by Lori Wilde
“I can’t let go, Callie. Not again. I already let go with you once and damned if it isn’t proving my undoing.”
“What do you mean?” She lifted her chin, readying herself for conflict.
He realized she’d done it again. She found a way to hide her doubts about her motives. Her subconscious probably figured if she couldn’t seduce him, then she would provoke him. She would use any defense mechanism in her arsenal to keep from examining her own fears.
“What I meant,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes. “Is that you’re too much woman for a simple guy like me.”
NERVOUSNESS BIT INTO HIM sharp as a New York winter wind. Luke hovered in the wings offstage watching Molly Anne fiddle with Callie’s corsage as she prepared her to walk up to the podium and accept the Jazzy.
Luke spoke softly into the tiny microphone in his two-way headphone radio and asked Zack, “How’s the crowd looking from your angle?”
The room was packed with over a hundred people, savoring the crêpes Suzette that capped off a meal of prime rib as the program started.
Waiters zigzagged between the round tables, carting giant platters of empty dishes back to the kitchen. Others were winding from guest to guest offering coffee to go with dessert.
Last night when Callie had refused to cancel her appearance at the awards banquet in spite of the stalker’s continued threats, he had called for reinforcements. Not only had he flown Zack in, but Luke had also updated the LAPD on what had transpired since they’d filed the near hit-and-run report.
Right now three uniformed police officers manned the exits. If the stalker was in the ballroom and he dared make a move on Callie, he wasn’t getting out those doors without being apprehended.
Zack was positioned in the audience along with several members of the Beverly Hills Grand Hotel’s security staff, at the ready for the first sign of trouble.
“So far so good, bro,” Zack said. “Let’s hope her stalker is full of idle threats.”
“Stay alert,” Luke radioed back.
“Always. Over and out, dude.”
Luke took another quick look backstage, making sure no one was hiding in the shadows. Quickly, he returned his attention to the ceremony.
From where he stood, if he craned his neck, he could see Brooke Burnett and her camera crew filming the proceedings. Molly Anne Armstrong was some kind of dynamo when it came to promoting Callie’s career. Her devotion to her friend was truly remarkable.
They called Callie’s name.
She climbed three steps up to the dais, the overhead spotlight following her progress. She sauntered her hips in that provocative Southern way of hers on heels too high. But she never once teetered.
She was that damned self-assured.
God, but she looked breathtaking in the little black dress that lovingly hugged her curves. It occurred to Luke that this was the first time he had ever seen her wearing something classic and tailored. With the focus off her outlandish clothes and funny-colored hair, she looked absolutely stunning.
Who would have thought that antagonistic little shock jock in combat boots and purple hair could clean up so nice? But inside this polished, professional exterior—that was probably all Molly Anne’s doing in the first place—Luke knew, lurked the soul of a true rebel. Not many like her in the world and that was the person he really loved. The real Callie.
Not the Midnight Ryder. Not the polished persona she was presenting now, but the inner woman he’d come to know intimately over the past nineteen days.
Sweet yet saucy. Brave and yet vulnerable. Tender and tough and spontaneous and sexy as any woman walking the planet.
Callie Ryder was one of a kind. His gut clenched, along with his heart.
She was the most amazing person he had ever known. She didn’t give two figs for what people thought of her. And even though she was small of stature, in personality she was larger than life. Much larger than he and his constricted views. She had expanded his world. Expanded his mind. Expanded his heart.
And he was going to miss her with every bone in his body.
Focus on the job, Cardasian. You’re here for a reason. Her life is in your hands. You can’t afford to get sidetracked. You screw up. She could die.
The presenter bestowed her with the golden statue and then stepped aside for Callie to give her acceptance speech.
Callie adjusted the microphone to her height. She made a couple of mildly off-color jokes that had the crowd rolling with laughter. She thanked her mother, her family at KSXX, her dear friend and business manager, Molly Anne Armstrong.
And then, just when he thought she was finished, Callie cleared her throat. “There’s someone else I must thank. I haven’t known him very long, but he has affected my life in so many ways I don’t know where to start.”
Was she talking about him? What was she going to say? Was this her goodbye speech to him?
He didn’t want to hear it. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of all these people.
Hell, he didn’t want to say goodbye at all. He had violated his most basic values and he’d gotten hurt. He had known better, but he had succumbed to temptation. He’d allowed himself to be seduced by the idea of nostrings-attached sex and now he was all tied up in knots. There was nothing to do but live with the painful consequences.
“He’s taught me so much,” Callie said. “About honor and integrity and sticking by your word. And because of him I have a very special announcement to make. But let me tell you a little bit about Luke. First, he’s my bodyguard.”
A titter of surprise ran through the crowd. Luke tensed.
“What’s going on?” Zack’s voice crackled over the radio. “Is she about to out the stalker?”
Knowing his stubborn, brave Callie the way he did, Luke realized that must be what she was planning. Whether the daring tactic was right or wrong, he had to give her credit at the same time he wanted to shake some sense into her. The woman had more chutzpah in her little finger than most men did in their entire bodies.
“I’ve been receiving death threats because of my outspoken views on sex. In fact, the cowardly stalker called me last night. He told me not to accept this award. He told me to turn down my new time slot on KSXX, quit my job or he would kill me.”
The crowd gasped and turned in their chairs to glance nervously around the room.
“Well,” Callie said and blew a raspberry into the mike. “That’s what I think of men who try to terrorize women into behaving the way they want them to behave.”
“Oh shit!” Zack’s voice exploded in Luke’s ear.
“What is it, what is it?” Luke cried.
He was on the move, shoving aside the stage curtain, scanning the audience for what Zack was seeing.
“Waiter with a gun!”
The crowd must have spotted the gun-toting waiter at the same moment Zack did. Collectively, people jumped to their feet, knocking over tables, banging into each other, running for the exits.
Women shrieked. Men shouted. Glass shattered.
Brooke Burnett’s camera crew was filming madly as the drama unfolded while Brooke took cover behind a burly security guard.
Luke’s eyes finally found the waiter amidst the melee.
There. At the apron of the stage, waving a .45 caliber handgun. He was a balding middle-aged man with long hair, red-faced and yelling, calling Callie every vicious, ugly name in the book.
Callie calmly held her ground, staring the guy down as if she didn’t have a lick of sense in her head.
“Dive down behind the podium, Callie,” Luke yelled but she either didn’t hear him in the chaos or chose to disobey him. Again.
From the back of the room, Luke saw his brother come charging over tables and around guests to get to the waiter in time to prevent certain catastrophe.
But Zack was too far away.
If the waiter got a head shot off, Callie would be killed instantly.
Without a single thought for his own life, Luke hurtled h
imself from the stage. And leaped onto the waiter.
Just as the gun went off.
15
“LUKE!” CALLIE SCREAMED.
She had to get to him. She flung down the golden statue she’d just won. It hit the stage with a crack and split into two pieces. Callie barely noticed, didn’t even care. Only one thought dominated her mind.
Luke.
She vaulted over the Jazzy presenter who was trembling in a ball underneath the podium steps. She came down hard and the heel of one shoe broke off.
Luke.
She stumbled, hesitated long enough to rip off her shoes, then kept going. She was too short to see him above the mob.
Was he hurt? Was he dead?
No. God, please no. Let him be okay. He had to be okay. She had so much to tell him. Things she should have told him last night. But she’d wanted to wait and do it at the banquet. On camera. In front of witnesses so there would be no chance of letting fear change her mind.
“Let me through,” she insisted, pushing people aside as she struggled to get to him.
In the distance she heard the scream of sirens. More police backups? Or was it an ambulance siren? She spied Zack in the crowd, a look of shocked disbelief on his face. Cops, guns drawn, had surrounded Callie’s assailant.
But Luke? Where was Luke? She couldn’t see him.
Finally, finally, she found a hole through the crowd and came nose to button with a burly policeman. “My bodyguard,” she cried. “Where’s my bodyguard?”
“We need for you to stay back, ma’am.” The policeman put up a palm.
“But my bodyguard,” She was jacking herself up on her tiptoes, trying uselessly to see around the six-foot cop. “He put his life on the line for me.” She gestured to where Luke had to be lying on the ground just a few feet behind all those policemen.
“That’s what bodyguards do, ma’am, it’s their job.”
You don’t understand, Callie wanted to sob. My bodyguard is different. He’s so much more than my protector. He’s also my lover and my best friend.
She was in love.
The realization hit her like a blast of hot air from a stoked furnace.
She loved him.
And not just because he’d saved her life. A piece of her had started falling in love with him the night he walked into the radio station, so big and commanding and in control.
Her Sir Galahad.
He was everything she’d ever wanted. Everything she had ever needed. She had just been too afraid to face it.
“Just tell me if he’s all right. Just tell me if he’s hurt.” Callie gulped and wrung her hands. “Tell me if he’s alive.”
“No one got killed, ma’am.”
At that moment, one of the officers pulled a man to his feet. Her assailant. In spite of the cuts and bruises on his face, Callie immediately recognized the handcuffed man. How could she not recognize him? Night after night she’d stared at his poster on the walls at KSXX.
“Bitch,” Buck Bryson snarled when he spotted her. “You stole my time slot. You took my job! I warned you to quit. I told you to stop your tour, but no, you wouldn’t back off. Pushing, always pushing people to their limits. You drove me to this. It’s all your fault.”
Callie stared, openmouthed as the police led him away. Chills ran up her arms.
She heard Brooke Burnett’s excited voice in the background as her camera crew apparently caught Bryson’s rant but Callie didn’t care.
She was sorry about Bryson. Remorseful she’d been the catalyst that had caused him to snap, but she had no time for regrets. She had to find Luke.
The place was in utter disarray. Personal belongings strewn across the ballroom, the police methodically gathering evidence, herding people aside so they could record their statements, while hotel personnel tried to smooth ruffled feathers.
Callie felt a hand at her elbow and her heart leaped. She turned. It wasn’t Luke at her side, but Molly Anne.
“Are you all right?” she asked, clutching her chest. “When Buck Bryson started waving that gun at you I thought I was going to die on the spot.”
“Oh, Molly Anne.” Callie embraced her. Until she saw her friend’s concerned face, she hadn’t realized how shaken up she was.
“I can’t believe Buck is the one who has been stalking you,” Molly Anne said. “He must have been incredibly jealous to have done such a thing.”
“Where’s Luke?” Callie asked her. “Have you seen Luke?”
Molly Anne frowned. “Not since he jumped Buck.”
“He has to be here. Where is he?”
“Shh.” Molly Anne patted her back. “You’re getting yourself all worked up.”
Molly Anne was right. She was getting worked up. But she had to see Luke. She had so much to tell him.
Where was he? He was tall. He should stand out. She should be able to see him.
She scanned the crowd but she must have moved her head too quickly because the room spun and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Swallowing hard, she fought off the nausea.
“You don’t look so good,” Molly Anne said. “Let’s go up to your hotel room. You can lie down, while I come back and look for Luke.”
“No.” She didn’t want to leave the ballroom. “The police will want to talk to me and I can’t leave without seeing Luke. I…”
Another wave of dizziness hit and this time Callie knew there was no fighting it. She was going to throw up.
LUKE SAT IN the manager’s office of the Beverly Hills Grand Hotel, surrounded by the head of security, two uniformed police officers and the new guy who’d just arrived. The officer in charge.
After Luke had flattened Buck Bryson in the ballroom, the two cops had pulled him off the guy and whisked him into this office.
Luke didn’t even remember. But his knuckles were skinned and bruised, so he must have given the guy a beating. Nobody threatened his Callie and got away with it.
They’d kept him waiting an hour before they had even taken his statement and he was getting antsy. Something weird was going on and he wanted to know what it was. He was anxious to get out of here and find Callie.
“Have you talked to Ms. Ryder?” he asked for the thirteenth time since they’d hauled him in here and told him to wait. “Is she all right?”
“She’s resting comfortably in her room. One of my men is upstairs taking her statement now,” the officer in charge reassured him. His name badge identified him as Lieutenant James Smothers.
But Luke wasn’t reassured. He had to see her for himself.
“Bryson wants to press charges against you, for assault with a deadly weapon,” Smothers said.
“On what grounds? I was just doing my job.”
“You beat him up pretty badly. You’re a big man. Young. Strong.”
“He was attempting to take my client’s life,” Luke said.
“Not with this he wasn’t.” From his jacket pocket, Smothers took what looked to be the .45 Bryson had been waving at Callie and tossed it on the table in front of him.
Luke picked up the gun, studied it a moment, then looked up at Smothers in confusion. “It’s a toy?”
“Movie prop gun actually.”
“But there was gunfire. Everyone heard it.”
“Blanks.”
Luke blew out his breath and dropped his forehead into his open palm. “But why?”
“Bryson is saying he just wanted to scare Ms. Ryder into resigning from KSXX. He was desperate to get his job back.”
Luke lifted his head, met Smothers’ gaze. “But he tried to run Callie over with his car in Los Angeles.”
“According to Bryson, that wasn’t him.”
“And you believe him?”
“He admits he was watching Ms. Ryder, following her. He saw a drunk swerve and almost hit her, saw you push her out of the way in the nick of time. He used the opportunity to his advantage. Bryson called her and claimed he was driving the car and warned her off. He admits all that.”
Smothers shrugged. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Bryson wants to talk to you.”
“He’ll have to wait,” Luke said, pushing up from the table. “I have to see Callie first.”
CALLIE LAY ON THE BED in her hotel room. Her head had finally stopped spinning and her stomach had quieted, but she was still afraid to sit up and test her equilibrium. She wasn’t in any rush to start upchucking again.
She gazed at the ceiling, thinking about what had just happened, thinking about Luke, wondering what was taking Molly Anne so long to locate him.
She had so much to tell him. Especially since she hadn’t gotten to make the announcement she’d intended to make, thanks to Buck Bryson’s interruption.
She’d been planning to announce her resignation from KSXX. Because she had come to realize she did not want to be the Midnight Ryder anymore. She had done everything she had set out to do. She’d risen to the top of the radio business. She’d achieved a top industry award. She’d helped a lot of young women find their self-esteem.
But now it was time to help herself. Figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
And her decision had nothing to do with Buck Bryson and his threats and everything to do with the fact her period was five days late.
And she’d never been late.
Well, except for that one time. When she was sixteen and certain she was pregnant with Chip’s baby.
Callie could still remember the smell of the clinic, all antiseptic and serious business. When she closed her eyes she could see the nurses with their sad but understanding eyes. She could taste her own fear, hot on the back of her tongue.
Molly Anne had gone with her to the clinic because Chip had flaked out, broken up with her. Just like a man, her mother would have said if she had known about it.
Callie could have told her mother about the pregnancy, but even a girl with a forward-thinking mom, still wanted to keep some things private. So it had been Molly Anne holding her hand and sitting with her on that hard vinyl bench.