Page 8 of Noel
“I work for Sigma,” he says evenly.“Your boss’s boss, technically.Connor Callahan.His wife, Clementine, sent me.”
My breath catches.“Clementine?”
He nods once.
“Yeah.She asked him to check on you.So, he sent me.Looks like it’s a damn good thing she did.”
I blink, mind racing to catch up.“You’re saying Connor Callahan sent you here?Tonight?”
He nods again, scanning the lot with sharp, assessing eyes that seem to miss nothing.
“Yeah, he told me about the threats.I was on my way up to your office when I saw you head out alone.Not smart, by the way.”
I bristle, folding my arms over my chest.
“Excuse me for not having a personal bodyguard on speed dial.”
“Good thing you’ve got one now.”
He steps closer, the scent of cedar and clean winter air hitting me all at once.It’s distracting—way too distracting for a woman who was just panicking about being stalked.
I tilt my chin up, trying to keep my voice steady.“And you are?”
“Noel Kane.”His gaze meets mine, steady, unreadable.“You can call me Noel.”
Of course, his name sounds like Christmas.Perfect.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I mutter.
“Good,” he says, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush my cheek.“I’m not one.I’m here to keep you alive.”
Heat prickles up my neck, an absurd reaction considering I just attacked this man with my purse.
“Well, I was doing fine before you scared the crap out of me.”
His mouth twitches again, that almost-smile returning.
“Sure you were, Tinsel.”
“Stop calling me that!”I shoot back, clutching my bag like it might somehow save me from spontaneous combustion.
“Not a chance,” he says, his voice lowering to something rough and quiet—like gravel wrapped in velvet.“It suits you.”
I blink up at him, incredulous.
“Why?Because it’s annoying, makes a mess, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of it?”
He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but there’s a flicker at the corner of his mouth that could set off fire alarms.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly as if he’s actually considering it.
“Nah,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer—close enough for me to feel the heat rolling off him, for his cologne to hit me.
It smells like pine trees and cold air, with something darker underneath.
He’s still talking, and I have to focus to listen.
“It’s because it’s pretty.And no matter the mess, it’s always the one thing everyone wants on their tree.It’s the tinsel that makes it shine.”
