One man in particular grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away. Xander already had a hand on her back and managed to slide his arm around her waist and yank her tight against him. Rushing, he pushed through the crowd, all the while fighting his racing heart. Sweat covered his body but he managed to remain in the present. He always did. Unless he heard a loud sound that reminded him of Afghanistan, he’d be able to hold on to reality. Or so the therapist he’d seen when he’d come home had told him.

Fear for her filled him much more than any kind of panic for himself, because he’d heard stories of crazed fans lunging for famous targets and doing damage.

Xander caught sight of a man in a suit standing ready by the back door of a dark sedan.

“Miss Kingston,” he said, pulling open the door as they reached him.

Xander pushed her inside before joining her. The driver slammed the door shut and a few moments later, he was behind the wheel, driving them away from the crowd.

Chapter Four

Once in the back seat of the car, Sasha leaned back, her heart pounding in her chest. Being accosted by fans as well as photographers was a scary thing, and she tried hard not to be noticed but since becoming a household name, if she was spotted, she reacted accordingly, taking her safety seriously. In LA she grudgingly used security, but she’d really thought nobody would look for her in New York before filming started. She’d been so stupid to think she could go out and not be recognized.

Thank God Xander had pulled her against him and rushed for the car.

Xander.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his jaw tight, a muscle throbbing in his temple. She knew in that instant all the progress they’d made over the meal had dispersed with the crowd.

“Why the hell don’t you have a bodyguard?” he asked.

She blew out a long breath. “Because I don’t want to live like that.”

He frowned at her reply. “That’s a case of be careful what you wish for,” he muttered, more than a hint of frustration in his tone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He turned toward her. “Do I really need to spell it out for you? You have everything you dreamed of. Now you need to acknowledge it and take care of yourself.”

She glared at him. “Wow, that’s patronizing.”

His serious gaze bore into hers and he grasped her shoulders. “It’s common sense! Do you realize what could have happened if that guy had grabbed you and I hadn’t been there?”