The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,39
his arousal. He held the door open.
“Shall we, Ms. Carlson?”
“Yes. You have a meeting in ten minutes with Albany Capital.”
He paused. “Are you all right?”
He was such a good man. “No, but I will be.”
When she got to her desk, she was sucked into a vortex of work. Easton went straight into a meeting and Harlow was met by a bunch of messages to return, and a stressed-out Gina to calm down.
Harlow had no time to worry about the fact that she was sleeping with her billionaire boss, or about her father’s troubles. She just sent up a silent prayer that her dad was okay.
At lunchtime, she heard Easton on the phone. When she looked in to his office, he was standing at the window, looking mighty fine. She brought his grilled fish and salad in, and set it on his desk. He smiled at her and her belly warmed.
“Okay, Ma. Yes, I’ll tell her. Tonight. We’ll see you then. Love you.”
Harlow stiffened.
“Thanks for lunch,” he said.
“Who was that?”
“My mother. Gia’s been in her ear, and we’re invited to my parents’ place for a family dinner tonight.”
“Dinner. At your parents’.” Harlow tried not to hyperventilate.
He arched a brow. “Ma’s a fabulous cook. Is there a problem?”
“My father’s in debt and breaking laws, and bad guys are shooting at us. You can’t take me to your parents.”
Easton circled the desk. “It’ll be fine, Harlow. My parents want to meet you. I told Ma everything.”
“Everything?” Harlow squeaked.
“About what’s going on, with your dad.”
God, Harlow wanted the ground to swallow her. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be there, as well as Vander, Rhys, and Saxon.”
So, a small Norcross Security army. She swallowed. “Fine.”
He kissed her nose.
She sprang back and looked at the open door. “Quit that.”
His phone on his desk rang and he just smiled at her, looking sexy and far-too-tempting.
Back at her desk, her phone was ringing, too. The next few hours were a whirlwind. She fended off a businessman who was determined to get a meeting with Easton to sell him a million-dollar idea. The guy was persistent and creative. He kept calling from different phone numbers and using different voices.
The office started to thin out as people left for the day.
A moment of calm in the storm had her thinking about the upcoming evening. God, she was having dinner with Easton’s parents. They must think he was crazy taking on her mess.
More people left. Easton was still on the phone. The man had no off switch.
When she saw he’d ended the call, she opened his office door.
“Rex Vasquez from Pacifico wants you to call him,” she said.
Easton groaned.
“I told him no.”
Easton’s lips twitched. “Even Mrs. Skilton wouldn’t tell him no.”
“You’ve had a long enough day, which included getting shot at.” She straightened. “Have you heard from Vander?”
Easton shook his head. “No news.”
She nodded, fighting back her disappointment. “We have an hour until we’re due at your parents.” There, she’d kept her voice pretty steady, not freaked out at all.
“Sorry, I wanted to give us time to go home and freshen up, but that’s not going to happen.”
Home. Like it was their home. Butterflies lit up in her belly. “I can freshen up here. As long as my outfit is okay.”
His gaze heated. “It’s more than okay.”
“For meeting your mother.”
Easton stalked to her, then closed the office door. Then she was in his arms.
Oh, God. The kiss exploded out of control. It felt like hours and hours since she’d kissed him.
He groaned. “I’ve watched your ass all day. I’ve been half hard in every meeting.”
She moaned. “We can’t do this here.”
He backed her up until she bumped against his desk. “Yes, we can. I’ve thought about this so many fucking times.”
“Easton—”
His hand stilled. “You saying no?”
She realized he’d stop. “No.” Because dammit, she’d thought about it, too.
He spun her, his hands shaping down her body. “These fucking skirts.” He cupped her ass. “Bend over the desk, Ms. Carlson.”
Pulse skittering like crazy, she bent over the desk. She was so aware of everything—the hard surface beneath her, Easton’s heavy breathing, the slide of her skirt on her skin, her soaked panties.
He slowly peeled her skirt up. “Harlow.” His hands kneaded her ass, toying with the elastic edge of her panties.
Then he yanked the scrap of lace down her legs.
He sank a hand into her hair, pulling her back enough to kiss her, his pants brushing against her bare ass.
Then one of his hands pressed to her shoulder blades, and the desk was cool under