The Specialist (Norcross #3) - Anna Hackett Page 0,7
know you’re lying.”
Her lips parted.
Damn. His gut coiled. She’d painted them a luscious red today.
“It’s none of your business,” she said.
“I’m making it my business.” He’d begun by calling his friend Hunt. Detective Hunter Morgan was a good Army buddy of his brother Vander’s, and now worked at the San Francisco PD. Hunt spent a lot of time helping Vander and his company, Norcross Security, out when they got into scrapes. Hunt had told Easton that there were no reports of muggers in Harlow’s area. That didn’t mean there weren’t any, but Easton’s instincts were humming.
Something was going on. “Harlow?”
For a second, she looked so sad, then she straightened.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” She looked at the slim, silver watch on her wrist. “You have a meeting with Felix Enterprises in the main conference room in five minutes.” She pulled away. “I’ll check to see if they’re here.”
She sauntered out. She was wearing one of those long, tight skirts that accentuated her curves.
Something was going on, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
Easton grabbed his tablet off his desk and heard the murmur of Harlow talking to someone.
“I have a report for Mr. Norcross,” a breathy, female voice said.
“Leave it on my desk,” Harlow replied. “I’ll see he gets it.”
“Oh, I thought I could…give it to him myself.”
Easton paused in the doorway and saw a young woman in a sleeveless dress. She tossed her cloud of streaked blonde hair over her shoulder. Shit, she looked like she was lucky if she was old enough to drink.
Harlow skewered the woman with a look. “Leave it on my desk.”
The young woman pouted and set the file down. Then she strode off like she was opening fashion week.
He heard Harlow mutter under her breath, then she turned back to her computer screen.
“Ready?” he asked.
She jolted, then tapped the screen so it went to sleep.
But not before he saw that she was on a banking website.
“Ready.” She rose, gathering her things.
Easton followed her to the conference room. She sailed in, moving to the side table, to check the drinks and snacks.
The door opened.
“Easton,” Larry Miller boomed. The man was in his late fifties, with a wide, easygoing smile. “Good to see you.”
Then the man spotted Harlow and his eyes and smile widened. “I see you traded in that bossy, old dragon lady of yours. Well done.”
Easton felt a flash of annoyance. “Mrs. Skilton is on leave. This is Ms. Carlson.”
“A pleasure,” Miller drawled.
Harlow gave him a small, professional smile.
Easton sat at the head of the table. “Let’s talk business.”
The meeting went long. Miller talked a lot, but he was a savvy negotiator. Another assistant brought in lunch.
Harlow bent over, arranging the food.
Miller let out a low, appreciative noise and leaned closer to Easton. “Is your lovely, new assistant single?”
“Yes, but you’re not,” Easton bit out. “How is your wife?”
“Happy when I leave her to her own business.” Miller laughed.
Easton kept his face blank. Asshole. “Let’s get these final contract points decided.” Then Easton could get Miller out of here.
They ate their lunch and finished their business.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Norcross.” Miller eyed Harlow again.
“I’ll see you out,” Easton said.
“I’m going to say goodbye to the delectable Ms. Carlson.”
Easton gritted his teeth together. “No, you aren’t.”
Miller’s grin slipped a little. “Norcross—”
“You’re not going near her.”
The older man nodded and winked. “Ah, I see you’ve got your eye on her yourself.”
“Just go, Miller, before I change my mind about doing business with you.”
The businessman left looking disgruntled. Easton didn’t give a shit.
“Right.” Harlow bustled up to him. “You have a call with New York shortly. Zane Roth.”
Easton nodded. He enjoyed working with the finance billionaire.
“And lawyers from Cartwright, Dolan, and Bird sent some contracts over. Legal has marked some things for you to take a look at. It’s all on your desk.”
“Thanks.”
They crossed the floor, and reached her desk.
“You also have a two o’clock with Eva Morales from FlexDash. I’ll let you know when she arrives.”
God, she was more organized than Mrs. Skilton.
“There’s also fresh coffee on your desk. And a dark chocolate and pistachio cookie.”
His favorite. His gaze narrowed. “Firstly, how did you know about the cookies? And second, how did you organize that?”
She winked. “A good assistant never reveals her secrets.”
And yet, Easton wanted hers. He studied her face. “You’re really okay after last night?”
Her smile dimmed. “Yes.”
“When you were late this morning—”
“I met my father for breakfast.” She turned to face her computer.
She sounded normal, but