Dying to Have Her (9 page)

Today he’d resorted to climbing a tree to make sure she was all right with her sister and brother-in-law in attendance. No other way to keep an eye on her out on the patio. And still no way to hear what was being said. He watched Jeff and Melinda, heads together frequently whenever Serena disappeared into the house. Melinda seemed tense. Though older, she sometimes appeared to be a slightly faded copy of her sister. Serena was taller, her hair was redder. Her every movement was vibrant. They were both slim, striking women. Serena had a few more curves. Obvious now, as she walked around the barbecue in a bathing suit.

He’d talked to Conar last night, and Conar had told him about the way the entire cast had suddenly grown still when Serena had mentioned that Jane Dunne had been smoking in Jennifer’s dressing room.

Little fool!
he’d thought angrily.
You set yourself right up!

Today had bothered him. He’d seen Melinda, her eyes concerned when she watched her sister, anxious, as if she wanted to say something. And once, when Serena had gone inside, she had turned on her husband.

“Tell her!” Melinda said to Jeff so emphatically that Liam actually heard the words.

Then Jeff bent low to her, speaking intensely, and when Serena appeared again, they were both smiling.

Tell her
what!

Jeff was behaving damned suspiciously. He was among the suspects. And they included anyone who might have been in the building between seven-fifteen and nine.

That meant most of the cast and crew. Including Joe Penny, Andy Larkin, a slew of secretaries and assistants and makeup people.

Later, from his cell phone in the car, he put in a call to Bill Hutchens.

“Liam, you know what time it is?” Bill asked.

“Sorry. You put me on this one, remember?”

“Olsen put you on it. Where are you? You’re starting to crack up on me.”

“In my car,” he said briefly.

“Have you met with Serena yet?” Bill asked.

“No,” Liam said briefly. “I need to know exactly who was in the building the morning Jane died. Have you got a list?”

“Yes, of course, I have a list!” Bill said, his tone somewhat defensive.

“Sorry. You think you could let me see it?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll fax it over to your house. Even if it is near midnight. Hey, you know, I am the lead investigator. If you get anything …”

“You know I’ll work with you.”

He heard a deep sigh from the other end of the line. “Sorry. I’m frustrated. I hate to say it, but I think this whole thing was an accident. Somebody got sloppy.”

“Dayton and Garcia deny that emphatically.”

Bill snorted. “Of course they do! Their jobs are on the line.”

“Sure. But fax me the list anyway, huh?”

“You got it. Right away.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I’m not such an egotist that I’m not glad for any help you can give. Just try not to make me look like an ass.”

“Are all the forensics reports in yet?”

“No, but I should have something more definite soon. And when I do, I’ll let you know.”

Liam rang off.

He stared at her house once again, gritted his teeth, and sank back in the car seat.

Damn, but the nights could be long.

M
ONDAY, BACK ON THE
set, Serena was early. Her weekend had been restless, to say the least. She had thought that getting to work as early as possible and getting on with her usual routine would be a good idea.

She was so early that only Clancy, glumly on duty on the ground floor, was there to greet her. Heading up to her dressing room, she passed the standing show sets—still dark, except for the emergency lighting.

On the board by the stairs she saw huge shoot notices posted for the day: “Meeting! All cast and crew, no exceptions! 9:00
A.M.
sharp. SHARP!”

Beneath that order was a call notice: “Serena McCormack, Conar Markham, extras—Egyptian set, 10:00.”

There had been some rewrites for the day, that was certain. Extras? What extras? What were they shooting?

She looked around the big room with its many sets on either side of the central aisle where the cameras moved. Crime tape still surrounded the restaurant set where the light had fallen. That must not be making Joe and Andy very happy, she thought. Of all the sets, the restaurant one was used most frequently.

She heard a noise on the set and froze for a moment. Turning around, she saw only a shadowy figure at first, coming from the area of the crime scene. As he moved toward her, she saw it was a man, very tall and broad shouldered.

A murderer!
she thought, the unease of the last few days setting in.

No, she told herself logically. He must be an extra. Maybe he didn’t know where to go.

She started toward him. “Excuse me. You must be lost. I don’t think you should be wandering around on the set alone. The police still have that area roped off. If you go up two floors, you’ll find costuming and makeup for the extras.”

She was stunned by the answer she received.

“I’m not a damned extra, and I don’t need a costume or makeup, Serena.”

The man stepped into a pool of light. His dark hair was rumpled and slashing across his forehead, and an annoyed scowl tightened his rugged features.

Liam.

Her first thought was that she was a total disaster. Here she was, not a speck of makeup, hair barely brushed, in leggings and an oversized T-shirt.

She’d heard from Conar, who was one of Liam’s best friends, that he was dating an archaeologist, or a paleontologist, or something like that—a young blonde who for some reason dug holes in the earth and loved the outdoors. A woman with a
real
purpose in life. Probably all legs and tan and …

“Hello, Serena.”

“Liam,” she murmured. She wondered what emotion her voice registered.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said curtly, and she realized that she had sounded displeased.

Well, she was displeased. It was much better when she didn’t see him. But there he was, in the flesh. Or rather, in a casual beige jacket, khakis, and a dark blue tailored shirt that worked especially well with his coloring. His hair was very dark, as close as possible to black, and his eyes were nearly the same shade. He had classically defined features, like a carved Roman statue, yet he still managed to have a rugged air, very masculine and decidedly sexy. His hair was damp from a recent shower, and he wore an aftershave that instantly made her think of …

She harnessed her thoughts. “What are you doing here?” she asked politely. “Conar said that you had left the police force and were working for yourself.”

“I am,” he said. Hands casually shoved in his pockets, he looked at her. “You mean that neither Joe nor Andy has spoken with you
yet?”

She frowned. He was very familiar with the cast and crew of
Valentine Valley,
having been on the force during a series of murders involving the show. That was when she had met him, of course, when she had trusted in his steadfast concern for her safety.

“No one has spoken with me about anything,” she said sharply. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been hired by the soap,” he said.

“Hired by the soap?” she inquired. Her voice, she thought, was growing shrill. She had to stop that. She had to appear calm and reasonable. She was an actress. Surely she could manage so simple a feat. “You’re going to be an actor?”

“Not in this lifetime,” he assured her. “I was hired by the producers, because of the recent death,” he told her.

“You’re investigating Jane’s death?” she said. “But Bill Hutchens is going to be in charge, I believe, under that George Olsen fellow. I don’t understand—”

“I’ve been hired to protect you, Serena.”

She stared at him, openmouthed, horrified.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there looking like an idiot. He just stared back at her. She didn’t like what she saw in his eyes. He thought that she was a prima donna, about to go have a fit about something she didn’t like.

She fought for a semblance of control. Desperate to speak rationally, she knotted her hands into tight fists at her side. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea. To begin with, I don’t even believe that I’m in danger. A light fell. To the best of my knowledge, no one has proved anything else as yet.”

“I hope you’re not in danger. It will make my job easy.”

She remained dead still and said very softly, “I don’t think that you have a job.”

He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “Fine. Go to the producers. I’m here sort of as a favor to a few people. You want to go have a tantrum about it, go right ahead.”

“I don’t have tantrums.”

He shrugged again, totally indifferent, those ink-dark eyes conveying definite contempt. “You do whatever it is you feel you need to, Serena. I’ll be around. I’m sure someone will let me know the outcome.”

He was about to turn around and walk away. Just as he had walked away before.

She didn’t think she was up to this a second time. She spoke quickly. “I don’t need a guard, but thanks to whomever you owed that favor to.”

He paused, glancing at her, and she took that opportunity to walk away herself, striding to the elevator. She nearly short-circuited the button, she was certain, she jabbed it so hard.

Naturally, the elevator didn’t come. And she was very aware of him, standing right behind her.

“We had an accident on the set!” she hissed, spinning toward him.

“I don’t have the forensic information, so I can’t agree with or dispute that statement,” he told her.

The elevator opened. She stepped into it. He did too. In the small space she was all the more aware of him. She hit the button for Joe Penny’s floor. He didn’t touch a button; that was exactly where he was going.

She didn’t want to have this out with Joe Penny with Liam in the room. But apparently, short of shooting him, there would be little to prevent him from following her.

The seconds in the elevator seemed interminable. She pounded the button, then stopped, realizing that he was watching her every move. Too bad she couldn’t just stand back and carry on a pleasant conversation.
How is that blond bimbo you’re dating? Not a bimbo, huh, she has college degrees up her butt, you say. Oh, well, are you sure she’s old enough to be out nights with you?

The elevator door opened.

“After you,” he said politely. But he was right on her heels. They came to Joe’s door, which stood ajar. Obviously, he had come in early that morning as well. She didn’t knock but sailed on in. Pretending she hadn’t the least idea Liam was so close behind her, she started to slam the door. He caught it neatly.

Joe Penny was behind his desk, studying scripts. He looked up when she entered. Hair perfectly in place, perfectly lifted face bronzed and handsome. “Serena, hey, I’m glad you’re here. I needed to speak with you. Oh, Liam, you’re here, too. That’s perfect. Serena—”

“Joe, I don’t need a bodyguard,” she said.

“Serena, I hope not,” he said, rising, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a seat on the edge of his desk. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Have the police determined—”

“The police are concerned,” Joe said patiently. “And Andy and I are concerned. Serena, do you know how important you are to this show?”

“Joe, it’s nice, really nice, to be appreciated—”

“You’re … you’re just
wicked”
he said with real admiration. “And still loved. Serena, your character is the most popular on the show. We need you. And, of course, we all love you, too. We can’t risk anything happening to you. The police have advised us that Liam would be the best man for the job. He knows most of us—hell, he’s
questioned
most of us. He knows the set already. He knows
you
already. The cops can’t give us the kind of coverage they say you should have. Serena, I really need you to be an adult about this.”

She felt as if she was being cornered. Liam seemed ready to leave, convinced that she would have a tantrum. Joe kept looking at her, entirely earnest.

“Serena, you know how I feel about you,” Joe said.

“Um. How?”

“Like a father, just like a father. Then, of course, there’s the show …”

“Yes, exactly.
Valentine Valley.
And you feel just like a father in regards to the show, too, right, Joe?” she asked softly.

“I did create it,” he reminded her. “Serena, I know you’re independent, but I also know that you’re an intelligent woman who would never jeopardize her own safety.”

“I don’t ever jeopardize my own safety,” she said. “That’s why I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Serena, would you put yourself at risk,” Joe queried her, “when it’s totally unnecessary? When we do have the ability to provide you with extra protection. Would you put us all at risk?”

Great. Now he was making her look really bad, like a sulky child, heedless of the concerns of others.

“All right, fine,” she heard herself saying. Calmly, maturely. “You want me to have a bodyguard. I want a normal life.” She spun around, staring at Liam. “I need some distance,” she told him. She wasn’t referring just to work.

“Don’t worry,” he said laconically. “I’m not moving in.” He seemed amused, as if the thought that he might get a bit too close was ludicrous. “You haven’t noticed me yet, have you?”

Noticed him yet?
This time she felt an incredible sense of righteous outrage.

“Yet?” she snapped, turning on Joe. “You hired him already—what?
days ago!
—and he’s been
watching me,
and no one informed me?”

“We didn’t want you to be upset, Serena,” Joe said.

Liam stepped forward, placed a hand on her arm, and turned her around. “Don’t get all crazy. I haven’t been peeking in your windows or anything.” Staring at him, she wanted to scream. It was there again, that something in his voice that made her want to leap out a window. Disdain. As if he wouldn’t
bother
to peep in her window. He’d seen it all. Not worth it.

She looked from his eyes to his hand and back to his eyes. “Don’t touch me,” she said softly.

He moved his hand, not a flicker of emotion touching the ebony of his eyes. “I’ve trailed your car,” he continued flatly, “and watched your house, just making sure no one followed you or accosted you.”