Chapter Thirteen #2
“You handed him his ass. I hope it felt good.” He grimaced and released her hand. “No one’s going to believe this is a rebound hookup if Sloane keeps me on my phone.”
“Why’s that?”
He pulled out the buzzing phone again. “Because no one in their right mind would answer a single phone call if they had your attention.” He read the screen and returned the device to his pocket. “We have an itinerary.”
Her thoughts faltered. She had to process what he’d just said. Jules blinked. Erm. She cleared her throat. “What’s on the itinerary?”
“Times. Locations. A few suggestions.”
She blushed. “Do I want to hear the suggestions?”
Her professional life should have prepared her for this.
But those situations had the benefits of a script, modesty garments, and intimacy coordinators ready to intervene as necessary.
Even the staged photos had built-in safety nets.
She and Mason hadn’t needed that. They’d started as friends with benefits before business took over and they’d arranged for their nuptials. “Rhys, tell me Sloane’s suggestions.”
“Tonight? Nothing worse than sharing a cocktail. Location to be determined.”
“Oh.” Was that true, or had her reaction been enough that Rhys pumped the brakes? “That’s not nearly as devious as Sloane can be.” Then again, they had two weeks on an island. Sloane wasn’t an idiot. If she suggested they make out on the beach on day one, that wouldn’t happen. Right?
Kissing Rhys on the beach…
Wow.
Her pulse picked up.
Wow.
She imagined the possibilities, skipping through a mental slideshow that sent shivers down her back. If Sloane penciled making out with Rhys on the beach into tonight’s itinerary, Jules would kill her. That was something she had to work up to.
Her phone buzzed. “I guess it’s my turn.”
But it wasn’t Sloane. The unfamiliar number had sent a text message. The local country exchange might have been the hotel. Maybe there was a problem with their dinner reservation. She swiped the message open. “Oh, God.”
You work fast. Stay here in paradise. No one wants you to come home.
“What?” Rhys asked, his voice miles away from what had been the safe sanctity of this island.
She stared at the accompanying picture. The lush greenery framed them from behind. A slip of the orange-and-purple sky crowned the photo. Tiki torches danced in the background. Her head tipped toward his shoulder. Rhys held her hand. Her heart froze at the intimate shot. Then it plummeted.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded.
Jules turned around, fear caught her throat. “He’s here. Whoever he is, he followed me. He found me.”
Rhys snatched her phone from her hand and looked at the picture then tucked her under his arm, clutching her to his front. His forehead dipped to hers. “Eyes on me.”
“I can’t. He’s—”
“Do not react.” His control was staggering. “ You don’t care .”
She did. She cared so much that anger and fury and anxiety bubbled in her chest. “I don’t care,” she managed, not believing a word. Tears burned the back of her throat. “I don’t care.”
“Just like that.”
“I’m trying.” She slowed her breathing. The panic ebbed, even if the anxiety was still there. “I’m better.”
“Good girl.”
Those two little words worked over her as if his hands had slid over her bare skin.
“Now give me your eyes.”
Fuck. She couldn’t.
He squeezed her tight, commanding her gaze. Her chin rose, and she fell into the deep, dark pool of his gaze.
“Just like that,” he whispered, repeating, reminding, pinching the rest of the world away.
She dragged in a shaky breath. The man was a mountain of calm, unflappable. He watched her and looked around them, studying everything. She was safe, and she leaned closer, needing the shiver he caused to skim over her skin. That electricity could drown her anxiety.
“I don’t know how this happened,” he said with infinite composure. “But a picture? We can handle a damn picture.”
“He was right behind us.” She didn’t trust her voice. Or her thoughts. “So close.” She inched back only to have him pull her to him again. “He could still be watching, Rhys.”
“We don’t show fear. We won’t change our plans.”
“I might.”
His lips quirked. “We’ll never give him what he wants. We stay the course because a picture and an asshole caption won’t change our plans.” He winked. “Besides, Sloane Ellis gave us an itinerary to focus on.”
Their itinerary. She shivered.
“And I sure as hell don’t want the headache that comes with ignoring Sloane.” The look in his eyes was one part scheming, the other part steadfast. “Besides, if he managed to get on this island, maybe we could up the ante. Draw his ass out and be done with it once and for all.”
Profilers and psychologists had already promised this guy wasn’t dangerous, that her stalker didn’t exhibit clear signs of wanting to hurt her.
According to the experts, he didn’t even want to scare her.
It was as if he just wanted her to leave show business.
What he couldn’t understand was that show business was inherently transactional.
Jules worked and worked and wouldn’t be scared from her career because someone didn’t like the parts she played.
But all that had been before he’d shown up on her honeymoon-turned-sister-moon-turned-fake-boyfriend-stunt.
“Jules, we’ve been through worse. Don’t forget all you’ve overcome.”
She’d overcome men with ill intent.
The first time, she’d been stupid enough to believe she’d fallen in love with that batshit man who’d stolen her away and hidden her in a frozen barn.
The second time, it had been by professional decree.
Maybe it wasn’t real, but she and Mason had agreed to a lifelong arrangement. That hadn’t gone as expected either.
Rhys squeezed her closer. “I’m going to make a few phone calls when we get to the restaurant. Unless I hear anything different from Viv, we’re going to continue like normal.”
Jules had never met Vivian Maddox, but Rhys trusted his boss. Titan had never led Jules astray.
He tucked her under his arm and headed toward the restaurant. Every part of her wanted to spin around and find her stalker hiding in the bushes and vines.
“Want me to tell you more details about tonight?” he asked.
“I forgot for a minute. There’s a crazy guy who tracked me to St. Barts.”
“Tonight is dinner, drinks, and stargazing.”
“ Stargazing ?” That shut her up.
“Apparently, drinks are on a blanket on the beach.”
Her eyebrows rose, and tucked under his arm, she imagined snuggling against Rhys on the beach with nothing to do except stare into the universe. Excitement ran under her skin again as though her bodyguard were actually her rebound.
She needed the reactions to stop.
If he found out that she had the slightest attraction to him, he’d never work with her again. A cold flash of panic smothered the wispy flutters of attraction.
Other security details could handle her schedule. Of course they could. Titan didn’t even specialize in the movie business. But no one could replace Rhys Callaghan, and like a freaking diva, she didn’t want anyone else to try.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Whoa, buddy. He’d never know. “You’ll get sand in your shoes.”
He grinned. “For a famed actress, you’re a shitty liar.”