by Mary Blayney
“So, tell me Steve, do you think this guy trying to steal the thunder from my show today? It’s been hyped for a week.”
“Hey, bro, I doubt anything would distract the audience from your cheerleaders. Was Chloe there?”
“No, she declined. Something about conflict of interest now she’s working for ESPN. But she was the one who gave me the idea when I had dinner with her a while back.”
“How’s Nelson doing?” Steve asked even though he was sure of the answer.
“He’s good, Steve. Not as good as you, but good.”
“Yeah we just have to let the army leach out of him for a few more months…though for him it could take years.”
“Everything is solid here, Steve. Take the rest of the day off. Go home and get some rest.”
“Right.” He could at least pretend he’d relax.
“Let me talk to Kendall one more time, will you?”
After he handed the phone over to her, he could hear the hum of Mike’s voice but not his words. Kendall nodded and agreed with whatever he was saying.
#
“I don’t need your help, any more, Ms. Marshall. Take the ring off and go back to being a production assistant. Good bye.”
“An audience coach, and your brother told me to stay here and make sure you rested or at least didn’t work yourself into a comatose state.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That would be more believable if you’d remembered to put your shoes on at the ER. I know you must want to check in with Nelson, and I am not going to argue with you about that, but I am going to fix you something to eat.”
She looked around his place. “Jeez, I cannot believe you live in a hotel.”
“A residential hotel.”
“Sure. It’s about as personal as a cell at Rikers.” Though she had to admit it was significantly more comfortable. Battery Park City had never been a favorite of hers. Maybe it was too close to the ghosts of 9/11 for her. “At least the place has a kitchen.” Plus it had a balcony. But it was a sad waste of a view because there where no chairs out there. A bicycle shared the space with a planter holding a dead Christmas tree still decorated with lights. “You need to eat.”
“I don’t have any food here.”
Like that would stop her. “Of course you don’t.” She opened the fridge and then leaned around the door. “Beer, wine, energy drinks, and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. I know what that’s for.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t help but smile back as if they were sharing an inside joke. “Plus a jar of mustard, some jalapeno peppers, and butter. Even a Top Chef cook couldn’t make anything worth eating out of that.” She grabbed one of the energy drinks, took off the top and handed it to him. “Where’s your collection of take–out menus? I know you have one.”
“Top drawer on the right.”
An hour later a courier delivered deli sandwiches for their lunch and a covered portion of mac and cheese with ham and peas for his dinner. While she took care of the domestic details, he kept busy on the phone and on his computer in the living room.
At the moment he was skypeing with his brother.
“See I’m all in one piece, with nothing more to show for it than a new battle scar.”
How many others did he have? Kendall wondered. She leaned over so that Mike could see her face over Steve’s shoulder. “He’s eaten, but he’s overdue for pain meds and some rest.” She had almost used the word ‘nap,’ but she’d edited the wimpy word out of the script at the last second. Men like Steve O’Hara didn’t nap.
“Hi, Kendall. Give us another minute, and then I want you to shut down his computer and force the meds down his throat.”
“Direction noted!” She stepped away from the computer, but still stayed within hearing distance.
“Nelson reports that it’s the same paper trail as last time. Namely, no trail at all. At least we know that the stalker is a male and under forty, but that only reduces our pool of potentials to thirty percent of New York’s millions. And who knows, he could be from Jersey.”
“I talked with the staff, and we can’t leave New York now. We have a line up of pre–season football shows that are tailored to the various teams’ games here on the east coast.”
“Can you go without an audience?”
“No.” Mike’s tone brooked no debate.
“Then we’ll have to start using metal detectors, which will mean the audience will have to start arriving at least an hour earlier than usual.”
#
Steve and his brother went on discussing security details, but Kendall was distracted by the impact the metal detectors would have on her new job as audience coach.
“Kendall!” Mike’s commanding voice drew her back into the moment.
“Yes, boss!” She leaned into the picture again.
“Unplug the cord and hide it. He’s starting to repeat himself.”
Steve leaned back and shook his head. When he closed his eyes, Kendall knew it was as close as he would come to admitting that he needed some downtime.
It took three solid minutes of debate to get him to lie on the bed rather than the sofa. He finally agreed, but he insisted on staying on top of the coverlet, fully dressed.
Kendall forced the meds on him and took a flowered throw from the back of a chair. As she tossed it over him, she decided that the flowered throw and the dead Christmas tree meant that some woman had been a part of his life within the past year. Not that she cared one way or another, of course. She was just working on her observational skills.
Steve moaned a little and moved more toward the center of the bed, as though trying to find a comfortable spot. Kendall sat on the edge of the mattress and pressed a hand to his forehead. He felt a little warm, but she decided to wait until later to fight the war of the thermometer.
Kendall could no longer ignore her own exhaustion. And she desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes. Who could she call to stay with him while she went home? Her brain drew a blank, so she just sat there and stared at him, stupefied with fatigue. She thought maybe she could sleep sitting up.
Steve opened his eyes. “I think I deserve a good night kiss.” Kendall couldn’t think of a reason to say no, so she leaned closer to give him a kiss on his cheek.
He turned his head at the last instant. She’d seen it coming, but she didn’t pull away. Adrenaline, or its cousin need, sent a jolt of awareness through her body. She slipped, moving from a sitting position until she was lying next to him. Even though no more than their lips touched, their kiss was more of a prelude to a good night than it was a good night kiss.
He broke away with regret that appeared to be as great as hers and said, “I’d sleep much better if you would curl up next to me.”
They were lying face–to–face. She said nothing for a long moment, waiting for the lust to fade enough for her to make a sensible decision. She decided that his injured arm was all the chaperone she needed. “Okay,” she said. She fell asleep in mere seconds, but not before she saw him smile.
#
They woke up at the same moment, still facing each other. She cupped his cheek with her hand and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“Like dog meat.”
He wished with all the power in his pathetically injured body that he felt better. His libido wanted nothing more than to make love to this combination of Nurse Jackie and that character from Dollhouse who would so easily assume different personas.
He wanted to get to know the real Kendall Marshall, the one he’d seen with her sister at dinner the other night, but he’d be willing to have sex with any character she felt like playing. “And the banging on the door is making my head want to explode.”
He could tell that she was about to ask what he was talking about when it started up again.
“It’s Nelson. I’d recognize his thump anywhere.” He kissed her nose before trying to wrest himself out of bed. She pulled him back by his shoulder, sending a jolt of pain down his inju
red arm, which he was not sure was accidental.
“I’ll go. You stay here.” She hopped out of the bed, straightened her clothes, and ran a hand through her hair, which he just this moment noticed no longer had blue streaks in it. It was still spiky, but the color was the same golden blonde as her sister’s.
He pushed himself up, intent on following her, but a bout of lightheadedness made him grab the wall for support and sink back onto the mattress. Shit, he thought, what was in those damn pills?
He put his head back on the pillow and was out before he could curse his weakness.
Chapter Six
These last two weeks have been blessedly quiet,” Maddie said as she put her feet up on the foot stool that had been her birthday present from Mike. They were sitting in Maddie’s office.
“So do you think that stalker has given up?” Kendall asked.
“No idea,” Maddie said, “but if he’s still out there, Wellstone Security will find him.”
“So is your confidence at all influenced by the fact you are married to Wellstone’s second in command?”
“It means I know whereof I speak,” Maddie said with a broad smile.
“In that case, you can on go on maternity leave with every confidence that it will continue to be peaceful around here,” Kendall assured her.
Maddie laughed. “Now, how can you promise me that? It’s not like we can influence chaos. But I know you’ll be able to control it better than anyone else.”
Kendall shrugged, praying it was true.
“It’s true, Kendall. You were masterful with that woman who insisted she was about to faint.”
“Telling her that a guard would help her off set was the best way to convince her that we don’t have time for that sort of stupidity.”
“It was amazing how quickly she recovered.”
“The show was too good to miss.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the TV running a replay of the episode they’d just finished, which would air in two hours.
Someone thumped on the door and leaned in. Kendall recognized Nelson’s knock before his handsome face peeked through the doorway. “So are my wife and son ready to head home?”
Maddie gave him a tired smile before turning to look at Kendall. “O’Hara wants to see me for a farewell chat, and then I’m out of here for six glorious months.”
“Go on, Maddie. I can review the details for tomorrow and handle any phone calls.” She took the office chair Maddie had just vacated. It was too high for her, but she’d wait a bit before adjusting it. “All her stuff is there by the door, Nelson.”
“Yeah. I was wondering why her desk looked so clean.”
Maddie punched his arm as she squeezed passed him in the doorway. “Wait for me here,” she said to him over her shoulder.
Nelson took the other chair in the office and pulled out his phone. After giving him a minute to check for texts or emails, Kendall cleared her throat.
“So,” she tried for casual. “Where has Steve O’Hara been, anyway? He can’t still be recovering from his stitches.”
Nelson tucked the phone in his pocket and gave her his full attention. “He’s at some undisclosed location overseeing the security for a celeb wedding that the couple is trying to keep top secret.”
“You mean Rhys Montgomery and the tai chi instructor he’s been with for about a year or so?”
“Damn it, Kendall, how did you know about that?”
She clapped her hands, pleased to have guessed it in one. “Am I a genius or what?” Noticing his dismayed reaction, she reached out and patted his hand. “I’m not about to sell the info to the Enquirer or even the New York Post.” To prove it, she went back to the subject that interested her more.
“How’s Steve doing? Are the stitches out? Has he lost any dexterity in his arm?”
“Nope, he’s fine. You didn’t see him before he left last week?”
“Nope,” she said. “The last time I saw him was the day when I let you into his excuse for an apartment on the day of the incident.”
“Wow, and here I thought you two were on the way to being an item.”
“Now why in the world would you think that?” And how many other people were wondering? Not that it mattered.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you looked when you answered the door that afternoon or the way you hovered around him just after the incident. And you were pretending to be married to him after all.”
“I was helping,” she emphasized the word. Hovering sounded feeble. “Mike asked me to be sure he got proper medical care and that’s why I was pretending to be his wife. My clothes were a wrinkled mess. That alone should have told anyone as observant as you that I’d slept in them!”
“And I suppose you’re just asking me about him now because Mike has been too busy to call him?”
Kendall picked up magazine and swatted him on the arm, laughing as she did.
“Steve and I are not an item, and we have not hooked up or anything. But to you and Maddie alone, I will admit that I might be just a little bit interested.”
“Just a little bit?”
“The last time we were together he was on pain meds, and I was in the middle of adrenaline withdrawal.”
“Sure, I can see how that might make you hesitate.” Nelson shifted in the chair. “He’s probably landing at Teterboro now.”
“Teterboro?”
“Mike insisted on Steve using his jet, and that’s the best spot for private planes to land.” He checked his watch. “I expect him here in less than an hour.”
Her cell buzzed on the desk, and she picked it up. “Kendall Marshall.”
There was no reason in the world for Steve O’Hara to call her, so she had no idea why she was disappointed when Maddie’s voice sounded in her ear. “Come on down to the conference room. They’re giving me a surprise good bye party.” She paused and Kendall could hear the tears in her voice. “Really sweet, but it’s also pretty damn selfish of them since I can’t drink. And bring Nelson, who probably knew about this, and remind him that paybacks are hell.”
“We’re on our way,” Kendall assured her. Nelson was on his feet before she hung up the phone.
“The party?”
Kendall nodded and he nodded back.
“It’ll be worth whatever misery she concocts for me.” His grin implied he might even be looking forward to it.
#
The minute he stepped off the elevator Steve could hear the sounds of celebration. Give this tribe an excuse to party, and they did it up in style.
He slipped into the conference room and took it all in. Maddie was sitting on a throne–like chair, raised above everyone else, and she was talking to Kendall Marshall and several others. Maddie was absently patting her gigantic stomach while she sipped something pink and frothy. Steve was sure it was best mocktail the bartender could devise.
Kendall appeared to be well into the champagne. Her face was alive with laughter as she sipped from a nearly empty flute. She looked amazing. Her skirt was short and swingy and it swirled every time she moved it swirled, showing off her legs. It made up for the modest round neck of her short–sleeved blouse.
Maddie asked her something and she launched into a story that Steve could tell, even from this distance, was one of her “acting tests.” When she finished, three or four people were listening with wide–eyed amazement. Kendall ended her moment in the spotlight by asking someone else a question. You couldn’t accuse this actress of being an attention hog.
“She’s pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t she?”
“Shit, Nelson. You know better than to sneak up on me like that.”
“No sneaking here. I called your name twice.”
Had he?
A girl came up to them, so young she had to be one of the interns, and handed Steve a glass. “The bartender said this was your usual.” Steve thanked her and wondered when they had started taking on interns who were still teenagers.
“Yes, she sure
is good to look at,” Steve said. “It’s no secret that I think Maddie is totally mesmerizing.”
“And mine, all mine. I guess you’ll just have to settle for Kendall Marshall.”
Steve shook his head and took a gulp of his scotch. Just the jolt he needed.
“Not too much of that, boss. I’m off the clock as soon as I bring you up to speed. How was the wedding?”
“It was simple work. I can’t think of the last time it was this easy to make money.”
“Any good looking bridesmaids?”
“Married.” There had been a few unattached guests, but his thoughts had been centered on one woman. He’d kept picturing Kendall Marshall in a bikini while he was at the private Caribbean beach, thinking about how he would have liked to convince her to take it off…
“Your turn,” Steve said, turning his back to Kendall and Maddie. At least this way she was out of sight, if not out of mind.
Nelson gave him the run down of what had happened while he was gone. No more action from their trouble maker, which was both good and bad. For a few minutes he and Nelson discussed what the asshole might have in mind for a follow up act, but as Nelson said, “Trying to figure out what a nut job will do is like trying to figure out al Qaeda’s next move. And our intel is squat.”
Nelson looked over Steve’s shoulder and gave a nod to someone before walking off with a wave that was part salute. Just then, an all too familiar voice addressed Steve, “No one told me parties were a fringe benefit of working here.”
Steve turned to look at Miss Bright Eyes. “Good thing it’s a Thursday. Most of them have three days off, so they’ll have plenty of time to get over their hangovers.”
“Just because Mike doesn’t record on Friday doesn’t mean everyone is off.”
“So are you on or off tomorrow?” he asked.
“On. I still have some work to do to get ready for when I officially take over Maddie’s duties next week.”
“Then I think you better give the champagne a break.”
“Jeez, who are you? You look like Steve O’Hara but you sound like my father.”
He took her glass.
“It’s ginger ale, Steve,” she said, trying to snap it back. “I am not about to put on a show the very first time I hang out with the whole crew.”