Chapter 10
To Mae, Joe seemed to take up all the space in the elevator. His sensual energy vibrated through her as they rode up six flights to the top floor. The doors swished open and a lump of nerves hit her throat. Grabbing Joe’s arm, she didn’t move to exit and asked, “Why are you wearing that old tuxedo jacket anyway?”
He lifted one brow about a millimeter and otherwise didn’t even blink at what, she realized after hearing the question aloud, was a ridiculously odd thing to say at this moment.
“You were right. It was a bet.”
Without missing a beat, he took control, which she realized he was generally inclined to do. He ushered her off the elevator into the lobby of one of the biggest and most successful TV production companies in LA, maybe the world: Alpha Centurion Productions.
The receptionist knew her and greeted them with a warm smile—that lingered on Joe. Mae wasn’t the jealous type, normally. But the nerves must be affecting her like crazy because she found herself stepping into Joe’s arm and holding on tight. God, she was so pathetic. He was going to run the other way fast as soon as the police caught up with Salvatore Vito. She only hoped Joe stayed that long, putting up with her inexplicable antics.
“You can go right in, Ms. Monday. And . . .” The receptionist stared pointedly at Joe, waiting for an introduction, but Mae led him to the left, in the direction of the conference room where they’d be meeting, without the intro. She’d been here once before, when they negotiated the deal to hire her for the series. The assistant producer had been super confident the pilot would get picked up.
Joe leaned low as they walked down a well-appointed corridor lined with still photos from various successful TV series that Alpha Centurion had produced.
“You’re not going to bother to introduce me at all?” he whispered.
She tried not to react to the husky voice, the warm breath fanning her ear, the earthy masculine scent of him, his strength—hell, everything about him called to her.
“Not to the receptionist. To everyone else, I’m going with the truth. I’ll introduce you as my bodyguard. I decided it has a ring.” She’d decided that the second she said it. “Might even give me cachet, give the project some extra buzz.”
“What happened to your fear of news getting out?” He stopped walking and she turned to him.
“I’m still not happy about it. I’m a private person. I like being behind the scenes. But let’s face it, with the business I’m in, I’ll have to deal with it if the media picks it up. And spin it to our advantage.”
He paused as if he were considering her words, or considering calling a shrink for her and bailing. Then he smiled. The full monty. And rocked her world.
“Don’t do that.” She turned away, not wanting him to see her drool or blush or faint.
“Do what? Smile? I think you’re brilliant. Couldn’t help myself from admiring how quickly you’ve adjusted to the situation. You’d have made a great special-ops soldier—if you knew how to shoot.”
She snapped back around to face him, laughing. “You’re killing me, Joe. It’s no wonder I’m smitten.” Before he could say anything in response, and appalled at herself for letting go of her self-imposed reserve, she pulled him along the corridor and turned left into the conference room where several players already waited.
The director, Laura Plimpton, greeted her with as genuine a hug as she’d experienced in this business. Mae figured that Laura, the youngest female director in the business, must have started directing in grade school to have amassed the credits she had. Laura eyed Joe with a cautious smile that demanded an explanation.
“Laura, this is Joe Temple. He’s my bodyguard—security. I thought it wise to hire him after the break-in at my home recently. The police advised it.”
“Oh—is everything okay? Are you truly in danger?”
“We’ve been—”
Before she could go on with the explanation and not really knowing if she should tell all about being chased and shot at, Joe took over.
“Ms. Monday is being followed by some unsavory types. We think they’re interested in acquiring some valuables that she currently has hidden away. We’re working with the police.” He delivered his line with an FBI seriousness. Even Mae was convinced that all was under control and neat as a pin.
“Who’s after you?” Laura Plimpton addressed her and not Joe, probably sensing she’d be more forthcoming.
“We think it’s Salvatore Vito.”
“We aren’t supposed to talk about it. Ongoing investigation,” Joe said, squeezing her arm as they took two chairs at the director’s right.
Laura said to her, “Have a conversation with PR about it.” She eyed Joe for a beat and then moved on to introduce her and Joe to the others at the table.
Mae instantly forgot the names of the show runner, head writer, and the set designer as Laura transitioned from talking about Mae’s need for a bodyguard with mind-boggling speed. Then she introduced the set designer and the male and female lead actors.
“This is Remy Todd. He’ll be the male lead, Dane Blaise. You might remember him from the filmWar is Hellwhere he played the role of a similarly soul-weary character.”
Remy leaned over the table and shook her hand, but then switched his attention to Joe.