Page 21 of Act Like You Don't Care
"Two is good. Trying to stay away from the carbs. Not that this helps." I poured myself a mix of rum and coke and took a long drink before I set it on the table in the dining room that I hardly ever used. When I ate at home, I usually just took everything to the couch, but seeing as how I had company, I might as well use the space. It made it feel more like a business lunch, anyway.
"I brought the food," said Miles from behind me. I looked up to see Miles holding the plates, forks hanging over the edge. "I hope you don't mind," Miles said with a sheepish shrug. "I just kept opening drawers until I found the cutlery."
"That's okay.” Again, it felt surprisingly intimate, and now that the first rush of fear was subsiding, other emotions were coming into play.I should have picked one of the other 'boyfriends'.This alpha was going to be more of a threat to my peace of mind than my stalker.
"So, you enjoy acting?" Miles asked after we’d both taken the edge off our hunger.
"I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't, would I?" Inside, I winced a little at the harshness of my answer, but it was for the best. There was no good reason to try to create a relationship where one would never be. "It's a challenge. And what other job lets you see the inside of how movies are made? I wouldn't want to do anything else." The rum was hitting me now and the food was becoming less appetizing. "I'm going to go to bed, it's been a long day." Bed. Shit. Where... Well, I supposed Miles could sleep in the spare bedroom. "I'll show you your room." I got up, scraped my plate off into the garbage, and loaded it into the dishwasher, barely aware of Miles following me through the condo until I realized I’d forgotten about him and spun around, nearly running him over.
"Oops," Miles said and grabbed my shoulders to steady me. "Sorry, wasn't expecting you to turn around that fast."
"It's okay." It wasn't, but I was too tired to try to explain why without making a fool of myself. "Your room's down here." I led Miles down to the second bedroom. It was a good choice, with its own bathroom and a California King that would be tall enough for the alpha's rangy frame. "Everything's in there, 'cept shampoo. There is soap," I added conscientiously. "If there's anything you want, let me know and I'll get Josefina to pick it up when she does the shopping."
"That's your maid?"
I paused on my way down the hall to my own bedroom. "She is, but she's more my head of household, if you've ever read any old historicals. She keeps everything running smooth, makes sure I don't run out of anything, and three days a week, she feeds me because she says I don't eat enough."
"You don't." Miles made a gesture at my body. "You're at least ten pounds underweight."
"Camera will add them. If anything, I should be a little lighter, but I've been cheating. Good thing this movie doesn't call for a lot of muscle definition scenes, or I'd be crash dieting now." I noticed Miles's frown and held up an imperious hand. "You get to guard my body, not comment on it. Understand?" God, that felt good, to set that boundary. And that alone told me how off-center this whole deal had pushed me.
I’d be better with some sleep.
Miles's eyebrows flew up briefly, but then he nodded. "Got it. And speaking of, I need access to wherever you are at all times. While we’re in the middle of this, I need you to not lock any doors behind you unless I say so.”
"Why?" I knew the minute the words were out of my mouth that I sounded petulant, but it was too late.
"I can't protect you if I don't know where you are or if I can’t get to you. I can't keep someone from getting into the house, or get you out of the house, if I don't know where the exits are relative to your position. And if I have to throw them out for you, I need to know where the windows and doors are. I'm not going to create a Looney Tunes villain-shaped hole in your wall. Think of the repair costs." The explanation had started out stiff and a little angry, but by the end, I could hear the hidden laughter, as if Miles were humoring himself out of my bad mood.
"Right. I guess I didn't think about that." Except I never brought anyone back to my room. "Does that mean you have to watch me changing clothes?"
He shook his head. “But I need to be nearby, at least for now. Once we have the security system in place, I can back off a bit.” He followed me down the hall and looked at me with real sympathy, which made me feel both angry and, somehow, comforted. “It’s only for a day.”
Fuck my life. I raised my hands in a helpless gesture and led him the rest of the way down the hall to my bedroom.
Miles paused in front of the doorway out onto the patio. "I see why you bought the place."
I gave the view out the window a glance, then looked back to study Miles. "It was part of it."
"I didn't realize you could see the hills from here." His eyes rested on the golden highlights painting the landscape. There was a small balcony out there too, that I sometimes liked to eat breakfast on when I wasn't working, and Miles opened the glass door to walk out onto it.
I followed him out but forgot what I was going to say in the beauty of the evening. Up this high, the breezes usually carried away the concrete and steel smell that underlay a lot of Los Angeles, and the smell of green growing things, flowers, and the lemon tree blooming on my neighbor's balcony filled the air. How much time had passed since I’d stood still long enough to enjoy this? Too much, I was thinking.
Miles pulled out a notepad, doodling I thought at first. Then I realized that he’d stopped looking at the view at some point while I was lamenting my lack of free time. Instead, he was looking at all the buildings within sight of my bedroom and when I peered over his shoulder, I saw that Miles had been sketching the area. "Why do you need that?"
"Figuring out what you’re going to need for your new security system." Miles pointed up at the eave, where there was nothing other than a string of patio lights shaped like pink flamingos, bought a year ago because I’d thought they were funny. "I'm going to want a camera there, pointing toward the bedroom."
I’d forgotten about the alarm system for the condo in my panic. "I don't want cameras recording everything I do!" I blocked Miles from going back into the bedroom. "I get enough of that the rest of the day. When I'm in the bedroom, it's my time, and I don't want anyone snooping in on whoever I bring home." Panic filled my chest—my bedroom was my last bastion of privacy, even though I knew that safety had to overrule that. But wasn't there a compromise? There had to be a compromise. Miles had found one before.
Miles stared at me thoughtfully, the pen paused in mid-air. "All the recordings will go to a secure server, but I can make sure they're erased after twenty-four hours."
I shook my head and pressed my hands to my cheeks in frustration. "And we all know that data is never really lost. And how are you going to get it to the server? Wireless?" I filled the last word with scorn because everyone knew that wireless and cell phones were just waiting to be hacked. The risks I took with the men I went home with were one thing—I had a lawyer to deal with that. This place though, and my mother’s condo in Florida, and Oceanport—those were my sanctuaries. I didn’t want them tainted.
Miles crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the balcony railing. "You think I don't know my job?" he asked, in a way that I knew signaled danger, but this was my life, dammit!
"I think you're only thinking about your job, not about me." Well, two could play at this game. I crossed my arms over my chest and deliberately mimicked Miles's posture, leaning against the building wall.
The corners of Miles's mouth twitched, which prodded a memory of something said to me in passing.Expert in behavior, worked with blah-blah-bignameguy, reads people like a book.
