A/N: Hello, friends. Entering the home stretch here. Let's get to it.

"There's going to be a guard with you at all times. If not me, it's going to be one of my people. He can stay outside the trailer if you'd prefer your privacy, but wherever you go, he goes. He'll escort you to the set. He'll escort you wherever you need to go. You're not out of his sight."

Edward had to struggle not to glare at Emmett. "This is such a fucking fiasco."

"Don't fight me on this, Edward. If it's not the police demanding this shit, it's the studios' insurance company."

"I'm not fighting you. I'm saying it's a fiasco because that's what it is." Edward ran his hand through his hair, disgruntled. "I have reporters coming out of my ass. The tabs are having a field day pretending I might die when I walk back on set tomorrow. It's overdone." He sighed. "What else?"

"I need a list of people you want to be able to go in and out of your trailer without being stopped. We've already cut down the staff who have access to a minimum, which means you're going to have to do without some niceties." He looked up and grinned. "No more fresh fruit baskets every day for you."

"Woe is me." Edward spread his arms wide over the back of his couch. He rattled off a few names, most of which were fairly obvious—Benjamin and a few key members of his team. His agent. He took a deep breath, knowing even though Emmett was in business mode, he was never too busy to give Edward shit. "Bella."

"Of course, Bella," Emmett said with a scoff. There was a not-quite-teasing note to his voice. He tapped on the pad he'd been scribbling on. "Okay, I have to do my job before I can give you crap about this. I hate to be the one to put a damper on things, but if you're going to start something with her—"

"Nothing happened," Edward said, not in the mood to have anyone butting in on yet another aspect of his life.

Emmett snorted. "Yeah, okay. So if you're going to start nothing with her—"

"I know what you all think, but there's nothing going on."

"Give it up, kid. Even assuming we didn't hear all that crashing and clattering, you came out of the bathroom together. Did you see the look on Alice's face? I'll bet she has nightmares about what you did to her poor, innocent bathroom. There are only two reasons two grown people go to the bathroom together, and one is way too kinky for your vanilla ass."

"What the hell do you know about my...never mind." Edward shook his head. "Nothing happened."

Another snort. "Okay, fine. Well, regardless, I have to advise you that if you want to continue to do nothing with Bella, you should keep it on the D.L." His face turned serious again. "Really, bro. We've tried to flush the stalker out, but they've escalated. The threat against Gianna is obvious, but it won't take much for an unstable mind to leap to you if you rub them the wrong way. If you're papped out and about with another lady love, it might push our friend to do something even more stupid."

Edward made a face. "Emmett?"

"What?"

"You've asked Bella already if she wants a guard, right?" He thought he knew his brother-in-law well enough to know the answer to that question. "Most of the crew thinks the rumors are more funny than true. They still think I'm with Gianna. Right now, whoever is doing this blames Gianna for spreading lies. But preventing photographers from catching us in public isn't going to stop the rumor mill on set. What if that pushes our friend to focus their attention on Bella?"

"I tried everything to get her to take a bodyguard," Emmett said, his voice soft. "My people are looking out for her as much as they can, but she refused the protection. You don't have a choice, but the studios, the police, the insurance company—none of them are as concerned for Bella as they are for you." He looked to Edward. "Of course, they think anything going on between you and Bella is just one more ridiculous rumor."

"It is a rumor, but if you think the studio can convince her to take it seriously—."

"You know they won't."

Edward grimaced. "Then maybe I should stay away from Bella. Take her off the list."

"How do you go from not taking things seriously enough to taking them too seriously?" Emmett rolled his shoulders. "Between my people and the police, the set is as safe as it can get. Bella did promise that she wouldn't leave set unless she was with other people. Like the girl said before—she's got professional training. Nothing indicates she's a target. This person is fixated on Gianna."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Edward hunkered down on the couch. "Fucking fiasco," he muttered under his breath.

~0~

After a thorough police investigation, the first day back at the set was a busy one. The story about the incident broke almost immediately, which meant they were all very much in the public eye. It made for a tense atmosphere. The studio had gone overboard in Edward's opinion. They'd let go any of the crew who might have had a shady background, including Edward's assistant who'd had a petty theft on his record when he was nineteen. Why anyone would go from theft to what the creeper was doing was beyond Edward. Even though he was annoyed the man couldn't keep his mouth shut about him and Bella, he didn't think he deserved to be out of a job.

It was some consolation that the affected employees were duly compensated, but it made for an uncomfortable aura. It didn't help that there was a huge increase in the paparazzi milling around the studios, bugging absolutely anyone for more info. Studio representatives were on site. Emmett and his team were pissed. They were being railroaded by the team of bodyguards hired by the studio—who were not so subtly putting the blame entirely on Emmett's shoulders. The only reason Emmett and his team were still around was that they were private hires—employed by Edward and Gianna, not the studio.

Edward's phone rang almost non-stop between questions from Benjamin, the studio, and his family. The interruptions made getting into character difficult for everyone, including Edward. It was like it was the first day on set rather than almost two months into shooting. They were almost done, for fuck's sake, and it felt as though no one knew how to work together anymore.

He was exhausted by mid-afternoon when he got to his trailer. Emmett was walking with him this time, bitching his ear off about the latest twist in the whole sordid saga. He wasn't really paying attention until one of Emmett's team came jogging up.

"You have a visitor, Mr. Cullen," the woman said. "A Miss Swan. She was on the list. She's waiting for you."

Edward perked up considerably. He turned to Emmett. "Beat it."

Emmett, despite the tenseness of the moment before, looked amused. "No can do, boss. I'll wait outside, though." He leaned in so they wouldn't be overheard. "Don't rock the trailer, Edward. There are already too many eyes on it."

"Shut up, Emmett."

Edward darted up the stairs, away from his cackling bodyguard, and opened the door.

Whatever smartass comment he had ready died on his lips. He spotted her immediately in the recliner. She was slumped, her head bowed, and her hair falling haphazardly across her face. Her shoulders rose and fell in even intervals.

Poor thing was more exhausted than he was. He knew her father was a stickler about preparedness with his people. Distraction was deadly, Charlie Swan was fond of saying. There were a lot of distractions on set in general, let alone for Bella.

Edward crossed the room with soft steps, soaking in this rare moment. This was a new side of Bella—no bluster or bravado, vulnerable in sleep. He reached out, brushing her hair back and calling her name.

"Hmm?" The sound was soft. Bella opened her eyes and blinked, waking slowly. Edward felt a rush of warmth go through him, and he couldn't help but cup her cheek. Her eyes found his and she smiled sleepily. "Hmm?" she said again.

Too adorable. "Wake up. You're going to hurt your neck," he said.

She breathed in deeply through her nose and raised a hand. Edward found his breath caught in his throat as her fingertips skimmed his cheek. It was an intimate gesture he wasn't prepared for at all. "Sleepy," she mumbled, closing her eyes again.

Edward, disconcerted, took a few steps backward and cleared his throat. "I was about to take a power nap myself," he said, stretching out on the bed. "You want to join me?"

He tried to tease her awake, but, to his everlasting surprise, it had the exact opposite effect. Bella got to her feet, her eyes still hooded and her hair mussed. She ambled in his direction and all but fell into his bed. She curled up against his side as though she were a tiny kitten. Slinging an arm over his waist, she fell promptly back to sleep, oblivious to Edward's slack-jawed expression.

They hadn't been able to talk after the party, though not for lack of trying. It was mostly Edward's fault; there were at least a million people trying to pull him in at least as many directions. Then Bella had been busy all day the day before giving a presentation she'd agreed to months ago. Which left them as they were, finally with a moment alone and not enough time for anything to happen—talking or otherwise.

Face to face as they were, Edward could see the smudges under her eyes. How tired was she, he wondered. And if she wasn't sleeping, what was keeping her up?

He chided himself for vanity when he wondered if she was thinking about him. There was a lot going on besides this thing they never had a chance to talk about.

Despite the fact he had a beautiful woman in his arms, in his bed, Edward couldn't keep his eyes open either. After only a few minutes of quiet gazing, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He woke up what felt like only a minute later though he didn't open his eyes. He wrinkled his nose, trying to wiggle out an itch. The itch relocated to his cheek. He grunted and raised his hand to scratch.

At the sound of a giggle, his eyes flew open. He was startled, trying to figure out why Bella was so close to him and holding…

A black Sharpie?

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep.

She looked the picture of innocence. "I was playing connect the dots with the freckles on your face."

His eyes went wide as her words sunk in. "Oh, hell. Bella. That's a fucking Sharpie, and I have to film later. Shit." He rolled out of bed as he spoke and darted for the bathroom mirror to check the damage.

He blinked. His reflection was exactly as it should have been—no marks to be seen. He heard Bella practically scream with laughter.

"Think that's funny, do you?" he asked, coming back into the room.

"Oh, my god. If you'd only seen the look on your face." She stood, grinning at him from across the bed. "Come on, stud. You know I know better than that."

He grunted, trying to hide the smile of amusement that picked away at his embarrassment. "I don't know. You're a bit of a brat. I'm not sure I'd put it past you."

She tempered her smirk into a look of mock indignation. "I'm a professional brat."

"Sure you are."

As he spoke, he'd been stepping toward her so, as he said this last, they were face to face again. His eyes went to her lips, and he watched her smile fall. He heard her breath stutter, and he was lost. He needed to kiss her again. He leaned in.

Bella ducked down and to the side. For a brief moment, as Edward looked at her, she seemed discombobulated. Her face was flushed and her eyes seemed dilated. But she pulled herself together enough to grin at him. "Ah, no. You had your chance and you cockblocked your own damn self, remember?"

He stared at her, debating. There was something about the timbre of her words. They sounded off—as though they'd been rehearsed. The confidence she typically exuded seemed not so solid.

Facing her full on, he took a step toward her, watching her carefully. "We were tipsy," he reminded, stepping closer again, into her personal space.

Again, she spun away, but only by a pace or two. "You were right," she said, and again she seemed like a woman pretending she was as blasé as she sounded. "And I was right. Take off the beer goggles, and you're screwed. Or not screwed, as it were."

He stepped forward, testing, and she stepped back.

She wasn't running away, he realized. She was always in arm's reach. She was inviting the chase, and that was an interesting thought to ponder. Bella was a self-assured woman. He had no doubt she was more than capable of making the first move. But then, she already had. She'd been the one to kiss him, and she'd been the one to jump him at the party.

"I believe what I said is I wanted more time and privacy," he said, pinning her with his eyes without advancing.

"We have neither time nor privacy," she said, her tone almost sing-song. "Besides, I just slept with you, so that itch has been scratched."

She made a move as though to go sit down in the recliner again. Edward pounced. He darted forward, catching her around the waist. She gave a squeak, but in a heartbeat, he had thrown her down on the bed and climbed over her. He grabbed her raised hands and pinned them down by her head with his. It all took barely two seconds, and they were face to face again, nose to nose, with her wide eyes staring up at him as he bent over her. They were both breathing hard.

It was difficult to concentrate then. She didn't struggle, didn't try to get out of his hold. She seemed shocked, and though he'd known what he was about to do, Edward felt shocked. For a few heavy seconds, they merely breathed in each other's hot air.

Edward licked his lips and tilted his head. He shuddered, feeling the brush of her open mouth against his. Her warmth beneath him was incredible. The smell of her. The sight of her wide, wanting eyes. It was all so incredible; it was difficult to think around his desire.

"Tell me something," he mumbled, the words vibrating in the scant fraction of an inch between their mouths.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head up, catching a barely-there kiss.

Edward shivered. It was a struggle to stop himself from rutting against her, seeking friction against her hot body. No. Not yet. They had to talk.

Christ, what had made him think he could talk like this?

He swallowed hard. "You want me." It wasn't a question, but he waited for the answer anyway.

"I already said I did," she said and kissed him again.

He groaned when her kiss lingered. It took all his willpower not to give in right then and there. He had her at his mercy. Why did it feel like it was the other way around?

"I want you, Bella." His words were raw—almost a growl he rumbled into her mouth. "I want you, but I want more."

He kissed her once. Again. Again. His hunger was beginning to get the better of him, but he managed to stop.

She was panting, wiggling beneath him though she didn't try to yank her arms from his grasp. "What do you want?"

Her quiet words calmed his raging libido enough. He kissed her again but sweetly this time. "I don't know if I can tell you what I want. I don't know if you'd believe me. You'd accuse me of being an actor. Reading from a script." He sighed and kissed her again. "You make me want to talk in poetry. You make me want to channel Shakespeare."

She pressed her lips together, smothering a whimper, but when she looked back into his eyes, she smiled. "Shakespeare wrote some pretty awesome dick jokes."

For one second then two, Edward couldn't translate what she'd said. Then he started to laugh. He let go of her wrists so he could lean on his forearms and tilted his forehead against hers. "Oh, God. You're going to be the death of me, Bella. I swear you will."

Her hands freed, she scratched her fingers through the hairs at the back of his neck. He could hear her swallow and her breath falter before she spoke. "Tell me to be brave for you, and I will," she whispered. She took his face between her hands, tilting his head up slightly. He could feel her trembling beneath him. "Tell me you're worth the risk, and I'll believe you."

Edward pulled back enough to look at her. She was such a brave woman—tough and strong both physically and otherwise. The vulnerability in her expression as she stared up at him was a shock. Still, he could see other things in her eyes; a reflection of so much of what he felt. Hope. Desire. Longing. Adoration.

The stirrings of love.

"Bella—" he started, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mr. Cullen. You're wanted on set."

"God. Fucking. Dammit." He tilted his forehead against hers and laughed. He could feel her laughing beneath him, and his wry mirth turned into a groan. She stilled as best she could, and he gave her a quick kiss.

"Give me five minutes," he called toward the door. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so she was sprawled now on top of him. He cupped his hand around the back of her head, bringing her in for a slow, sweet kiss.

"Bella," he said, nuzzling her cheek.

"Yes?"

He kissed the corner of her mouth. "I'm not going to ask you to be brave or tell you I'm worth it."

"No?" she asked, the sound breathy as he continued to kiss along her jaw.

"No." He kissed her lips. "But if you'll do me the honor of a date, then I think I can prove it to you."

She laughed and tangled her fingers in his hair. "Dammit, Cullen. That was fucking smooth as hell. Why do you have to be such an actor?"

"I told you you were going to say that."

She sighed, and curled up so her head was tucked up under his chin. "Yeah, okay. I'll bite." She pressed a kiss to his throat. "But you better not make me regret this. You better be worth the massive case of blue balls you're giving me."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her hair, chuckling. He knew damn well she wasn't really talking about blue balls, and he hoped right along with her that he was worth whatever he was about to put her through.

A/N: Did you know that almost every time I type A/N, I almost always end up with an L there...so it looks like A/NL...and I'm like, Freudian slip much there, Kris? What are you REALLY thinking about?

Ahem.