Page 31 of Protecting Love

“Just stop,” she said. “I wasn’t terrorized.”

London huffed out a breath. Maybe her sister was a little right.

“If you say so. Fletcher?”

“I’ll go meet him when he gets here.” She picked up her phone. “Molly, Fletcher Wilcox will be here any minute. I’ll come get him. He’s the Head of Security for The Carlisle Group.”

“I know who he is,” Molly said. “I’ll let you know when he arrives.”

She hung up the phone. “Do you think Fletcher talked to her?”

“No,” London said. “He found out today. So I doubt it.”

And Molly would have told her on top of it.

“I’m going to make sure the coffee is filled. Every time I’ve seen him he has a cup in his hand.”

“Every time?” London asked. “How often do you see him? Why am I just hearing this now?”

“Stop. I can’t right now.”

She waved her hands around her head in frustration and went into the kitchen to get the box of coffee and fill the stand in the conference room.

Her phone was ringing, so she ran to get it. “Yes.”

“Fletcher is here.”

“Thanks, Molly.”

She ran her hands over her white sweater that was at least fitted to her frame and stopped at the top of her skirt, then walked out. Not much she could do about how she looked.

It wasn’t like she looked bad.

She just didn’t look as good as she’d like if she knew she was going to be seeing him again.

Which was completely ridiculous and she wished her mind would stop going in that direction.

Paris marched down the hall full of pep and a touch of vinegar, saw Fletcher standing with his back to her and looking at some of the art she had on the wall.

It gave her a moment to look at his broad shoulders, his neat short hair, long legs in pants that were tailored to his height.

She was pretty sure he had some muscle under his clothes, but he wasn’t really letting too many people see it closely.

Not like some men who wore their shirts tight on purpose.

“Stop staring,” London whispered in her ear.

She jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me,” she hissed. “Hi, Fletcher.”

He turned. No smile on his face. Not even relaxed. No annoyance either.

Just kind of stone like as always.

“You know why I’m here. I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said.

His voice was smooth. So smooth it felt like water flowing over her skin.

“We’ve got time,” London said. “Right, Paris?”