Protecting the Movie Star (The Protectors Book 4)

by Samantha Chase

  He didn’t react to the words. Just gave another half shrug. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what it is. They’re happy, so why should I question it? It’s all a mystery to me anyway.”

  “What is?”

  “Love. The way people couple up. It never makes sense, it always comes out of the blue, and I never expect it to last.”

  I’d always felt the same way—like love was some sort of magic that happened to everyone but me. I’d sometimes watch couples and wonder in bewilderment how they’d gotten together and what they saw in each other and why something like that had never happened to me.

  I’d dated plenty, but I didn’t think I’d ever really been in love. Whenever I dated someone, even if I really liked him, it always felt like I was going through the motions, like I was pretending to be someone other than me.

  I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be with someone for real and just be me.

  “Yeah,” I said at last, looking away from him since I suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. “I’ve never gotten it either.”

  We sat side by side, drinking coffee, lost in our own thoughts. But it felt like we were bonding somehow.

  When I was feeling too vulnerable, I realized I needed to start thinking about something else. “So what are we going to do today?”

  “Just hang out here, if it’s all right with you. I’d rather you not go out since you might be recognized, and then the news might get out about where you are.”

  “Okay,” I said, realizing he was right, and it would be better to just catch this stalker as quickly as possible. I wasn’t thrilled about being cooped up, but at least I felt safe here—in this anonymous, impersonal hotel suite. With Cole.

  “Malcom will report in if anything unusual happens on the set.”

  “Okay. You’ll let me know if you learn anything?”

  “Of course.”

  I nodded and let out a long breath. The stalker must be in Baltimore, which felt very far away from me now. If nothing else, at least I’d have a break from the constant fear for a few days.

  I’d take whatever I could get.

  On that thought, Cole’s phone rang. He glanced at it and picked up. “Yeah.” After a minute, he said, “Okay. Bring it up.”

  “What is it?” I demanded, when he hung up.

  “Delivery.”

  “What?” I jumped to my feet. “No one knows I’m here. I shouldn’t be getting a delivery.”

  “It’s from—”

  I suddenly felt naked, completely vulnerable, as if there was nowhere in the world I could be safe. I kept reliving that sickening moment of finding the mouse in with the muffins. “How did he find me? How could he possibly find me here?” My voice grew shrill on the last words.

  Cole reached out to hold my upper arms. “Evangeline, calm down.”

  I tried to shake off his strong hands. “I’m not going to calm down. How the hell did the stalker find me here? Who is doing this to me?”

  One little part of my mind recognized I was overreacting, but I simply couldn’t help it. I’d been feeling safe just a minute ago, but now it was all blown away.

  Cole wouldn’t let go of me. “Evangeline, stop,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. “Stop. It’s from Sebastian. It’s from Sebastian.”

  The words finally broke through my panicked brain, and I froze, trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”

  “The delivery is from Sebastian. He was just trying to be nice. It’s not the stalker.”

  I was shaking helplessly as I finally understood what he was telling me.

  “It’s not the stalker,” he said again as a knock sounded on the door.

  The noise made me jump, and Cole’s fingers were still wrapped around my upper arms.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, looking tense and concerned.

  I nodded mutely.

  “Can I get the door?”

  I nodded again, unable to say anything.

  Shit. I was an idiot. A fool. A silly, embarrassing nervous wreck. There was no justification for my breakdown, and I couldn’t believe I’d actually reacted that way.

  I wasn’t normally so melodramatic and ridiculous.

  Cole let go of me at last and walked to the door, where he accepted a potted orchid from the hotel staff member who’d carried it up.

  It was a beautiful plant—a lovely, exotic violet color—but I stared at it suspiciously. “It’s really from Sebastian?” I managed to ask.

  Cole nodded. “He said he was sending it over.” He put the orchid down, carefully inspecting the plant and the card and even the soil it was planted in.

  “It’s okay?” I asked, forcing myself to step over, even though I was still shaking.

  “It’s fine, Evangeline,” Cole murmured. He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him in a comforting gesture. “I promise it’s fine. The stalker hasn’t found you.”

  I nodded, staring down at the lovely, delicate blooms. It was really nice of Sebastian. He was trying to be a friend, make me feel better.

  And I jumped to the conclusion that it was an attack.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Shit, princess,” Cole said hoarsely, pulling me into a full hug. “It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

  For some reason his obvious concern and the tenderness in his touch and voice completely broke me. I shook against him in silent sobs—not really crying but feeling completely broken.

  I wasn’t much of a crier under normal circumstances. I had no idea what was happening to me.

  Cole’s arms were tight and strong and protective, and they felt better than anything in the world. He wasn’t saying anything now, but he didn’t need to.

  He was trying to make me feel better.

  He did.

  After a minute, I was able to control myself and straighten up. His arms loosened but not all the way. He gazed down at me, something soft and intense in his expression. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I sniffed a little, although there were only a few tears. “I’m sorry about that. I have no idea what happened.”

  “You were scared.”

  “Yeah, but there was no reason for it. It was the epitome of an overreaction.”

  “It’s normal,” he said. “You’ve been a trooper this whole time, but the stress and fear eventually catches up to you. It doesn’t matter how much protection you have. The threat of a stalker always does that. It keeps you from ever feeling safe.”

  I nodded, feeling understood and much less stupid. “It’s been nothing but little things, but…”

  “They add up. He wants you to feel this way.”

  I took a few deep breaths, flattening my hands on Cole’s firm chest.

  “I’m going to catch him. I promise.” His eyes were still intense and protective, but now they were something more, something hot.

  I suddenly felt hot too, and I slid my hands up toward his shoulders. “Thank you,” I whispered, leaning toward him.

  I wanted nothing in the world more than to touch him, kiss him, be with him in every way.

  I knew he wanted it too. It was clear in his eyes, in his touch, in the way his hand slid up toward the back of my head.

  But then he suddenly dropped his hands, and I realized what was about to happen.

  I ducked my head, my heart racing and my body shaking again—this time for an entirely different reason.

  Cole was so tense he was frozen, and I could see from a quick glance that he was aroused. It was strangely exciting but also terrifying.

  I wasn’t sure what I would have done, but I didn’t have the chance. Cole gave himself a quick shake and said, “If you’re all right, I’m going to call in and get a report from Baltimore.”

  I knew the words were intended to put us back into a professional dynamic, and they worked. Kissing Cole would have been a huge mistake—for both of us—so it was just as well to get some distance.

  “Yeah,” I said, steadying
my breath. “I’m fine.”

  He walked out of the room quickly, a little stiffly—probably just to stand outside the door in the hall—and I tried to shake off the intensity of the moment before.

  That was easier said than done though. I kept thinking about it for the rest of the day.

  ***

  Cole kept his distance for most of the morning and afternoon, but he finally loosened up again after I had ordered room service for dinner and invited him to have some.

  I didn’t want him to think I was angry or awkward about our moment. I’d much prefer for him to believe it was no big deal to me at all. So I made a point of being friendly with him and asking him to join me for dinner.

  He did, and we had a conversation about his time in the Marines. I asked him some about his upbringing, but he evidently didn’t want to talk about that.

  That was my fault. I never should have said I wanted to hear more about his childhood for research purposes. It hadn’t been true even then—I’d just gotten scared about how close I felt to him and had to do something to cover it—but I realized he wasn’t going to forget it.

  As we were finishing up, I said, “I guess I should do some work this evening.” I hadn’t done much of anything all day, and I was starting to feel guilty about it—since this movie was important to my career.

  “What work?” he asked.

  “Go over a few of my scenes,” I explained. “There are a few I’m not sure I’ve really got yet.”

  “Okay,” he said, looking interested. “Do you just read them out loud then?”

  “Yeah, although usually Cali reads them with me since it’s kind of hard by myself.”

  Then I had an idea. “Maybe you can go over them with me,” I suggested, almost smiling at the reaction I imagined he’d have to this idea.

  I wasn’t disappointed. His mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “Maybe you can do the scenes with me. Just read the lines for the other characters so I have someone to respond to.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Well, why not? You’re not doing anything but hanging out here this evening. How hard can it be to read a few lines?”

  “I’m no actor.”

  “Don’t act. Just read. Please?” I gave him an over-the-top, beseeching look, knowing instinctively that teasing him into it would be more effective than trying to make a rational argument to get him to agree to the proposal.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Pretty please,” I cooed. “It won’t take very long. And the quicker I can get a handle on the scenes, the quicker the filming can take place, and the quicker we can wrap things up.”

  The logic of this plea was rather shaky, but I was batting my eyelashes very prettily, so I didn’t think it would matter.

  He obviously knew what I was trying to do, and he rolled his eyes again, muttering under his breath. But he said, “Fine. I’ll stand here and read lines. But don’t expect anything else.”

  “Thank you!” I jumped up to grab the script, turning to the first scene I needed to work on. It was a good one since there was just one other character in it.

  I explained the context and his character, and then Cole stood in the middle of the living area and started to read.

  At first he just read the words blankly, with no inflection or intonation. I did my best with my own lines, but I was very distracted by him standing there with the script in his hand, and I had trouble not giggling over his delivery.

  As the scene went on, though, he got more into it—especially when it turned into an argument between my character and her romantic interest. By the end of the scene, he was doing a pretty decent job, so I gave him appropriate compliments when the scene was done and asked if we could do it again.

  He agreed with a bad-tempered expression, but I knew he wasn’t really reluctant.

  “Try to give it a little more spirit,” I suggested, mostly just to tease him.

  He glared at me and read his first line.

  At first I thought he was heeding my advice since his lines were much more dramatic than they’d been the first time. But then I realized he was just being contrary. His delivery became more and more over the top until it was a farce of a genuine performance.

  I was a little annoyed to begin with, since it was impossible for me to really practice in response to such melodrama. But eventually his over-the-top dramatics started to tickle me. I tried to hold back my amusement—since it would signal a victory for him—but I just couldn’t do it.

  By the end of the scene, I couldn’t even say my lines since I was suppressing so much laughter.

  He kept a straight face the whole time, but I could see he was pleased. His gray eyes reflected a kind of genuine pleasure I’d never seen there before.

  “How was that?” he asked when I gasped out the final line of the scene.

  “You know exactly how it was,” I said, trying once again—unsuccessfully—to keep from giggling. “You botched the whole scene on purpose.”

  “I was going for a heartfelt performance.”

  “If that was a heartfelt performance for you, I’d hate to see you when you get riled up and lose control.”

  The words were supposed to be dry and aloof, but they didn’t quite work. Even as I said them, I had very wrong thoughts about how he might lose control.

  He evidently had the same wrong thoughts because his expression flared with sexual heat that left me breathless.

  But he turned away almost immediately, as I should have expected, and I decided I might as well go to bed because nothing more exciting was likely to happen tonight.

  ***

  Four hours later, I woke with a start from a deep sleep when I heard an alarm blaring.

  I had no idea what it was as I sat up straight in bed, my heartbeat and my breath both caught in my throat.

  I managed to process that I was in a hotel suite, but I had no idea what the loud, grating sound might be. I even reached for the clock next to the bed, but hitting it with my hand did nothing to stop the sound.

  Then Cole burst into the bedroom, dressed in a pair of jeans and no shirt.

  “What is it?” I asked, barely able to speak over the lump of fear in my throat.

  “Fire alarm. I called and it’s not a planned drill, so we need to go down.”

  “Is there a fire?”

  “I don’t know. It could just be something burning or a short in the electrical, but we can’t risk it. Get up.”

  He looked urgent, and it made me even more nervous.

  I certainly didn’t want to burn to death in a hotel fire, but the threat of fire seemed pretty distant. Under normal circumstances, I’d exit by the emergency stairs without a second thought.

  But these weren’t normal circumstances. What if the stalker had found me? What if the stalker was responsible for the fire alarm? What if this was some elaborate ruse to get to me?

  I would have thought the fears were silly, but I could see similar thoughts in Cole’s tense expression.

  I grabbed for a hoodie and slipped on shoes as he hurried me out of the bedroom since I was wearing nothing but a short, sleeveless nightgown.

  If nothing else, I didn’t want a picture of me in my lingerie to show up in the gossip columns tomorrow morning.

  There were two men waiting in the hall when we left the suite, and I realized they must be hotel security. They walked down with us to the emergency stairs from this floor, which were separated from the main emergency stairs that most of the hotel guests used.

  The hotel was designed to house very important clientele. I was pretty far down on the list, but I must be among the most important staying tonight.

  Cole took my hand as we walked quickly down the stairs. It was probably just to make sure I didn’t dawdle, but it felt protective, almost intimate.

  We were on the twenty-eighth floor, so it was a long journey down, with the alarms blaring the whole time.

  When we got down and burst out
of the building into the night, I shrunk back as I realized we weren’t far from the crowd of other hotel guests. But before I could feel vulnerable, a car drove up directly in front of us, and Cole pushed me into the back seat.

  It was very nicely done, and we were driving away from the hotel before anything could happen—even before someone could recognize me and click my picture.

  Cole got on the phone immediately, trying to figure out what was happening. We drove around for a while until it became clear the fire alarm was caused by a small fire in the kitchen that had generated enough smoke to set off the alarms throughout the hotel.

  So it was just a fluke, I realized. Unfortunate but just one of those things.

  Not about me at all.

  I was relieved. Of course I was relieved. But I also felt weird and shaky and uncertain since it had all happened so fast, and I was having trouble keeping up.

  We waited about thirty minutes after the firefighters gave the all clear, and the other guests were allowed to return to their rooms before we returned ourselves. It was after two in the morning, and the hotel was dead quiet.

  We took the private elevator up to my floor, and I went right to my bedroom.

  Cole was on the phone again, so I pulled the covers up over me and tried to calm down.

  I wasn’t in danger. Everything was fine. I was as safe as I was going to be.

  I just couldn’t stop trembling.

  A few minutes later, he walked into the bedroom without knocking, and I sat up abruptly in bed, surprised by his appearance but kind of glad to see him.

  He looked strong and solid and safe, and I liked having him near me.

  I had no idea when that had happened.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, pausing. “I didn’t realize you’d already be in bed.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine. None of this had anything to do with you.” He walked over closer to the bed, studying my face. The lights were off in the room, but light streamed in from the living area.

  “Good.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked, standing right next to the bed.

  “Yeah.” I didn’t feel okay. I felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest.

  He reached out to cup my face. “You don’t look okay. You’re shaking.”