LITMIR.BIZ

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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.”

      “Why does your sister require security?”

      “Megan and I are not just sisters, we’re also business partners. We’ve purchased an existing small chain of high-end women’s boutiques. Four locations in total. The Vegas store is right across the street from here.”

      “Oh, yeah,” he said. He knew the place. Hadn’t paid too much attention to it, but it had interesting window displays at times of sexily dressed mannequins. And he recalled a story where his partner Trey had picked out a red sparkly dress for Jules Morgan when she and Royce were undercover in Vegas. Rumor had it that Royce’s jaw had dropped. “Four locations,” he repeated. “Where are the others?”

      “Sedona, Arizona. Albuquerque, New Mexico. Colorado Springs, Colorado. In Vegas, we were able to purchase the building, and in the other locations, we’re renting space. We’re rebranding the properties and reopening all four as North and More Designs.”

      “Very exciting,” he said.

      “Yes. But I’m due in five weeks and my doctor isn’t crazy about me traveling, and that’s all my new husband, who is very French and very protective, had to hear. He insists that I not go. But that means that Megan is going to have to do the openings herself.”

      It sounded like a good reason to hire an assistant, not necessarily a security specialist whose bill rate was $2,500 a day. “Wingman Security might not be—”

      “There was another potential buyer in the mix,” she said, interrupting him. “We beat their bid and we understand they’re not too happy about it.”

      Probably not. Nobody liked to lose. But still. “You’re anticipating that they’ll transfer this unhappiness into action against your sister.”

      “Not her,” she said. “I don’t think they’re that crazy. Thank goodness. But possibly against the properties and the events associated with the reopening of the properties. They’ve been the losing party before and while it was never proven, most of us in the industry think they had some responsibility for a fire that consumed their competitor’s warehouse.”

      Well, that put a different spin on things. “Reopening four stores in four states,” he said. “Over what time period?” He had to be here for Rico’s wedding.

      “The next twelve days. We’ll be done by the end of the month.”

      That would work. Rico’s wedding was the first weekend of next month. “Has the travel been booked?”

      “Hotels, yes.”

      “Air travel?”

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