5. February 9th

FEbrUARY 9TH

Kai

"So, I'm your man."

There had been a pregnant pause after he said that.

How do I read that? Does he mean it to be a double entendre? It sounded like a double entendre.

To cover how the comment had thrown her, she began to dig through the haphazard piles she'd started when he sat down. The problem was, now she no longer knew where anything was. Organized chaos was her modus operandi. The fumbling probably wasn't helping make her look professional.

Or is that because he's watching you as intensely as a sniper watches a target?

After a few false starts and some quick paperwork solitaire, everything was relatively back where it had been, and she was clicking along on all cylinders. He explained how he set up his notes in the script, letting her know that he trusted her to read them rather than be patronizing and go through them one by one. While reviewing some of her ideas, he offered suggestions when they were asked for, asked intelligent questions for clarification, and never once interrupted her. Instead, he waited until she finished a thought, making sure that she was done speaking.

It was not the Hollywood way. Everyone here was always in a hurry; their way was the only way, and everything was a power play. Initially, she found herself outside her tornado mode, ending her sentences with question marks. When he didn't show signs of correcting her, she eventually dropped the questioning and paused when she normally wouldn't, again waiting for him to correct her, scoff at her ideas, or something. But he never did. And it didn't take long before she became comfortable with working alongside him to where she was steamrolling through at her normal pace of a thousand miles an hour.

His response? He had cleared a small space, dug one of her legal pads out of her chaos, swept up a Disney villainess pen, and began making notes. He should have looked ridiculous. He didn't. He looked focused. Contemplative.

Hot.

Like Kai, he was a lister. She internally laughed at the symmetry of a SEAL using bullet points. His printing was precise, block, capital letters. If he made a mistake, he used a clear, single strike-through line. His work on the page was much like him: solid, strong. However, unlike him, it was readable.

When the hell did he swing around next to me in the booth? I distinctly remember at one point turning things in his direction and looking at everything upside down.

She'd been so focused that the change in their proximity hadn't even registered.

While they were working, people were constantly knocking on her door: signatures needed for the casting director to restructure a contract, renderings needed for the costume designer to correct decorations on the Navy uniforms, and approvals needed for various expenditures. Whenever someone came in, he sat quietly. Patiently. She could feel him watching and knew he was listening closely. He never spoke to those who entered other than to return the greetings and partings, handshakes on both ends.

The sun had gone down before Kai realized how much time had passed. Currently, they were looking over elements of the obstacle course she wanted to build, and Waters was making sketches on his notepad, annotating for the construction crew what would be needed for the various elements. Suddenly, her door whipped open. No polite knock. Not even a cursory knock. The door slammed behind the man entering.

She knew it was Stapleton, but she refused to look up and acknowledge his rude entry, which she knew would make him crazy. Interestingly enough, Waters also ignored him and kept writing while she was talking to him, and she had a sneaking suspicion he was more than aware of everything about the new presence in the room.

"Serrano, who the hell is this?" She continued speaking to Waters, looking at him, then at the screen where she was pointing with her stylus. "Serrano!"

Fuck a duck, here we go.

Kai finished her sentence to Waters before looking up. "Craig. I didn't hear you knock." The jab was light, but she knew he recognized it. Waters was now looking directly at Stapleton. His face was neutral, but she was certain that he was running an assessment of the situation similar to when the Terminator came through to modern-day Earth. "What can I do for you?"

"I asked, who the hell is this?" He jerked his head in Waters' direction.

Stapleton was Hollywood handsome with black hair, blue eyes, a wide smile, and tan skin. When he smiled for the cameras and people he met for the first time, he gave the impression of confident, successful, and friendly. Once you got to know him? The hair screamed dye job, the blue eyes were clearly colored contact enhanced, the tan sprayed on, and his pearly white teeth often conjured images of a shark just before it tore into its prey. Always dressed to the nines and always an ass.

"This? This is Waters, from Tribe. They've agreed to do the consulting for the film. I reminded you about them this morning."

Stapleton glared at Waters, not offering a hand in greeting. "I didn't approve that expenditure yet. His being here is a little premature, don't you think?"

"His presence is an approved portion of the budget."

"Well, I don't have a contract with details, nor do I have the appropriate work releases, NDAs, and employment forms on file, and until I do, he's not getting paid."

"He's not an employee, Craig. He's a consultant. His firm pays him out of their fee, which I know you remember. As for NDAs, he's a former Navy SEAL, so I'm guessing he knows how to keep a secret."

Stapleton grunted. "I still think this is an unnecessary expense."

She bristled at the pronoun relegating Waters to a thing rather than a person. "He," she emphasized, "has already clarified several huge mistakes in the script that would stand out to anyone with experience in military service, so yes, we do need him. We discussed all of this, for what feels like the ten millionth time, at our meeting this morning, so I refuse to discuss it any further. Now, was there something new you wanted, or can we get back to work?"

A muscle tic in Stapleton's cheek showed the level of anger he was holding back. "Invoices," he ground out.

"What?" Kai was confused.

"Invoices. For your purchases. I want to look at the invoices."

"Why?"

"Because, as you recall from this morning's meeting, I have concerns regarding your spending. Therefore, as executive director, it's my prerogative to view them. I am in charge of the money, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "You get a copy of every invoice as soon as it arrives. Why would you need mine?"

"Just give them to me, Serrano."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, keep your pantyhose on." Kai slid out of her seat and went toward the back of the trailer. "It's going to be a minute. Waters, don't poke him. I doubt he's had his rabies shots."

When she returned a few minutes later with a file box, Stapleton stood as tall and imposing as he could, arms folded over his chest as he stared down his nose at Waters. Waters was sitting just as she'd left him, staring back at Stapleton with no expression whatsoever. Neither seemed aware of her presence, but she would bet her next residuals check that Waters was more than aware. She slammed the box down on the table, but neither man flinched, their eyes still locked on each other. Kai rolled her own in disgust and sat back down.

"All my copies are in that box, organized by budget item line and then by date. Try not to fuck up my system, please, so that I don't have to waste my time refiling everything."

"That's what an assistant is for," Stapleton growled.

"No," she muttered back, "an assistant is to assist with duties that need assistance. I don't need an assistant to file pieces of paper I'm perfectly capable of filing. Now. Are we done?"

Stapleton's eyes cut to hers, and his molars were grinding again. "For now."

"Well, Waters and I have a lot of work to do, so I'll see you at our meeting on Monday at one o'clock." And with that, she turned her attention back to her computer screen, picking up her conversation with Waters right where she left off. Waters held Stapleton's gaze for just a moment before devoting what appeared to be his full attention back to her. When it became clear that the pair would completely ignore his presence, Stapleton muttered an expletive and stormed back out of the trailer.

With the banging of the door, Kai looked up and was going to apologize to Waters, but he put a finger to his lips, giving a minuscule shake of his head. He then pointed at the obstacle course drawings and made a circular motion with his hand. Instantly, she understood his message. Stapleton may have blown out of the trailer like a hurricane, but he was likely standing just outside that same door, hoping to overhear their discussion. She took his cue and kept rattling about the obstacle course wall.

Waters slid around and out of the opposite end of the booth, and he silently stepped to the hinged side of the door, flattening himself along the wall and sneaking a look out the porthole. "He's gone."

Just as silently as he'd left, Waters came back to the table, but instead of returning to the inside seat next to her, he motioned Kai to slide inside and perched on the outside edge of the bench, effectively boxing her in. Kai stopped speaking and grabbed her water bottle, finishing it in several swallows. Her heart beat a bit faster. In this position, his hip, thigh, knee, calf, and foot were just barely touching hers, making her blood run like lava. When they'd been immersed in working, she'd been able to suppress her physical attraction to him. Now, it was like her insides were doing the red alert Klaxon.

"What's going on? Why are you in protector mode?" she hissed.

He looked at her quizzically.

"You've put yourself between me and the door." She shook her head. "I highly doubt Stapleton knows how to hurt someone unless it's by cutting off their funding. And dick he may be, but he's got no reason to physically come at me." Her eyes narrowed again. "What's going on, Waters?"

"Nothing."

She snorted. "I'm not dumb. And I don't need protection from the shitweasel."

"It's ingrained. I always put myself between a target and a threat. He may not be a physical threat to you, but he definitely has you as a target." His tone softened in explanation. "I don't like his method of approaching you. You should lock your door so he can't come barging in whenever he wants."

"While I appreciate the alpha male concern as much as the next female, if I lock that door, no one will be able to get in, and I will get zilch accomplished. Do you understand just how many people need access to me on a daily basis? Easily over a hundred, sometimes more. There's no way appointments can be made for that, and you can't be with me every second of the day."

"I will if I have to be."

All the time? Did that mean all workday or twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?

She could tell he didn't like that her practical explanation was accurate, but he did concede a bit. "If the circumstances don't fit my recommendations, then we change the circumstances. Your trailer is off limits to that douchebag."

"You can't be serious?" Stunned, she looked at his completely stone-cold expression. "You are serious."

Waters put his left arm around the back of the booth seat behind her and his right forearm on the tabletop, basically hemming her in. "As a terrorist attack."

Kai threw her hands up, and they fell on the tabletop. "Waters, what the fuck? He's an executive producer. I haven't met one who isn't a dick yet, so it must be a requirement in the job description. He'll never agree to that."

"He either works under those parameters, or he doesn't see you."

"You act like he's going to barricade the door and demand my virtue in payment for letting me do my job."

"He doesn't exactly seem like the type that wouldn't."

"Well, I hate to inform you, Sir Galahad, but my virtue was officially handed over a long time ago. And not to some fucknut that thinks his cock controls every woman's world."

"Glad to hear it."

She shifted arguments. "Look"—she smiled, shaking her head—"it's really sweet that you want to defend my honor, or… whatever the hell you want to call this," she admitted with a wave of her hand, "but I've been handling him for weeks now. He doesn't scare me, and he can't hurt me. Other than running my mouth, I haven't done anything even remotely close to being fired for, which is the only power he has over me. And doing that hurts him more than it does me."

"And I repeat, I don't care. This way or no consult."

What the hell is going on?

"This is a bit over-the-top for consulting on Navy SEAL procedures."

His pupils flared minutely, the green flames surrounding them seeming to spike in the blue of his irises. Had she not been paying extremely close attention, she might have missed it.

He's thinking about what to say.

"The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. Like someone is watching. They have been since we met at the gate."

She laughed. "Waters, this is Hollywood. Someone is always watching." While she was speaking, she had placed a hand on his forearm that rested on the table, and she felt a zap followed by a sting of sharp heat from her fingertips throughout her entire body. Kai sucked in a breath and retracted her hand immediately, barely repressing the need to put her burnt fingers in her mouth to soothe the burn.

Wow! What the hell was that? An electric shock?

Both of them froze. Time might have stood still for a few moments, but she wasn't positive she was even breathing right now. It was as if she had sucked in all the oxygen in the room on her gasp and then held it, fearful if she let it out, she'd never get air again.

Is it possible for someone's heart to stop beating due to static electricity?

When she regained her power of speech, she stuttered, "I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't have touched you." She rubbed the affected fingers. "That was inappropriate of me."

His eyes went to where she had touched him.

"Must be dry here from the heat. Hopefully, the zap I got didn't zap you too hard in return," she offered up in feeble explanation.

Way to go, Serrano. Electrocute the guy the first day on the job.

Then she noticed his pulse in his neck and saw his chest deflate just a fraction with a controlled exhale.

Finally, he spoke. "No," he said quietly. "You didn't zap me too hard."