Dying to Have Her by Heather Graham Page B

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