I crinkled up my nose in disgust. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Ashe and Sam back at the bar. They’d lost their stools when we were in the hallway, but they leaned against the wood surface where I could still see them. Ashe was talking with the bartender as Sam glanced my way. Why was I still sitting with this loser when I could be with them?
“I have an early morning workout class.” I stood once again, sliding my briefcase across the booth. His hand settled on my thigh as I faced him.
“Just as I thought. Nice and toned.”
Aaaaannnnnnd we were done.
I was perfectly safe in the restaurant. I could whack Alan in the head with my briefcase. While the laptop might not survive, it would be worth the sacrifice to ring his dumb-ass bell. I could scream and it wasn’t like I was in a dark alley. A restaurant full of people was safe. I could even just walk away. But I didn’t want to do any of that. I wanted Ashe and Sam, so I lifted my right hand to my ear, gave it a little tug.
While I’d just met the men, and in the restroom hallway of a restaurant nonetheless, I knew they’d come to me. They’d rescue me. They’d take care of me.
I knew. How? I had no idea. I just knew they would. And it felt really damn good.
2
SAM
* * *
“We’re in trouble,” Ashe said to me, offering a nod of thanks to the bartender as he delivered our beers.
The downtown restaurant was busy, filled with the lingering Happy Hour crowd and those having dinner. With lots of dark wood, modern lighting and subtle music, it had a strong urban vibe. Nothing like Montana where urban wasn’t cool. Urban was right here in the middle of Boston, over two thousand miles away. Being a native of the Big Sky state, I hated crowds, tall buildings, the fast pace. But, the bar had good beer and the view was great. Especially of one specific brunette with long legs and a wicked smile.
“Totally fucked.” I took a sip of the cold brew, glanced at the woman we’d spent three weeks trying to find. There had been a few pictures of her online, but not many, and none that did her justice. Especially not up close.
Holy shit, she was gorgeous. Smart, too, based on the way she’d had two men hanging on her every word. One had actually been listening, having a true back and forth conversation with her. The other had been faking it, nodding and drinking his whiskey, letting her do all the work.
Yes, work. It was clear to me, to anyone in the restaurant, it had been a business meeting. Not only was she dressed in smart business-wear, she’d passed over some papers she’d pulled from a briefcase to the men sitting across from her, used a pen to point to them as she spoke. From the client’s body language, he’d been pleased with whatever she’d been pitching.
The forty-five minutes they’d met had given us the opportunity to study her openly, so focused she was on her job that she hadn’t noticed us. Thankfully, because it had taken me probably five minutes to haul my tongue back in my mouth and another few to realize I’d been outright ogling. Like a fucking teenager and his first magazine centerfold. I knew her general details inside and out, but not her measurements, although by looking at her, I guessed 34-24-34.
Natalie Bartlett. Twenty-seven. Single. Johns Hopkins undergrad, Penn for her MBA. Apartment owner. Drove a Subaru. As an account executive, she probably earned a decent salary, but didn’t flaunt it. She didn’t flaunt herself either. Her dress was a dark navy. While her arms were bare, the cut was modest. Somehow, conservative looked sexy on her, especially with the killer heels.
“Has your dick ever gotten hard because of a client?” Ashe asked, leaning in. As investigators, we were hired to find people. Perhaps a man-on-the-side or a mistress. In this case, a long-lost daughter. Or, as we’d just discovered, the one we’d been waiting for.
I shifted on the stool because he was right, my dick was hard. If I got up, I’d be arrested if I didn’t get myself under control. “Fuck, no. At least not until now. What is it about her?”
Ashe laughed. “Those tight little curves? Those sharp eyes? How about the full lips?”
When she’d stood to shake hands with the client before he left, we’d gotten the full effect. Tall and lithe, she had a runner’s physique. Toned muscles, narrow hips, small, pert breasts. And those heels. Yeah, I had a thing for a woman in stilts. I wouldn’t even have to lean down much at all to kiss her. But I’d drop to my knees, part her thighs and discover her sweet scent if she just breathed the word yes.
And to top that hot body off was, literally, that wicked-smart brain of hers, and that combination was sexy as hell.
I turned back to Ashe. “I don’t care if she’s the client. I want her.”
He studied the condensation on his glass, then glanced at Natalie. She’d looked our way a few times since she’d returned from our little chat by the bathrooms, her cheeks pinking each time, her eyes flared with obvious interest. But that was totally wasted because instead of being with us, she was alone with her boss who was plowing through some spinach dip as if he hadn’t eaten all day.
“Riley, of all people, will understand,” he replied, taking a sip of his beer, putting it back on the coaster.
As lawyer for the Steele estate and the guy who’d hired us to track down Natalie Bartlett, he’d taken one look at Kady Parks—the first of the five heiresses to arrive in Barlow—and decided she was his…and Cord Connolly’s. It had been love—and lust—at first sight for them and there was no fucking way either of them would be pissed if we felt the same way for Natalie Bartlett.
I laughed at that. “Yeah, right? How long did he wait before he made a move on Kady?”
“The way I heard it, they knew she was theirs in the airport baggage area, but waited about four hours to claim her.”
“And knock her up.”
I grinned, thinking of the baby girl they—Kady, Riley and Cord—now had. Cecily, named after Kady’s late mother. Born in February with a mop of red hair just like Kady, she had both her fathers wrapped around her tiny fingers. And it was only going to get worse. That girl wasn’t going to be able to date until she was thirty, and they’d be cleaning their guns when the guy picked her up.