Page 245 of Quinlan

“Good, thank you, Ms. Palmer.” Kannon, who has to be six-five, towers over me. They hired him on purpose, so I could never run away. “How are you today?”

“Great.”

“I almost forgot. A courier left this for you.” He holds out a slim, white envelope for me. “Caught me when I was on my way to the elevator.”

Butterflies burst in my stomach. No one other than three delicious men knows where I live. This has to be them.

I flip my palm face up, gesturing for him to hand it over. When he doesn’t, I add an impatient, “Um. Thanks.”

His green eyes narrow. Auburn eyebrows—the color of his short hair—lower on his forehead. He isn’t gawking. Isn’t looking down my oversized T-shirt or studying my curves in my favorite pair of jeans.

Something about the letter bothers him.

“Kannon, I believe this one’s for me?” I tilt my head, my hair falling to the side.

“Listen, I waited until I got here.” His face hardens. “To have your permission to open it. Inspect it for any threats.”

Heat creeps up my cheeks. I’ve lost most of my inhibitions over the time I’ve lived here. Letting a stranger read through a sexy letter from my boyfriends, though? No way. I’d die. I would never be able to look Kannon in the eye after this.

“That won’t be necessary.” I motion to him with my fingers again. “Theysent it to me. Can’t be anyone else.”

“Are you sure, Ms. Palmer?” The creases on his forehead deepen. “I would feel better if I cleared this before handing it over to you.”

“I’m su—”

Glass crashes, the loud noise coming from the kitchen.

“Motherfucker,” Shawna yells. “Sorry, Quinlan.”

Normally, I’d run over to help.

Normally, I wouldn’t have sexy words written on a paper waiting for me. A letter. It’s so old school. So incredibly hot.

“Shawna needs you.” My fingers clasp on the other end of the envelope.

“She can handle herself.” Kannon doesn’t budge. Releasing the letter and leaving me by myself isn’t something he’s willing to do.

“I swear.” I put a hand to my heart. “I won’t leave. This letter is safe.”

Not safe for work, but again, this isn’t information I’m willing to share with Kannon.

“And personal.”

“Shawna, you’re such an idiot,” she grumbles to herself. Low thuds and glass crackles follow. She probably swipes it into the dustpan, whatever it is. “The jam jars? Seriously.”

Oh, no. Poor lady.

“It would take forever to clean up this mess. Ugh. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Rome will need his order replaced. Before he gets home, which is within the next hour.”

The mention of his name, plus my serious tone, does the trick.

“Please, don’t go anywhere.” He releases the envelope to my hold, closing the door when another string of curses leaves Shawna’s mouth.

When she starts crying, Kannon sprints over there. He trusts the door will close the rest of the way.

He shouldn’t have. On an instinct, I grab the door.

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