He snapped his fingers and pointed. Marissa stood. Three assistants started moving around the boxes and light reflectors.
Clarice jogged over with a plush robe. “Want this?”
Marissa shook her head. It was harder to get warm and then peel off the robe and be freezing again. Anyway, it would smudge her makeup and ruffle her hair. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” The heaters were helping, but her toes were cold and she wiggled them.
“Probably only thirty more minutes with the sun’s rays in the right position,” Clarice said.
They had been on the set for hours. “I hope we have some good shots.”
“Weird on the set today,” Clarice said. “I can’t stop thinking about Avery. She’s on everyone’s mind. It’s hard to focus on other things. Business as usual feels strange.”
“I know what you mean,” Marissa said. It was simultaneously quieter, but with more behind-the-hand whispers.
“Have you heard anything else?” Clarice asked.
Marissa shook her head. “Avery’s mother sent me a message about the memorial service.” The woman didn’t know she and Avery hadn’t been speaking and she had asked Marissa to say a few words about Avery at the service.
“I’ve been asking around, but no one seems to know what happened.” Clarice stared at her hard as if expecting her to reveal an important detail.
“The police will figure it out,” Marissa said. She hoped they would soon. The man who had been inside her town house was denying any involvement in Avery’s murder.
“What about the bodyguard?” Clarice asked.
“Jewelry guards, you mean?” Marissa said. The jewelry had been escorted to the site by two burly looking, highly intimidating men.
“Not them. What about your new bodyguard? What’s his story?” Clarice asked.
“His story?” Marissa asked. She didn’t know much about Jack.
“Is he married or does he have a girlfriend? No wedding ring,” Clarice said.
Marissa hadn’t asked. “He was a referral.” She was curious about him, too. Not her business, but he hadn’t taken personal phone calls on the trip to Seabrook. A wife or girlfriend would call now and then.
“He doesn’t talk to anyone. He looks around and watches,” Clarice said.
“He’s making sure everything and everyone is safe,” Marissa said.
Clarice smiled. “After what happened to Avery, I’m glad for the extra eyes on us. But maybe when he’s off the clock, he would be willing to talk more. When does his shift end?”
Possessiveness and a hint of jealousy nipped at her. Marissa tried to squash it. Clarice was being friendly. It was in her nature. “Not shift work. He’s been hired to stay with me.”
A puzzled expression crossed Clarice’s face. “All right. I’ll try to get his number and call him. I assume he’ll have time off.”
The photographer clapped his hands and Marissa hurried to the restaged set. Jack could be interested in Clarice. She was sweet and fun. Marissa looked at Jack again.
This time, he wasn’t observing. He was running at her, screaming, “Get down, get down!”
Marissa heard sharp cracks exploding, like fireworks in the sky.
Jack caught her around the waist, throwing her to the ground and covering her with his body.
The cold sand pressed in to her back. Jack had his gun in his hand and was aiming it away from her and the water. Astride her while protecting her with his body, he reached to his other side and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen with his thumb.
“What is the meaning of this?” the photographer asked, marching forward. His hair was standing on end, as if he had run his hand through it too many times.
The squeal of tires from the parking lot.
Marissa struggled to sit. Jack hadn’t moved. The heat of his body burned through her. She wiggled, trying to push him off her.
“He’s gone,” Jack said, rolling to his feet. He slid his phone away and slipped his gun into its holster. He reached for her hand to help her up.
“Who?” the photographer asked. “What is going on?”
The guards for the jewelry and her other two bodyguards had moved. They seemed unsure what to do, waiting for Jack to direct them. He had that type of presence. Confusion was clear on the faces around her. Jack had created a scene. Did he believe there had been a threat? Or had he overreacted to something?
Jack pointed to the crates draped in fabric behind him. Marissa followed his extended hand. Were those bullet holes in the pink-and-purple cloth? Three holes peppered the front.
“What happened?” Marissa asked.
“Two men approached from up the beach. Is anyone hurt?” Jack asked.
A murmur around them of “no” and “we’re fine.”
The photographer’s mouth was hanging open. “Someone shot at me? Does this have to do with Avery?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Two men parked in the lot behind that sand dune. They were waved away by security to move farther down the beach. They circled back on foot. I’m sending a description of the attackers and their car to the police.” He met Marissa’s gaze. “We need to move to a safer location.”
“We need to finish the photo shoot,” the photographer said.
“You’ll have to use one of the pictures you took. You have plenty,” Jack said. He stared, waiting for the photographer to argue.
The photographer sighed. “A worse photographer would be dead in the water, but I’m sure I have something I can use.”
Standing close to her, Jack escorted Marissa to the tent where the security guards for the jewelry helped her remove the million-dollar pieces and place them into protective containers. As they inventoried and inspected each item, Clarice brought her a pair of yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie.
Marissa put them on, along with her sunglasses. “Where to?” she asked Jack.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Jack said.
He slung an arm over her shoulder and she winced.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I think I have sand burn on my shoulder from when you tackled me,” Marissa said.
Jack faced her, and unzipped her hoodie. Though he had seen her wearing next to nothing a few minutes before, the action struck her as intimate. Her skin prickled and lust sent a warm shiver over her. Jack lifted the fabric off her shoulder and visually examined the scraped skin. “Hope this doesn’t mean you’ll have trouble at other jobs.” He set his hand on her arm and the contact set off a shower of sparks.
The connection and the attraction were strong. His gaze lingered on her face and the heat in his eyes felt like a physical touch.
Marissa looked at her shoulder. The skin was red, but it would heal quickly with some ointment. “They can airbrush it out if it shows in pictures.”
“You should call your sister in the car and let her know what happened,” Jack said.
The idea of worrying Kit didn’t thrill her. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother her with this. She’ll worry more.”
“She’ll read about it in my report,” Jack said.
“You’re sending my sister a report?”
“Daily reports under these circumstances