Yeah, in more ways than one.
“So who he is and where he’s come from shouldn’t matter, Candace. What matters is what he’s done since he’s been here.”
Before she could comment, her cell phone rang and she excused herself.
Five minutes later, she hung up with her father. As she considered his tone, a knot settled into her stomach. There had been something in her father’s voice that upset her. Although he’d assured her everything was fine, she sensed he was hiding something from her.
Deciding then and there that she needed to see him, she hopped into her car, drove to the station and boarded a train to Grand Central Station.
Marc paced outside Krane’s office, catching glimpses of him talking to his secretary through his glass door. Jesus, what the hell was he supposed to say to him? Oh yeah, everything is going just fine, sir. Sure I’ve been keeping an eye on your daughter.
And a hand on her.
A tongue on her.
A cock in her.
Oh fuck!
He knew he was going to be out of a job, but none of that mattered to him. All that mattered was that he wanted to come clean with Candace so they could begin this relationship on the right foot and take it to the next level. If it wasn’t too late for that. And the last thing he wanted was to be paid to take care of her. It was a job he’d happily do for free.
He just hoped Candace would understand and forgive him for his deceit.
A moment later Krane’s door opened, and his secretary ushered him inside.
With Krane seated at his desk, Marc faced him straight on and said, “We need to talk.”
Candace stepped off the elevator and moved through the marble foyer as she made her way to her father’s office. Stepping up to Olive’s desk, Candace greeted her with a smile.
Excited to see her, Olive rose from her chair and gave Candace a hug. “Candace, how are you?”
Candace hugged her back. “I’m great. I was just in the area and I thought I’d stop in to see my father.”
“He’s with one of his security guards right now, but go on through. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
Candace slipped past Olive’s desk and walked down the hall. As she neared her father’s office, she took in the very familiar outline of the man with him, his legs wide, his back to the glass door. Candace’s heart began to pound against her chest, and her knees went weak beneath her.
Oh good God, no.
She took a measured step closer, praying she was wrong but suspecting she wasn’t. There was only one man she knew of who had that short military-cut hairstyle, broad shoulders that tapered to a trim waist and long powerful legs that she’d felt wrapped around her body. Intimately.
Her father looked past the man’s shoulder and his eyes widened, surprised. But wait. Was that surprise that had registered on his face, or was it something else entirely?
The man with his back to the door—the security guard as Olive had identified him—angled his head and met her glance, confirming what she already knew. It was none other than Marc Collins.
As intense dark eyes met hers, she understood the look on her father’s face because Marc was wearing the exact same expression. Guilt.
Candace felt her blood drain to her feet as understanding dawned. Her father had hired Marc to guard her without her knowledge. They’d both been deceiving her. She suddenly remembered an old conversation with her father after he’d been attacked on set, and how he’d hired and trained the set designer to be his guard. That had to have been Marc, seeing as how he could so easily talk shop with her.
Every emotion from confusion to mortification to anger whipped through her blood as she spun around and rushed down the hall. Tears poured down her cheeks, blurring her vision. She could hear Marc chasing after her as she wiped the moisture from her eyes and hurried toward the waiting elevator.
Candace pressed the button and watched the metal ping shut, drowning out the noise and closing both the door and her heart to him. Numbly she tracked back to the train station, wanting to be as far away from Marc as possible. Sure, what her father had done was wrong, but at least he did it because he cared. What about Marc? He took the job to guard her because he was getting paid, and he jumped at the chance to be her woodworker simply to keep an eye on her. Was sleeping with her a fringe benefit, or was he getting paid for that too?
Her mind raced, trying to sort through the godawful turn of events as she boarded the train to Connecticut. Marc might not have been using her to get to her father, but he had been deceiving her, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Which made him no different from the other men who’d used her. She should have known he was too good to be true. The signs were there—the haircut, the way he moved, the way he continually scanned the area. But she had been too damn smitten to pay attention. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
A long while later Candace made her way to the inn, both physically and mentally drained. With her emotions in a tangled mess, she needed to be alone, to come to terms with everything that had happened. As she entered the front door and made her way to the staircase, she wondered why the hell she’d broken the pact she’d made with her best friends—to stay away from all men. Hadn’t lessons learned long ago taught her anything?
She put her foot on the first stair, but the sound of Marc’s voice behind her stilled her movement.
“Candace, wait.”
Her whole body tightened, and she wrapped her arms around herself, not wanting to hear any more lies from him.
