“Okay.” She stood, walked over to the box that held his DVDs, and searched through it. “What would you like to watch now?”
She tried to steer him away from climbing films. “Oh, I loveThe Maltese Falcon.The Godfather, too. Do you want to watch one of these?”
He didn’t answer.
She turned and saw that he’d fallen asleep right where he sat, his chin against his chest. She set the DVDs aside and helped him to lie down, lowering his head to the plush arm of the sofa and lifting his feet off the floor. Damn, his legs were long—and heavy. Then she grabbed a blanket from his bedroom closet—she knew where everything was because she’d helped unpack it—and covered him.
“Oh, Harrison.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead.
He didn’t budge, his breathing deep and even, his face relaxed in the forgetfulness of sleep, his lashes dark against his tanned skin.
Hungry, she left him in peace and went to the kitchen to make herself a can of chicken soup. When she went back to check on Harrison, she found Gabby curled up asleep at his feet, Gizmo on the floor beside him.
The dogs had the right idea.
“You don’t want to leave him alone either, do you?” she whispered to Gizmo, scratching behind his ears.
She went out to her truck and took out the travel bag she always kept in the back in case a search-and-rescue call required her to leave town. Inside, she had a T-shirt for sleeping, a change of clothes and toiletries, as well as stuff Gizmo would need—a spare harness, dog food, a collapsible water bowl, and such.
Back inside, she found Harrison and the dogs still sound asleep. She went to his bedroom, switched into her sleep shirt, and crawled into his bed with her book—the latest romantic suspense release from the awesome Kaylea Cross.
She told herself she’d stop at 10 p.m. At 10, she told herself just one more chapter. Finally, at midnight, she reluctantly closed the book and took Gizmo and Gabby out for a potty break. Then it was time to sleep. She had to be up in six hours. She checked on Harrison, found him still sound asleep. She put Gabby in her crate, set the alarm on her phone, and crawled into his bed alone.
At some point during the night, Harrison got into bed with her, his arms going around her, holding her close. “You stayed.”
“I was worried about you.” She snuggled against him and fell into a deep sleep.
Her phone alarm woke her, pulling her from strange dreams about Harrison and Gabby and Everest Base Camp, where she had never been. Trying not to wake Harrison, she made quick use of his shower and then slipped into jeans and a T-shirt.
“Son of a bitch!”
Harrison’s shout from outside the bathroom door made her pulse skip.
She opened the door, found him sitting on the bed, his smartphone in hand, staring at something on the screen, a look of naked fury on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone too far.” He stood, handed her his phone, and yanked on his jeans.
She glanced at the screen—and saw herself.
The reporter who had harassed Harrison had posted photos of her on his website. The photos had been taken yesterday afternoon when she’d first arrived and then last night when she’d gone outside to get her overnight bag. The headline read, “Harrison Conrad hooks up with mystery chick.”
She stared, stunned. “Why post photos of me?”
“I wouldn’t give him an interview, so now he’s harassing you. He’s hiding out there somewhere. I’m going to find him and put an end to this.” Harrison left the bedroom with long, angry strides.
It took Kenzie a moment to realize that he truly intended to confront the reporter. She ran after him, stepped in front of the door to block him. “Don’t.”
Harrison glared at her, his jaw tight, angry tension rolling off him. “It’s one thing for him to come after me, but I refuse to let him near you.”
“He’s trying to provoke you. If you go out there, you’ll be giving him exactly what he wants.”
“He wants to get punched in the face?”
“He wants you on camera doing something that he can post to get clicks for his meaningless little website. Let someone else handle this.”
“Who?”
“Your agent.”
