My God, I guess that last threatening letter frightened me more than I want to admit. By rights, I should go to the police, or even the director and tell him I’m getting letters from some crazy stalker, but after the trouble on set during my last movie, I can’t rock the boat. Honestly, in this business, you’re only as good as your last movie, and not only was mine a flop, the off-set feuding between me and the male lead—who just happened to be my ex—was tabloid fodder. I’m lucky any director wanted to work with me after that.
Now my motto is head down, work hard, no relationships of any kind during a shoot, and especially no relationships with anyone involved in the industry—ever. With that last thought in mind, I plaster on a smile and work to shake off my discomfort as I reach for the door to let myself in.
My hand stills when gravel crunches behind me. I turn, search the dark driveway, and see one headlight slowly coming down the lane. My thoughts instantly go back to Tyler Owens. I honestly had no idea he lived in Blue Bay, but I’d bet my warm bed tonight that the town’s bad boy drives a motorcycle. But he’s probably already between the sheets with one of those girls who’d been admiring him from across the bar.
Why the hell does that bother you, Haven?
It doesn’t!
Or at least it shouldn’t.
I’m not about to get involved with a man who was my brother’s mortal enemy in the cage. I can’t even imagine what Rock would say if he knew I’d kissed his nemesis. Not that he needs to know. What happened between Tyler and me was a one-time thing. He’s the kind of guy with a revolving door, and I have no desire to find myself on either side of it. Seriously I could make myself a scarf with the number of red flags he gives off.
If he’s such a bad boy, why did you feel safe with him?
Why indeed?
Ignoring that inner voice, I open the door, expecting to see my co-star and director sitting around chatting, but when my gaze lands on a group of strangers, I stiffen. Oh my God, it’s late and dark. Did I wonder down the wrong driveway, enter the wrong house and crash a family party?
“Um…I’m sorry. I thought this was where…”
An elderly lady stands and comes toward me. Her slippers scuff on the polished wooden floor as she shuffles close. “You must be Haven.” Her smile is as warm as her demeanor. My jumping nerves settle slightly, but that still doesn’t mean I’m in the right spot. Perhaps she recognizes me from my films.
“I am,” I say. “I thought this was where…” Backing up, I reach into my pocket and pull out a slip of paper with the house address. The door creaks behind me, and before I realize what’s happened, I back right into a brick wall.
“Whoa,” a man says, his mouth by my ear, the heat of his breath doing ridiculous things to my body. I don’t need to turn to know I’ve backed straight into Tyler Owens. So it was him on the motorcycle. Honestly, what are the odds I’d run into him—literally—two times in one night, and that he and his family are the ones who will be working on the sets? Is he the one stalking me? I gasp at that thought and spin around. His face softens, his eyes narrowing in on me.
“Haven, are you okay?” he asks in the softest, sweetest voice, and despite his big presence, the way his strong, protective hands are touching me, all the stress of the last week, and all the threatening letters comes racing back in a whoosh.
You’ll be mine.
As tears threaten, I blink my eyes to dull the vision of those words found on the sheet of the paper shoved under the bathroom stall at the airport, right after I landed in Connecticut. Someone knew exactly where I was going to be. Were they on the plane with me, or were they waiting in the terminal? A hard shiver races down my body and I shake, almost violently.
“Haven,” he says again, and that’s when I realize I’m causing a scene. Calling on all my acting skills, I push my hair back and fake a smile.
“Sorry, you frightened me.”
He doesn’t smile. Instead, he angles his head, those gorgeous green eyes of his moving