Page 9

CHAPTER 9

A fter washing all the makeup and stress from her face and body with a long shower, Sephie pushed open the glass door and wrapped a towel around herself. Her mind wouldn’t stop going over the words of Pippa’s letter. She’d committed the neat black ink to memory, searching for... what?

The real evidence—hopefully—was contained in the thumb drive, but the thought of opening that right now made her physically ill. A deep throb started between her temples. She needed to give her mind a break from Pippa before she had an anxiety attack.

She leaned against the bathroom counter. The moisture in the air could rival that of a steam room.

I kissed Taschen.

She closed her eyes and brought her fingertips to her lips. The memory of his sizzling mouth on hers tempted her to march back into the room and finish what she’d so brazenly started. Only she couldn’t. He’d voiced his reservations about getting physical, and she had her own reasons for backing off.

She’d tried a couple of relationships before Danny and had learned the hard way that she was just too different. It was no wonder most actors dated people within the industry. She’d experienced enough in her childhood career to know the demons that crawled among the sets, claiming the innocence of some of the children. Even though she was no longer part of that world, her past followed her, lingered in the shadows, reminding her that anyone could hurt her.

At least Taschen didn’t seem to care about her starlet days, like most guys did. Didn’t ask about her career or if she wanted to “go back.” Geez, she hated that question. Taschen got it. He saw the scars she wore deep beneath her skin.

Maybe that was what made him so dangerous. With him, she was free to be who she truly was. She didn’t have to pretend. He wore her pain in his eyes and goddammit, no one, not even her own parents, had ever done that.

How was she supposed to sleep in the same room as him? The same bed? One king bed. That’s all the hotel had. She’d been too numb to care when they checked in. Taschen had offered to try another place, but she’d just wanted to get upstairs, eat, and open the envelope from Clayton .

Knock , knock

Her stomach tightened. “Uhm. Yeah, just a sec.” Shit, shit, shit. During her quick escape from the embarrassment of coming on to Taschen, she hadn’t thought to take any clothes into the bathroom with her.

“I’ve got your bag if you want to get more comfortable.”

Oh. “Sure. Thanks.” She moved to the door and unlocked it, gently pulling on the handle while keeping one hand fisted against the towel between her breasts.

Taschen’s lopsided smirk greeted her. Her bag dangled from his fingers. “How about a do-over?”

She tugged her bag through the door and set it inside the bathroom. Heat flamed up and down her bare legs. The longer she stood there staring at his sexy smile, the less likely she’d keep the towel in place. “Do-over?” she croaked.

The only thing she wanted a redo of was their kiss. And maybe what he’d said afterwards—because they most definitely should do this , despite what he’d proclaimed. At least that was the opinion of her throbbing lady bits. Her mind was semicoherent with self-preservation when she wasn’t staring at his bulging muscles.

He’d changed into light-gray sweatpants and a black tee, and the effect this outfit produced was equally as devastating as that of the suit.

“Yeah. Like, I’ll pretend you didn’t kiss me if you pretend I didn’t chicken out.”

She chortled, deep and low. His suggestion really didn’t make sense, but she wasn’t going to argue. “Okay. I guess that works for me.”

“Good. Now get dressed before I take it back.” He lifted one dark eyebrow suggestively, and she shook her head with another chuckle and shut the door.

At least he could make light of the situation. She quickly changed into an oversized sweater, this one a pretty pale purple, and charcoal-colored leggings. She swept her wet hair into a long braid and exited the bathroom.

He’d tidied up the dinette table and now stood at the window, gazing out at the view. The sunset lit the sky, reminding her of the hour. Yvette wanted her to call. She still hadn’t told Taschen that since he’d already made it clear he wasn’t keen on her making phone calls right now.

She strolled across the carpet, her bare feet silent. The neatly made white bed remained untouched, but a pillow and blanket sat on the couch across from the TV.

Stopping in front of the glass a few feet away from Taschen, she studied the sweeping skyline. The harbor stretched out to the vast and seemingly endless ocean.

Heat crackled between them. If Taschen touched her right now, she’d fry to a crisp. From the corner of her eye, she watched his face turn toward her. That heat jumped right into her panties.

“A lot happened today.” The smooth rumble of his voice made her want to lean toward him, but she kept her distance.

She had no idea how long she’d be able to hold out.

“Buried your best friend, saw her family. Got shot at. I mean, hell. How are you holding up?” The wonder in his voice made her turn to face him.

“I’ve got a damn good bodyguard so that helps.”

His mouth swished wryly, and no amusement lit his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that. You almost got your head blown off.”

She frowned. “That wasn’t your fault. It’s not like you can see or predict everything.”

His hazel eyes turned dark and smoky. “Honey, that’s exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

She curled her toes against the blaze of his intensity. The endearing nickname made her nipples tighten. “You saved me, Taschen. Had you not thrown me behind the tombstone, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” She gripped her elbows so she wouldn’t do anything reckless. “I owe you a thank-you.”

Some of the tightness left his face. He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingertips skimmed her cheekbone, and she bit down on her bottom lip .

“A thank-you isn’t necessary. But I want you to know that no one will ever get that close to you again. Not while I’m here.” He spoke so slow and soft. Part of her melted.

She curled her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place against her jaw. “I just need to find out what happened to Pippa. That’s what’s most important to me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m going to call James Libby tomorrow. I wish we could pay him a visit, but the last place I want to take you is LA.”

Hope rushed through her. She wasn’t alone in all this. Talking to James might give them more answers.

“Do you want to see what’s on the thumb drive?”

His question sent a quake of indecision through her. Her first instinct, no. She didn’t want to see. Wished none of this was happening and she could return to what life had been like days ago, when Pippa was still alive. But she didn’t have that option. The only way to avenge Pippa’s murder was to expose the proof.

She wet her lips and gave one nod. “Yes, but afterwards there’s something I have to do.”

He jerked up his chin. “What’s that?”

“I need to talk to Yvette.”

***

“You spoke to her. She’s fine.” Hell, he didn’t want to get annoyed, but every damn call they made was like a flare gun fired.

“She asked me to call her tonight. She—uhm. She said it’s important.” Her voice was small with a dash of urgency.

“What do you think it’s about?”

She sighed, long and hard. “I have no idea. And it’s driving me nuts. I know you’re not going to like this, but I need to hear what she has to say.”

Considering this whole damn operation, the reason he was there, was to keep her safe and to stop her from taking missteps that could cost her her life—yeah, he didn’t like it one fucking bit. But as dangerous as it was for her to talk to Yvette, he couldn’t leave Sephie in torment.

Regardless, he was torn. He wasn’t supposed to get sucked into the emotional shit. His focus needed to stay on the mechanical. Get to point B from point A without incident. That’d gone to shit today. They didn’t need any more close calls.

“You’re not asking to make the call. You’re telling me. Have I got that right?” He gave her a level gaze.

She squirmed as he lowered his hand from her pretty face, but the fire in her green embers didn’t dim. “That’s correct.”

He dragged in a calming breath. He sure as hell needed it. “Every call you make puts you—both of us—at risk. Do you understand that?”

Her lips parted, splitting his heart in two. “I don’t want to do anything stupid. I just—God. Something isn’t right about Pippa’s death and if Yvette has information... I need to know what it is. She could be next.”

He gulped down any contrary words. She’d told him about Yvette’s break-in, so he wouldn’t argue. As it stood, he didn’t have much choice. He wasn’t going to sit on her, or put her in a position where she’d try to sneak a phone call in an even less secure way. “All right. You want to see what’s on the thumb drive first?”

She nodded.

He retrieved his laptop and set it up on the coffee table. Sephie grabbed the thumb drive then lowered herself beside him—close enough that he could touch her if he dared, far enough that inches separated their thighs.

He powered up the computer. Sephie tensed and handed him the thumb drive. He popped the piece into the USB port and waited.

A video file came up on the screen. “Ready?” he asked.

She blew out a breath. “I don’t really have a choice.”

He covered her knee with his hand. “If you don’t want to see what’s on here, let me. I’ll handle it.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, and tears surrounded her irises. “I appreciate that. But I have to do this. Pippa wanted me to steward this. ”

“Okay.” He gently kneaded her lithe muscle. “But if you need to shut it off or walk away, that’s fine, too.”

She gave a brisk nod. “Play it.”