But he was a logical man. Unless Alana wrote the note and threw the rock through her own windshield, someone had slipped into her apartment at some point and retrieved the stationary from her desk.

That had to be taken seriously.

Alana fixed her glasses, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Someone’s been in my apartment.”

His chest tightened as real fear snaked up his spine. “I think it’s time that I look at those letters.”

…

So many different emotions swirled through Alana as she sat in her living room, watching Chandler pore over the letters in her kitchen. Anger. Frustration. Fear. They mingled together, causing her to go from furious to terrified in seconds and giving her one fierce headache.

Someone had been in her apartment.

Her heart dropped at the thought. When? While she had left to go find Chandler or before then? How many days could’ve passed and she’d never known? Better yet, how had someone gotten into her apartment?

“How long have you been receiving these?” Chandler asked, drawing her attention.

She took off her glasses, placing them onto the bar. The clock on the stove said it was after midnight and her eyes felt full of grit. “For about a year.”

“Any idea who it could be? An ex-boyfriend?”

A dry laugh escaped. “No.”

“You’ve never had an ex-boyfriend?”

“Not anyone in the last couple of years who hates my guts.” The look of disbelief on his striking face irked her. “All my breakups have been amicable.”

“Husbands?”

“No,” she said.

“Girlfriends?”

She rolled her eyes.

A brief grin appeared, and she was surprised to see it. Something about it told her that a lot of people probably lived their whole lives without seeing that grin. “What about clients?”

Rubbing her temples, she shook her head. “There have been people…upset with me in the past.”

Chandler snorted.

Lifting her lashes, she felt a nasty retort forming on the tip of her tongue, mostly out of habit, but it died off before she could open her mouth. Their gazes locked, and she could easily recall how much Chad had loathed her existence. No doubt Chandler felt the same out of association. It bothered her.

“I’m not a terrible person,” she said, her voice low. “I know that’s hard to believe.”

He blinked. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I take my job seriously,” she continued, drawing in a shallow breath. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. “I’ve built a—a stellar reputation in a very short time. And if that means I have to make people do what they don’t want to do and they’ll hate me for it, so be it. But in the end, everyone—everyone—is in a better position after I leave them.”

Something flickered across his face, and then he looked away, a muscle working along his jaw. “Obviously someone doesn’t feel that way.”

An old, familiar ache pierced her chest at those words. Alana loved her job and it meant everything to her, but sometimes it required her to do things she didn’t want. During her short career, she had hurt and used people. Most thought she was apathetic about it all, but that was the furthest from the truth. The things she had to do kept her awake at night. As a publicist, there were times when she had to climb into the muck and drag her clients out of it, ensuring that they came out all shiny. That wasn’t easy. And some of her clients didn’t want to be dragged out.

Looking at Chandler, she knew in the deepest recesses of her soul this was something she probably had in common with him. He looked like there were dark things in his past, things he had to do—didn’t regret, but wished he hadn’t had to.

Regret and wishing for something else were two very different things.

“The best thing you can do is write down a list of people you think have a reason to go this far.” He gathered up the letters, placing them in the file. “I can run some background checks once you get the list. Mind if I keep these?”

“So does this mean you’re going to work for me?”

He stared at her. “First off, I don’t work for anyone.”

She needed a strong drink to deal with him. “Okay. Wrong word choice or whatever, but I need more than a few background checks done. I’ve accepted a job with a local firm that works with politicians and companies—”

“Basically doing damage control?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“That’s one way to look at it, but it’s more than that. It’s working with media, scheduling events, and prepping for interviews and preventing a problem before it occurs.” Excitement thrummed through her, and she sat a little straighter. “It’s a huge opportunity. I won’t have to do as much traveling or dealing with so many, well, crazy people. No offense, but playing babysitter to people like your brother wasn’t nearly as fun as you’d think it was.”

“No offense taken,” he commented drily.

“Anyway, I can’t have anything interfering with this position. There’s absolutely nothing worse than a publicist with drama. Plus, I’m going to be around important individuals, and I can’t put them in danger if this asshole tries something. I need someone who can blend in when I’m in public, just in case, and can be discreet. No one can know about this.”

Dropping his elbows onto the counter, he leaned forward. “Hiring a member of CCG Security isn’t cheap, Alana. You’re talking after hours, which is double, and travel if necessary.”

“I know and…and I’ve made good money. I can afford you.” She curled her hands into fists, moving them into her lap. She hated being in this situation, having to rely on someone. It had been many years since she’d had to. “So are you going to take the job?”

Chandler’s deep-blue gaze turned thoughtful. “Write down the list of people and let me check out a few things first.”

That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Irritation flushed her skin, but she fought the urge to demand a yes or no.

He must’ve sensed her frustration because his lips tipped up at the corners. “Look, you may not need to hire someone. If we can track down who it is, all it may take is a phone call to scare him off. Nine out of ten times, people pull this kind of shit because they think they won’t be confronted. They hide behind bullshit.”

Hope sparked in her chest. “Even people who vandalize cars and break into apartments?”

“Yes.”

She wanted to believe that more than anything. It would make things so much easier. “Even someone who’s followed me clear across the country?”

“You don’t know if the person followed you. He could be out here on business or whatever. And it’s easier than you think to find someone’s address. Actually, you probably know that.”

She lowered her gaze as the unspoken words hung between them. She did know how easy it was. After all, she’d tracked down Bridget by paying a few dollars to an online website. All it took was one utility in someone’s name, and bam, address and any other personal information was right at your fingertips.

Before, she had never really considered how someone would feel or realized how incredibly creepy it was when she pulled that crap.

“I’m a creeper,” she muttered.

“What?” He laughed.

Shaking her head, she leaned over and grabbed a notepad and pen. “Nothing. Give me a few minutes and I’ll give you a list.”

She could feel his eyes on her as she started scribbling down names of former clients and their associates who could potentially have a beef with her. There was Michelle Ward—a pro tennis player who had gotten addicted to painkillers after a knee injury. Alana practically had the girl kidnapped and dropped into rehab under the ruse of visiting a new health spa. Even though Michelle was off drugs and back playing professionally again, she had never gotten over it.

Then there was Jennifer Van Gunten—an actress whose hard-partying ways and bad-news boyfriend had nearly destroyed her career. The insurance the production companies had to take out on her for any of her roles was astronomical and the first thing Alana had to do was end the young actress’s ties with her boyfriend and friends. She doubted it was any of them, since the crowd Jennifer had run with was made up of all spoiled rich kids who probably moved on quickly, but she scribbled their names down anyway—namely Brent King, the on and off again boyfriend slash small time dealer. The few run ins she’d had with him in the past had not been pretty. The guy had an anger problem. Once, when she had to pull Jennifer out of a club that night before a court appearance, Brent had taken a swing at her, and she vaguely remembered him having some ties to the D.C. area. But again, he was a spoiled rich kid. She doubted he even remembered her.

There was William Manafee—a football player whose off-the-field practices, much like Chad’s, had started to gain more press than his ability to play ball. The big difference was that William had been married and, while his wife had mostly been in the dark, Alana had used his wife as leverage. William had cleaned himself up, but his wife had overheard one of their conversations, and now his monthly alimony was as much as her yearly salary. He blamed Alana for his inability to keep his dick in his pants.

There were a few more clients she had worked with who might carry a grudge for one reason or another, and she quickly scribbled each name on the paper. She was almost finished when she decided to add one more name, and then slid the sheet of paper toward Chandler.

He scanned the names, and she knew the moment he got to the end, because his brows shot up. He looked at her through his lashes. “Chad Gamble?”

Her lips twitched as she shrugged. “He wasn’t very happy with me.”

One brow continued to rise.

She fought off a giggle. “I was just joking.”

“I’d hope so. Would really be awkward if it were him.” He winked.

Her lips split into a small smile as she imagined Christmas dinners going forward if that were the case. Then she laughed as her gaze dropped to where his fingers rested on the edge of the paper. “Sorry. Just picturing that conversation.”

When there was no response, she lifted her gaze and found him watching her intently. So much so that she wondered if she had done something wrong. Holding eye contact with those clear eyes wasn’t easy. Chandler’s intensity could be intimidating, and he stared at her as if he could see right into her.

Then his gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt her lips part on a soft inhale. She was easily reminded of how he’d felt pressed against her in the parking lot. A heaviness filled her breasts, an almost sweet aching.

“Do you have anyone you can stay with?” he asked, pushing off the counter and slipping her paper into his pocket.

Alana almost laughed again, except it wasn’t funny. She had no one. “I thought there was a good chance this person wouldn’t be too much of a threat.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t have anyone you can stay with,” he replied instead, horrifically astute.

She felt her cheeks burn and immediately went on the defensive, which ended in her lying. “I have someone I can stay with.”

His eyes narrowed. “Then you should probably do that. Just in case. You shouldn’t be staying here.” He started around the counter and then stopped. “Do you need a ride or anything to your friend’s place? I can wait.”

Surprised by the fact that he was being so helpful, it took her a second to respond. “No. I’ll call him in a few. It’s late, and I don’t want to be any more inconvenient than I’ve been.”

His jaw clenched. “You haven’t been inconvenient.”

She laughed as she slid off the barstool. “You’re a terrible liar. I interrupted what was probably going to be a very interesting night for you.” The moment those words came out of her mouth, an irrational prick of jealousy burned in her stomach. “Wait here. I’ll get you my card.”

When she returned from the office, she saw he’d placed a card of his own on the counter. She handed hers over. “How much will I owe you to run the background checks and do some digging?”

He stopped at the door, head cocked to the side. “Who is the ‘he’ you’re staying with?”

At first, she didn’t get what he meant. “A friend.”

“A friend like Paula?” he asked.

Instead of answering the question, she smiled. “What do I owe you for this?”

Stepping out in the quiet hallway, Chandler faced her. “Let me drop you off at your friend’s house.”

Uh, no. That was not going to happen. “That’s not necessary, but thank you.”