Page 20 of Obsession

“Lewis’s assistant just called—he wants to know if we can move up the meeting to…” Jack lifted his hand to show his watch. “Now.”

“I haven’t even prepped Ms. Copeland about him.”

When he said my name like that… Yeah, that was going to follow me home and into the dark.

I moved around both men and started heading up the stairs. “What are you waiting for, gentlemen?” I looked down at both of them. Jack with his fallen angel good looks and Mr. Carson with his brooding nature lit by that little bit of warmth in his eyes.

Why, oh why, did I have to go for the brooder? Jack would have been the easier choice.

Mr. Carson’s fingers fisted around the bag as he tipped his head up to meet my gaze. His hazel eyes edged more into an aged scotch color right now. The kind that burned going down my throat and heated my belly.

Okay, the timing on my dormant sexuality was so far past inconvenient I couldn’t even put it into words. So, I ignored it.

Good plan.

I turned around and flew up the rest of the steps. I knew someone was behind me, but I kept moving forward. A hand slapped against the door before I could open it.

I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Mr. Carson.

“You don’t have your badge yet, Ms. Copeland.” His scent blanketed me and tossed my system into chaos. Like the storm coming off the water this morning, he was a cold front slapping into a warm one. The thunder was his voice, and I was the rocks trying desperately to hold out against the waves.

And the water was rising.

Chapter Eight

The artificially clean air of the office was just the oxygen I needed. I hurried through the door and to my desk. Blake seemed to be in work mode as well, thank God. I slid into my seat and tapped my mouse until my screen came out of hibernation.

I typed in my password, popped open folders, and a browser. I scanned his prepared file and did a quick web search to make sure nothing had hit the social media pages that we’d be surprised about.

He passed me. “There’s a laptop in the drawer—bring it into my office.”

I looked up. “Into your office?”

“Yes. Move along, Ms. Copeland.”

I tamped down on the urge to growl and opened the drawer on my right. Just papers. I went for the other side and found a host of toys. IPad, mini-notebook—one I’d been drooling over for months—as well as cords galore.

I grabbed the laptop and opened it, balancing the lightweight machine on my palm as I quickly tapped in my details. God bless networks. My information opened a matching desktop, linked to what I’d just been doing.

The door was open, and he was looming over his desk with three monitors making a U-shaped workstation. A large projection on the glass flickered to life. The familiar logo for business conference calls came up and then a video feed.

My little IM box popped up, Mr. Carson’s fingers flying over the keys.

Mr. Carson

Send all research through here. Pertinent details only.

Like I knew what pertinent details were? I was an artist, for God’s sake.

A stunning blond woman came into focus on the projection screen. Huge china-blue eyes were lightly enhanced with makeup, and her almost too lush mouth was downplayed with barely there lipstick.

“Nice to see you, Blake. Sorry for the change of plans. Donovan has to attend a meeting in London.”

“Not a problem.” He nodded to me. “Lila Shawcross, meet my new assistant, Ms. Copeland.”

“Welcome to the madness, Ms. Copeland.”

“Thanks, I think.”

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