Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I hadn’t missed the eye-fucking she’d done when I’d first turned around. Even if she’d been willing to bash my head in with a goddess statue for being in her place uninvited.
“That will be fine,” she said, averting her gaze.
“How is the security at your workplace?” I asked.
“There are guards in the lobby. You can’t get into the elevator without signing in and getting a pass. Then to get to my office personally, at least a dozen people will see you. And it is a glass office, so there’s no way something could happen to me in there.”
“Okay. That’s good. So you’ll be safe when you’re there. I can use that time to investigate. Then I can meet you back here when you are done with your workday.”
“Every day?” she asked, likely not used to having people in her personal space.
“Until the cameras are up and working, yes. And then anytime there is something to discuss on the case.”
“Okay,” she agreed, exhaling hard.
“Hey,” I said, voice soft, waiting for her gaze to lift to find mine. “It’s going to be okay,” I told her.
“It needs to be,” she said. “So what is the plan for tonight? I’m assuming there isn’t enough time left to get a new security system in here?”
“There’s always enough time if you are willing to pay. But, personally, I wouldn’t just want to take anyone’s system in a situation like this. I would want the good shit. And that is going to require a consultation.”
“Alright. And you can set that up?”
“I have them on stand-by. Give me a time that works for you.”
“Tomorrow evening. When I finish work.”
“And when do you finish work?” I asked.
“Typically after seven or eight. But I will cut it early tomorrow. Will six be too late?”
“No. That’s fine. I will let them know,” I told her, already reaching for my phone. “Speaking of phones. Cam is coming by sometime to drop off yours. My number will now be in there, under my name. Sawyer and Tig’s numbers will be there as well, just in case you can’t get in touch with me.”
“Okay. Good. Do you really anticipate there being more problems from this person?”
“Yes. If they didn’t finish what they planned to, then yes. You’re going to need to be careful and aware when you are alone.”
“I can do that. So what about tonight?” she asked, looking toward her front door.
“Tonight, I am going to stay here.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said, but there was no conviction behind her words.
“It’s already settled,” I assured her. “Don’t mind me. I won’t be in your hair. Just do what you would normally do. Try to ignore that I’m even here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Miranda
Ignore that he was there?
Only a man who didn’t know just how attractive he was could say something like that. But everything about the confident, borderline cocky, way that Brock carried himself said he was very much aware of how hot he was.
Besides, even if he wasn’t so blessed in the looks-department, ignoring his presence would be impossible.
It had been longer than I cared to admit since I’d had a man in my apartment who wasn’t Cam. Hell, there were never any women either.
My apartment was my sanctuary, the place I could shrug off the public persona of Miranda Coulter, and just get to be Randi, a girl who still couldn’t quite believe what she’d accomplished with her life, who still enjoyed a box of store brand mac & cheese—powdered cheese packet included—like she’d eaten for dinner many times in her childhood, even though the adult version of her could have splurged on five-hundred dollars of sushi. Or where I would opt out of my nice, silk pajamas and pick a pair of sweatpants that came from a big box store in horrifically unflattering bright primary colors. Or where I would do my own manicure.
I didn’t like inviting other people into my inner world where parts of the old me still peeked through on occasion.
But, I guess, if someone was going to be privy to that, someone that was being paid to be there was probably the least likely to judge or say anything. Client-employee confidentiality and all of that.
“I have a guest room,” I offered him a while later, after the food was mostly eaten, the dishes in the dishwasher, and the wine bottle finished. Mostly by me.
I could feel it shimmering in my veins, making me feel light and sparkly, but without the sluttiness that came with hard liquor for me.
“I saw that,” he said, reminding me that he’d been all up in my personal space when I wasn’t around to watch him.
He’d seen the cheap boxed mac & cheese. And the sweats. Hell, he probably knew about my collection of battery-operated devices in the bottom drawer of my nightstand, and even drawn conclusions to how long it had been since I’d known the touch of a real, flesh-and-blood man, since I kept a damn bulk-sized pack of batteries in that drawer as well.