Guarding Jess

by Shannon Curtis

  “Oh, hi. Are you Drew?” she asked, her tone friendly.

  Drew stepped in and strode over to the desk to shake her hand. “Yeah. Thanks for seeing me.”

  She waved her hand. “Hey, when Mr. Lyon calls to set up an interview, there’s never a problem. What can I do for you?”

  She gestured to a seat and Drew took it. “What can you tell me about Jessica Pennington?”

  “She’s a darling,” Julie answered without hesitation.

  Drew cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  Julie nodded. “Oh, yeah. She’s always punctual, she’s professional, she’s so polite. Just lovely. She has a knack for handling people, even the difficult callers.”

  “Do you get many difficult callers?”

  Julie shrugged. “When you have such distinct, strong personalities broadcasting their views, you’re bound to get a few people who disagree.”

  “Did anyone disagree with Jessica?”

  “No, not really. We’ve had a few calls. I remember one where the woman was so sure about this certain etiquette tip, but she was dead wrong. Jessica had to correct her, but did it really nicely.”

  “What could you argue about with etiquette?” Drew wondered aloud.

  Julie snorted. “Oh, there are some really anal people out there. This one had us laughing around the water cooler for weeks. This woman was so upset, so impassioned, all over which direction you dip your spoon when slurping soup.” She waved her hand. “Well, sip. Apparently one doesn’t slurp soup. But Jessica handled it beautifully, explained why it was done just so. The woman hung up. But damn, there are some weird people out there.”

  Drew nodded. Letter bombs and bloody messages. Weird didn’t cover it.

  “Yeah, Jessica is a dream to work with.” Julie nodded.

  “And you’re not just saying that because your boss’s sister is her best friend?” Drew asked skeptically.

  Julie laughed. “Well, I’m not into career suicide, but no, she’s the real deal. Very considerate. All the staff love working with her.” Julie’s eyes dropped briefly to her desk, before her smile brightened and she waited for Drew’s next question.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Even Hamish Stewart?”

  Julie grimaced. “Well, Hamish is in a category all of his own. He wasn’t happy, at first, but he’ll be the first to point out the rise in ratings since she’s joined our show.”

  Drew nodded. So, in other words, Stewart wasn’t a fan. “What can you tell me about Stewart?”

  Julie paused. “Uh, what do you want to know? He’s our highest rating DJ. Great sense of humor, savvy, strong opinions, gets a lot of attention.”

  “What about his personal life?”

  Julie shrugged. “He’s flamboyant. Maybe a little arrogant.”

  Drew arched an eyebrow, and Julie squirmed. “Okay, maybe a lot arrogant. Conceited. Very self-absorbed, sometimes his practical jokes are a little too personal, but he’s good for ratings. He makes people listen.”

  “What kind of practical jokes?”

  Julie winced. “Well, he’s set one of our young interns up with a fake date, and taped it. That was a little embarrassing. Some people got a chuckle, though.”

  “Sounds like a prince.”

  Julie wagged her finger. “Exactly.”

  Drew nodded. “I see. Married?”

  Julie sucked in a breath. “Uh, not anymore.”

  Drew cocked his head and waited. “And?”

  Julie sighed. “I think the least said about Hamish, the better.”

  Drew paused. Julie’s shoulders rose. “The guy can be nasty. I don’t want him coming after me because I’ve been indiscreet with his personal information.”

  Drew nodded. He could understand. The man sounded like a bully, used to throwing his weight around to get what he wanted, and sulky and vindictive when he didn’t. He could find out everything else through other channels. He thought about the recorded phone call. One of the frustrating elements of the call was that they couldn’t recover anything else except for the altered voice of the caller. No background noise.

  “How many studios do you have here?”

  Julie was surprised by his question. “Five. Why?”

  His brow furrowed. “Are all five always in use?”

  Julie mirrored his expression. “No. We use one when broadcasting, and use the others for recording commercials and show packages, or prepare one for the next show for a quick transition. Why?”

  “When you record, do you get background noise?”

  Julie shook her head. “No. We have state-of-the-art equipment. We have noise-reduction software, sound-proof studios. The only thing recorded is exactly what we want recorded.”

  Drew nodded. So this guy could have the opportunity to use a vacant studio to pre-record the phone call. “Sure. Well, thanks for your time.”

  Julie smiled in relief. “My pleasure.”

  Drew left the office, and whistled as he sauntered down the hallway. He pulled out his phone. He dialed Noah. First work, then pleasure, he thought, his hand going to the business card in his back pocket as he waited for his friend to answer his call. Then he had to go see a florist about some roses…

  * * *

  Noah hung up the phone and turned back to watch Jessica on the screen. She was fielding questions from Monica Doyle, the TV hostess of Good Morning, San Francisco. She was doing great. He couldn’t help the swell of admiration and pride for Miss Prissy. She was forthright, honest, and hitting just the right tone of indignance at the falsely presented website, with apology and anger on behalf of her clients. And Monica Doyle was lapping it up.

  “I can’t believe someone can broadcast all those lies,” the woman stated.

  Jessica nodded. “Yes, only a coward would do something like that, hiding behind my celebrity image while posting such defamatory material, but we are pursuing them. It’s really quite rude.” She turned to the camera. “We will stop this person. Whoever is responsible, they won’t get away with it.”

  Noah closed his eyes. Damn. They’d discussed this, before she went on air. They were aiming for injured indignation, to get the sympathy vote of Joe Public. Not issuing a challenge to the psychopath responsible. He feared she’d just given the stalker the proverbial bird, on national television.

  He sighed. He should have known she wouldn’t stick to his script. She’d told him that as the image consultant, she was the best qualified to deal with the public relations nightmare unfolding in cyberspace. Mal Ryker had managed to first block access, then shut down the site. They’d managed to limit viewing, and Jess was using her usual Friday morning spot to deflect and distract. Well, that was the plan. He opened his eyes and focused on the screen again.

  “Obviously this person needs to read your book,” Monica stated, lifting a copy from the table. “I’ve read this, and it’s brilliant. I learned so much, and recommend it to everyone.” The woman held up the copy and turned the cover to the camera. “For the proper way to present, behave and communicate in today’s world, check out Jessica Pennington’s book, Modern Day Manners, due out tomorrow.”

  She smiled at Jessica. “Thanks so much for coming in. As always, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Jessica smiled. “Thank you.”

  Monica turned to the camera again. “After the break, we look at fidelity. Is your spouse cheating on you?”

  Noah rolled his eyes as the program’s theme music swelled. He waited at the back of the studio while a technician removed Jessica’s mike. She spoke briefly to Monica, and smiled and thanked the crew as she made her way over to where Noah was standing.

  He handed over her handbag. “That didn’t quite go as planned.”

  Jessica glanced at him briefly. “Sorry.”

  “Liar.”

 
She stiffened next to him, and he wished he could take the words back. It was an echo of his tactless statements the other night.

  “No, I just thought of a different approach to handle my business, my work. I don’t need your permission to do that.” Her words were quiet, clipped, proper. She’d put him in his place. His focus was to look after her personal safety, her focus was salvaging whatever she could to etch out a successful career.

  He kept his expression impassive as he followed her down the hall to the elevator to the parking lot. Ever since their argument back at the apartment, she’d been cool and distant. He didn’t blame her. Once he’d had a chance to think about it, he realized how she would have perceived his remarks. He missed the easygoing, relaxed banter they’d shared at the Challenge Center. He missed the camaraderie, the flirtation. Damn, he missed her body next to his. She was angry with him. He’d hurt her. He just didn’t know how to make the situation better. He almost considered asking Drew for advice. Almost. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. The doors closed. There was silence.

  Noah shifted. Jessica stared up at the floor indicator. Noah put his hands in his trouser pockets.

  “Drew rang,” he said.

  “Oh?” Her tone was politely inquisitive. He passed on the information Drew had managed to gather.

  “The stalker is using the program schedule paper?”

  He waved his hand. “Possibly. It looks like it. Drew’s snatched up a sample for comparison.”

  “And you think it’s Hamish?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

  “It’s looking that way. Drew still needs to check out a few things.”

  Jessica looked at him. “So, we could be close?”

  He chewed his cheek. He didn’t want to kill the hope in her voice, but he also didn’t want her to become blasé with her safety. The doors opened, and they stepped out into the car park.

  “We’re not definite, yet.” His lips lifted. “I’ll still be hanging around for a little longer.”

  Jessica dropped her gaze and nodded, then turned to continue her walk toward the car. He grimaced. Way to go, Samuels.

  They returned to her office building. She had a short break before her next class, as well as some errands to run before her book launch party that night at some high-class restaurant.

  They rode the elevator up to her floor, silent. He sighed roughly. He wanted to hear her speak. He wanted to hear her suggest he change his wardrobe. He wanted to hear her politely correct him. He wanted to hear her argue with him. He wanted to hear her laugh. Her silence was driving him nuts. Even his cards weren’t providing their usual distraction.

  He reached over and pushed the emergency stop button. Jessica gasped.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ah, much better.

  “I’m sorry,” he grated. “I didn’t mean what I said. Well, I meant it, but not that way.”

  He groaned. Damn, he was making it worse.

  He lowered his head until he could meet her wary gaze. “I chose my words badly, but I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

  Jessica nodded stiffly. “Fine.” She pressed the button on the panel. The elevator began to move.

  Noah leaned over and pressed the button again. He stopped. “No, it’s not fine.”

  She sighed. “Look, Noah, I know you view what I do as wrong. You think what I do is simply a way of disguising the truth, of hiding behind politeness and not being sincere…”

  “You’re right,” Noah admitted. Jessica went to press the button again, but he stopped her. “I did think that. But I know better, now. You genuinely want to make people feel good. I see you talk to people, and when you walk away, they have a smile on their face. I see you boost someone’s self-confidence with a nod, or a simple gesture. I see you work your butt off to finance that youth center.”

  Jessica half turned toward him. “How did you—?”

  Noah shrugged. “I had Drew look into it. The reason you’re so determined to make this book a success is to pay off the loan you took out to buy the center.”

  Jessica stepped back and leaned against the wall of the elevator. “That information isn’t easy to find out.”

  Noah smiled. “If there’s one thing Drew’s good at, it’s getting the right information out of the right people.” His smile dropped, and he cocked his head, puzzled. “The question is, why don’t you want people to know?”

  Jessica stared at him for a moment. “Those kids are smart, bright. They could have a wonderful future. But they’re also proud. They want, and need, to do it on their own merit. They want to know they got a job because they worked hard for it, and they deserved it. They don’t want to be laughed at for not knowing the proper way to hold a fork, or the correct way to address someone. They don’t want to be ridiculed because they don’t know as much as the teens who come from more affluent backgrounds. Why should that affect their prospects? They’re not any less of a person just because they’re different. Their confidence shouldn’t be crushed because others are mean-spirited and snobby.” She took a deep breath, and Noah realized she wasn’t talking about the teens at the center anymore. He remembered what she’d told him after that class, about her parents dying and living with her aunt. She identified with these kids in a way not many others could. She’d gone from a poorer upbringing to a wealthy environment, and she’d been ridiculed. She’d been hurt. And she didn’t want those kids to go through what she went through.

  “They can make it on their own, not because some lady with a big name made a call, or because the person hiring them wants to build their own networking base by impressing some celebrity. This isn’t about me, it’s about them.”

  Noah stood still, hearing everything she wasn’t saying. She was doing this for them, because they were her. A totally unselfish, generous gesture, and she didn’t want the accolades. Drew had checked. This center could drain her finances. She wasn’t doing it for the money. And he’d accused her of being a fake manipulator. She was amazing. And she humbled him.

  She pressed the button on the panel, and the elevator began to move again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, and looked at the floor. He straightened and glanced up at the lights as they illuminated each floor as they passed. She shifted, and her arm brushed his. His hand touched hers. Held. She turned her hand and wrapped her fingers around his.

  The doors open, and they stepped out, holding hands.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jessica fidgeted with her clutch purse, before she realized what she was doing and forced herself to stop. Her book launch party was due to start in less than forty minutes, and they were still in Drew’s apartment. She missed Tomcat. After what had happened, Oliveria had volunteered to look after him. Jessica crossed over to the curtained windows. Her hand rose to twitch the curtains, but she stopped. Noah had been very strict about her not approaching the windows. She sighed and flopped down on the sofa. She hoped he came out soon. He’d disappeared while she’d conducted her class this afternoon, and Drew had stepped in to do bodyguard detail. Noah had some of his own errands to run.

  Drew was nice—well, okay, he was cheeky and irreverent and full of charm—but he wasn’t Noah. She’d missed her taciturn bodyguard. Noah wasn’t a man for chitchat. She realized it would have been hard for him to apologize, yet he’d done it beautifully. He’d hurt her feelings, but she was already on the way to forgiving him. And if she could avoid thinking about just how much she valued his friendship, his regard, well, she’d be happy.

  She gazed up at the ceiling. Focus on the situation. Ooze tranquility. Things were moving along. Noah had taken one of her letters to a lab, to compare with the paper Drew had taken from the radio station. She bit her lip. The stationery was traced to the radio station. The car was traced to the radio station. She didn’t want to f
ace it, but it looked like one of the people she worked with was behind all of this.

  Her jaw clenched. Whoever this guy was, he was cruel and manipulative. He’d put her staff at risk when he sent the letter bomb. He’d shamed and hurt her clients by his callous posting of intimate information. Thank God the staff at the McCormack Security Agency had managed to close the site down before too many people had realized it was there and visited it. The media had still caught wind of it though, and a storm was brewing in the social media networks, as well as within the more conventional press outlets. She would still need to work hard to compensate for the damage that had been caused, but they would be able to minimize it, and it was creating quite the furor around her upcoming book release.

  For the first time since she could remember, she wanted to strangle someone. This man, this sick and twisted excuse for a man, had pursued her. He’d done his best to hurt her, and her staff. He’d damaged the reputations of her clients, and he’d done his best to kill her business. She didn’t kid herself, it would take a lot of shrewd maneuvering to mitigate the damage he’d caused, but she was determined. She wasn’t going to let him win. The bastard had even forced her from her own home. Well, damn it, she was going to come out swinging.

  The door to the other bedroom opened, and Noah stepped out.

  Jessica was glad she was already sitting. He was jaw-dropping, traffic-stopping handsome. He wore a formal dinner suit, and he’d had his hair trimmed. The dark jacket caressed his broad shoulders, showing off his strong physique to perfection. His crisp white shirt was a stark contrast to his tanned skin. Dark hair, dark eyes and dark suit. Dark sin. The man was a living, breathing temptation. And he’d managed to find a shirt with a collar that made wearing a tie impossible. Yet it worked. Casual masculine elegance.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he crossed to her.

  “Uh-huh,” she managed to grunt. The dark suit enhanced his features, his complexion, his eyes. Uh-huh? He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a moment. She slowly took it, shuddering at the sensation as her hand slid into his grasp. His fingers tightened, and he helped her rise. He had her, totally, utterly, in the palm of his hand.