He was the one working out, but she was the one with flushed cheeks. Heat trickled through her body to pool between her thighs. As she walked into her studios, reminders of Conn, his scent, his breathing, the soft grunts he made as he pushed his body to the limits of human endurance filled her mind.
“Stop being a cliché,” she muttered, and turned on the soundboard. She settled in with her guitar and her notebook, paging through to find lines that caught her attention, images that spurred a response, searching for a subject to anchor a song, or even an album. Emily’s enthusiasm and drive had inspired her, reminding her of the girl she used to be, living only for making music, trying to tell a story with words and harmony, but the problem was that somewhere along the way, she’d become a mouthpiece for someone else’s lyrics, a tune composed in committee. Who was Cady Ward? What did she see? Believe? Hope for? Dream of? What did she want to share with the world? It was all colored by Maud’s experiences, Christmas lights seen through a snow-smeared windshield. Who would she be after another album dropped, another year of performing songs she didn’t write sung to tunes she tweaked, at best?
Two months. She had two months at home to ground herself, to try to integrate the experiences she’d had since Harry discovered her with the young woman she’d been then. She could do it.
Resolutely she picked up her guitar, opened her notebook, and adjusted Nana’s bracelet on her wrist. Positioned her tea just so. Strummed a few chords, hummed a few notes. But she couldn’t shake the sense of unease sloshing inside.
CHAPTER TEN
Conn’s phone rang the next afternoon. He felt a leap of relief that Kenny was finally calling him back. But the name displayed on the screen was Ian Hawthorn’s.
“McCormick.”
“It’s Hawthorn. I’m checking in to see how things are going with Ms. Ward.”
“Fine,” Conn said. “She sleeps a lot. Her sister spent the night last night. We ate popcorn and watched a romcom.”
“Sounds delightful,” Hawthorn said drily.
“You want the job, it’s yours,” Conn replied.
“Bored?”
“Out of my skull.” Except when Cady was awake, and not in her studio, as she was now. Just being in the same room with Cady made him feel more alive than he’d ever felt without gunfire involved.
“Anything suspicious?”
“Two things that may or may not be connected. One, someone hacked her website, which is a real problem for her right now. Two, I saw someone lurking at the end of her driveway,” Conn said.
Conn heard him typing on the other end and knew he was making notes of his own. Nothing escaped the ice cool Ian Hawthorn. “Do you think the two are connected?”
“To each other, or to that file of psychos her manager compiled?” Conn said. “I’m treating them like they’re all connected. Her website guy is working on tracing the hacker. I’ve stepped up my patrols of her perimeter. She once again refused to install security cameras. She doesn’t have any appearances scheduled for the next few days. That will help.”
“Do you need backup?”
He looked out the big windows into the bare trees climbing the slope behind the house, then crossed the floor to the smaller front windows overlooking the driveway and peered through the shades. “No,” he said, surprising himself. A few days ago he would have given anything to get a break from this kind of work, to go back to the only family he had and find out who had set him up to take the fall for a brutal crime he didn’t commit. But while he’d been assigned to protect “Maud,” Cady was slowly slipping behind his defenses. She wasn’t just a job anymore, an obstacle. She was his to protect. His.
Except nothing belonged to him, least of all Cady Ward.
“No,” he said again. “I’ve got this.”
“You know, McCormick, it’s not a crime to ask for backup,” Hawthorn said mildly. Conn could just imagine the LT leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “Teamwork is considered an asset in most situations.”
“I know, LT. But I really don’t need it. She’s used to one person. Another guy coming and going means more for the neighbors to notice, and handoffs mean more chances for something to slip by unnoticed.”
“And a second set of eyes means it’s more likely something will be noticed.” More typing. “Fine. You’re it, for the moment. Best to keep you out of sight.”
“What’s going on with the investigation?”
“We’re investigating,” Hawthorn said blandly. “And you are not. You’re doing what I asked you to do and maintaining a low profile. Right?”
Calls to Kenny didn’t count as getting in anyone’s face. “Yes,” Conn said.
“Good. Just stay out of sight. We want to keep this out of the media as long as possible.”
The door to Cady’s studio opened. “Got it. I have to go,” Conn said, then disconnected.
“I’m going out of my mind,” Cady said. She brushed past him, up the stairs to the main floor. Her voice floated down to him. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Fine by me,” he said.