Unguarded

“I have appointments all day—and a party at night.”

“Saturday, then.” His eyes were darker than they’d been earlier, a deep sapphire-blue that seemed to see into the very heart of her. But that was impossible. No one had gotten in her head for longer than she could remember. It was absurd to think that this man, this boy—with his ready smile and silly banter—had been able to do so after one lunch.

“Saturday is our busy day. I’ve got a morning brunch and than an afternoon garden party.”

“Come later then.”

“I probably won’t get out of the last event until after seven.”

“How will I manage to stay awake that late?” he teased. “Come on, Rhiannon. The sooner you see the house, the sooner you can decide what kind of party to have. Come see me Saturday night.”

“It’ll be too dark to see the grounds.”

“There’s this great, newfangled invention called electricity. Surely you’ve heard of it? My backyard is wired better than the landing strips at the airport.” His smile was bigger now, as if he was just waiting for her next objection so he could shoot it down, too.

Charmed despite herself, Rhiannon smiled. “Okay, fine. You’ve convinced me. Saturday night at seven-thirty.”

“Excellent. Our second date—I can’t wait.”

“Second date?”

He took another step toward her and suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

“This was business.” She forced the words out through a throat so tight she had to fight for air. “And so is our appointment on Saturday.”

“We had food, flirtatious banter, fun. Feels like a date to me.”

“I drove myself, researched the film festival on my computer, and any flirtatious banter was completely one-sided. Feels more like a business meeting to me.”

He reached out, stroked his hand softly down her cheek. As he did, she could feel the calluses on his fingers from years of drawing. “And this?” he asked as his thumb smoothed over her lips. “What does this feel like?”

She was still struggling for an answer when he leaned in and his lips brushed, but just barely, against her own.

CHAPTER THREE

“HEY, BEAUTIFUL. How’d the consult go?” Rhiannon looked up from her computer in time to see Logan Kelly breeze into her office with a cup of coffee in each hand and curiosity rife in his gaze. “Did you nail it?”

“I think so. He wants to meet Saturday after the Henderson event so that I can see his house. He thinks it will make the perfect venue for the party. Which he wants to have during the big film festival.”

“That’s only six weeks away—how big of a party are we talking about?”

“A hundred people, with full-scale entertainment and food.”

“That’s a pretty big order, Rhiannon. You sure you can handle it on your own?”

No, she wasn’t even close to being sure she could handle it. But she was determined to anyway. She owed it to Logan to step up to the plate—after all, he was one of the few people who’d been willing to take a risk on her when she’d wanted to change careers after almost fifteen years as a journalist.

Since she’d joined his firm nearly two years before, he’d been giving her the simple jobs, letting her ease back into the world at the speed she was comfortable with. But she was getting pretty good at the whole event-planning thing and she wanted to try her hand at something bigger—something like Shawn’s party. Besides, she couldn’t hide behind what had happened to her forever. The rape had taken almost everything from her—her husband, her career, her sense of self. She wasn’t going to let it take her professional pride, too. It was the only thing she had left.

She forced a smile. “I can do it. After all, I’ve been watching you make the impossible happen for a year now.”

“And flattery will get you everywhere.” He settled into the chair across from hers and took a long sip from his coffee. “So, where’s his house?”

“On Lake Travis. He says he’s got two acres up there.”

“Seriously?” Logan let out a long whistle. “Who is this guy? Some rich Austinite looking to break into Hollywood?”

“Not quite. Actually, he already got that break. He just sold film rights to his novels or something.”

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Shawn Emerson. I’ve never heard of him, but obviously someone in Hollywood has—”

“No way! Shawn Emerson? Of Shadeslayer fame?”

Rhiannon stared at him, shocked. “Yeah. He mentioned Shadeslayer while we were at lunch today. Have you read any of the books?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve read them all. Shadeslayer’s one of the greatest superheroes ever written. Surely you’ve seen him somewhere. He’s a really dark hero, dresses all in gray and black, including his mask. Walks a thin line between right and wrong.”

“Yeah, no, pretty sure I’d never heard of him before today.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the books Shawn had given her. “You’re talking about these comic books, right?”

“They’re graphic novels, not comic books. There’s a big difference.”

“So I keep hearing.” She watched in amusement as Logan picked up the top book with uncharacteristic awe. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked reverently.

“I don’t know. What do you think it is?”

“A first edition of Shadeslayer’s Revenge.” He opened the cover. “Signed! Do you have any idea how much this is worth?”

“Not a clue.”

“A lot—I bet you could get a few thousand for it easy on eBay.”

“Seriously? For a comic book? I mean, I understand Spiderman or Batman, but this is some new hero no one’s ever heard of.”

“A lot of people have heard of him. And I told you, it’s not a comic book. Graphic novels are kind of a cross between regular novels and comic books. Shadeslayer has been around for five or six years now, with two books coming out each year. There’s a huge Slayer counterculture that gets really excited every time a new book is set to come out.”

“And you’re not part of that counterculture?” she asked archly.

“No. I mean, yeah, I buy his books as soon as they hit the shelves, but I don’t dress up like characters from the books or anything.”

“And for that, I’m sure we’re all grateful.”

Logan ignored her. “So, when is the movie coming out? Will there be a sequel? Which book are they scripting? How many—”

“Whoa!” Rhiannon felt like she’d fallen into an alternate universe. “Does your wife know about this little obsession of yours?”

“Sandy likes the books, too. So does Mike.”