Mason tried to swallow past the lump forming in his throat.
It was one thing to never know your parents and a completely different thing to see the love she’d lost. His heart broke for the sweet, sassy, confident woman waiting downstairs.
He’d expected Remi to call thirty seconds after he’d started searching the house, just to test him. But she hadn’t, which made him wonder if that meant she trusted him. As he descended the grand staircase, he saw her sitting on the floor, sleeping by the front door. She was leaning against the wall, her feet tucked beneath her dress again, clutching her phone between her hands.
“Hey,” she said, sleepily pushing to her feet as he approached.
She stumbled, and he caught her around the waist, steadying her. She was barely up to his chest in her bare feet. She sighed, making the kind of soft, enticing noise women made when they were about to be kissed. Electricity sizzled in the space between them. She licked her lips, sending heat searing down the center of his body and snapping him back to reality.
He had no idea if she meant that lip lick seductively, or if that was just Remi being Remi, which was an even more worrisome thought. Resisting seduction had never been difficult, but how did a man resist what he never saw coming?
He took a step back. “The house is clear. I assume you want me to stay in the room at the other end of the hall?”
She shook her head, holding his gaze with that innocent-vixen mix that wreaked havoc with his senses, and said, “Too far away. Just in case, would you mind staying in the room across the hall from mine? Oh, and I have a meeting at seven fifteen tomorrow morning. We should leave by six forty.”
“Sounds good.”
She stepped toward the stairs and stopped to slip out of his jacket and hand it to him. “Thank you for tonight. And you were right earlier. I was looking for an escape.”
It took him a moment to realize she was talking about when she was dancing with the handsy prick. “That’s what I’m here for.”
On her way up the steps, without looking back at him, she said, “I’m glad you’re here, Mason.”
Given her need for control, he imagined those were tough confessions for her to make. He waited until he heard her bedroom door close before retrieving his bags from the car. As he carried them to his bedroom, he was grateful that he’d never needed much sleep. He had a feeling that when he closed his eyes, he’d see her alluring hazel eyes staring back at him.
CHAPTER FOUR
MASON LOOKED UP from the reports he was reading on his laptop at six thirty the next morning when Remi breezed into the kitchen looking sexier than should be legal in a slinky yellow sundress and flat strappy sandals. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and she was fresh faced, without a speck of makeup, at least as far as Mason could tell. Any other woman would look exhausted after only a few hours of sleep, but Remi had an aura about her that radiated like the sun, sprinkling just-wait-until-I-open-my-mouth energy as she flitted over to the table and plunked an oversized leather bag down beside his laptop.
“What are you doing?” She went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.
“Working,” he said as she took a drink. He’d been up for an hour and had already walked the perimeter of the property, looking for signs of prolonged visitors: litter on the ground, broken branches, or flattened grass. He had security notifications set on his phone and would be alerted day or night if there was movement on the property or inside the house, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
“We have to go. Chop, chop,” she said as she screwed the cap onto her water bottle and shoved the bottle into her bag.
He closed his laptop. “You have to eat. You barely ate last night.”
“What are you, the food police? There’s a food tent on set.”
She reached for her bag and he snagged it. “I’ve got this. There are six boxed meals in the fridge from Saturday and Sunday. Please tell me you ate your meals at the tent the last few days, with the exception of last night’s dinner.”
“Clock’s tickin’, nosy guy.” Ignoring his question, she breezed out of the kitchen.
He grabbed his laptop and followed her out. “I can’t have you fainting on me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be on set. You’ll be on the sidelines.”
“Is that how we’re playing it? If you faint on set, it’s okay?” He’d wondered how she would act toward him today. She was obviously reclaiming control, and he was okay with that, as long as it didn’t impede his work.
They went out the front door, and as he locked it, she said, “How we’re playing it is that I’m a big girl and I’m in a very unforgiving industry. I know what my body needs to survive, and in case you’re wondering, I’ve never fainted. Why are you worried, Mr. Three Seconds Flat? If I faint, I’m sure you’ll be right there to catch me.”
He didn’t bother replying. They both knew she was right.
She sat in the front seat on the way to the set, texting with a mischievous expression on her face. He was curious about who she was texting and told himself his curiosity was purely security related.
He was a fucking liar.
He’d been up half the night thinking about her across the hall in that room with all the pictures, wondering if she was okay, or if when her head hit the pillow, without the distractions of events or filming, she sank into a darker state of mind, missing her family. Or . . . was she lying awake thinking of him, too? He’d told himself things would be different this morning, that they were drawn to each other last night only because of the situation they were in. But he’d been in close proximity with other beautiful women, and never once had he felt anything beyond a professional duty. The truth was, he’d never taken anyone to that rooftop before, and he wasn’t sure why he’d taken her, except that she’d looked lonely and he’d wanted to ease those feelings.
He glanced at her thumbs tapping out a text and said, “According to your schedule, you have your meeting, and then you start filming at eight, which runs until six. Is there anything else on your docket I should know about?”
“Filming won’t end at six,” she said without looking up from her phone. “Probably more like eight. We’re doing a grueling scene this afternoon, and I have serious doubts about me and Raz being able to nail it on our first—or fifth—try.”
He’d already checked out Duncan “Raz” Raznick, another A-lister and an ex-boyfriend of Remi’s. Like many celebrities, Raz had a spotty dating history, dating various women for short periods of time, but when he wasn’t filming he spent time in Pleasant Hill, Maryland, with his family. Mason’s investigation hadn’t sent up any glaring red flags, but Raz’s prior relationship with Remi left that door open.
“No problem,” he said as he came to a stop sign. “According to the information I have, you don’t have an assistant with you?”
“Nope. I hardly ever bring Naomi, my assistant, or Shea, my publicist, when I travel. I touch base with them throughout the day, and they make sure I’m kept abreast of my schedule. There are always people on set I can turn to if need be, but I told you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making sure I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
She lifted her chin, underscoring her determination, but when their gazes collided, the temperature in the SUV spiked, and a blush spread over her cheeks. She shifted her eyes away.
He hit the gas. Holy hell. Whatever was brewing between them hadn’t dissipated one bit. It had gotten stronger, hotter, even more intense.
He’d spent a lifetime so adept at distancing himself from others, he’d become used to those walls. So much so, he’d forgotten they existed or that there were other ways to live, until Little Miss Challenge began chipping away at them. Remi was smart, sexy, and feisty, which wasn’t so unusual, but she had an underlying vulnerability, belying the chip on her shoulder, which she wore like a medal. And apparently that was a deadly combination for Mason.
He had to nix this attraction fast. If it could multipl
y threefold in a few hours, what would happen in a few days?
As he drove toward Beckwith University, the small private college where most of the filming was taking place, he fought to push aside the unfamiliar feelings.
Mason had studied the layout of the various filming locations at the university and in town. Even though Porter and Merrick had already met with the head of security for both and apprised them of the situation Remi had faced in LA, Mason had done the same prior to taking over the position. The university had beefed up campus security, and the studio also had their own security on staff.
He turned onto the main road leading into campus, mature trees casting shadows over the car as they drove past manicured lawns and areas that were to be used for filming, which were corded off with tape and low concrete barriers. Throngs of college students lined the sidewalks, holding up their phones to take pictures and videos of the film’s base camp. Trucks and trailers were lined up for cast and crew, creating boundaries along the far side of the property. Mason drove through campus, passing academic buildings on the left, residence halls to the right, and circled around to the sports complex. He had long ago learned not to overlook the obvious, and he took mental notes of vehicles and pedestrians, which he would do daily in case he spotted someone or something out of the ordinary.
“You passed the tent where they’re holding the meeting,” Remi said with a hint of annoyance.
“I’ll have you there on time. I just want to get a read on the crowd.”
She sighed. “The stalker isn’t here. I’ve been filming for weeks. If he was going to do something, wouldn’t he have already done so?”
“You’d be surprised. Some crazies can lay dormant for months, then come out of the woodwork in a blaze of fury.” He glanced at her, noting the disbelief—and the underlying fear she was trying hard to mask. “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”
“Mm-hm. I’m fine. Let’s just get to the meeting.”
As promised, they parked by the tent with nine minutes to spare. A crowd of eager fans waved papers, shouting Remi’s name from the other side of the barricades.
Remi headed for them, smiling and waving. Mason moved closer, speaking low and clear so she was sure to hear every word as he memorized the faces of the cheering crowd. “Keep enough distance so they can’t touch you. Don’t put yourself in a compromising position. Say my name, and I’ll get you out of there.”
“You’ve seen too much television. They’re my fans. This is called promoting the movie.”
In her world that was true. In his it was called dangerous. He stuck to her like glue, stopping grabby hands as fans shouted, “I love you, Remi!” and “Are you single?” Mason shut that dude down with a glare, putting the guy who had asked on the top of his watch list. Remi handled herself like a pro, signing and smiling, though she didn’t listen to Mason’s suggestion and leaned in for selfies with fans. When a shaggy-haired guy grabbed her arm, Mason clutched his wrist, twisting his arm up and causing the guy to stumble backward, cursing.
“Hands off,” Mason commanded.
Remi glowered at Mason and then quickly schooled her expression for her fans. Another guy reached for Remi, and Mason stepped between them. A group of twentysomethings, most of whom were guys, rushed toward them, and a girl was climbing over the other end of the barricade. Mason put his arms out in front of Remi, aiming his command at the crowd. “Stand back.” He glared at the climber and said, “Other side now.”
As the girl scrambled back to the appropriate side of the barricade, Mason said, “Ms. Divine has to get ready to film now.” He took Remi by the arm, dragging her toward the tent as fans tried to lure her back with pleas of affection.
“I love you, Remi!” “We’ll wait for you!” “You’re hot!”
“What the hell?” Remi snapped.
“Things were getting out of hand, and you don’t have time for that.” He nodded toward the tent. “You’ve got two minutes to get to your meeting.”
She wrenched her arm free and stormed into the crowded tent. Mason registered the faces of Raz and several supporting actors, the assistant director, producers, and a few miscellaneous people whose identities he would nail down promptly.
“I’ll be by the door,” he said.
“I’m fine. You should go get coffee.”
He arched a brow at the ridiculous idea that he’d actually leave her unprotected.
“God forbid you leave my side,” she said sarcastically.
Mason stood a few feet away as actors and crew settled into chairs, and Remi sat beside Raz. Mason didn’t like the pitch in his gut at how cozy she seemed with the square-jawed, chisel-faced actor, whispering and smiling flirtatiously. He wondered if there were renewed sparks between them, and he didn’t like the fact that he cared. He kept an eagle eye on them as the meeting began, and then he walked the perimeter of the tent, taking in the faces of the people milling about. He spoke to a security guy who was hanging around, and then he returned to the interior of the tent for the remainder of the meeting.
When the meeting ended, Remi shouldered her bag as she and Raz headed out. Mason fell into step behind her. A larger group of fans had formed by the barricades, and they were calling out “Remi!” “Raz!” “There they are!” and “Over here, Remi! I love you!”
Raz glanced at Mason over his shoulder, and Remi waved at fans as she said, “Raz, this is Mason, my bodyguard.” Thank you, Aiden. “Mason, this is Raz.”
Mason nodded in greeting, expecting Raz to snub him.
Raz’s blue eyes lit up, and he thrust a hand in Mason’s direction, flashing the smile that Mason was sure melted every pair of panties in its path. He shook Raz’s hand, gritting his teeth at the thought of Remi being in that path.
“Nice to meet you,” Raz said. “What happened to the other guys?”
“I told Aiden I was done,” Remi said. “One guy, plainclothed.” She motioned toward the overzealous fans and said, “I’m signing. You?”
“No. I’ve got to catch up with Patch.” Mason knew from his research that Patch was Raz’s assistant. Raz looked at Mason and said, “Take care of our girl. She’s a sneaky one.”
Our girl, my ass.
When Raz took off, Remi made a beeline for the fans.
“You need to eat before you get to the set,” he reminded her.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He could see this was going to be a trying job.
The afternoon passed in a cycle of standing guard, fending off fans, and watching Remi perform. She was playing the role of a woman who’d lost her young son to a stray bullet in a gang-infested area and falls in love with the intended target, a recovering drug addict, played by Raz. Remi was a consummate professional, hitting the mark with every emotional high and devastating low. After two of the scenes, the crew had applauded. She blew Mason away, even if she had been keeping her distance and avoiding eye contact with him since they’d left the house.
It was better this way, easier for him to concentrate on keeping her safe.
By the time she wrapped for the day, it was after seven, she was irritated with the producer for something that had happened on set, and she had to be exhausted. But on the way to the parking lot, she stopped to sign more autographs, her typical radiant self, as if she’d just come from a rejuvenating afternoon at the spa. She was impressive as hell, dedicated enough to put on a great face even if she was stressed and tired—and had a stalker hunting her down that she was pretending didn’t exist.
How she managed to pull it all off was beyond Mason. Especially since she had eaten only an apple and had rebuffed his reminders for lunch and dinner.
I’m fine had quickly become his two least favorite words.
CHAPTER FIVE
ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON Remi flopped back in the SUV and closed her eyes as they drove home after a long day on set. The last three days had been mirror images, with long, exhausting days on set, made even more so because she could barely concentrate w
ith Mason standing a few feet away at all times. She was used to distractions while she was working, but nothing could have prepared her for the way he infiltrated her every thought. She’d spent the last few nights thinking about the combustible heat between them, which multiplied with every passing day. He was always right there, making sure she was not only safe, but had whatever she needed. If that wasn’t bad enough, when she finally fell asleep each night, Mason was front and center in her dreams.
Fantasies.
They were definitely fantasies.
Dark and dirty fantasies, in which she’d tasted, touched, and discovered every naughty thing she wanted. She’d woken up hot and bothered every morning since he’d moved in. This morning a cold shower hadn’t helped, and she’d had to take her pleasure into her own hands just to make it through the day. She’d thought that would allow her to pull off acting calm, cool, and collected around Mason, but the last three mornings, the second she’d seen him sitting at the kitchen table in his tight T-shirt, those steel blue eyes had connected with hers and all bets were off. She could have melted an iceberg from the inferno he’d caused. She’d spent her days avoiding those omniscient eyes.
But there was no avoiding his thoughtfulness or the ruggedness he exuded.
“Why don’t we stop and pick up a pizza or a salad or something? You haven’t eaten all day.”
There it was again. He’d asked after her all day, offering her food, water, to take a walk between sets—all of which she’d wanted but had refused. She wasn’t used to having someone notice so many things about her, and this wasn’t exactly a man she should be interested in. Mason was under Aiden’s thumb, on his payroll.
He was another thing she wanted that was just out of reach.
“I’m fine,” she answered, her mind turning to Aiden.
She still hadn’t heard from him, and that added a little extra anxiety to her day. They relied heavily on email when they were traveling, but he always called when he first settled in. She’d breathe easier once he touched base.
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