He’d been walking for about ten minutes when he saw movement in the shadows in front of him. “Butch,” he said, recognizing one of Kit’s bodyguards.
The broad-shouldered and heavily muscled man, his dark blond hair worn in a military crew cut, was dressed in black cargo pants and a black T-shirt rather than the suit he wore when out and about with Kit.
“Hey, Noah.” He held out a hand and they shook.
“Any problems?”
Butch rubbed his jaw rather than responding to Noah’s question.
“I know you don’t talk about your clients’ business,” Noah said, appreciating that about the man. “But you know I care about Kit.”
“Yeah, I know. All you guys do.” Falling into step beside Noah, he said, “I’m glad you’re staying with her, to be honest. I’ve had a bad feeling lately—I think the nutjob’s back, and he’s watching her. I brought in two extra men to cover her and the house around the clock, but then she took off last night. I can’t protect her if she won’t let me.”
Noah wanted to kick himself for having put Kit at risk. “Won’t happen again.” He made a vow then and there not to get falling-down drunk ever again. It was a vow he’d broken before, but then it had only been about him—now it was about Kit. And Kit was everything. “Any physical signs of the stalker?”
“No. But I know he’s out there. Years of instinct, man.”
“I believe you.” It was Noah who’d recommended Butch and his team for this job, though Kit didn’t know that. Fox had passed on the information without mentioning where the rec came from. “You have my number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Call me if you don’t want Kit to be alone.” He’d come, even if he had to bed down in the garage.
“Will do,” Butch promised. “If she fires me for talking to you, you owe me a job.”
Noah slapped him on the shoulder. “How about a starlet who’s currently falling out of limos and into cocaine?”
The burly ex-Marine snorted. “Hell no. Not after Kit.”
Noah understood that. Kit was extraordinary. She’d come through the ranks to the bright glare of fame without losing sight of what was important: at the top stood her friends and family. For them, she’d do anything.
As a struggling actress when she’d been cast in the soap for what was originally meant to be a bit part, she’d barely had two extra cents to rub together. Nevertheless, she’d opened her tiny apartment to the junior makeup artist on the show when the other woman was evicted after falling behind on her own rent.
Becca and Kit were close friends to this day.
Kit had helped so many people in similar ways. Her nature was all the more extraordinary given how she’d grown up—as the only daughter of a supermodel and a tennis ace. He had no idea how she’d turned out so normal. He just knew she had.
Far more normal than Noah.
Kit had expected to spend the night tossing and turning, but she slept more soundly than she had since the day the stalker broke into her previous home. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the reason why. Apparently she could hire the best security in the world, but all she needed to feel safe was to have Noah in the house.
Annoyed with herself, she got out of bed in the dark and stumbled to the bathroom to have a quick shower to wake up. That done, she dressed and grabbed her purse. When she stepped out of the bedroom, she was startled to see a light in the kitchen. Her heart thudded until she saw Noah’s half-naked body moving about in there.
“What are you doing up?” Nobody should be up at this hour; if the studio wasn’t paying her, she certainly wouldn’t be.
“I know you don’t like to eat this early,” he said with that old crooked smile, “but I made up one of those healthy seaweed things you like and put it in this.” He held out a travel mug, drawing her eyes to his chest. The ink there was relatively simple—the biggest work was on his back. “So you can drink while they’re slathering you in makeup.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, feeling awkward and not at her best. She couldn’t deal with a bare-chested Noah this early in the morning. Especially when he was all mussed up and yawning and lazy-looking. It made her want to walk into his arms and snuggle against him while he rubbed his bristly jaw against her hair.
Grabbing the drink, she headed to the garage entrance instead—to find he’d opened it for her.
He leaned against the entrance as she got into the black sports car she’d bought before the stalker forced her to pour all her money into this property and hiring security. She put the drink in the cup holder and pushed the garage-door opener.