Read Online Close Up by Erin McCarthy - Free Book Online Page A

he was going to shove her in and lock the door.
    He wanted to laugh suddenly. “Kristy, are you okay?”
    “Not really. I’m looking at losing my job here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just so stressed out, and honestly, Sean, I am overwhelmed by you being here. Can I just meet you at the wine bar later, when all this is sorted out?”
    So she wanted him gone. It should offend him, but if anything, it made him more stubborn. He had “gone away” for ten years. She couldn’t send him away now until they had discussed a few crucial things.
    “The police will be leaving in twenty minutes. I’m staying.” Then he added, before she could argue. “I have a stake in this, as well.” He wasn’t talking about just the job.
    With each minute that ticked by in her presence, his emotion and curiosity grew. He wanted answers. He wanted conclusions. He wanted closure.
    And he wanted the privilege of touching Kristine one last time before they filed those papers and went on their merry way with separate lives.
    “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice soft and nervous.
    “Like what?” He really wasn’t sure what his face expressed. He had a pretty good poker face, but it was different with Kristine.
    “Like you want to kiss me.”
    The poker face was busted apparently. “Because I do,” he told her honestly.
    “Well, knock it off.” But there was no malice or anger in her voice. It was a weak threat that made him smile.
    “Make me.” He stepped toward her.
    “Stop.” She looked flustered, head turning left and right as if she was seeking help for her dilemma.
    “Stop what?”
    “Looking at me like that.”
    Sean knew how to play this game. He got very close to Kristine, close enough that he could hear the sharp intake of her breath. “Maybe you should close your eyes,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek.
    Her mouth had fallen open in anticipation, and she gazed at him with limpid, sensual eyes that did crazy things to his insides.
    But suddenly the door to the back room flew open and a very thin woman in her fifties charged in.
    Kristine made a small sound of horror and scuttled to the right, away from him.
    “Oh, excuse me,” the new arrival said, giving him a total up-and-down assessment in about ten seconds. “Kristine, who is this?” she asked, even though she was still staring at him.
    “I’m Sean Maddock,” he said, sticking his hand out. “My firm is doing security for the opening event Friday night, but it’s come to my attention that there has already been a security issue.”
    Clearly, it wasn’t what she had been expecting him to say, and for a second she appeared flummoxed, before quickly recovering. “Excellent. I’m glad Kristine called you. The artist has just arrived. Can you go brief him on the situation while I speak to Kristine? Thanks.”
    Then she in essence dismissed him, turning to Kristine. Sean saw the grimace Kristine gave before she greeted her boss. Not wanting to make the situation any more stressful for her, Sean left the back room. In the front gallery, he saw the cops talking to a man he assumed was the photographer.
    He walked over and waited for the opportunity to introduce himself. Surprisingly, Ian Bainbridge didn’t look particularly upset.
    “I’m Sean Maddock,” he told him as the police wrapped up their report. He held out his hand to Ian. “I own Maddock Security. I stopped in today to see what particular security problems the venue presents, and apparently, it presents quite a few.”
    “Nice to meet you. Ian Bainbridge.” The photographer shook his hand firmly. “I’m getting used to this kind of disruption, believe it or not. I’m just glad it happened today and not opening night.”
    “You’re used to it?” Sean asked him curiously.
    “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve had everything from a personal stalker to morality committees to artists’ coalitions protesting