Caught on Camera

But seeing her naked? Nope. And from the irritated look on her face, those stalker shots, computer-generated abominations that they were bound to be, were the closest he was going to get.

“Is this an invitation to go with you?” he asked, reining in his fantasies and handing her the black leather bag.

“I’m sorry I threw it,” she murmured. “You startled me. I guess I’m a little edgier than I thought.”

Reece glanced at the door. He remembered her earlier offer to hide. “Edgy enough to run off?”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” she said quickly. “I was checking my messages.” Interesting that she’d instantly honed in on his suspicion. “Is this how you handle security for your clients? By sneaking up and hounding them?”

“Hounding? C’mon, sweetheart. You and I both know I might sneak under your skin from time to time—” his appreciative gaze trailed a caress over that skin, just like his fingers itched to do “—but I’ve never hounded you. You’re just a little jumpy.”

With good reason, he was about to say. But her sneer stopped him. God, if he wasn’t already crazy about her, that look alone would have sent him over the edge. Pure sexual challenge, the curl of her glistening red lips made him crave a taste of the soft flesh.

“I’m only edgy when some huge, irritating guy follows me around for no reason.”

“So you remember me as huge, huh?” he asked with a wicked grin, referencing aloud for the first time their little encounter at Mitch’s resort. Up-against-the-wall, no-holds-barred sex that had kept him awake many a night since.

Her luscious lower lip fell, just a little, as she stared, speechless. Heat, fast and intense, flashed in her blue eyes. The look, brief though it was, assured him that nothing about their closet encounter had slipped her mind. And, thank God, the swift glance she slid to his zipper guaranteed those moans of pleasure he’d tortured himself with nightly had been the real deal.

“A huge pain in my butt, yes,” she said, as if she wasn’t looking at him as though she’d like to take his zipper down with her teeth.

How the hell did she do that? More to the point, why the hell did she do it? The attraction between them was right there, so obvious she had to see it. But would she acknowledge it? No. Deal with it? Hell, no.

She was driving him nuts.

Screw caution.

Furious, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, Reece strode forward. Two steps was all he needed to bring him close enough to feel her quickening breath against his chest. To see her pupils dilate. Whether her reaction was one of fury or the desire she denied, he didn’t care. Any response other than disdain would do at this point.

All he cared about was tasting her. Proving to himself that his memories were real.

Before she could snap out whatever snippy thing was burning on the tip of her tongue, he grabbed her shoulders. Pulling her close, he grinned down into her shocked face.

“Didn’t your momma ever warn you about riling a horny bull, sweetheart?”

Then he took her mouth. Under different circumstances, with a different woman, he’d have gone the gentlemanly route and coaxed the passion from her. With Sierra, he met power with power. He didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead he welcomed himself into the wet heat of her mouth with a swift thrust of his tongue.

She slapped her hands onto his chest as if to push him away. But one stroke, then two, of his tongue and her hands clenched his pecs instead, fingers curling and uncurling like a kneading cat.

Her purr of pleasure sent him from turned-on to rock-hard instantly. Tongues twined, lips meshed as he gave over to the heady flash of power. Their kiss was a smooth dance, intense and sexual.

His hands slid from her shoulders, down her arms, and he entwined his fingers in hers. Needing more, he pressed her forward until her back was to the wall, trapping her between the wainscoting and his body.

Their kiss, already hot, went into overdrive. She sucked his tongue into the silky depths of her mouth, the movement mimicking a blow job of epic proportions.

Reece groaned in desperate pleasure at the image. His dick, already rock-hard, strained painfully at the teasing reminder of what it wasn’t getting.

He took her hand, still linked with his, and slid it down his body. When he pressed it to his zipper, she gasped. Then her fingers clenched the rigid denim. She spread her fingers wide, moaning when they didn’t cover the length of him.

“Sierra?”

They both heard Belle call from the other room at the same time. Reece had to force himself to pull back. To resist the urge to grab her and drag her to the nearest room, where he could shut and lock the door. His breath coming fast, he met Sierra’s eyes.

Passion and something else blurred the blue depths. Then, with a flick of her long black lashes, it was gone. She gave his throbbing dick a soft pat, then withdrew her fingers. Her raised brow indicated she wanted loose.

Stepping away, Reece obliged.

“Sometimes huge is a good thing,” he said softly as she walked back toward the kitchen.

“And sometimes,” she said just as softly over her shoulder, “it just gets in the way.”

Chapter Three

SIERRA TUCKED a stray hair into her low ponytail and smoothed her palm over the stark white skirt of her poplin shirtdress. To keep the look from being too sweet, she’d paired the simple dress with red accessories and a killer pair of red leather heels. A fashionable yet unthreatening look that she hoped would put CEO Corinne Perkins and the rest of the uptight and upright Family powers-that-be at ease.

The elevator dinged her floor and she gripped her laptop case tighter as she joined the crowd pouring out. A glance at her watch assured her she was ten minutes early for the meeting. She’d intended to be twenty, but had been distracted by another photo delivery. This one had come with a note, too.

I’m Watching You.

Those three words had freaked her out. Even now, it was all she could do not to hide in the pseudo safety of the elevator.

Someone was serious about messing with her. And while she’d followed Belle’s mandate and furiously pored over their client list, noting every competitor or employee she’d ever pissed off, Sierra didn’t think they’d find the answer there.

Whoever was behind this was after her. Specifically. Not the company. It was too personal, too nasty to be anything else. And while she’d like to think she was woman enough to make a lasting impression on her past lovers, none of them were behind this. If they were, she reasoned, they’d know enough to make the pictures more realistic. They’d add in the mole on her hip, for instance.

As she forced herself out of the elevator, she fought back the biting grip of terror that had taken hold after the messages started arriving. The derogatory attacks on her worth, the slams on her sexuality. The ever-so-familiar insults that she hadn’t heard since she’d left her aunt and uncle’s home.

Anger and fear tangled together in her gut, but she ordered herself to shove them aside. Calling on all her control, she sucked in a deep breath and decided she could worry about it later. Her priority right now was nailing all the particulars of this account, and she’d be damned if she was going to let some pervert ruin it. Belle was counting on her. And more important, her own dreams were riding on it.

After that little pep talk and a few deep breaths, she greeted the HTT Publications receptionist and followed the conservative blonde into the boardroom. Belle and their favorite photographer were already there. Sierra was glad to see they were the only ones in the starkly modern room. She needed a few more minutes to shore up her composure.

“Sierra, great timing. You can tell Tristan what you think of his new look.” Belle gestured with wide eyes to the man sitting at the other end of the table. “He won’t believe me when I say he looks great.”

Catching Belle’s signal, Sierra made a show of checking out the photographer’s version of conservative. The entire team had agreed that this account was important enough to toe the line, which in Tristan’s case meant looking a little less over-the-top artist and a little…safer.

Taking in his transformation, Sierra wasn’t sure he really understood safe. No longer in a ponytail, his pitch-black hair was short and edgy, and his slumberous midnight eyes had that just-out-of-bed-with-a-half-dozen-women look in them. He’d even worn a suit, although the pegged black slacks and baggy pinstriped jacket over a T-shirt might be pushing that designation just a little.

“Great look,” she told him, meaning it. He was still gorgeous and artsy, but not so out-there that he’d freak out their conservative client. She hoped. “How many gals’ phone numbers did you get on the elevator ride up here?”

His mouth quirked into a grin and he shrugged. “Just the receptionist. She thinks she’d like to try and get into fashion modeling and wants my help with her portfolio.”

Sierra and Belle exchanged looks. The wild thing was, Tristan really thought the sweet little blonde was interested in his camerawork. For all his sexual energy and artistic eccentricities, the guy was a total innocent in many ways.

Baffling.

“Well, when the two of you are talking fashion,” she said, “be sure to keep in mind that this company prides itself on its conservative values. So no boinking on her desk.”

“Especially if the bosses are around,” Belle added with a smirk as she set up the planning and timeline boards.

“Even if they aren’t,” Sierra cautioned with a frown. The three of them had been friends since high school. They all knew how many sexual shenanigans Tristan had been caught in. “We’ve busted our butts to get this account and they have some very flimsy cancellation clauses in the contract. Even a hint of impropriety and they’ll yank this from us faster than you can zip your pants.”

“Hey,” Belle admonished quietly. Her look was a mixture of surprise and chastisement.

Sierra grimaced and jerked her shoulder. “Sorry. You know what I mean, though.”

Instead of looking offended or bothering to defend his penchant for landing in bed with four out of five women he met, Tristan just gave her one of his scrutinizing looks and asked, “You okay? You seem a little tense. Maybe you should get a massage when we’re done here. I know a gal—she’d fit you in.”

Sierra was horrified when tears filled her eyes. She blinked fast and furiously. Oh, no. There was no way she was giving in to the emotions ripping through her gut. Instead, she turned quickly to unpack her laptop so Belle wouldn’t notice before she regained control.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” she said with a bright smile when she faced them again. “I’m just concerned. We’re heavily invested in this job already and we’re still without a long-term contract. The lack of commitment is starting to get to me.”

After shooting her a worried look, Belle took the hint and changed the subject, asking Tristan, “You’ve confirmed your schedule is workable for their proposed dates?”

Sierra grimaced. Just another reason this account—while essential if they wanted to grab the next rung on the ladder to success—was a pain in the ass. The company was so worried about image, it wouldn’t commit to any event until it had been approved by the entire board. Which meant dates and times couldn’t be etched in stone. Eventfully Yours was on its third event and the first one involving the media, and the client was still waffling.

“Toby assured me my schedule is flexible,” Tristan said, sitting there like an oasis of calm as Belle and Sierra fluttered around setting up their presentation, tweaking a board here, a swatch of fabric there.

Toby was Tristan’s assistant and deserved a lot of credit for his success. Oh, the photographer was amazing. A great eye, incredible skill and vision had made him one of the top in California. But he tended to forget everything when he was immersed in his art. Toby kept him on track.

Much like Belle said Sierra kept her on track. Sierra knew better, of course. Sierra owed her success, and her sanity, to her best friend. Which meant she also owed her the truth.

“Ready to rock?” Belle asked quietly with a glance at her watch. One o’clock, straight up. Presentation time.

Sierra looked over and saw worry lurking in Belle’s seagreen eyes. The guilt and fear crept higher in Sierra’s belly. Confessions could wait. The truth would only make Belle upset.

An hour and forty minutes later, they wound up their meeting by shaking hands and, thank God, signing the contract. Corinne Perkins was a tiny white-haired woman who looked as if she would be more at home baking cookies for her grandkids than running a huge business. But she was the CEO for Family and a dynamo who demanded one hundred and twenty percent from herself and everyone else.

“Ladies,” she said after Tristan had flirted his way out the door, “I’m delighted with your choice. I’ll admit, I had to talk fast to get the board to agree to use a photographer with such, well, shall we say, eclectic tastes. But his work will give a modern and, I hope, urban feel to our magazine.”

“Your target demographic will love his work,” Belle assured the older woman. “Like the rest of our campaign, this will definitely bring in the type of advertisers and accounts you’re focusing on.”

Corinne smiled and stood up to hand Belle the signed contract. The stack of papers on her desk scattered and she tut-tutted as she gathered them back up. With a look of surprise, as if she hadn’t noticed it before, she slid a large envelope out of the untidy pile.

Sliding her own laptop into its case, Sierra caught sight of the plain brown envelope and purple mailing label. Her stomach took a dive.

What the hell? It couldn’t be.

Corinne slid an unmanicured nail under the flap. Sierra wanted to lunge across the desk and grab the envelope. But she couldn’t. She was frozen in her chair, her brain going a million miles a second, her body held in terrified stasis.

Corinne withdrew a small piece of paper out of the envelope. She gasped and threw it on the desk.

Sierra closed her eyes, too horrified to look.

“No,” Belle breathed. Eyes still closed, Sierra felt rather than saw her partner drop to the chair next to her.

The silence in the room was heavy.

“Care to explain this?” Corinne finally snapped.

Unable to continue hiding, Sierra forced herself to look.

Corinne was pointing a shaking finger at the piece of five-by-seven ugliness. Sierra winced. Obviously pervy boy had found a Photoshop for morons guide, because this picture looked real. Sierra, three guys and a whole slew of sex toys. Sierra was clueless as to what they even were. Apparently the men had no such problem, since they were using most of them on each other.

In danger of losing her lunch, she pressed her hand to her stomach. In bold white text across the black-and-white image were the words Sluts Are Bad For Business.

“I…” She couldn’t even speak. The words just stuck in her throat, pitiful and apologetic. A familiar feeling of being judged and found guilty washed over her.

“Corinne, I’m horrified you’ve been brought into this,” Belle said, talking fast, but with that girl-to-girl confidant tone that suggested she was sharing secrets. She went on to describe the evolution of the stalker pictures, pointing out the few clues that would assure their very uptight client that this was a digitally enhanced image. She ended with, “We’ve involved the police, and I assure you the matter is being dealt with.”

Through it all, Sierra just stared at the photo and tried to breathe. Everything they’d worked for. Everything she’d wanted since she’d escaped to boarding school—security, acceptance, independence—all seemed to be disintegrating under the weight of that picture.

“Ladies, I…” The CEO hesitated, then tapped her finger on their hard-won contract. “I believe you. I honestly do. But this isn’t the kind of thing that Family Publications can find itself connected to.”

Corinne sighed, then flipped the picture over. She grimaced, as if not liking what she was about to say.

“I hate to do it, but I might need to rethink things,” she said, flattening her hand over the contract. “While you girls have the best outline of events, programs and entertainment for our board and sponsors, this kind of thing can’t be tolerated. Family, as you know, would be horrified to find itself associated with anything of this nature.”

“There’s no way they could be,” Sierra said breathlessly. Geez, unless the creep got the board members’ faces and pasted them into the next orgy shot, how could this affect them? She was the one the guy was after. Her past was coming back to haunt her. She was sure of it. That realization froze the rest of her argument in her throat. Her past? Was it possible that her uncle had decided to stop his favorite game of blackmail and turn his dirty hand to photo stalking? No. There was no payoff here that he cared about. It was just the work of some sick pervert.

How pathetic that the idea was a reassurance.

“They don’t even have to know,” Belle interrupted. “The problem is being investigated and will be resolved any day now.”

Sierra had to force her lips together. Who knew Belle could lie to someone’s face like that?

“We’ve not only involved the police, but we’ve hired a private security firm. We’ll be happy to bring them to the events if it would reassure you.”

Another ten minutes of building on that lie and Belle had convinced the woman to leave their contract alone.

Sierra kept her face neutral until Corinne left the boardroom.

“I can’t believe you bullshitted her like that,” she hissed. “How long do you think it’ll take before she notices we don’t have security?”

“We do.” Belle stood and ripped her board from the wall. “Reece can handle the security.”

Ignoring that just the mention of his name turned her on, Sierra sneered. Reece, help her? She started to laugh, then stopped. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea. Of course, he wouldn’t do it for her, but he would for Belle. He had the credentials. Mr. Security could pretend perfectly.

“Will he agree? Can you call him and ask?” This was doable, she told herself. If they handled it right, she wouldn’t even have to see the cowboy. Belle could ask him, maybe bring him around to meet Corinne and do the whole fake security-assurance thing. All Sierra had to do was smile and keep her mouth shut.

Impossible. She was ruining everything. Now Belle was having to lie for her. And worse, they would have to bring Reece into the whole humiliating mess.

“I should just step aside. I can do the behind-the-scenes work for a while.” Her offer held a hint of desperation. “Work from home, keep a low profile.”

“Don’t let this guy run you off,” Belle said. “Reece will help. That’s all we need. He’s already offered. He told Mitch and I that he’d step in at any time. You just have to ask him.” Sierra opened her mouth to protest, but Belle shook her head before she could say anything. “No. You have to do the asking. It’s only fair.”

“I think it’d come much better from you,” Sierra protested.

After all, the last time she’d talked to him, she’d patted his dick and walked away.

“Look,” Belle said as she shoved the boards into her portfolio case, “we need this account. We’ve invested too much in the job already. I don’t want you to step aside, so we need security. You need security. He’s already agreed. All you have to do is talk to him.”

Sierra sighed at the fond memory of a much less ballsy Belle. The one who’d easily backed off from confrontation and let people live—and screw up—their lives in peace.

Except this wasn’t just Sierra’s life being screwed up. Now it was her—their—business. The one Belle had brought her into. Belle saw them as equals, and it would be because of Sierra if they failed.

“I’ll talk to him,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Now.”

“I have—”

“No excuses. Go see him before he leaves town. He’s working out of Mitch’s downtown office.”

Sierra’s jaw ached as she struggled to hold back an ugly retort. Instead, she dug into her purse for a piece of peppermint candy and, with short, jerky movements, unwrapped it and shoved it into her mouth. Maybe the sugar would sweeten her mood. God knew, she’d need it if she was going to go asking favors of Reece Carter.

REECE HAD TO hand it to the twists of fate. Just when he’d written off any shot with Sierra, she walked through his door asking for a favor. Sure, she looked as if she’d rather be having a root canal and was as edgy as if she’d just killed someone. But she was here. Life was never boring, that was for sure.

“Look, I just need you to come by the client’s office and pretend to be Eventfully Yours’ security.” He noticed she wasn’t calling it her security. That would be admitting too much. “Just fake it so we don’t lose this job.”

Reece shook his head. “Sweetheart, I already offered to do the job. But the deal is, if I’m in, I’m all the way in.”

He let his words lie there between them, enjoying the image. Enjoying even more Sierra’s reaction to it. She turned pale, then blushed. As the rose faded from her cheeks, she just glared at him.

“If you want me, it’s for real. Not some fake bullshit to con your client. You’d need to listen to me, do what I say when it comes to protecting you from this creep.”

The look on her face, pure fury, told him that she didn’t want him at all. He read her body signals, the way her legs tensed, her fingers curling around the handle of her briefcase. She wanted to storm out, probably flipping him off on her way. But she stayed seated.

This must be one hell of an account on the line.

“You’re no better than the pervy jerk with the computer program,” she accused in a tone that barely disguised her underlying frustration. “It’s all about the sex for you guys. He’s trying to humiliate me with sex. You’re just out to get a piece of ass.”

It took every ounce of Reece’s training to keep his expression blank. Anger clawed at his gut, aching to be released in a slew of cutting words.

His army major’s number one dictum rang in his head. It’s nothing personal. He used the phrase to get himself under control.

“Want to let me see the pictures?” he said, shoving aside his fury with an effort. Ripping into her was pointless. She was already being terrorized. Besides, he’d get his way. They both knew it, so there was no point in hammering it home and making her feel any worse.

She stared at him in silence for ten seconds. Then twenty. At thirty, she seemed to crumble. Women’s tears didn’t scare him, but the stoic fear on Sierra’s dry-eyed face ripped at his gut. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and promise to keep her safe, to hide her away until he’d found and dealt with the asshole causing her such misery.

But then she lifted her chin and pulled a thick envelope from her case. It wasn’t until she stood and walked over to hand him the package that he realized she’d kicked off her shoes. She was tiny without them, barely reaching his shoulder. The image only added to his protective urges.

Until she opened her mouth.

“Did you want privacy to look at them?” she murmured with a shaky smirk as she held them out.

“There’s nothing I’d do in private that I wouldn’t rather do with you in the room, sweetheart,” he shot back as he opened the package. His temper lurked in the words, lingering irritation that she’d accuse him of being all about sex. Sure, he wanted her. But this was business. He was a big boy and knew the difference.

He didn’t shift from where he sat, one hip leaning on the desk, but he did come to attention as he flipped through the photos. With each one, his frown deepened. His impression from both Belle and Mitch was that this was a simple harassment situation. Some guy Sierra had blown off trying to get her attention, maybe.