The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection

Chapter 4

He hadn’t planned on anyone seeing inside his place today. Script open on his knee – yes, he caught her smirking at him, no it wasn’t going to stop him – Zac tried to focus on his lines while she drove. And not on how intrusive it felt to have a stranger come and inspect his home. At least it would be tidy. Unlike the inside of Kat’s Jeep. He glanced again at the centre console. There was a half-eaten bag of Starburst, surrounded by a rainbow of discarded wrappers, an open pack of Polo mints, an empty take-out coffee cup and a pen with a chewed end.

It made him wonder again about her professionalism. Turning up late, untidy … call him old school, but they hinted at a sloppiness that wasn’t a trait he wanted in someone responsible for his safety. Especially now she’d convinced him even a crazy female fan could be more dangerous than he’d bargained for.

To take his mind off things, he started to pick up the discarded wrappers.

‘I thought you were overpreparing.’

He dragged his eyes back to the script. ‘I am.’

‘Really? It looks like you’re tidying up for me.’

‘No,’ he corrected. ‘I’m doing it for me.’

‘I bet your car is immaculate. Not a speck of dust, or a greasy finger mark.’

‘I believe in being tidy, yes. Just like I believe in being punctual. Standards are important.’

He noticed her body stiffen. ‘If you have something you want to say, just say it. Like I said, we need to be honest with each other.’

How could he voice his fear, that she might not be professional enough, or experienced enough, to deal with the danger he was most terrified of, when he couldn’t articulate that specific threat? ‘I don’t understand the fascination with confectionery,’ he said instead.

Her sidelong glance told him she wasn’t convinced of his reply. ‘Why, were your parents dentists?’

‘No.’ He turned his head, looking out of the passenger window, and held his breath while he waited for her follow-up question.

‘Of course, they weren’t. Sorry, for a moment I forgot you were posh.’

She’d read his biography, then. At least he’d be spared the family questions. ‘How about your parents? I suspect they weren’t dentists, either.’

‘No.’

It was the same single-syllable answer he’d given, yet from someone so loquacious up to now, it was a clear signal she didn’t want to talk about them. ‘Whatever they did, I feel sorry for them. I bet you were a handful when you were younger.’ His eyes zeroed in on another stray wrapper and he missed the way her expression shuttered.

‘Why would you say that?’

‘You have to ask, after what happened in the car park?’ He screwed the wrapper up and placed it in the empty cup with the rest of his catch. ‘There’s a hint of mischief, of a troublemaker, about you.’

‘You’re wrong.’ Her clipped words took him by surprise. ‘What you saw in the car park was the result of a vow never to allow myself to be pushed around, bullied, or walked over ever again.’

Zac cursed inwardly, annoyed with himself. It seemed he’d done what he hated others doing to him. Made a judgement without the facts. ‘Sorry. I actually meant my remarks as a compliment. It’s refreshing to meet someone so … unconventional.’

Her hands slowly relaxed the vice-like hold they’d had on the steering wheel. ‘Unconventional? Is that your fancy way of saying I’m odd?’

‘No. It’s my fancy way of apologising.’ Interested, he angled his head towards her. ‘Collier said you’d been in the army. Did that have something to do with this vow?’

‘In a way, yes, because it gave me a means of escape. Mainly I joined for the thrill of doing something different, something physical. Challenging myself. I mean, I was never going to sit at a desk, that’s for certain.’

‘No.’

She slid him a look. ‘You don’t think I could hack it in an office?’

‘I think that would stifle your … spirit.’

‘It would certainly drive me crazy.’

Suddenly the mood in the car changed and he watched, part in fascination, part in fear, as she checked the mirror and quickly switched lanes. For the next few minutes she alternated her focus between the road ahead and the rear-view mirror, turning right when the sat nav said left, an intensity to her bearing that hadn’t been there before. Yet when she finally spoke again, it was as if nothing had happened. ‘What about you? Why did you get into acting?’

‘I enjoy it.’ He swallowed, relieved to find he still had some saliva left after the heart-bumping few minutes. ‘Are you going to tell me why we’re going the wrong way?’

She appeared briefly confused. ‘Oh, you mean the right turn? A white Golf has been behind us for the last five minutes. I wanted to check if it was following us.’

‘And was it?’

‘If it was, it decided not to make it obvious.’ He felt his palms begin to sweat and when he didn’t reply, she spoke again. ‘Not the answer you were looking for?’

‘A simple no would have worked.’

‘It would also give you a false sense of security.’ Her voice was strong and steady. Clearly he was the only one in the car rattled by what had happened. ‘Look, whoever’s leaving you those love notes managed to find out where you live,’ she continued in that same, matter-of-fact tone. ‘As I assume you don’t make the information public knowledge, either they’ve hacked into some database to find it, or they’ve asked the right people. Or they’ve followed you home.’

He felt everything inside him clench and tighten. Considering the perks of his life, being paid a stupid sum of money for doing what he loved, he could concede that he deserved the reporters and the cameras with their prying lenses. At least there were rules governing how far they could encroach. The stalker was different, though. The person who’d walked right up to his front door and left the note clearly didn’t follow rules.

Once again, he felt the slippery coils of fear wrap around his gut. Who was doing this to him? Were they doing it to scare him, or did they have a more sinister motive? And if the latter, would Kat Parker, with her disorganised ways and her whole three years of experience, really have a chance in hell of stopping them?

‘You’ve gone quiet on me.’ She laughed softly. ‘Maybe I should say “even quieter”, because you don’t seem the type who likes to talk.’

Zac massaged the back of his neck in a bid to rub out the tension. He was getting overly paranoid. This was a fan who got a kick out of leaving him notes. In a matter of days, the police would discover who it was and order her to keep away. ‘I’m trying to get my head around it all.’

‘Will it help if I tell you we see this a lot? The stalker is usually found quickly, given a restraining order and never heard from again.’

‘It would help if you’d left out the usually.’

‘Ah, but then I’d be lying, and that’s something I promise not to do.’

He wondered if she was aware her hands had gripped the steering wheel again. ‘I can tell you I’ve never lost a … client.’

Her hesitation, almost imperceptible, did nothing to allay his fears. She hadn’t lost a client, but she had lost someone? ‘But were any of those clients in danger? Were they being stalked?’

‘Danger doesn’t always come waving a big red flag.’ Halting at a traffic light, she turned those sharp brown eyes on him. ‘I might be untidy, and today I might have turned up late, but I can also tell you – stuff that – I can promise you, none of it is a reflection on how I operate in my job. I’m bloody good at what I do.’

‘Ah.’ He shifted on the seat, feeling about three foot tall. ‘What gave me away?’

‘You thought I wouldn’t pick up on that dig about standards?’

‘I’m sorry. I …’ His brain came up blank. He had nothing that could explain his snotty comment. Nothing that wouldn’t leave him open to further questions about why he was so paranoid she wasn’t up to the job. ‘I’m sure you’re eminently capable,’ he finished lamely.

***

As Kat pulled up outside the swanky modern apartment block in Highgate, she mentally high fived herself. Yep, just as she’d imagined. She’d like to bet inside it was all wooden floors, stainless steel fittings and … minimalism. Was that a word? She was pretty sure it was. Also, pretty sure nobody would ever accuse her of it.

Parking in the private underground car park, she noted the lack of security. No CCTV, no electronic gate. There was a key fob entry system, but all the stalker had to do was wait for someone else to enter or leave and walk in after them. There was no reception area, no door man.

Mr Edwards was going to have to move out. And she could just imagine how happy he was going to be about that. The guy was already quietly freaking out after the not-sure-if-it-was-a-tail incident. Well, she assumed he was freaking out but it was hard to tell because at times his thoughts were locked away so securely – not just in a vault, but within a castle with the steel portcullis down and the drawbridge up – it was impossible for her to get a read on him.

She did know he wasn’t impressed with her so-called standards, though, or her relative inexperience, and it rankled. He was finding her guilty without any evidence. There’s plenty to be had if he knew where to look. Yeah, that thought could go and take a running jump. She hadn’t been at fault.

She hadn’t.

At least that’s what everyone had told her.

When they reached the door to his apartment, he gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m heading for 24/7 room service and a chocolate on my pillow, aren’t I?’

Taking the key from him, she opened the door and motioned for him to wait. When she was satisfied it was clear, she waved him inside. ‘Was my expression that obvious?’

His gaze captured hers and once again she felt the power of his attraction. It wasn’t just that his eyes were a pretty shade of green. It was the pull of them. ‘The curl of your lip did rather give it away.’

Oops. Not the time to tell him the sneer hadn’t been about the security, but about the soulless looking apartment block. ‘I can’t understand why the security on these modern places is so lax. Surely that’s the advantage of buying one.’

‘You make it sound like the only advantage.’

Oh crap. ‘No. I mean I can see why you like it.’ She walked back into the open plan living area, with its gleaming – she’d guessed it – wooden floors, huge glass windows, weird modern art, fancy leather sofa with two strategically placed cushions. And complete absence of any clutter whatsoever. ‘It’s very you.’

Whatever he thought of her remark, he kept it to himself. ‘I’ll throw a few things in a suitcase.’ He nodded over to the clinical looking open plan kitchen. ‘Feel free to make yourself a drink.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She stepped towards the spotless worktop. ‘Where’s your mug tree? The tea and coffee canisters? This morning’s breakfast things you’ve not had time to clear away?’

With a resigned sigh, he pressed a hand against one of the shiny white doors. When it glided open, she saw two rows of neatly stacked black mugs. ‘These modern places have plenty of cupboard spaces, so no need for a mug tree.’ He pushed open an adjacent door. ‘Or tea canisters.’ Finally, he gave a unit near the sink a gentle pull, revealing a dishwasher. ‘And if you give yourself enough time in the morning, you can clear up before you leave.’ He smirked. ‘And avoid being so late you have to pinch someone’s car park space.’

‘Sarcastic sod,’ she muttered under her breath as he walked away. Her heart bumped as he halted.

‘I heard that.’

‘Heard what?’ She gave him a wide, innocent grin. ‘I’m too scared to make a mess in there, so I’ll just …’ She pointed to the sofa. ‘Try to sit as neatly as I can on your sofa while I wait.’

He shook his head, and she could have sworn she heard the words, sarcastic sod thrown back at her, though it was hard to be sure. Apparently, he was a master at hiding his thoughts even when he said them out loud.

Gingerly she went to perch on the sofa. After two minutes of looking at her phone – one message from Mandy, apologising and saying she’d pulled herself together and one from her niece saying she’d be late home because she was seeing a friend after school – Kat pushed it into her pocket and skimmed her eyes across the living space. They rested on a glass-fronted cabinet at the far end. Intrigued to see if there was anything inside that would give her a hint of the man she’d been assigned to protect, she strolled up to it.

Her jaw almost hit the floor when she saw the contents.

Teapots?

And not clever, modern, arty teapots either. Fussy, old fashioned … let’s be honest, totally naff teapots. The type your granny would have used, back in the days when she’d also have shoved a hand-knitted tea cosy over it.

Utterly spellbound, Kat opened the door and, not daring to touch, feasted her eyes on them. One, two, three … crikey moses, there had to be a dozen of them.

‘I’m done.’

Guiltily Kat stepped away and turned to see Zac standing in the middle of the living room, staring at her. At his feet was a very expensive looking leather holdall. He’d changed out of his suit and into a pair of grey tailored trousers and a meticulously ironed pale-pink collared shirt. Over his arm was a suit carrier with, she guessed, several more designer suits, pressed trousers and collared shirts.

‘Right then.’ Ask about the teapots. She had to, right, because it would look odd if she didn’t mention it. Never mind the fact she was bursting to know the story behind them. ‘I was just admiring your teapots.’

‘So I see.’

She might have guessed Mr Closed Book wasn’t going to make this easy. ‘Have you been collecting them long?’ She bit into her cheek to suppress the giggle bursting to explode. Was she really having a conversation with heart-throb actor Zac Edwards about his teapot collection?

‘I’ve had them a while, yes.’ His eyes held hers, and she had to admire his acting skills. Whether he was amused, angry, or just mildly irritated, she hadn’t a clue.

‘You know what I’m dying to ask, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He picked up the holdall and turned towards the front door. ‘What I don’t know, is why you’re holding back.’

‘Because I don’t want to piss you off. Protection duty only works if the bodyguard and the client get on.’ He put his hand up to open the door, but she shook her head. ‘From now on, that’s my job. I go in and out first, check it’s clear, and then you follow.’

He uttered a mild expletive but dropped his hand and took a step back.

Once they were back in the Jeep, he cleared his throat. ‘Ask the question. I made you uncomfortable earlier; it’s only fair you get a shot back.’

She glanced at his handsome profile. ‘Why do you collect teapots?’

‘I don’t. They’re my mother’s.’ Immediately he slid a phone out of his trouser pocket. ‘Excuse me while I make a call. I need to let my manager know what’s happening.’

It was clear she’d had her question, and the subject was now closed. A real bummer, because his answer had sparked a swarm of further questions. Not least why on earth the classy Lady Edwards had collected so many tacky teapots. And then palmed them off to her son.

Chapter 5

The afternoon’s filming had been tough. Or maybe Zac hadn’t been as focused as he should have been. Twice he’d forgotten his lines. Twice. He never forgot lines. He always turned up to filming impeccably prepared.

Overprepared. An image of Kat and her none-too-subtle smirk came to mind. Okay, so he had a thing about going through his lines ten times before the shoot. It wasn’t odd, it was being professional.

Except that today, his preparation had been disrupted, and his professionalism called into question. Not in so many words, but Zac hated being the one filming had to stop for. The one at fault.

Maybe this was what his stalker really wanted. To disrupt his life so much he’d no longer have a career.

The thought didn’t help his mood as Zac trudged wearily off set. ‘Zac, darling.’ Sophia Layton, who played his love interest in the film, caught his eye. With blonde hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones, she was classically beautiful. And she knew it. ‘The crew and I were talking about going out for drinks on Friday. We’re hoping …’ she smiled, showing a set of perfect white teeth. ‘I’m hoping, you’ll join us.’

Usually he’d say yes, not because he liked socialising particularly, and definitely not because he wanted to pick up on the promise in Sophia’s eyes. It was more that he saw filming as teamwork, and he was a part of the team. But as of this morning, things had changed. Now he wasn’t sure he had the autonomy to agree to a night out, or whether he needed to check with his bodyguard first.

The thought of having his life dictated by a security company stuck in his throat. ‘Sure,’ he told her, acutely aware of the irony. He’d spend the evening trying to avoid Sophia’s advances, while being watched by a woman who’d avoided his.

‘And if you ever want to go through your lines with someone.’ Sophia fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Remember I’m always available.’

‘Thank you, but I’m good.’ He had enough problems of the female variety at the moment with his stalker and his bodyguard. ‘Today was an anomaly.’

He’d make damn sure of it.

Kat was waiting for him outside his dressing room. Ignoring the way his pulse raced that little bit faster when she smiled, he went to open the door, but she shook her head.

‘Bodyguard’s first.’ After doing a quick sweep of the room – he guessed out of habit, because security within the studio was so tight she’d agreed she wasn’t needed while he was here – she nodded for him to come in. ‘Is it a wrap?’

‘For today, yes.’ He stepped inside and ran a hand over his face, his fingers sliding over make-up. Nice. God, he needed a shower. Usually he’d take one before he left. Then again, usually he didn’t have a woman waiting in his dressing room. A woman who wasn’t beautiful like the one he’d had to kiss this afternoon, on set, yet who he found far more interesting. ‘I could do with a shower. If that’s possible.’

As he met her eyes he saw a flicker of … was it amusement? Or something else? He wanted to believe she was imagining him in the shower – that’s certainly where his mind would have wandered had the boot been on the other foot. Yet he’d had no hint that she found him attractive. He knew her sister did, because her sister had dragged Kat to watch his film. So from current evidence, far from imagining him showering, it was more likely she was silently laughing at this weird shyness he’d developed.

‘No problem, I’ll wait outside.’ She was halfway towards the door when she stopped. ‘By the way, I’ve booked you into a hotel that we’ve used before. You’re on a private floor, with its own gym, that can’t be accessed without a special lift key.’

He grimaced. ‘My own personal, five-star prison cell.’

The look she gave him was heavy with sympathy. ‘It’s not forever. And you’re not under lock and key. If you want to go out, just let me know and I’ll make sure either I or Mark accompany you.’

‘Mark?’

‘Yes. He’s coming by the hotel so you can meet him. I’ll be your main point of contact, but Mark Evans will provide cover when I can’t.’ She shot him a grin. ‘He’s also the boss man, so feel free to big me up whenever you get the chance.’

She slipped out and Zac headed to the adjoining shower feeling … flat. An evening in a soulless hotel. If he wanted to go out, he couldn’t just open his front door. He had to phone and wait for a babysitter. Some people – Kat no doubt one of them – would call his apartment soulless, but at least it was his. His sofa, his bed.

His things.

He groaned as he stepped under the hot spray, his mind going back to this morning. A thousand questions had been in Kat’s eyes when he’d caught her looking at his mother’s teapots. He could only hope she kept the other nine hundred and ninety-nine to herself.

***

Zac’s eyes strayed towards the Aston Martin as he walked into the car park. Newer than his, but the sleek lines were similar enough to cause a pang in his chest.

‘Is my car still in the Vision Films car park?’

Kat ushered him into the Jeep before jumping into the driver’s side. ‘Yes, why? Worried she’ll get wet if it rains?’

He sighed, letting her have her fun. He was too fed up to argue.

‘I can arrange for her to be taken back to your place, if you like,’ Kat said quietly a moment later as she drove out of the studio gates.

‘Which place would that be? My home, or the place I’m going to be living?’ And yes, he knew he sounded testy.

‘Your home. Putting her in the hotel car park would be the equivalent of sticking a big sign outside the hotel saying Zac Edwards is staying here. As we’ve gone to all the trouble of booking you into a private floor, and ramming the whole Make sure none of your staff tell anyone he’s staying here speech down the manager’s throat, that seems a little counterproductive.’