Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) (8 page)

“Oh, no thank you. I can’t drink on the job.”

He glanced at a fancy clock on the wall. “You’re off the clock. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I smiled, and as much as I would have loved to sip whiskey next to Oliver Pierce and chat about the little things in life, it was against company policy. However, nowhere did it state I couldn’t
hold
a glass of whiskey and
pretend
to drink while discussing life with Oliver Pierce.

“Okay, sure. Just a small pour, please.”

“On the rocks?”

“Sounds great, thanks.”

He plunked a few ice cubes into two glasses and poured the amber liquid. The ice cracked and popped in the glasses. He moved so smoothly back to me he must have floated across the room to hand me the glass.

“Cheers,” he said, tapping his glass against mine and raising it to his lips—his perfect actor lips. When he lowered the glass, it was half empty.

I pretended to sip, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t a hard liquor girl. Wine and beer were my poison, but when Oliver Pierce offers you a whiskey, you take it.  “It must be incredible to do what you do.”

“I’m not sure I would call it incredible, but it’s a privilege.” He drank again and released a soft moan. “A good whiskey is hard to come by but worth every penny.”

I smiled and “sipped” again, sloshing the poison against my lips. A rich vanilla-caramel scent tickled my nose, deceiving me into believing the contents would be sweet, but the trace amount that entered my mouth tasted burnt and bitter. I would never acquire a taste for whiskey. “But your job takes you all over the world. You get to work with the best actors. People idolize you, fall in love with you.”

He shrugged. “People idolize someone who isn’t real. They don’t fall in love with me. It’s a big game of pretend.”

“Children play pretend, you convince the world you are these characters. There’s a big difference.”

“Hmm, maybe. Being invited into people’s homes is where I feel most blessed. I’ve had a successful career where so many others have failed, or haven’t gotten as lucky.” He stopped and chuckled to himself. “But, now, compared to you, I think what you do is truly amazing.”

“It has its exciting moments, I’ll admit that, but it’s not amazing, except for this assignment maybe.”

A soft smile teased his lips, and his eyes glazed with renewed warmth. “You’re underselling yourself. You are a unique person to put yourself in harm’s way. Most people would run away from someone coming at them who’s twice their size, but you run toward them. That’s extremely brave and far from ordinary. ”

“Out of the ordinary, yes, but it’s not bravery. It’s my job.” I thought for a moment. “Soldiers are brave. Police officers are brave. Firemen running into burning buildings are brave.”

“Do you ever get scared?” He rested his glass on his knee.

I puckered the corner of my mouth. “I shouldn’t admit it, but occasionally something will shake me up a little. Experience and training get me through it though. One wrong move and I could end up dead, or worse, my client could. Those are the thoughts that are most terrifying, when failure isn’t an option. So, I’m not sure how brave that makes me.”

He shook his head. “You’re too young. And very wrong.”

I sat up straight. “How?”

“Just because you get scared out there doesn’t negate the fact that you’re brave. Being brave has a lot to do with being scared. It’s despite being scared, you overcome. It’s instinctive. You do what is difficult. You challenge the fear inside yourself and find the courage through your training to overcome. Every single person roaming the face of this earth has at one time or another been scared.”

I swirled my glass, mixing the whiskey and melted ice together. “Then if I’m brave you’re brave. It has to be one of the bravest things ever to put yourself out in front of the world like you do.”

“If nothing else, it’s humbling at times.” He laughed. “Make a bad movie and people will line up to tell you how awful you are. Once you become famous, you’re supposed to stop having feelings. No one tells you that when you sign up to do this.”

He drained his glass, and the alcohol rendered a lethal calmness to his sapphire gaze. It held me hostage, and I was compelled to look away, but couldn’t.

“Can I get you another?” he asked.

I held my drink low and out of sight to conceal I hadn’t had any. “No, thank you. I’m still good.” My voice came out delicate and fragile, despite the deep breath I’d taken before speaking.

He stood, but rather than walking over to the bar to fill his glass, he came toward me and sat on the arm of my chair. A faint, seductive glint smoldered behind his eyes. My heart raced and butterflies fluttered in my belly. He brushed my hair off my shoulder right when Vance and Cici walked through the door. Oliver sprang from the chair and poured himself another drink.

“We’re back,” Cici said with an extra lightness in her voice.

She walked in the kitchen, and Vance eyed the glass in my hand. I sat it down on the end table next to my chair and stood.

“We should get going and let them enjoy the rest of their night,” Vance said, peering, the look so accusatory I wanted to squirm.

Cici spoke over Vance. “I got you a seaweed salad, sashimi, and soup too in case you’re hungry.”

Oliver sighed. “Sometimes you’re too good to me.”

Cici beamed, and Oliver walked into the kitchen where he looked over the food.

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll get out of your hair and see you tomorrow.”

Oliver had peeled a clear plastic lid off a black base and stabbed two wooden skewers into a mound of green leaves. “I’m not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow. You have the filming schedule, but I need to make sure Camille is okay before I leave.”

“Sounds good. We’ll wait to hear from you in the morning then. Have a good night,” Vance added.

Cici walked us to the door, and I went out into the hallway to fetch the elevator while Vance hung back for a moment. He murmured something to Cici, and she laughed softly. After the elevator arrived, we began the ride down.

“Looks like the two of you had a nice time getting the food,” I said, biting a piece of skin off the side of my thumb. The doors parted on the bottom floor.

He smiled wide and stepped into the lobby. “We did, as a matter of fact. She’s a nice girl. What did you and Oliver discuss while you were drinking—what was that, whiskey—on the job?”

“I wasn’t drinking on the job.”

“That’s not what it looked like.” He leaned into my face and almost kissed me, inhaling against my lips. “Was it good? Sure smells good.”

“Like I could pick out a good whiskey versus a bad one. They’re all awful. He offered. I said no. Then he practically insisted, so I took it when he handed it to me. It doesn’t mean I drank any, which is more than I can say for you. We’re you able to keep your hands off Cici long enough to remember
you
were still on the job?”

I stomped through the parking lot toward the Range Rover and spotted a few random people lingering in front of the building. I worried word might have been leaked that Oliver and Camille were staying there.

Vance hit the button on the remote, unlocking the doors. I reached for the handle, but he spun me around and pinned me against the side of the car. My hands slapped against the cold steel while his flanked either side of my shoulders, holding me snuggly in place.

His lips curved into an overconfident grin.

Eight

My hands shot to Vance’s chest, and I held him back. The frustration of watching him flirt with Cici all day had come to a festering head. “Knock it off.”

“Knock what off?” He grinned crookedly and stared me dead in the eye.

I should have moved or ducked, but I didn’t. I said nothing, daring him to do something with the silence between us, but I knew he wouldn’t, because he never did.

“You know what? This has gotten us in trouble before. People could be watching the building. You never know if there’s a photographer around. Our faces were just on the news. If someone snaps a picture of this, and it gets back to Cavanaugh, we’re both gonna be in hot water. Move your hands.” I gave him the quick fake smile he always gave me.

His hands slid down the side of the car and rested on my hips. “There. I moved them. Better?”

I clamped my fingers down over his hands. His warmth and strength didn’t go unnoticed. “Why do you do this shit?”

His smile fell, and a twinkle of moonlight caught his eyes. “Because I like watching you squirm.” His voice, though deep, was crisp and clear, and held the faint rasp of delight.

I straightened my spine and widened my stance. “You think I’m squirming?”

He dropped his gaze and assessed me. “Well, aren’t you?”

“You know, sometimes...” I shook my head and laughed. “You know what you need?”

His grinned widened, showing me his nearly perfect smile. “Please, enlighten me.”

“You need someone to make you squirm.”

“Oh really?”

His fingertips digging into my hips were all the encouragement I needed. Before he could blink, I hooked my fingers up into his armpits, a soft pressure point he always forgot about, and pushed in hard. Vance bent his arms, and his elbows went into his sides. He tried to pry my fingers from his armpits, but I wiggled them instead because, well, he’s incredibly ticklish.

Vance started laughing, and it was contagious. The harder he choked, the more I tickled him until we were both near tears.

Through gasps, Vance shouted, “Stop it! Stop it! Okay, okay you win.” He managed to break free and step out of my hold.

“Hah, got you to squirm.”

“You play dirty with those damn pressure points.” He hunched over and tried to catch his breath. “Damn it, I need to learn some of those.”

“It would mean you’d have to read a book. Do you even know how to do that?”

He took a moment to stand upright and grinned. “Why would I need a book when I have you? You can teach me.”

I leaned into the side mirror and checked my face, pretending to fix imaginary lip liner. He stepped behind me, and I met his eyes in the mirror. “Hmm, I don’t know if I have the time.”

“All right, smart ass, get in the car.”

Still laughing, I opened my door and got in.

“Want me to drop you at home?” he asked, adjusting the rear view mirror.

“Yeah, I’m ready to call it a day. I can’t wait to shower and get into my pajamas.”

“Oh, exciting.”

“You have any plans?”

He buckled his seat belt and pulled out into traffic. “I might stop by Irene’s and meet up with some of the guys, shoot a game of pool. They’ve been hounding me.”

Vance dropped me off and headed out for an evening with the boys.

.              .              .

I ordered Indian from my favorite place up the road, showered, and slipped into my fleece pajamas with little pink martinis on the pants. I turned on
Netflix
, scrolled to the next episode of my show, and picked through the containers of food. A few minutes later, my date arrived.

Becca stood on the other side of my peephole sticking her tongue out at me. I unlocked my deadbolt and opened the door. “Hey, you! You were almost late.”

She barged past me with a six pack of beer in one hand. “
Psh
, whatever. I look forward to our weekly ritual too much. No way would I miss this. I can’t wait. And, I need to hear everything about Oliver Pierce, and I mean everything.” She squealed and set her beer down on the table next to the buffet. She spun around, and I caught the first glimpse at her shirt. It read:
Headbangers Ball.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

She held out her shirt. “Oh, I stole it from my older brother last time I visited him in Colorado. Cool, isn’t it? He’s going to be so pissed when he notices it’s gone. It’s vintage.” She let go an evil cackle.

“You’re a wreck.” I snorted. “Now, hurry up and get what you need, the show’s locked and loaded.”

I picked through the containers of food and loaded my plate while Becca skipped eating to drink her dinner. It was a tradition for us to get together every week to analyze the relationship between the three main characters on our favorite show. We’d plowed through the first season and were getting ready to start the second.

We watched one episode, and because it ended on a soul-crushing cliffhanger, we’d painfully count down the days until we could meet up again to watch the next installment.

I shut off the television and shoved my leftover food in the fridge. Becca hooked an arm over the back of the couch while I tidied the kitchen.

“Now, what was it like working with Oliver Pierce? I have been busting at the seams all day. I swear you have the coolest job ever. You kick people’s asses, you get to protect Hollywood super stars, and your partner is seriously smokin’ hot.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You think Vance is cute?” Becca and Vance had only met each other a handful of times, but I never got the feeling he left much of an impression on her.

“Yah! Don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Maybe, but he knows he’s good looking.”

She laughed. “So what? His body is pretty sick, but then again, you probably don’t notice with that cutie, rich boyfriend doting over you all the time.”

I waved her off. “Oh stop. It’s not all roses and sunshine, trust me. Both of the men in my life have tremendous egos.”

“A reasonable concession for how hot they both are. You don’t know how good you’ve got it. I encounter different versions of the
Big Bang Theory
cast members on the job. Egos, check. Smarts, check. Good looks, not so much.” She grimaced, but after a quick beat, her hands shot up. “Hey! Maybe you could set me up with Vance?”

I shrank back. “No, no, no. No way.”

“Why?” She frowned. “You think I’m not good enough for him?”

“Are you crazy?” I searched for my bottle of spray cleaner under my sink. I set it on the counter and shook my bun loose so my hair could dry. “You’re too good for him. I could never do that to you.”

She squinted and studied me. “Wait a minute. Do you secretly have a thing for him? You can tell me. Girl code swears me to secrecy.”

“What? Vance? No way. No. That’s just… just crazy. I have a boyfriend.” Spritzing cleaner over the table, I gathered spilled grains of rice into my palm and tossed them into the trash can.

She leaned farther over the arm of the couch. “Oh my gosh, Diana Cain! You have a thing for your partner. You hussy!”

“Would you shut up? I do not.” I washed my hands and kept my back to her so she couldn’t see my inflamed cheeks. I did not have a thing for Vance DeLuca.

She smacked the back of the couch. “Get your skinny ass over here and spill your guts right now.”

I huffed and turned around, twisting my towel in my hands. “There’s nothing to spill. I’ve got a good thing going with Gabe, and Vance...” I thought hard how to explain it. “Puts moves on me all the time that mean nothing.”

She hopped up off the couch and ran into the kitchen. She flipped a chair around at the table and faced me. “Stop the presses. What now? He puts moves on you? Now I’m totally green! No wonder you love your job.”

I sighed. “It’s not like that at all. It’s hard to explain.”

“Lucky for you I’m not going anywhere. Please, begin. My business is dissecting, so let’s slice this sucker open and get to the guts.” She rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her chin.

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s gross.”

She batted her eyelashes and grinned.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Vance can get any woman he wants, and he usually does. He sees a woman, gives her his puppy dog eyes, a quick one-liner, and they eat it up. Every last one. But with me, he can say and do anything he wants but knows it’ll go nowhere. I’m a risk-free plaything.”

“Interesting. Very interesting.” She dropped her hands and squinted. “So, in all the time you two have worked together nothing has ever happened? You guys have known each other for years, right?”

“Yeah.” I tossed the towel on the edge of the sink and tied a lock of my hair into a knot over and over while staring off at the pantry door.

She gasped. “You’re not looking at me. Something
has
happened. I swear, if you don’t tell me I’m going to have to beat it out of you. How have you never told me this?”

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest. “It was once and it was nothing.”

She clapped her hands to her cheeks à la Macaulay Culkin. “Ah! I knew it! You guys have had sex. Tell me everything. What’s he like? I bet the whole macho thing is an act and he’s super attentive in bed.” She raised her brows. “If you catch my drift?”

“Yes, I catch your very subtle drift, but no, we’ve never slept together. What did happen didn’t mean anything. It’s hardly worth mentioning. He doesn’t even remember it anyway.”

She dangled her arms at her sides and rested her head on the back of the chair, releasing an exaggerated moan. “You’re seriously killing me here. It’s like pulling teeth.”

I pouted and conceded. “Last year when we were working, he got shot in the shoulder. I drove him home from the hospital, and he was all doped up. After we got back to his house, he fell asleep and started groaning like he was in pain, so I sat on the bed next to him and offered him some medicine. I guess he was dreaming, and he sat up and kissed me.”

She leaned in. “Oooh… like kissed you how? A peck, closed-lip style, or open-mouthed, hot and heavy?”

“Uh… the second one.”

“Sweet Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all the Saints, you’ve got to be kidding me! And he doesn’t remember? What kind of crap is that?”

I shrugged. “He was in a half-dream, half-drugged state. He kissed me and fell right back to sleep.”

She tapped her fingers against puckered lips. “Yah, I don’t believe for one second he doesn’t remember.”

“Well, he doesn’t.” I turned my hands up. “In fact, moments after he kissed me, he puked.”

She erupted into a raucous fit of laughter. “What!”

“The drugs they gave him made him sick. He really doesn’t remember. He’s never hinted at anything, and believe me, if he remembered, he’d bring it up
all
the time.”

She frowned. “If you say so.”

“Trust me. I know him. He would.”

She laughed. “Okay, so I get why you’d have a thing for him.”

“I don’t have a thing for him. Sometimes he messes with me and it screws with my head. That’s all it is.”

“Screws with your head how?”

“Stupid stuff like pinning me against a car and getting in my face, saying things like he wants me, and then he laughs at me when he sees me getting flustered. It’s irritating, but he’s my best friend and he has my back like no one else does. He pushes my buttons because he can I guess.”

She shifted her eyes from side to side and sat quietly for a minute. “Hmm. Here’s my professional analysis. You ready?”

I chuckled. “Yep.”

“He has a thing for you.”

“No, he doesn’t. You don’t know him like I do.”

She held up her finger. “Don’t interrupt. I’m not finished with my dissertation.” I humored her and let her continue. “He wouldn’t do what he does if he didn’t have a thing for you. Men are pretty basic in the way they think. They see, they want, they take…or try to. You are the ungettable get and it drives him crazy. He keeps trying all of these things hoping one day he might break you down enough and you’ll make the final move. And I’d bet money he remembers kissing you. He’s waiting for you to say or do something because you, my darling, scare him.”

“That’s a riot.” I chuckled. “I appreciate your opinion but respectfully disagree.”

“I’ve said my piece and I know I’m right.” She finished the last of her beer, and I grabbed the bottle off the table, tossing it in the recycling bin. “Now, enough about Vance. I saved the best for last. Tell me everything about Oliver. What does he smell like? What have you talked about? And, is he as beautiful up close as he is on screen?”

I hopped on my counter and dangled my legs. I took a second to remember the moment he’d walked down the stairs. “He smells like the best kind of clean you can imagine. And, he’s drop dead, like so gorgeous it’s hard to believe he’s real.”

“Fantastic. What did you talk about? Did he tell you any secrets?” She raised her shoulders and clapped her hands.