the strangest, most frightening and unsettling situation she’d ever been in.
Someone was interfering with her work, her business—targeting her specifically.
Someone was creeping around her property and wreaking havoc that could have injured someone today. All those innocent teens… She shivered at the thought.
And someone was giving her death threats.
This sort of thing only happened on-screen or onstage. Not in real life. Not to her.
“So what do we know?” he said, smoothly moving on after she didn’t respond to his question.
Vivien felt a little bad about that—about not answering it—but, dammit, it was asking an awful lot, wasn’t it?
She hadn’t seen the guy for eleven years—after he’d stomped on her heart and left her battered and bruised—and suddenly he’d shown up in the midst of her trying to start a new business, produce a show, refurbish a theater…while someone else was trying to keep her from doing it—and he wanted to get cozy? No thanks.
“We don’t know much,” she said. “Someone was in the theater, probably without my knowledge—what I mean is, I don’t think it was anyone I’d let in, like a contractor or appraiser. They wouldn’t have time to do it unless they came back later. So whoever planted that stuff somehow got in when I wasn’t there.”
“And they’ve been there at least twice. Maybe more, since whoever it was would have had to scope the place out before setting up the little surprises,” he said.
“Yeah.” She took a fortifying sip of wine.
“All indications are that whoever it is doesn’t want you in the theater. The question is whether it’s you, Vivien Leigh Savage specifically, or whether it’s anyone.”
“It could just be someone trying to punk me,” she said. “A couple of teens fooling around. Maybe they like to use the building as Make-out Central and want to keep it that way.”
“Or Party Central,” he said. “But I don’t know, VL, it seems like a lot of work to go through in order to keep a place for that. I mean, the planning, the equipment, the breaking in several times…seems like a lot of effort. Can’t they just, I don’t know, party on the beach or make out in their cars like we used to do? Besides—there’d be evidence of said parties or orgies. Did you find any condom wrappers or beer bottles around there? And would they go so far as to trash your car?”
She sighed again. “You’re so damned logical, Jake. I just wanted it to be something more benign.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Vivien felt him searching her with his gaze, and she studiously kept hers focused out over the blues of lake and sky. Don’t start to get personal, Jake. I don’t think I can take it. The death threats are personal enough.
“So, who has it in for you, VL? A business rival? A friend turned enemy? One of your many broken-hearted lovers?”
Well, he’d done it. He’d gotten personal, dammit.
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “I can’t think of anyone. Not even a broken-hearted lover. Or a current one.”
That got his attention. “A current one?”
Now she looked at him. “You don’t think I’ve been locked up mourning you like a nun for the last eleven years, do you?”
“Of course not. Didn’t I just say ‘trail of broken-hearted lovers,’ which implies a multitude? I just didn’t know if there was anyone in the picture. Currently.”
“Why do you care?”
Yeah, she knew she was teasing fire, dancing around, playing word games.
Maybe it was easier doing that than figuring out who wished her death.
Jake didn’t answer. He just looked at her with those intense brown eyes. It wasn’t a puppy-dog gaze—a hopeful, wishful one. It was straightforward, bold, steady—like, you know damned well why.
“Stop it, Jake,” she snapped. “Just stop it. I’ve got enough to deal with besides you and—whatever.”
He gave a short nod. “All right. Back to business. But don’t you think we ought to at least clear the air a little? Since we’re going to be working together—”
“I don’t really have any intention of ‘working’ with you, Jake,” she said, then sighed. “But fine. I guess with your dad being in the show, you’re going to be around whether I like it or not.”
He blanched a little. “Geez, is it that bad? Do you hate me that much?”
“Hate’s too strong a word—though I guess I did at one time,” she said bluntly. “Now it’s just more that I don’t want to be reminded of how much you hurt me—which happens whenever you’re around.”
“Wow.” His mouth tightened and he set down