Had she put herself through school working for skin mags? Now that, he’d never have guessed.
“So these pictures,” he said. “They weren’t ever published?”
“Mr. Nash.” Her expression could have soured milk. “Early in my career I took what were once called boudoir photos. I don’t do that anymore. So can you help me or not?”
Little Carrie Logan was all vanilla cream on the outside, but underneath? The slow burn of white-hot coals. Who else, he wondered, knew this about her? And why was it so important that she keep it secret?
“The digital files are clearly linked to your site.” He turned to face her. “Ms. Logan. Carrie. I’m not sure how you think I can help. Once something’s on the internet, it’s out there. We can lock the barn door but that horse is already galloping over the county line.”
“You sound like my mother.” Her voice was chilly. “So why then, until now, have they been secure? I had them all on a separate, password-protected site, under a pseudonym. I’d more or less forgotten about them. What?”
She glared at him. People were so trusting, he thought.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but any computer science student could have accessed these photos.”
The thought obviously hadn’t occurred to her.
“But how… why?”
“You mean, aside from being bored teenagers?” He shrugged. “Who knows? But there’s nothing pseudonymous about it now.”
Her face fell. “I have to contain this. I don’t want these photos connected to my other work. They can’t be connected. Not in this town.”
Maybe they had something in common after all. Ethan got up and went to the window. The good girl with a secret. It put her in an entirely different light.
“Look,” he said with a sigh. “If you redo your website properly, adjust the SEO and keywords, install a decent firewall, it’ll be harder to make the connection – not impossible, you understand – but someone will have to make a dedicated effort.”
The relief on her face was almost comical.
“That’s wonderful. How quickly can you do that?”
“Oh,” he said. “I don’t do that sort of work. I could give you some recommendations for competent website designers. That’s all you need.”
He was the cyber security equivalent of a stealth detective-surgeon, able to identify tumors, remove organs, amputate limbs, replace lifeblood, all without the host even being aware that he was there.
She was asking him to remove a sliver from her pinkie.
Carrie’s face fell. Her soft eyes, the color of rainwater, met his and held and he found himself hoping that he passed whatever evaluation she was giving him.
Were those tears sparkling on her lashes?
No. Not tears. Anything but tears.
He did not deal in pleas. Certainly not from women with stormy eyes and milky skin who pretended courage when they were terrified, which is the only kind of courage that mattered.
He kicked himself for answering her inquiry in the first place, but something about the way she’d worded it had appealed to him. It made him wonder about her voice. It sounded like a human. A woman.
It had been a long time since he’d spoken with a woman.
He’d let her in, and now he was stuck. “Carrie,” he said, finally. “What’s the big deal? Boudoir photos aren’t new. Lots of women have them done.”
She blinked, and the sparkle disappeared. She pursed her lips again and adjusted her posture.
“Not here, they don’t.” She shook her head firmly. “Things like that aren’t done in Cherry Lake. Certainly not by me.”
“If you say so.”
But he knew better than most that people were rarely what they appeared on the surface. Even Cherry Lake would have its share, whether she believed it or not.
Suddenly he realized he didn’t like the idea of someone else clicking through the photographs with the blue vase. He felt a strange, unwelcome, ridiculous surge of jealousy, as if they were his. As if it was his responsibility to protect her.
“I’m vividly aware of how dumb I was in letting this happen, okay?” Her color was high, as was that pert chin. He had to admire that kind of spirit. “But I’m trying to fix it now. Are you going to take the job or not?”
“As a security consultant,” he said, “my job is to make you aware that there’s no such thing as security. If someone wants to hurt you, they’re probably going to find a way. Even in the sweet, sheltering arms of Cherry Lake.”
Carrie lifted her eyebrows slightly and gave one slow blink.
“Get invited to a lot of parties, do you?”
He felt unaccustomed warmth prickle his neck.
“I don’t create the truth. I just tell it.”
“It’s a wonder you have any work, if that’s your sell sheet.” She crossed her arms.
“I sell fantasy, lady.” He gestured to the closed laptop. “Just like you do.”
She sucked in a breath, making her breasts swell against the fabric of her blouse. “Thanks for your time, I’ll be on my way.”
She began to get to her feet but he waved her down.
“Stay. Sit. Sorry,” he added, wincing at the dog language. “I didn’t mean to go off on you like that.”
Her jaw slid sideways but she didn’t respond.
“And I didn’t mean to make it sound as if…”
She tilted her head sideways. “Like I ride a stripper pole in my spare time?”
The words dripped off her tongue like acid, in stark contrast to the woman in the photo, so languidly comfortable with her body, her nakedness. Her sensuality.
Ethan wondered what had turned the carefree Carrie of that photo into the uptight woman in front of him.
And what it would take to release that sensual goddess again.
Bells and whistles started going off in his head. Abort, abort, screamed an alarm. Do not go there.
Yet he had a bad feeling that this was an alarm too easily disarmed for his own good.
He lifted his hands in a placating motion. “I insulted you.”
“Damn right you did.”
“I apologize. Again.”
Seemed that’s all he was doing, lately.
She looked up at him. “Okay then. So?”
They stared at each other across the wide expanse of his desk, both breathing hard.
There was an undercurrent running between them that he could no more resist than he could define. He was attracted to her. Big time.
The pretty, proper, town photographer with the seductive past.
“Sure,” he said, finally, cursing himself inwardly. “Why not?”
Chapter Four
‡
Carrie was putting the finishing touches on the first set of proofs for the Kauffman family when the business line rang. Technically, it was after hours, but she answered it anyway.
“Forever Yours Photography, Carrie Logan speaking,” she said, scrolling through to the next batch of photos. The relief she felt over having Ethan Nash agree to work on her website was enormous. He’d already managed to deactivate the links, how, she had no idea and didn’t care.
He would be coming over tomorrow to start mucking around inside the inner workings of her main computer, and she was trying to get as much as possible done before he arrived.
“Yes, hello,” said the caller. “It’s Bethany Kyle. We hired you to do my wedding photos this fall.” She cleared her throat and gave the date.
Of course Carrie remembered. It was the kind of booking every photographer drooled over: a full-day event, everything from the bridal preparations to the reception. She pulled it up on her calendar, hoping the girl wasn’t as stressed as she sounded.
“I’m looking forward to it. How are the preparations going?”
“That’s the thing.” Bethany paused, then continued on in a rush. “I need to cancel. I’m so, so sorry.”
No.
Carrie sat back in her chair. High school sweethearts
, Bethany and Elliot had been engaged for what seemed like forever. They were practically mascots for the happily ever after. This would be devastating for everyone involved, but none so much as the bride. “Oh, Bethany. What happened?” Then she caught herself. “Gosh, I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s not… I’m fine. I just… I feel terrible. I hope you understand.” Her voice was thick with tears and Carrie’s heart went out to her.
“Of course. Don’t think about me at all, Bethany. And don’t worry about the deposit, I’ll refund you that. This isn’t your fault.” And there went a month’s profit, not to mention the bookings she’d turned down to remain available that day.
Bright bubbles of worry started simmering at the back of her mind again. Her summer and fall schedule was already down, compared to the same time last year. But her worries about her business paled next to the trauma of a broken engagement.
“No, absolutely not,” said the girl. “I can’t possibly do that to you, Carrie.”
They went back and forth a bit until the girl agreed to take back the deposit. Carrie knew that not all the vendors would be so agreeable. It was the least she could do. She genuinely felt bad for Bethany but also, if the wrong person landed on her links before Ethan got to them, she’d need the good karma.
“You take care of yourself, okay? You’ll get through this.”
By this time, the girl was barely able to speak for tears, and she ended the conversation.
Poor thing, thought Carrie, deleting the appointment from her calendar. She’d sounded heartbroken. How humiliating to have to go to every service provider and tell the same story over and over again. You’d think someone else might have taken over the task for her.
Then again, Gibson Kyle was known to be strict; could be they were making Bethany feel the weight of her mistake, making her accountable for her actions.
Carrie knew how that felt.
Perhaps Bethany was facing everything as a way of attaining closure.
Carrie knew about that, too.
Still, try as she might, Carrie couldn’t see either one of the lovebirds breaking it off.
She went back to her photo editing program with a heavy heart. Her own love life being non-existent, she took vicarious pleasure in the happiness of others. There was so much disappointment in the world; you had to celebrate with those who were able to find their soulmates.
An image of Ethan Nash’s deep, dark eyes flickered into her head. The smile-that-wasn’t-a-smile she saw in their depths. That luscious bottom lip.
She pushed down the quiver of pride at the way he’d looked at her photos. It had been a long, long time since any man had looked at her that way. It had been a long time since she’d wanted anyone to.
Too long?
No. He’d had a normal male reaction to her picture, and she’d seen it. That was all. It meant nothing. Even if he was attracted to what he saw, so what? Male libido was the least reliable force in the universe. Non-specific, short-lived, utterly fickle and completely, totally one hundred percent unreliable.
Too bad there was so much of it.
She clicked through the Kauffman photographs. They looked happy enough but there was still something off.
Perhaps it was nothing, but the camera often revealed things to Carrie that were invisible to the naked eye, things that were invisible even to the subjects themselves.
She was never going to figure it out with a dark, sexy face hovering at the edge of her mind.
To her relief, clattering sounded at the front door. Jessica was home. Case in point.
Carrie didn’t need a lens to see the desperation that had driven her wild-and-crazy cousin to come home to Cherry Lake with her tail between her legs.
“Hey,” she called. “I’m in here. I hope your day is going better than mine.”
She got up out of her chair, stretched out her back, and decided it was time to quit for the day. The biggest problem of being self-employed was giving yourself time off.
Jess walked in, gave a quick pat to Belinda, then threw her purse into the corner and collapsed onto the couch. “I hate my life. Have you ever been inside the men’s bathroom of a gas station? It’s a special kind of Hell. Damon didn’t have a haz-mat suit so it was just rubber gloves between me and… it.” She shuddered. “Is there anything to eat?”
“Did you bring anything home with you?”
Carrie was happy to have Jess stay with her while she got back on her feet but she wasn’t about to let her take advantage.
“Hey,” said Jess, “I’ve been working. All day long.”
The dramatic way she said it underscored the fact that this was new behavior for her. She’d come back hoping for an advance on her share of the inheritance, but Grandpa Nate wasn’t handing over anything without strings, gainful employment being the primary thread.
“Welcome to the club,” said Carrie, flopping down beside her. “My day didn’t involve urine, but that’s about the best I can say of it.”
“Why?” asked Jessica. “What’s the worst that can happen in your world?”
Jess was one of the few people who knew about Carrie’s earlier work, and didn’t find it the least bit shocking.
“You know my, uh… other pictures? The ones I used to take?”
Jess’s eyebrows rose. “The sexy ones? Yeah, why?”
“My website misfired. Security blew up. Firewalls fell down. Something like that. Good thing I only had pictures of myself on it because if you know where to look, they’re out there, for all the world to see.”
“Pfft. Big deal. You should see the stuff actors post. On purpose. Don’t worry about it. We all should look so great.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re leaving. I have to live here. More to the point, I have to work here. This sort of thing could ruin my business.”
“Not to be unsympathetic,” said Jess, “but your freak-out seems a little premature.”
“Oh yeah? I just had a cancellation.”
“Related to this?”
Carrie thought of the poor non-bride’s tears. There really were worse problems in the world. “Probably not.”
“Then take it down a notch. Who cancelled?”
Jess’s eyes were closed, her hand draped over her forehead. Very Ophelia.
“Here’s a hint. Someone’s not getting married, after all.”
“Think of me as the new kid in town, Carrie. I don’t know anyone anymore.”
“You remember Bethany Kyle though. We graduated with her.”
Jess’s eyes opened. She sat up. “No way.”
“Way. I just talked to her ten minutes ago. Poor kid is devastated.”
“Huh.” She thought for a second. “Does it make me a bad person if I’m glad there’s a new scandal for everyone to chew on? I’m mean, I’m used to it, but heavy lies the crown and all.”
Jess had left Cherry Lake for LA, but instead of an acting career, ended up the mistress to an older man. An extremely wealthy older man, who’d recently passed away, leaving Jess to the tender mercies of his children, who were of the opinion that his death had derailed her gravy train, and not a moment too soon.
Grandfather Nate was horrified by his beloved Cherry Bomb’s latest misstep.
But Cherry-Bomb Jess and John had turned the cliché on its head by falling in love.
Which now left her heartbroken, as well as destitute, and homeless. Though only Carrie understood about the heartbreak. Just getting up every morning and facing herself in the mirror, knowing the censure that awaited her outside the front door, must be an act of tremendous courage. She reached out and squeezed Jess’s arm.
“The price of fame, honey.”
“Not exactly how I was hoping to achieve it. Hey, we should go out.”
Carrie groaned. “That’s your answer to everything.”
Jess elbowed her. “When’s the last time you got good and drunk?”
Anyone
else would have had the sense to stay home, out of the public eye. But Carrie knew Jess’s bravado was a way of maintaining the walls that hid deep insecurities and emotions so fragile she seldom, if ever, allowed them out.
“How about we order pizza and watch The Bachelorette?” she suggested. “I’ve got a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge.”
“Come on Care-Bear, live a little.”
Carrie squirmed. She’d always hated the nickname Grandfather had given her, though it was a lot better than the Virgin Ice-Queen moniker that Tony Caputo had given her, after she’d kicked away his drunken floundering the night of the grad camp-out.
Cherry Bomb: juicy and bright, fireworks and bursts of flavor.
Care-Bear: a child’s toy, cute and cuddly but in the end, a placeholder for real love.
“You party animal.” Jess heaved herself off the couch. “I’m going to take a shower in bleach. When I come back, I expect you to have makeup on and something that shows a little leg. Got it?”
Carrie sighed. “Whatever you say, cuz.”
*
Ethan poked the needle through the calf’s thick hide, depressed the plunger, then slapped it on its dusty rump and sent it off, bawling, to its mother.
He had nearly two hours before he was scheduled to meet Carrie Logan at her studio, and you could get a lot done on a ranch in two hours.
The calf kicked out the leg he’d injected, but already, the limp was gone. A minor infection, the vet had told him when he’d been out last week. No reason Ethan couldn’t handle the treatment, though Dr. Morrow had smiled as he’d said it.
He stood up and pulled off his gloves, wiping his forehead against his forearm. Early morning in the wilds of Montana. He sucked a breath of cool air deep into his lungs, wondering again why he’d agreed to help Carrie. The air tasted like wilderness, like freedom, the pungent musk of cattle nothing more than a fleeting top note compared to the crisp freshness of glacier-fed streams and the lush mountain greenery.
There was no shortage of people claiming expertise on some area of technology or other. Some actually were experts; many, many more had simply learned a bit of HTML, built a few websites, or even created games.
But it was the photo with the blue vase that had hooked Ethan, and he knew it. The thought of some socially challenged horny young male having access to that image and whatever others Carrie might have tucked away made him squirm.
Her Secret Protector Page 4