“Hunter Odenson.”
Her laughter filled the air around him like chimes. “You’re kidding, right? What are you, some Viking in disguise?”
“No.” He met her eyes at last. Blue. They were blue like the clear Caribbean Sea. “And spare me all the jokes. Believe me, I’ve heard them a million times already.” Medics arrived and crouched near the guy on the ground, who’d regained consciousness and was now being examined thoroughly. Hunter winced and looked away. “Sorry about your actor friend there.”
“Marty?” Alexandra glanced down at the guy, then smiled. “He’s got a hard head. I’m sure he’s fine. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
“Navy.”
“Nice.” She gave him a slow head-to-toe appraisal that sent a zing of awareness straight to his groin before he tamped it down hard. This was business. Nothing more. “You know what, Hunter Odenson? I think you’re going to work out just fine.”
“You do?” Hunter said, shocked. The security guards began hauling him away toward the end of the alleyway where a squad car had pulled up. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to talk his way out of a tough situation. However, it would be the first time he’d been surprised by a woman in a long, long time. Sure, he’d had his share of relationships since he’d been out of the SEALs, but nothing permanent, and nothing that required him to use his brain more than his cock. He looked back at Alexandra, feeling an odd throb of satisfaction knowing she was still watching him too, and called over his shoulder, “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
2
Alexandra was in her trailer getting prepped to reshoot the last scene again by the time her prospective new bodyguard showed back up. It was cute how he’d told her to stay put and wait for him and how he looked like he expected her to obey. She took enough of that crap on set and in the industry. She sure as hell wouldn’t sit and stay like some dog for the people who worked for her. Not that Hunter Odenson worked for her exactly. In truth, she’d contacted his security firm, Norse Security, to help find Beatrix Camden—a friend from school and a fellow actress whom Alexandra feared had gotten in over her head in what had started out as an undercover method acting experiment. Now, no one had heard from poor Beatrix for going on two months and Alexandra’s instincts told her something was horribly wrong.
A knock sounded on the door before it was pulled open and in walked the man sent to find her friend. She didn’t doubt he’d been a Navy SEAL or that he could more than hold his own in any fight. What she did doubt at the moment was whether or not he was the right person to provide her personal security. He certainly had the physical aspects nailed—tall, muscular, coolly arrogant and intimidating in a way that would make most women swoon. And yeah, he was gorgeous too, Alexandra admitted. But in Hollywood everybody was beautiful. She of all people knew looks could be deceiving and had learned the tough way to look beyond the outer package to what was underneath.
Time to see if Hunter Odenson lived up to his fierce name. She needed all the fierceness she could get to save her best friend.
“Have a seat,” Alexandra said, pointing to a bench across from where the hair dresser and makeup artist were fussing around her. She liked to keep up her dumb-blond pretense when other people were around, so she planned to milk his cover as her new bodyguard to the fullest. “Get things straightened out with the cops?”
“Yes,” he said, giving an assessing look around the trailer before dropping down onto the seat. “You didn’t wait for me.”
“You’re not my boss.” Alexandra said it with the same sticky sweet tone she used for most of her dumb bimbo roles. Over the years, it was a persona she’d perfected, to the point most people didn’t know the real woman from the roles she played. It was fine, she supposed. She should be grateful. She was well-paid, successful, invited to all the best parties with all the A-list people in the industry. But she’d paid a high price for fame, keeping her true heart and soul and brains hidden behind a slick wall of ditz and dream-girl fantasy.
Not that Hunter needed to know that or that he’d even care. She didn’t know him well enough yet to tell. Besides, he was here to find Beatrix. That was all. She crossed her legs and watched as he followed the movement with his gaze, a hint of color dotting his high, tanned cheekbones. Seemed Mr. Tall, Tough, and Taciturn wasn’t immune to her charms after all. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Odenson.”
“Hunter,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. Green. His eyes were green and surprisingly gentle for a man of his sharp edges and impressive bulk. An array of emotions flickered across his gaze in a matter of seconds—surprise, wariness, attraction, resignation—and for a moment Alexandra found herself envying the ease with which he showed his emotions through his eyes. Critics were always complaining about her performances being one note—flat. He shifted in his seat, as if uncomfortable, and fidgeted with his tie. “Not much to tell. Everything’s in my resume.”
“Right.” Alexandra pouted her lips while the makeup artist applied a fresh coat of gloss, then narrowed her stare on him. “Now tell me what’s not on it.”
“Like what?”
“Like why an ex-Navy SEAL would want to come out here and babysit a media darling like me.”
If her statement put him off-kilter at all, he didn’t show it. His expression remained the same cut-in-stone façade he’d had since he’d removed her hood at the film set and Alex had gotten her first look at him in all his stud-muffin glory. Except now there was the tiniest flicker of respect in the depths of his sea-green eyes.
“I don’t know where to start.” He shrugged. “Most people don’t care about what I do in my off hours as long as I get the job done.”
“Hmm. I wish I had the same problem.” Alexandra waited until the hair stylist had removed the protective smock from around her shoulders, then got up to walk over to a full-length mirror to adjust her clothes. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been able to go out and just have a nice dinner somewhere alone without the paparazzi hounding me.” She glanced up and caught his watchful gaze in the mirror before concentrating on adjusting her boobs in the too-tight top again. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Hunter said, pushing to his feet and heading for her wardrobe rack nearby. He pulled out a garment bag and eyed it like it might explode any second. “You have a reputation as being a bit of a party girl.”
“No.” Alex gave him a mock wide-eyed look of horror. Then she snorted and continued adjusting her trailer-trash-bimbo attire. When she’d asked the director about her clothes, all he’d said was more cleavage. Then again, the film they were working on here wasn’t exactly Oscar-worthy material. More like Police Academy met Training Day, with a bit of bawdy burlesque thrown in for shits and giggles. Her standard fair in Hollywood these days. It hadn’t always been like that. When she’d first come to town with Beatrix, she’d wanted to pursue important roles, make a real difference with her art. Too bad lofty ideals didn’t pay the bills. She’d soon been typecast as the pretty, dumb blonde and the money started flowing in. Alexandra didn’t like to think of herself as a sell-out, more like a scavenger. She stockpiled money away for the day she’d be too old or too ugly to play in these teenaged wet-dream flicks anymore and could afford to hold out for work that actually meant something, work that was fulfilling and meaningful. She shrugged and met Hunter’s eyes in the mirror. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“True.” Hunter stepped aside to allow the hair dresser and makeup artist to leave the trailer then stepped closer to Alex, the heat of him sending tiny shivers of awareness through her body. He towered a good foot and a half above her own five-four frame, yet his size didn’t intimidate her at all. In fact, she really didn’t even notice it—well, if you ignored the fact that she had a crazy urge to see what he looked like without all those layers of clothes on. Once the door clicked shut again, he exhaled slowly. “Right. Let’s get down to business then. Tell me about Beatrix.”
Alex’s sunny demeanor fractured slightly at the thought of her missing friend. “She’s been gone for eight weeks now and I’m starting to get scared.”
“When was the last time you heard from her?” Hunter asked, taking a seat at a small dining table and pulling out a notepad and pen. “Any idea why she might have disappeared?”
“I do have one idea,” Alexandra said, swallowing hard against the rising lump of dread in her throat. She prayed she was wrong, because if this really was the reason Beatrix had vanished then chances were good she’d never see her best friend alive again. They hadn’t meant for it to go so far. It had only been an exercise, a chance to take their acting technique to the next level. But now Beatrix was missing and things only looked bleaker by the day. Slowly, she made her way to the table and took a seat across from him. Their knees collided and Alex pulled away fast, excusing herself and doing her best to ignore the zings of electricity sizzling through her system from their brief point of contact. “Um, Bea and I were in the same method acting class together downtown.”
Hunter made some quick notes on his pad, then looked up at her. “Go on.”
“One of the tenets of method acting is to become your character. To crawl inside their skin, so to speak, and live life in their shoes to really bring forth the sincerest and most emotionally expressive performance possible. Bea and I wanted to become the best actresses we could so we took this advice to heart. She was starting to get a lot of offers for stage work in New York and one of the young, up-and-coming playwrights sent her a script for a new production dealing with the plight of human sex trafficking.”