Kissed Blind (Hot Pursuit #2)(24)

“Oh, no thank you. I can’t drink on the job.”

He glanced at a fancy clock on the wall. “You’re off the clock. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

I smiled, and as much as I would have loved to sip whiskey next to Oliver Pierce and chat about the little things in life, it was against company policy. However, nowhere did it state I couldn’t hold a glass of whiskey and pretend to drink while discussing life with Oliver Pierce.

“Okay, sure. Just a small pour, please.”

“On the rocks?”

“Sounds great, thanks.”

He plunked a few ice cubes into two glasses and poured the amber liquid. The ice cracked and popped in the glasses. He moved so smoothly back to me he must have floated across the room to hand me the glass.

“Cheers,” he said, tapping his glass against mine and raising it to his lips—his perfect actor lips. When he lowered the glass, it was half empty.

I pretended to sip, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t a hard liquor girl. Wine and beer were my poison, but when Oliver Pierce offers you a whiskey, you take it. “It must be incredible to do what you do.”

“I’m not sure I would call it incredible, but it’s a privilege.” He drank again and released a soft moan. “A good whiskey is hard to come by but worth every penny.”

I smiled and “sipped” again, sloshing the poison against my lips. A rich vanilla-caramel scent tickled my nose, deceiving me into believing the contents would be sweet, but the trace amount that entered my mouth tasted burnt and bitter. I would never acquire a taste for whiskey. “But your job takes you all over the world. You get to work with the best actors. People idolize you, fall in love with you.”

He shrugged. “People idolize someone who isn’t real. They don’t fall in love with me. It’s a big game of pretend.”

“Children play pretend, you convince the world you are these characters. There’s a big difference.”

“Hmm, maybe. Being invited into people’s homes is where I feel most blessed. I’ve had a successful career where so many others have failed, or haven’t gotten as lucky.” He stopped and chuckled to himself. “But, now, compared to you, I think what you do is truly amazing.”

“It has its exciting moments, I’ll admit that, but it’s not amazing, except for this assignment maybe.”

A soft smile teased his lips, and his eyes glazed with renewed warmth. “You’re underselling yourself. You are a unique person to put yourself in harm’s way. Most people would run away from someone coming at them who’s twice their size, but you run toward them. That’s extremely brave and far from ordinary. ”

“Out of the ordinary, yes, but it’s not bravery. It’s my job.” I thought for a moment. “Soldiers are brave. Police officers are brave. Firemen running into burning buildings are brave.”

“Do you ever get scared?” He rested his glass on his knee.

I puckered the corner of my mouth. “I shouldn’t admit it, but occasionally something will shake me up a little. Experience and training get me through it though. One wrong move and I could end up dead, or worse, my client could. Those are the thoughts that are most terrifying, when failure isn’t an option. So, I’m not sure how brave that makes me.”

He shook his head. “You’re too young. And very wrong.”

I sat up straight. “How?”

“Just because you get scared out there doesn’t negate the fact that you’re brave. Being brave has a lot to do with being scared. It’s despite being scared, you overcome. It’s instinctive. You do what is difficult. You challenge the fear inside yourself and find the courage through your training to overcome. Every single person roaming the face of this earth has at one time or another been scared.”

I swirled my glass, mixing the whiskey and melted ice together. “Then if I’m brave you’re brave. It has to be one of the bravest things ever to put yourself out in front of the world like you do.”

“If nothing else, it’s humbling at times.” He laughed. “Make a bad movie and people will line up to tell you how awful you are. Once you become famous, you’re supposed to stop having feelings. No one tells you that when you sign up to do this.”

He drained his glass, and the alcohol rendered a lethal calmness to his sapphire gaze. It held me hostage, and I was compelled to look away, but couldn’t.

“Can I get you another?” he asked.

I held my drink low and out of sight to conceal I hadn’t had any. “No, thank you. I’m still good.” My voice came out delicate and fragile, despite the deep breath I’d taken before speaking.

He stood, but rather than walking over to the bar to fill his glass, he came toward me and sat on the arm of my chair. A faint, seductive glint smoldered behind his eyes. My heart raced and butterflies fluttered in my belly. He brushed my hair off my shoulder right when Vance and Cici walked through the door. Oliver sprang from the chair and poured himself another drink.

“We’re back,” Cici said with an extra lightness in her voice.

She walked in the kitchen, and Vance eyed the glass in my hand. I sat it down on the end table next to my chair and stood.

“We should get going and let them enjoy the rest of their night,” Vance said, peering, the look so accusatory I wanted to squirm.