Back in Black (16 page)

Holding up a hand, Sparks cut him short. “Got it. You can be public enemy number one.”

Drew’s smile showed his lack of concern with the animosity. “Yeah, and sometimes I’m everyone’s
best
friend. Just depends on what’s going on and who’s involved. I can’t let any of that shit get to me or I wouldn’t be able to do my job. I’m sorry that Roger had the hassle, and I hope it didn’t ruin the night for anyone, but what the fuck? You can’t expect me to take it seriously.”

Gillian held back, but it wasn’t easy. Whether or not Drew saw any validity in the threat, it scared her.

The cop considered his attitude. “Actually, as long as I’m taking it seriously, I’d appreciate it if you did, too. So tell me, have any of the haters, past or present, seemed the type to issue a bomb threat?”

“Not really, no. But then I don’t exactly go out of my way to understand the mental workings of those who give me grief, you know?”

“Understandable. So who knew about your plans tonight?”

“Just some people in the business. Regular folks.”

“You know them all well?”

“Well enough that I wouldn’t accuse any of them of being bomb happy.”

The officer had several more questions, wrote lots of notes, and finally handed a card to Drew. “If you think of anything, even something that might not seem important to you, give me a call.”

Drew tossed it onto a table. “Thanks.”

Hands on his hips, Officer Sparks turned to Gillian. “If you want to maintain anonymity, I’d suggest you finish dressing and get out of here. The press was showing up when I left. If the owner of the club, Mr. Sims, mentions any details . . . well, you could end up with reporters at the door instead of me.” And with that, he tipped his hat and left.

After he closed and relocked the door, Drew surveyed her and groaned. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Gillian stared at him in wonder. How could he remain so cavalier? “Most definitely. The sooner, the better.” Already on her way back to the bedroom, she shouted, “Get dressed and get me out of here, Drew. Hurry it up.”

D
ESPITE understanding, Drew’s mood soured with each minute he got Gillian closer to her car and the official end of their . . . well, not exactly a first date. But a notable night all the same. “This was not how I’d wanted the evening to end.”

Face silhouetted by weak moonlight, Gillian kept her gaze out the window. “No?”

“Hell no. I had about a dozen more things I wanted to do.” He glanced at her. “To you.” His gaze dipped over the prim way she’d folded her hands in her lap, how she crossed her ankles, and the contradiction of that ladylike posture with the way she’d been in bed only stoked the fire. “To that smokin’ body of yours.”

“Drew, really.” But she smiled when she said it.

He saw the slight dimple appear in her cheek. Her mouth . . . damn, but her mouth made him nuts. He shifted uncomfortably. Right now her makeup was more off than on, her hair hung loose, and she’d left off the panty hose.

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Her passion matched his, and that was saying something. If this bullshit bomb stuff hadn’t happened, she’d have stayed the night, and his imagination went nuts conjuring up ideas of what they would have done, the many ways he would have taken her.

Few cars passed them on the road. The storm had blown past and now a sliver of moon struggled past remnants of dark clouds. Drew had the radio playing low, but he could still hear the hiss of tires on wet pavement. With every breeze, raindrops fell from trees and overhead lines.

Suddenly, she turned to face him. “I detest waiting around for a man to make a move.”

Taken aback, Drew asked, “Is there a move I missed? Because, hell, I’m willing.”

Exasperation changed her expression. “Will I see you again? Other than with business, I mean.”

“Well, hell, I hope so!” Was there a doubt on that one? Had she been sitting there stewing, wondering if this was a one-and-only kind of night?

“Given the circumstances—”

“That stupid bomb business?” Drew locked his teeth. If he ever found the guy responsible, he’d make him pay. “Forget about it, will you?”

“Forget a bomb? No, I don’t think so.” She pulled one knee up onto the seat. “But you’ll probably be under closer scrutiny now. There’ll be added risk of us getting caught.”

Yeah, because God forbid anyone should know how he makes her scream in the sack. Damn it. He’d had plenty of sexual relationships, but never one where the woman was ashamed of herself for sleeping with him.

“I haven’t even come close to getting my fill, Gillian, so don’t go there.” He turned down the street of the boys’ home and went on past it toward the empty gravel lot where Gillian had parked her car. “It’s not like we don’t have reason to be seen together, you know. You were hired to . . . what? Transform me?”

Her gaze shot to him. “If anyone asks, I’m a publicist, which is true. But also a handler and a—”

“Miracle worker, right?” It still burned his ass to think about it. “Isn’t that how you first put it?”

“Drew.” She reached across the console and put a hand to his thigh.

“I said that before I really knew you.”

She thought she really knew him now? After one bout of sex? He flicked his gaze over her. “And now?”

She gave him that small smile again. “As a publicist, I think you have some rough edges that we could smooth down just a
little
bit. As a woman, your sexist attitudes make me nuts.” She squeezed his thigh. “As someone who’s shared your bed . . . well, words desert me.”

Drew laughed. “Liar.”

“About what?”

“You know I’m not really sexist and it doesn’t really bother you that much.”

Her laughing reply got cut short when Drew said, “Fuck.”

“What?” She followed his gaze through the windshield and saw her small car illuminated in the headlights. “Oh, my God.”

Someone had trashed her little RX8. A shattered side window had let in the rain. White spray paint showed stark against the dark green exterior, across the hood and driver’s-side door. The words—
Let the damned go to the devil
—sent a red haze over Drew’s vision.

“That’s a reference to me.”

Gillian didn’t hear him. When he stopped, she opened her car door. Moving like a zombie, she made to get out.

He caught her arm. “Are you nuts? Stay put and let me call Officer Sparks.”

“Wait.” She snatched at his cell phone. “We have to think about this.”

In her pretty blue eyes, Drew saw shock, confusion, and hurt. He could tell that no one had ever personally attacked her before and she didn’t quite know how to deal with it.

“Read what it says, Gillian. Someone is pissed at you for working with me.”

“You . . . you can’t know that.” But she did stare at her car to read the sloppily painted message. Slowly, she shook her head in denial. Voice faint, she said, “What does that mean?”

It seemed clear enough to Drew. “I’m the devil someone wants damned.”

In quick denial, she said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” But she didn’t look convinced as she continued to stare at the destruction. “Not everything is about you, you know, despite your monumental ego.”

Drew appreciated her effort to deflect the accusation, but he knew a real threat—when it was aimed at an innocent like Gillian. “Get real, honey. First the bomb threat, and now someone beats up your car, which was left near a place where you arranged a speaking engagement for me? I just hope whoever did this doesn’t know
why
you left the car here. But either way”—he took his phone from her again—“I need to call Officer Sparks.”

She groaned and fell back in her seat. “I just know this is going to end up front-page news.”

Drew shook his head at her. “Hardly that. I think Sparks can be tactful.” When the officer answered, Drew gave him the details. They ended up waiting on Sparks, who arrived twenty minutes later. He took a report, which included getting Gillian’s full name and association with Drew, but, as Drew had suspected, not much could be done.

Sparks did caution them to be careful, and he promised that he wouldn’t share Gillian’s name unless it became absolutely necessary. Right now, it wasn’t.

After he left, Gillian wanted Drew to do the same so that she could call for the tow truck—and not be seen with him.

What was he? A scourge? An embarrassment? The devil himself, as the car wrecker presumed?

Gillian’s desire to hide her personal interest in him made him nuts, but he still would have obliged if he wasn’t worried for her safety. Instead, he called an associate who had a tow truck and asked him to take the car to a garage. No other explanations were necessary.

“Just that easy?” Gillian asked with wonder.

Drew paced around her car, even though he’d already done that with Officer Sparks and even though there wasn’t enough light now to see much. “When you’re as high profile as I am, it’s good to make affiliations with people who don’t ask questions. I’ve worked with that garage before, too. They’re good. Your car will be in good hands.”

Drew left the key hidden in a designated spot. “Tomorrow you can give the garage a call, tell them it’s your car, and you can take over from there with no one the wiser on your social life.”

Pleased with that plan, Gillian said, “You’re a handy man to know, Drew.”

Actually, knowing him was what had gotten her car trashed.

Feeling powerless, he escorted Gillian home.

They rode in silence with her worrying and him stewing until they reached her driveway.

Gillian unhooked her seat belt in a rush. “You don’t need to get out.”

Because she didn’t want to risk anyone seeing her with him.
The insults were starting to get under his very thick skin. “Am I allowed to sit here until I see you’re safely inside?”

For answer, she craned her neck to look out the rear window, the side windows. “I think it’s okay. No one is up and about right now anyway.”

Drew’s smile started to smart. “Then it’s safe for me to do this.” Catching her before she could suspect his intent, he brought her closer and stole her gasp with a scorching kiss. As always, she melted in seconds, and soon she had her fingers knotted in his shirt as she tried to get more of him.

The silly woman forgot all about her fear of discovery—but Drew didn’t. No matter his reputation, he was a damned gentleman, and she’d made it clear that keeping their relationship under wraps was crucial to her.

Feeling a little like a cad now that he’d made his point, he released her. Or at least he tried to. When he freed her mouth, Gillian kissed his chin, his throat, and when she took a small love bite of his shoulder, he jumped.

So did his dick.

Better to get this over with now before he lost all reason. Setting her away from him, Drew took a deep breath, but it didn’t help all that much. With any luck, he’d get her out of the car before she noticed his boner.

“Gillian?”

“Hmmm?”

He touched her face. “Get some sleep, and think about me.”

Big blue eyes blinked at him, widened, and then narrowed. “Those two things do not go hand in hand.”

He wasn’t sure of her meaning. “Come again?”

“If I think of you, I’ll never get any sleep.” Leaning in for a soft, quick peck, she destroyed most of the rancor he’d felt; her smile took care of the rest. “Thank you for all your help today, and for being so discreet.”

Again, Drew stopped her. He did not want this newest turn to scare her away. “We should cool it for a few days, just in case anyone is keeping track. But I’ll be in touch later.”

“Okay.” She reached for the door.

He stopped her. Again.
Fuck
. “No arguments?”

“I’m not keeping tabs on you, Drew. But I do know you have some out-of-town business coming up this week.”

Oh, hell. He’d forgotten all about that. Yes, he kept an insane schedule, but it was so unheard-of for him to forget any of it that he just sat there, staring at her.

She misunderstood his silence. “You’re meeting with producers, right? Something about doing a piece on a fighter’s background.”

How the hell did she know that? He hadn’t told anyone, not even Brett Bullman, the fighter they hoped to “uncover.”

At his silence, her uncertainty showed, but she tried to put a brave face on it. “It’s fine, Drew. Really. I had hoped to meet with you prior to your leaving, to discuss your chest-beating, profanity-ridden style of negotiation, but I suppose that, for better or worse, that’s you.”

Another fucking insult! Right now, after realizing he’d
temporarily
forgotten a major commitment, he was just out of sorts enough to snap. “How the hell do you think I’ve survived this long without you spoon-feeding me dialogue?”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she continued with her tone now prim, proper, and very detached. “All in all, I’m convinced that, especially in particular forums, your instincts are your best guide.” She opened the door. “But I would ask you to remember our deal. You agreed to no public profanity, and I would consider a negotiation with producers to be quite public.”

Drew opened his mouth to correct her—and she slammed the car door.

Stubborn woman. Jaw tight, he watched her dig out her keys as she sashayed along the walkway to the front door. She unlocked the door, went inside, and shut it again without a single glance back at him. Lights came on inside. More lights. Drew waited, but everything seemed to be routine.

Just to be sure, he called her on his cell.

She answered with exasperation. “
What
, Drew?”

He meant to say that he was only making sure she got inside okay. Instead, he heard himself say, “We could do dinner the night before I leave.” He winced at his own neediness, but it was too late to retreat now. “You know, to go over dos and don’ts.”