like an angry baby. Under any other circumstances, he would have been overjoyed to see her again. First, he’d let her know how angry he was that she left without a word after showing him the most fun he’d ever had naked. Then he’d give her an itemized list off all the things she could do to apologize for sneaking out while he slept.
Steeling his resolve, he knew he had no choice but to put personal desires aside. No matter how badly he wanted to get his hands on that luscious ass beautifully displayed in tight black pants, there was no way in hell he was getting involved with another client.
“Why don’t you start by walking me through what’s happened so far?”
She licked her lips, the small gesture making it almost impossible for him not to lean over and suck her soft pink tongue into his mouth.
What was it about her that was so damned alluring? She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Sure, she was attractive, in a wholesome, girl-next-door kind of way.
Except for her mouth. There was nothing wholesome about those full, succulent lips and how they’d felt sliding along his rock-hard dick.
But that wasn’t enough to explain why merely looking at her had him hard as a spike and seriously contemplating abandoning all his self-imposed rules against dating clients.
He glanced around her apartment, trying to focus on something, anything that might distract him from the memory of Reggie’s lips and tongue tracing a moist path up his inner thigh.
Thankfully, she distracted him with a rundown of the correspondence she’d received thus far, while he attempted to view her with the same emotional detachment he would have for a sixty-year-old software CEO.
If he was going to get through this job with his sanity and professional credibility in tact, he had to keep his distance.
God knew he’d learned that the hard way.
Natalie held out the photocopy Reggie had received earlier that week.
It never ceased to amaze him, the workings of the male mind. Himself, he appreciated his own balls, but he’d never once considered that a woman might be impressed with a close-up shot.
Reggie’s voice broke the silence. “Takes a lot of balls to send something like that.”
Natalie groaned at the horrible pun while Reggie laughed at her own joke. Damn, she had a great smile. It was the first thing he had noticed about her in that restaurant in Maui. It was so wide it completely took over the bottom half of her face, suffusing it in unabashed delight. And when she turned it in his direction, he felt it like a goddamn force of nature.
Suddenly her living room with its big bay windows and overstuffed furniture was way too small. He had to get away from her, even for a few seconds. “Mind if I look around a little? I need to see what’s involved for the alarm system we install.”
Thankfully, the phone rang, so she didn’t follow. He walked down the hall and did a quick tour of the office, making a mental note to ask Reggie to show him the suspicious e-mail.
The apartment suited her, or what little he knew of her, anyway. Decorated in warm tones with splashes of bright color, it was warm, comfortable, and inviting. Just like the woman he’d met in that bar in Maui.
Business, Gabe. You’re supposed to be looking for points of vulnerability.
He noted that the office windows were large enough to allow a man to crawl through.
The bathroom was typical of an old San Francisco Victorian, with the shower, bath, and sink separate from a closet-size room that housed the toilet. The bathroom windows were small and high enough off the ground to pose a significant challenge to an intruder, but he’d make sure they were wired nonetheless.
He made a right and entered what could only be her bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was comfortable, cozy, decorated in deep reds, midnight blues, and rich browns. Not a hint of pastel or a square of lace in sight.
It was the kind of room only a woman could put together—no guy had that many throw pillows—but it wasn’t so feminine as to send him running for the closest sports bar. The king-size sleigh bed with its dark red down comforter and oversize pillows elicited all kinds of images of him and Reggie, naked in a sweaty tangle making damn good use of every inch of mattress space.
Shaking his head before he got too carried away, he moved to the window. He ran his fingers along the sides and tested the all but useless latch. She was on the second story, but anyone could sneak a ladder around through the alley and climb right up here. That was, if this stalker of hers was as determined as her sister seemed to think.
This was exactly the type of job he hated. Grunt work. Half the time these celebrities so overestimated their own importance to their fans that they overreacted to what amounted to nothing more than inappropriate fan mail. Disconcerting as it was to receive, more often than not there was no threat behind it.
His gut told him Reggie wasn’t a woman with an over-inflated ego, but his gut had been so wrong recently, he’d all but stopped giving it credit.
Just because he knew exactly what the silky skin of Reggie’s inner thighs tasted like, just because the look on her face as she came had saturated his dreams for the past year and a half, didn’t mean he knew a damn thing about her character.
He went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, wishing he had an ice pack to shove down the front of his pants.
Once again, he cursed the ridiculous coincidence that had landed him here in San Francisco, less than twenty feet from the woman who’d made him come so hard he’d nearly had a stroke.
What he really wanted—needed, actually—was a full-scale corporate security consulting job, or even work that involved protecting high-level executives. That was where the real money was, and it would only take a few referrals to bring him a steady stream of business.
Unfortunately, since a romantic entanglement with his last high-profile celebrity client had nearly annihilated his career as a security specialist, business had barely built to a trickle. As his assistant-cum-adopted mother Marjorie reminded him almost hourly, he was in no position to turn down any work, even if it meant walking little old ladies across the street for a dollar each.
He stared at himself in the mirror, finger-combing his hair and straightening his tie. So what if his new client was the sweetly sexy woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for over a year? He had bills to pay and a professional reputation to rebuild. No matter how badly he wanted to get back into Reggie Caldwell’s pants, he had no choice but to get this job done as quickly, thoroughly, and
professionally
as possible.
R
eggie perched on the couch and pretended to read a magazine as she waited for Gabe to finish his inspection. Her leg jiggled nervously as she anxiously watched for him down the hall.
“You never told me you gave him a fake name. That’s so dirty and un-Reggie-like,” Natalie whispered, settled on the couch next to her and wearing an expression that screamed, “Dish, girlfriend!”
“Can we talk about this later?” As Natalie knew very well, her one-night stand had been rather dirty and un-Reggie-like.
But Craig’s dumping her a week before their trip to a beautiful Hawaiian resort had left her bruised. And when an astoundingly gorgeous hunk of male flesh had approached her, of all people, she hadn’t been able to quell the urge to be someone else. Someone seductive. Someone who had wild one-night stands with big, dark, dangerous-looking men and left them in the morning without saying good-bye.
Even though the last thing she’d wanted to do was leave. But that was what you did with a one-night stand, right? At least that was what she’d thought at the time.
But that hadn’t kept her from second-guessing herself a million and one times in the past several months. What if she’d left her phone number? Her e-mail? Her real name, for starters?
Eighteen months ago, she’d told herself anonymity was the best course of action. Besides, it wasn’t like Gabe had indicated any desire to take it beyond one night of lust-filled fun. And with
Simply Delicious
about to start production, it wasn’t like she’d had time to start a long-distance romance.
She’d accepted their encounter for what it was, a meaningless vacation fling with a gorgeous, dangerous-looking stranger.
Who would ever believe he’d show up a year and a half later in her living room?
Her face was so hot with embarrassment she could fry an egg on her forehead.
This was just her luck. The one time she’d done something crazy and out of character, it came back to haunt her in the form of a six-foot-three, impossibly hot bodyguard who, judging from his standoffishness, clearly had no interest in renewing their acquaintance.
Natalie didn’t give up. “But he’s the one, right? The guy you told me about?”
“Yes,” Reggie hissed, kicking herself for giving Natalie even the sketchiest of details about her vacation fling. Trust Natalie, who could be flakier than phyllo dough about most details, to have a mind like a steel trap when it came to anything concerning a hot guy. She heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. “Now, will you shut up?”
Natalie shot off the couch and offered her seat to Gabe, who refused in favor of the leather club chair positioned a good five feet away.
Talk about an ego boost.
Natalie moved behind his chair and raked his wide shoulders with an exaggerated leer. “He’s so hot,” she mouthed.
No kidding. Tall, at least a few inches over six feet, and brawny, he exuded the same barely restrained physical power she’d noticed the first time she saw him, across the restaurant at the Grand Wailea.
And his face, which had haunted her for over a year. Not pretty at all, and not boyishly good-looking like Craig either. His face was strong, with a square jaw, high, slashing cheekbones, and dark, deep-set eyes.
The only concessions to softness were his hair, which she remembered sliding like silk against her skin, and his mouth. His lower lip was lush, fuller than the top, which curved into an almost cupid’s bow shape. His chin negated its potential femininity, jutting out in a sharp, squared-off edge.
Just remembering the firm, tender touch of those lips on her made her so hot she feared smoke might billow out of her waistband.
She resisted the urge to fan herself and stretched her lips into a friendly smile. “So what can we do about my admirer?”
Gabe ran a big, long-fingered hand through his hair. Dark brown and slightly wavy, it was cut much shorter than she remembered. Instead of waving back from his forehead, it lay close to his skull, betraying none of its tendency to curl. He fixed her with his dark, intense gaze, and she had a vivid flashback of him, buried deep inside her, eyes simmering with lust as he commanded her in his dark, smoky voice to look at him while she came.
To her absolute mortification, a tiny, strangled moan lodged somewhere in the back of her throat. She tried to cover it up with a coughing fit, but judging by her sister’s smirk, she had fooled no one.
A flash of heat appeared—just for a millisecond—in his sable eyes. But it was enough to spark an encouraging flutter between her thighs.
But it was gone almost as it appeared, and he was once again one hundred percent business.
“Can you think of anyone who might be upset with you, out to get you in some way?” He pulled out a little notepad and silver plate ballpoint pen.
“Not off the top of my head. I’ve received some strange things from fans—letters, e-mails, gifts. Marriage proposals, less honorable requests, but nothing like this. And until the picture and the e-mail, everything was always forwarded through Max’s office or from Tyler.”
“Max and Tyler?”
“Max is my producer, and Tyler is my PR manager.”
“So they would have access to your personal information.”
“It couldn’t possibly be either of them. First of all, I’m pretty sure Max is gay.”
Gabe quirked a thick dark eyebrow. “Pretty sure?”
“He lives in Noe Valley, spitting distance from the Castro. He’s forty, never been married, and he’s the only reason my on-screen wardrobe is even moderately hip. And Tyler—”
“Tyler gets more ass than a toilet seat,” Natalie snapped. “I can’t imagine the man risking his precious equipment in a copier machine, since it might leave him incapable of satisfying the female population of San Francisco.”
Gabe made another note, quirking his full, firm mouth in that adorable half smile of his. Reggie barely suppressed an adolescent sigh. “I’ll want to talk to them, anyway. Maybe they can point to someone. Whoever is contacting you, he or she has access to your personal information.”
“What about Craig?” Natalie asked. “He still hasn’t forgiven you for stealing his show.” Natalie made little air quotes around the stealing part.
Gabe looked at Reggie expectantly. “Craig?”
“My ex.”
“You stole his show?”
“It’s stupid, really. I was helping him with a cooking demo, and I guess I sort of took over.”
“Reggie can talk a lot while she’s doing something else,” Natalie interjected.
Gabe smiled as though at a joke only he knew. Her cheeks burned as she wondered which of the many things she’d said during sex he might be remembering.
“I didn’t know, but Craig had invited Max to the demo. Max has developed other shows for the Cuisine Network, and Craig was hoping to work with him. I did my usual thing, kept up the chatter and asked Craig questions so he could show off. After the demo, Max called me and we came up with the idea for
Simply Delicious
.”
“So it’s possible he wants to get revenge, shake you up a little.”
Reggie shook her head. “We broke up over a year ago. Why would he wait until now?”
“Because you’re a much bigger star now,” Natalie said, scowling, “at least in your little Cuisine Network world. And you have a new show. He has to be pissed about that.”
“But he didn’t know about that until last night. Besides, Craig is too egotistical to stay anonymous.”
Gabe asked for Craig’s last name and said he would check him but conceded, “With all the Internet search tools available, it’s ridiculously easy for someone to procure private information. Is your real name the same as your professional name?”
Reggie nodded.
“That makes it much easier for people to look you up.” He looked at her pointedly. “What is your full name, anyway?”
“Regina Jane Caldwell,” she said quietly.
“Ah, Regina. That explains it.”
Natalie perked up instantly. “The Gina thing, you mean? I don’t know why she—”
Natalie mercifully was interrupted by the strange techno ring of her cell phone. Within minutes she was rushing out the door, muttering about a callback.
“Don’t forget to send my travel schedule to Tyler!”
Natalie answered with a vague wave as she rushed out the door.
An awkward silence fell. Uncharacteristically tongue-tied, Reggie looked at Gabe with what she hoped was a semicomposed expression. She took several deep, calming breaths in an attempt to keep her hormones from spiking out of control. Bad idea, she thought, as she caught the citrus and sandalwood scent of his cologne.
She wondered what he would do if she loosened his tie and ran her tongue along the tan skin of his throat.
“Wow, so this is a strange coincidence, huh?” Reggie cursed her fair complexion as she blushed for what had to be the fiftieth time since Gabe had arrived. Great, she made it sound like they’d met each other at a cocktail party instead of spending several hours twisted naked around each other. “I have to admit I always wondered about you after I left.”
She didn’t realize how badly she wanted him to say that he, too, had thought about her since their one night until she was met with deafening silence. He tugged at his tie and cleared his throat.
Reggie winced at the carefully blank expression in his eyes.
“I was hoping to avoid any awkwardness, but at least we have this out in the open.” His voice held all the emotion of Data from
Star Trek
. “We have a strict company policy about getting personally involved with clients. I’ve found that doing so inhibits my ability to do my job well and puts them at risk. So I’m hoping we can put our past encounter aside and keep our relationship on a strictly professional level.”
Well, that settled that. “Of course,” she said tightly. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”
A brief nod was his only reply. Did the guy have no social skills? The least he could do was reassure her that there were no hard feelings, especially when she was about to spontaneously combust with embarrassment.
Gabe flipped his notebook closed. “Okay, so I’ll check these guys out over the weekend—quietly, of course. I try to interfere as little as possible in my clients’ day-to-day lives. I’ll also schedule for the security system to be installed sometime this weekend.”
He stood to leave. “I’ll also want to get a sense of your schedule next week, see if there is someone you see every day that might be behind this.” He pulled out a card and wrote something on the back. “This is a cell number for emergencies only. I can’t stress that enough. I only give it to clients in special cases, and if it rings, I assume you’re in immediate danger. If you need to reach me, please use my main cell number.”
Though he did his best to maintain an unemotional, robot-like exterior, it was obvious he wanted to get the hell out of there.
Reggie closed the door after him and slumped down against it. How was she supposed to deal with having him around for the next God knew how many days?
She looked at the clock. Five-fifteen. Her book deadline rode like a monkey on her back, but after the afternoon’s events, she needed a little sustenance.
Reggie rifled through her pantry and refrigerator, nearly crying in relief when she found all the makings for homemade mac n’ cheese.
She cranked up the stereo, hoping the blare of classic rock would help blot out the sound of Gabe’s voice, so cold and emotionless as he told her it was company policy not to get involved with clients. While it made sense, it still stung.
Obviously he viewed their time together as a one-night stand, never to be repeated, no matter that fate had seen fit to throw them together. She stirred her roux with more vigor than necessary, sloshing milk all over the place. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t felt the very same way, so why was she so upset?
Because, she admitted as she moved her wooden spoon through the slowly thickening sauce, when the guy who had provided endless fantasy material for the past year had unexpectedly shown up in her living room, she couldn’t help but indulge in the hope that maybe she’d end up naked with him again soon.
Yet it was hard to reconcile the quietly intense, infinitely passionate lover with the cold, aloof man who’d just left.
She shook her head as she drained the macaroni. Just goes to show, just because you know all the spots on a man’s body that elicit an immediate erection, doesn’t mean you actually know him as a person.
Funny, she’d never felt an iota of shame about her one and only one-night stand in Hawaii. But now the thought that she’d let such an unemotional jerk do all those…things to her gave her a slightly sick feeling.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said to her empty kitchen. “I don’t need to be friends with the guy just because I slept with him. He’ll be gone in a few days, and then I’ll never have to see him again.”
Reggie laughed mirthlessly at all the times over the past year she’d wondered if things would have been different if she hadn’t snuck out without a word. Let herself fantasize that if she’d only left her phone number, her e-mail, Gabe would have tracked her down.
Obviously he hadn’t felt the same connection, hadn’t wondered if maybe their casual romp could have turned into something real. If nothing else, today had ensured that she’d no longer entertain naive illusions about the one she left behind.
The high trill and bumping backbeat of Natalie’s cell phone pierced the quiet of the hallway where thirty other actresses pored over their scripts, trying to come up with the perfect inflection that would make a viewer run out and buy a comfort fit bra.
The casting director’s assistant, or Attila, as Natalie had mentally dubbed her, shot her a dirty look. Geez, she knew her ring was obnoxious, but so were all of the others included in her new Nokia.
One of the other actresses shot her a sideways glance and nodded at something on the wall above Natalie’s head:
PLEASE TURN CELL PHONES OFF
.
Crap.
Natalie glanced down at the display. Reggie. Double crap. She knew exactly why Reggie was calling. Natalie still hadn’t gotten her travel schedule over to Tyler. Everything was good to go, but she hadn’t had a chance to type it up yet. She planned to go over to Reggie’s right after her audition to borrow her computer and e-mail Tightass Tyler the info he needed.