Escorted by the Ranger Page 13

  Jack shifted behind her. “You want to be bait.”

  She craned her neck to see his face. “Yes.”

  His frown and narrowed eyes said it all. “I don’t like it. It’s risky.”

  “Until he is caught, I have to keep looking over my shoulder. I can’t do that for the rest of my life. Please, do this for me.” She was asking more than for him to accompany her to the awards show. She was asking him to trust her judgment. Asking him to help bring this to a close so she could move on with her life.

  Jack inhaled deeply. “I’ll do this for you. But if I catch a whiff of something we can’t handle, we’re out of there.”

  * * *

  The Daytime Show Awards were being held at a theatre built in 1905 and renovated to include big screens, ideal acoustics and modern HVAC and wiring, while maintaining an early twentieth-century feel.

  The red carpet extended from a drop-off location where cars and limos pulled to a curb and then into the front doors of the theatre. A blue awning covered the last four yards of the walk. The fifty feet between the drop-off and the awning worried Jack the most.

  Security was tight, but for television broadcast reasons, the arrivals of the guests were timed and scheduled. A schedule that was available to dozens of people. Jack had suggested that Marissa skip the walk down the red carpet and enter the theatre from another door. She had rejected the idea.

  She had wanted him to walk beside her as her date. Though his vantage point would be poor, he could use his body to protect her if needed. Excited fans were crowded in wood boxes, like corrals. Security for the event had ensured the people waiting around the red carpet weren’t armed.

  “Do you want to stand on my left or right?” Marissa asked.

  “Either.” He wasn’t her boyfriend and his appearance at her side would drum up gossip. Marissa had attended dozens of events like this one in the past without security glued to her side.

  Their driver pulled to the red carpet and stopped. Jack reached for the door handle. The noise from the crowd was deafening.

  Marissa stopped him. “Are you here as my date or my security detail?”

  Jack hated the worry in her eyes. “I’m here as your security.”

  Her eyes went wider. “Why do you think Ambrose sent you the suit?”

  Jack looked down at the crisp black suit. “I thought he wanted me to blend. To go unnoticed.”

  “He wanted you be photographed next to me, wearing one of his designs.”

  The crowd was cheering. They should get moving. Marissa was picking a strange time to discuss this. “I will stay with you tonight,” he said.

  “But you can’t stand like you’re my bodyguard, hulking over me. Don’t try to blend into the background. I want you to hold my hand and smile at the cameras and maybe look at me adoringly.”

  “I need to be looking around for a shooter,” Jack said.

  Marissa picked up her clutch from seat. “Do what you need to do.”

  Jack climbed out of the car and circled around to open Marissa’s door. He took her hand and helped her step onto the red carpet–covered sidewalk. She was wearing tall slim heels and seemed poised on her feet. Her pink dress fluttered around her legs as she stood.

  He offered his elbow and she slid her hand through the crook of his arm.

  “I’ll be okay,” Marissa said. She smiled and waved, speaking to him from under her breath.

  “Because I’m here.”

  “I feel safe with you.”

  “It’s when I’m not with you that I’m worried about,” Jack said.

  Cameras flashed and reporters came close to her, shoving their microphones in her face. Marissa answered questions about which designers she was wearing and her jewelry and shoes. The reporters glanced at Jack several times, but didn’t speak to him. They would have a hard time confirming his identity. His work for the West Company meant he didn’t post information about himself online. An internet search of his picture wouldn’t reveal much.

  Marissa answered a few more questions and then Jack led her toward the front doors.

  “Do you want to talk to more reporters?” he asked quietly.

  She shook her head. “I’ll stare at you and pretend I’m too enamored to notice anything or anyone else.” Marissa blinked up at him and he had to smile. He enjoyed her playfulness.

  Once they were inside, the atmosphere changed. It was darker inside, fewer people, many Jack recognized from television shows and movies. Floor-to-ceiling red curtains hung between the windows and the blue-and-red carpet was set in a puzzle pattern. The lobby was smaller than he had imagined it, but four bars were open and serving drinks.

  “Thank you for walking in with me,” Marissa said.

  “I want you to be safe.” He also wanted to be near her in the case another attacker chose this event to strike.

  Marissa was the most beautiful woman in the room. Other men looked in her direction, letting their gazes linger. Their reaction to her made Jack unreasonably territorial.

  He shouldn’t be. He had told her he was here as her bodyguard. No personal implication.

  Marissa was wearing a pink strapless gown and her hair was long and loose around her shoulders. She wandered to the bar and requested a glass of wine.

  Jack asked for a soda water. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight? Everyone in this room has looked at you at least once.” The drinks were poured quickly.

  Marissa took a sip of her white wine. “Everyone is eyeing everyone else.”

  “I feel better having you inside.” He stopped speaking when his gaze landed on Rob. It was beyond his comprehension how Rob slithered into A-list events. After the incident at the children’s hospital charity dinner in New York, Jack hoped Rob would have learned his lesson to keep his distance or he would have been blackballed from these events. He may have weaseled his way out of criminal charges for pulling a fire alarm in a hotel, but Jack wouldn’t forget Rob’s recklessness.

  Rob approached and Jack felt his irritation rise. Rob wouldn’t do anything to hurt Marissa, but he might make a scene.

  “Marissa, I can’t believe you’re here with him. The guy who bid on your basket at the auction?” Rob sounded like he had been drinking, his words slurred.

  Marissa narrowed her gaze on her ex. “You’re bold to bring up the auction after your behavior.”

  Rob sniffed. “That was a misunderstanding.”

  “Let’s not do this here,” Marissa said.

  Rob held out his hands. “Relax. I wanted to apologize. I was out of line.”

  Jack didn’t comment. It wasn’t his place. But which incident was Rob thinking of? His behavior over the last several months was out of line.

  “I’ve moved on. I’m here with someone,” Rob said.

  Marissa set her hand on her hip. “Moved on? Avery died less than a month ago.”

  “Things weren’t going well between us. I was mostly over her anyway.” Rob shifted.

  Marissa’s hands fisted at her sides. “You know, what, Rob? I would tell you to have respect for her memory, but you have no idea what that is or what’s entailed with giving a woman respect.”

  A blonde in a red gown approached. She kissed Rob on the cheek and slipped her arm through his. “Hey, babe.”

  The intimacy between them was startling. Marissa had made a good point. Rob had moved past his grief fast to be in a new relationship.

  Stuttering over his thoughts on Rob, it took Jack a moment to place the woman. She was one of the models from the footwear photo shoot who had been bad-mouthing Marissa. Jack moved closer to Marissa, sensing venom from the other woman and wanting to pull Marissa away before the night was ruined.

  Rob introduced them to his new girlfriend, Bella.

  The woman lifted her c
hin and zeroed in on Marissa. “We’ve met. Marissa and I have done a few photo shoots together.” Her tone was cool.

  Marissa extended her hand. “Right. The San Terese footwear shoot was the most recent. Good to see you again.”

  Bella appeared surprised. Maybe she had expected Marissa to behave like a prima donna or not recall they had worked together.

  “Are you presenting tonight?” Bella asked.

  Marissa shook her head. “Not this year.”

  “I’ve heard you had some trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Marissa asked.

  “Getting campaigns. I’ve heard fresh faces are more in demand.” The venom seeped from her words.

  Marissa inclined her head. “Are you implying I’m too old?” It was her turn to add a chill to her tone.

  That was putting Bella’s insinuation bluntly and Jack applauded her. He loved that Marissa spoke her mind.

  Bella straightened and took a sip of her drink. “You’ve been around a long time. Advertisers want to appeal to a younger audience. They want to see something they haven’t before.”

  “Excuse me, I see someone I need to speak with,” Marissa said. She strode away. The snap in her walk gave away her aggravation.

  Jack caught up to her. “Don’t let them get to you.”

  Marissa turned to face him. She appeared calm and he guessed it was an act she had perfected after hundreds of hours in front of a camera.

  “They are outrageous for different reasons and the two of them together offend me. Rob, dating? Didn’t he care about Avery? And Bella with her criticism of my career? They are here together when Rob should be grieving for Avery.”

  “Everyone grieves in their own way,” Jack said.

  “Don’t defend him,” Marissa said.

  “I’m not defending him. He’s a total loser. They deserve each other.”

  Marissa took another swallow of her wine. “Bella is right, though. There are some designers, ones new to the industry, who don’t want me to model for them. I’ve lost big campaigns to younger women.”

  “No one can be the face of every new designer. You’re still getting plenty of bookings. I’ve seen your schedule. I’m the one who has to plan security around it. Declan Ambrose picked you to work with him.”

  Marissa rolled her shoulders back. “I’m not upset about my work. Rob pissed me off and then Bella hit a nerve. I’m not over what happened to Avery. I miss her. I wish I could have talked to her about things before she died.”

  “I know that’s been hard,” Jack said.

  The lights in the lobby dimmed briefly.

  “That’s our cue to find our seats,” Marissa said.

  “You sure you don’t want a few more minutes to vent?” Jack asked. When they were in the crowded theatre, conversations could be overheard. They wouldn’t be able to speak privately inside.

  Marissa shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

  Jack followed her into the hall. Marissa had a great seat close to the stage. On either side of her were two big-name actors with their dates.

  As they settled in their seats, Marissa smoothed her dress. “I’m glad I wasn’t asked to present this year. Public speaking isn’t my thing.”

  “Yet your face is everywhere,” Jack said.

  “My face. Not my voice.”

  “I like your voice,” Jack said.

  Marissa squeezed his hand, warmth written on her face. After several minutes, the host for the show walked onto the stage wearing a white tuxedo and black bow tie with shiny black shoes.

  This was Jack’s first awards show. He didn’t watch them on television and he wasn’t sure what to expect. The host chatted with the audience, told some jokes, and then the first presenters walked onto the stage.

  Ten minutes into the show, the actor seated to Marissa’s left won a big award and collected his prize onstage. He thanked his family and his fellow actors. Clapping and hoots of approval thundered from the crowd. He started toward the steps to return to his seat.

  The lights went out.

  “Is this normal?” Jack asked, alarm sharpening his senses.

  “Can’t say I’ve experienced this before,” Marissa said.

  The audience was silent. As the seconds ticked by, whispers grew louder. Jack sent a message to the security team. They had no knowledge of a planned power outage. As the seconds ticked by, Jack’s nerves tightened. He took Marissa’s hand. Taking her somewhere safe took the highest precedence.

  Then flames shot up from the stage. Jack’s adrenaline fired. How could he protect Marissa?

  * * *

  Marissa squeezed Jack’s hand.

  The lights snapped on and a giant spotlight was pointed at the center of the stage. A five-man band kicked off a high energy song about heartbreak.

  Jack relaxed next to her.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” she said.

  “They should have given us warning,” Jack said.

  “Negates the shock effect,” Marissa said.

  As the band performed their song, Marissa had trouble focusing. At any point, the camera could pan around the room and her face would be on the large screen to the left of the stage. Her expression should be interested and amused.

  All she could think about was Jack’s hand holding hers. He might not be aware he was still grasping it. If the camera took a picture of her now, she guessed her expression would be akin to shocked and confused.

  It felt great to have Jack close, his shoulder rubbing hers and her hand clasped in his. She set her free hand over theirs and he looked at their joined hands. Calling his attention to it was a mistake.

  She read a dozen fleeting emotions in his eyes, among them worry and uncertainty. He pulled his hands away and set them in his lap. She left her hand on his forearm, needing the contact.

  Marissa leaned closer, letting her body press against him. He didn’t move away and she was grateful for that. She craved his touch and wanted to feel his hands on her. They had spent another night together and then he had backed away—thrown up his walls again. She hated it. She wanted an explanation and an opportunity to talk him out of whatever reason he had given himself for not pursuing their relationship.

  The longer she thought about it, the more urgently she wanted to know why he had shut her down. The heat and connection was still between them, in the air around them, sparking and heating. He was choosing to actively ignore it.

  He unwrapped her fingers from his arm. She hadn’t realized she had been tightening her grip on him. He shot her a questioning look.

  “Later,” she mouthed.

  When the show was over, they were having a frank and honest conversation. They couldn’t keep circling each other. She had a pull on him and he had captured her interest. The complication of their professional relationship wasn’t enough to smother her feelings for him. She wasn’t sure anything was.

  * * *

  Marissa posed for publicity pictures after the awards show. Jack watched her, waiting patiently. She had been invited to a number of parties and was hesitant to mention them to Jack. He wouldn’t want to attend and he wouldn’t want her to attend without a thorough security screening.

  No time for a security screening. She had promised Ambrose she would attend his party, being held at the Burgundy Hotel, a five-minute drive from the theatre.

  “We have a hotel room at the Burgundy,” Marissa said.

  Jack lifted his brow. “That wasn’t on the schedule. We’ve made overnight arrangements for you at a hotel outside the city.”

  Marissa smiled, not because she was happy, but because people were taking her picture. Images of her scowling at Jack would be gossip section fodder. “I’m not used to telling anyone else where I’m going and what I’m doing. Before you, my security follo
wed me and handled whatever came my way.”

  “Death threats have been made. This situation is escalating,” Jack said.

  “It’s Ambrose’s party. I promised him I would be there,” Marissa said. He had assured her the party was invitation only, guests were being screened at the door and lots of extra security personnel would be on hand.

  “You’re the boss,” he said.

  “That was almost too easy. You took some of the joy from me.”

  “If you had an argument prepared, go ahead,” Jack said.

  She kissed his cheek instead. “No, thanks. I know this might seem crazy, but I need a night to dance and blow off some stress.”

  “A loud party with hundreds of people is relaxing?”

  To her, the crowd meant anonymity. “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “Lead the way.”

  Twenty minutes later, Marissa was in the master bedroom of the grand suite at the Burgundy that Ambrose had reserved for her. Like its name, the hotel’s decor centered on shades of red from the throw pillows, to the furniture, the wallpaper and the throw rugs. A bottle of Burgundy was on the coffee table, along with two glasses with rose gold trim.

  Ambrose had hung three dresses in the closet for her to choose from. She couldn’t wear the same clothes she’d worn to the awards show—fashion mistake. She slipped into a short red dress. The neckline scooped low and the hemline was high. She changed her shoes, too, and after putting on her jewelry, she met Jack in the living room of the suite.

  “Ready to go?” she asked. He had seemed anxious about this addition to their plans. She didn’t want him to be upset.

  He looked her up and down. “You changed your clothes.”

  “Yes.” She pivoted and looked at him over her shoulder. “Like it?”

  “It’s really something else,” Jack said.

  “Something good?” Marissa asked. She was fishing for a compliment, but also wanted to be sure Jack wasn’t upset with her about the changes to their plans.

  “You look amazing,” he said.

  Satisfied with his answer, she strutted toward him. “Can I help you to be more comfortable?” She loosened his tie and removed it. Then she took off his jacket. She unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt, opened the collar and rolled the cuffs of his sleeves. “It will be hot. You’ll feel better like this.”