Beverly Long - Protecting The Boss

He slid the last couple feet, almost ramming into the back of a woman who hadn’t been there a second before. “Sorry,” he mumbled, managing to stay upright and not drop the scotch or the bears.

“No problem,” she said, turning. “I perhaps should have taken the warning about monsoon season a little more seriously.”

She talked fast and her very blue eyes sparkled. She wore a short black dress and black heels. Her bare legs were toned and tanned and he told himself it wasn’t nice to stare. With effort, he shifted his gaze upward. A brightly colored scarf was hanging off one shoulder, secured with some kind of fancy knot that only women seemed to know how to do. Her damp hair was a dark brown and hung below her shoulders. She was in the process of gathering it up into a ponytail and then wadding said ponytail into a bun on the top of her head. On one wrist was an oversize gold watch and on the other, at least five gold bracelets, in varying shapes and sizes. There were rings on three of her fingers. None of them looked like the wedding type.

“Whew,” she said, giving the bun a pat. “That’s better.”

With her three-inch heels, they were almost at eye level. She had the darkest eyelashes he’d ever seen.

She smiled at him and for the first time, looked at the things he was carrying. “So the bears enjoy scotch?”

He pointed at their pirate suits. “Strictly rum drinkers.”

“Of course. Love a good piña colada myself.”

He inclined his head toward the dark window behind them. “There’s a nice bar twenty feet behind you. Unfortunately, they’re only open for dinner.”

“I’m free later. Maybe I’ll come back,” she added, her tone unconcerned. “Congrats on being much smarter and carrying your alcohol with you.”

He shook his head. “The bears are for my business partner who is expecting a set of twins in a couple months and the scotch is...”

“To ensure that they all get a few hours of sleep?” she said, finishing his sentence.

“No. For my other business partner, who is getting married early next month.”

“I see. Well, good wishes to them all. Does it rain like this every day?”

“Only for a couple weeks out of the year,” he said. “Where are you from?”

“California. Near Carmel.”

He’d spent a few weeks driving Route 1 along the coast a few years back. “Nice place,” he said.

“I suppose,” she said, not sounding convinced.

“First time in Vegas?”

“Third.”

“What brings you here?”

“Business,” she said.

She was the queen of one-word answers. “Not the gambling.”

She laughed. “My business is enough of a gamble.”

That made him curious. But before he could ask, she glanced at her watch and said, “I think I’m going to have to make a run for it.”

Wait. It almost came out of his mouth. But that was crazy. “Good luck,” he offered instead.

She gave him a dazzling smile. And took off fast. In the opposite direction of where he was going.

And seconds later, his own steps back to his office were slower, even though he was getting really wet. She’d taken her energy and maybe some of his with her.

When he got to the Wingman Security offices ten minutes later, he was still thinking about the woman. About how fast she talked. About the color of her eyes.

He opened the door, waved at Jane behind the reception desk, who was on the phone, and quickly walked down the hallway to his office. He shoved his purchases into the credenza behind his desk. He had a lot of work to do before tonight’s party. His first appointment after lunch was due in fifteen minutes.

He took a seat behind the desk, which was almost entirely covered by piles. Files to review, security-related white papers to read, personal bills to pay and his laptop computer.

He glanced up when a shadow passed by his door. “Hey,” he said.

Royce Morgan stepped into view. “Sorry, didn’t realize you were back. You’re soaked,” he said.

Right down to his underwear. “Get any sleep last night?” he asked.

Royce shrugged, not looking that concerned. “Couple hours. Grace and I got some quality bonding time in the middle of the night.”

Royce’s seven-month-old daughter was teething. “Is she your date for tonight?”

“Yeah. Jules doesn’t get back from New York until this weekend.”

How Jules managed motherhood and being the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company was beyond him, but she seemed to do it effortlessly. Royce had really lucked out there.

As had his other two partners. Trey Riker had married Kellie McGarry last fall and his tux was ready in his closet for when Rico Metez and Laura Collins got hitched next month.

Then he’d be the only bachelor left at Wingman Security.

Fine with him.

“Don’t let her drink too much,” he said.

Royce shook his head. “She has to be at least two before she can have a cocktail.”

Seth laughed. Royce was a supergood dad. Not that any of them had had any doubts.

“You got a date for tonight?” Royce asked.

“Nope.”

“Still between prospects?”

That’s how he’d explained his dating situation a few weeks ago when he, Royce, Trey and Rico had gone out for a few beers. “I’m not looking,” he said. “I think it’s good if one of us stays single. We don’t want to cut ourselves out of a key demographic.”

“Which is?”

“Single woman looking for protection. They aren’t going to want one of you married types.”

“You don’t tell single clients that, do you?” Royce asked in response, perfectly serious.

Seth knew his partners thought he could be a little blunt sometimes. He preferred to think of it as being a direct communicator. “Not unless they ask,” he said.

“Marketing strategies should always be a secret.”

Seth held a finger up in the air. “I knew I should have gone to business school. All I cared about was trying to keep my ass from getting shot out of the sky.”

Royce laughed and disappeared from view down the hallway. Five minutes later, Seth’s desk phone buzzed. It was Jane, telling him that his appointment had arrived. He checked the name again on his phone calendar.

Abigail Chevalier. Some thirty years ago, her mother and Kellie McGarry’s mother had been sorority sisters. That connection was enough that she’d been able to land a spot on Seth’s calendar with barely twenty-four hours’ notice.

When he got to the lobby, his potential new client was staring out the window. She turned as he approached. She was short, with short blond hair tucked behind her ears, and very pregnant.

“Would you like a chair?” he said quickly.

She shook her head. “It’s easier to stand at this point. More room for the baby, you know?”

He didn’t know. And maybe that’s why he was uneasy. Or maybe it was because there was something about Abigail Chevalier that seemed familiar. But he was pretty confident they’d never met.

He led her back to his office and pointed at the chair. “Sit or stand. Your preference.” He went behind his desk and sat. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Chevalier?”

“Please, just Abigail. I’ve only been married for four months so I’m still getting used to the name. My maiden name of North was a little easier. Anyway, I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he said.

“I need security.”

She’d chosen to stand, but because she couldn’t be much over five feet, he didn’t have to look up too far. “For yourself?” The idea that a pregnant woman might need security spiked all kinds of protective emotions in him.

“For my sister, Megan North. She was supposed to meet me here but she’s running a little late. Her meeting at the bank ran long.”