Watching You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  “So whoever did it probably didn’t plan ahead, or he’d have brought a better weapon,” Jessica mused. “This was more…passionate. Spur of the moment.”

  Wondering what she was thinking, he said, “Sounds likely. Why?”

  She paused for half a second, and then quickly shook her head. “Just playing detective.”

  “Don’t. Please, let the professionals handle it.”

  “Of course. I was merely thinking, not acting.”

  “Good. No way do I want you to confront a deranged person.”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I’ve had enough of those in my life.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He didn’t pry, knowing he had to respect her boundaries—though thinking about her rough childhood, her years in the foster-care system, sent his imagination to dark places. He hoped one day she would trust him again and open up about her thoughts and feelings.

  “Have they been able to find Sid?”

  Reece’s eyes narrowed as he thought of the weaselly man. The longer the former gallery manager stayed out of sight, the more Reece suspected him. “There’s been no sign of him.”

  “I know you think he might have done it, but I’m not convinced he did,” she said. “I mean, he’d just left the building. He would’ve had to have a gun on him.”

  “Given the value of the merchandise at the gallery, he might have qualified for a license to carry.” Rowan would undoubtedly find out.

  Wanting to distract her from what had happened the other night, he said, “Please, have a seat.” He gestured toward a trio of chairs fronting the window of the office. It looked out onto Santa Monica Boulevard, so there was no great view, but it was a sunny day, and he liked the way the beams brought out the gold highlights in her hair.

  She smoothed her skirt as she sat down, and he took the chair opposite her.

  “This isn’t an interview,” he explained. “You already have the job.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought you had spirit and imagination, and I need an intern.”

  Her sneer was accompanied by an eye roll. “I figure it’s more likely either you wanted to get me into bed or you felt guilty about almost getting me killed. Maybe both.”

  This was a battle he’d anticipated. He grabbed a folder from his desk and gave it to her. “Look.”

  “What is this?”

  “Lists of other student interns we’ve hired in the past. Dozens of them. All with your experience level, all with appropriate salaries.”

  Opening the folder, she thumbed through the documents. She reached a page and stopped. “This is my application from last summer.”

  “Yes.”

  She shoved the glasses up onto her head and lifted the page to read without them. Jessica had either put them on as a costume piece or usually wore contacts only for distance. He almost laughed. Damn, he’d laughed more around this woman in the couple of times he’d met her than he had in the past month.

  “There’s a notation here in the top corner, with ‘Next year’ written beside it.”

  He didn’t have to read over her shoulder. “It means you were evaluated last year, came close, and were earmarked for consideration again this summer.”

  Her brow furrowed as she considered what he was saying, and then she finally slipped the paper back into the folder. “You mean I was already on a list for this job? Before we, uh…met?”

  “Before I ever even laid eyes on you through the security camera.”

  A slight flush rose in her cheeks. “Don’t remind me. I’d like to forget all about it.”

  She might. He never would. “My staff keeps track of the best people. We usually don’t hire until a student is close to finishing school and might consider taking a full-time position if things work out. That’s why you weren’t interviewed sooner.”

  She sucked her lips into her mouth, probably remembering what she’d just said about his motives for hiring her. He waited for an apology, already knowing he probably wouldn’t get it.

  “I guess that makes sense,” she finally said.

  No I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you. As expected. Considering what he’d put her through, he didn’t blame her one bit.

  She lifted the folder to hand it back, but despite her calm tone, her fingers were shaking, and several pages slid out. They both moved to catch them, his hand brushing hers, her slim calf sliding between his pant legs. The connection was electric, as it had been the night they’d met, and they both froze as tension and attraction flared between them.

  She pulled away first. He let her.

  He retrieved the papers, slipped them back into the folder, and put it back on the desk. “So why did you tell me you work as a waitress rather than admit you’re studying screenwriting?”

  “Because screenwriting doesn’t pay the bills.”

  Maybe. Or she didn’t want him to know for fear he’d think she was about to make an elevator pitch. Literally, considering how long they’d been in the gallery elevator. He hoped so, anyway. He liked her independent streak, and he already knew she wanted to get where she was going on her own merits. Which meant finding her name in a personnel record, with a note from someone in HR, had been more than a stroke of luck. It had seemed almost fated.

  “Is it typical for the CEO of a production company to interview the new intern?”

  “No. But this isn’t an interview. As I said, you’ve already got the job.”

  “Why did you bring me in, rather than someone in HR?”

  “Because I know you’d think I found out what you were studying and set this whole thing up to get you into my clutches.”

  “You clutched me plenty the other night,” she grumbled.

  There she was wrong. He definitely had not. He hoped there would be a lot more clutching in their immediate future. But not until he got her to trust him. “You would have been chosen even if we hadn’t met Friday night.”

  She licked her lips and lowered her gaze, averting those brown eyes. “Really?”

  “Really, Jessica.”

  She finally relaxed, settling deeper into her chair. He knew she’d come in here wearing pounds of mental armor, to go along with the physical armor she’d donned in choosing her prissy outfit. The woman had pride.

  “So, do you trust me again?”

  “Who said I did before?”

  Direct hit. “Ouch.”

  “You didn’t give me much reason to.”

  “Yet you chose to meet me at the elevator Friday night.”

  “That required some trust. This requires more.” She crossed her arms, eyeing him. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble over me, Mr. Winchester. You saw me on camera and arranged Liza’s signing. You had her bring me back for the meeting so you could watch me again.”

  He didn’t reply. How could he defend himself? Could anyone understand the camera lens was his security guard—his weapon against invasions into his thoughts and his private life—and he was armed at all times? Putting something between himself and the rest of the world had been natural to him for years…ever since his fucked-up childhood. He’d had his fill of being watched, and now he preferred to be the watcher. That had been one reason he’d left his adult acting career as soon as he’d had the clout and the money to switch solely to directing. But it did sound pretty bad when she put it that way. “I wasn’t…”

  “You also bought the statue and lured me up there to see it.”

  “It was an invitation,” he pointed out, knowing his defense sounded weak.

  “And then stripped me naked and put me on a table.”

  “I didn’t strip you all the way. Speaking of which, did the baby oil work?”

  He’d swear a flush of color rose from her throat, up her neck, and into her face. She was trying to sound cut-and-dried as she raked him over the coals. Instead, as she dissected his actions and his motives, she looked pretty damned adorable.

  “It was fine.”

 
“Did you throw those horrible things away?”

  She tossed her head, making the one silky strand of hair bounce against her cheek, and brushed it back impatiently. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Actually, I am still holding a grudge against them.”

  “Don’t distract me. I wasn’t finished telling you off.”

  “Oh, please, do continue,” he said, settling back in his chair.

  She sucked in a deep breath, and then slowly blew it out. “You obviously had somebody spying on me because you found out where I went to school.”

  “It wasn’t hard to find out,” Reece said with a shrug. “My twin’s a cop. My other brother owns a security company. Family benefits.”

  Her eyes rounding, she finally left off the verbal barrage. “Raine is in security?”

  Startled, he quickly realized that of course she would know his youngest brother’s name. Raine had been the cheeky, smiling star of a bunch of commercials when he was a toddler. Hell, they still ran them sometimes on an old cartoon network.

  “His company’s called Hollywood Guardians.”

  That was how his brother saw himself, as a guardian of the young and vulnerable. No surprise, given what their family had endured. The youngest Winchester had seen the worst of the worst, which was why there was nothing his older brothers wouldn’t do—hadn’t done—to protect him. Hell, maybe they should all be called guardians. Not angels, though. Oh, no. Unless they were fallen ones.

  “Raine sparkled from a young age. I thought he might follow in your superstar footsteps, as a kid, and as an adult. Why didn’t he?”

  Reece didn’t like the way this conversation was going. In fact, it had already gone further than he ever allowed with people who weren’t related to him by blood. Considering he’d almost gotten her shot the other night, however, the least he could do was admit a few of his secrets.

  “He grew out of it. Now he runs a business protecting children.”

  “Sounds pretty specialized.”

  “But necessary in this town,” he replied in an even tone. He didn’t want to elaborate, however, and admitted something else. “We were all pretty burned out when we left. As you can imagine, we were targets of the press before Rachel died. Afterward, the media attention was brutal. Dangerous, even.”

  Jessica’s curious expression shifted into sadness. She didn’t say it, though. Didn’t say those words. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Of course she didn’t.

  Not sure why, he went even further. “My dad and Aunt Sharon came from the East Coast. They offered to stay and let us continue in the business, if we wanted to.”

  “But it wasn’t what you wanted. Not after what had happened to Rachel.”

  Not after what had happened to Rachel.

  Not after what had happened to their mother.

  Not after he and his twin had done things that should never be asked of a kid in order to protect the family they had left.

  “Exactly,” he said, hiding the darkness that gnawed at him every day of his life. “So we went. Tried to have a normal life.”

  A tiny smile. “How did that work out for you?”

  “Let’s just say middle school wasn’t my favorite time.” Or high school. Or any place where he was treated like either a movie star or an entitled prick.

  “I’ll bet. Then you grew up and all of you came back to the left coast.”

  “Right. Rowan started law school but dropped out to become a cop.” His twin had said his hypocrisy only went so far. “Raine left for the army the day of his eighteenth birthday.” Reece’s jaw might have tightened, but he kept his fists from clenching on the armrests of his chair as he thought about the night right before his kid brother had left. “When he got out, he started his business here.”

  “Starting up is never easy, especially in this zip code.”

  Reece shrugged. “He had some investors.”

  She understood. “The same ones who helped your aunt with the gallery?”

  “Maybe. It turned out to be a very sound investment.”

  “Aren’t there a lot of security companies out here?”

  “Yes.” Justifiably so, as the fire at his house had proved a couple of months ago. “But Raine’s company is specialized. The studios hire him a lot. He focuses only on protecting child stars; he has some army buddies working for him, and they take their jobs seriously.”

  They had to. God knew Hollywood was full of predators and psychos. He didn’t just mean the sicko fans who saw kids in movies or on TV and formed disgusting obsessions. There were also the monsters who lurked in plain sight. The ones who’d found their way into the business and indulged their darkest proclivities. Those were the ones every show-biz parent should be worried about, and they were the particular ones Raine protected children against.

  If only somebody had done the same for the Winchesters all those years ago, their lives might be very different now. More of them might be alive, anyway.

  She remained silent. He wondered if she had any idea he’d just told her more about himself, and his family, than he’d revealed to anyone in years. Maybe it was because he owed her, considering what had happened at the gallery. The sight of her covered in broken glass wasn’t something he’d soon forget. But he also knew it was because he wanted her to trust him. Wanted to make up for the admittedly controlling way he’d directed her into his arms.

  “I wouldn’t have guessed it,” she finally said. “Raine seemed as comfortable in front of the camera as you were. Rowan doesn’t surprise me. He was never as good as the rest of you.”

  He had to grin. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  “Oh, no, please don’t! I meant, he didn’t seem as into it as the rest of you, whereas he appears to be the perfect cop. He was so thoughtful Friday night. He even called to keep me posted on the investigation.”

  “He called you?” Reece stiffened. “The case isn’t even in his jurisdiction.”

  “Oh.” She licked her lips. “Well, I guess he was just being nice.”

  He knew exactly why Rowan had stayed in touch with Jessica: to piss Reece off. Oh, yeah, and he was good at his job. But his call had been about needling more than anything else. Reece would lay money on it.

  “He’s also very handsome,” she said, looking at her own hands.

  He heard a note of mischief in her voice. She was trying to make him jealous. Progress.

  “Remind me to kill my brother.”

  A giggle slipped out from between those pink lips. His tension eased. He let the dark memories fade away as he focused on sitting in the sunshine with this woman who utterly fascinated him.

  She crossed her long legs, her skirt rising above her knee. Reece let himself look for a moment, and then turned his attention back to the reaming out she was giving him.

  “So, are you finished?”

  “Finished what?”

  “Prying into my history.”

  She gasped in indignation. “I did no such thing. You’re the one who kept talking.”

  Yes. How strange. “Well, are you at least finished calling me a creeper like Sid?”

  Her shudder preceded her words. “Creepy Sid.”

  Glass in her hair, on her skin, tearing her dress.

  God, how Reece would like to get his hands around the man’s throat.

  “But you’re not a creeper.”

  “So what was that character assassination all about?”

  “That wasn’t character assassination,” she said, her voice softer than it had been. “I was just laying out the reasons I might find you untrustworthy.”

  She fell silent, as if wondering if she’d gone too far. Considering Reece felt like utter shit, he probably should tell her she hadn’t. After all, she’d said nothing but the truth.

  “I really would have deleted the footage. But you’re right.”

  Her brow shot up.

  “It was pretty fucking creepy.”

  He couldn’t tell her why he’d done
it. Couldn’t reveal that, to him, life was about planning the scene, shooting the angles, sticking to the script. How could he admit having her come back to the gallery was an establishing shot? That he’d visualized the setting, knowing how she’d look in it? Crescendos had to be built toward; everybody knew tension was absolutely required before the big moment.

  How could he possibly explain that he always removed himself from the action, remained separate, the director overseeing the world, rarely stepping into it? Could he admit aloud that there was something about her—something unique, special—that had drawn him into the scene?

  “I apologize, Jessica. You are right about everything. I was completely out of line, and I’m truly sorry,” he said. He fell silent. What more was there to say?

  She looked directly at him. Reece didn’t offer justifications or try to couch his apology with self-righteousness, or do a politician’s cop-out: I’m sorry if you were offended. She had called him on his bullshit. He’d deserved it. He regretted it. He just hoped she saw it that way, too, and was willing to move past the bad beginning he’d inflicted on them both.

  Finally, after she’d studied his face for so long he wondered if she was a mind reader, she nodded. “Apology accepted.”

  A beat. A moment of acceptance. The faintest realization that they were starting over.

  His heart pumped hard, his blood surging. This was his second chance to really get to know her, with no preconceived ideas or plans. They were on even footing now. He was going to have to give up control and see what happened, not an easy thing for him.

  Everything he’d thought he knew about her before faded as he came to recognize something else about her. Not many people in this town were as forgiving, as open, including him. She’d just revealed a kindness, a generosity of spirit she usually hid beneath her sassy mouth and ridiculously sexy curves.

  The woman was likable. Not only to-die-for fuckable, but nice.

  She offered him a tentative smile, her wide mouth tugging up at one side. A dimple appeared in her cheek, one he’d never seen before. It went straight to his heart.