Page 10 of Love In Hiding

All he noticed were a bunch of picture frames and some little statues of cartoon characters as if a five-year-old had set it up.

“Thanks,” Beau said, her lips widening in a smile with the praise.

“Follow me,” London said. “Do you want a coffee? I was on my way up here to get it.”

“I’m good. Go ahead. Point me in the direction you want me.”

“First door on the right,” she said, brushing by him, the scent of citrus a cloud he’d walked into. Pleasant and making him want to suck in more air.

He didn’t. Just moved forward into the conference room. The soft blue was the same shade and tone as the mint in the reception area.

There was art on the wall. Almost a beach feel with sand and water, with a few flowers.

The conference table and chairs were maple colored, not dark and screaming authority, but welcoming to sit your butt down and have a pleasant talk.

Until London strode in and yanked a chair out and plopped down while her coffee was to her lips.

Her eyes closed, she sniffed in the drink's essence in front of her, then popped them open and let out a moan.

Jesus Christ, his body shouldn’t be reacting this way.

Nor once her blue eyes landed on him watching her. “What? Haven’t you seen someone drinking coffee before?”

“Not quite that way.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep well.”

“Nerves?”

She shrugged as if she couldn’t admit something like that.

But he got it. He really did. And after what he’d found out about them, he understood more.

Paris came in and shut the door. “London, there is no way she is going to work out.”

“Beau?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s the only employee we have. She’s a complete airhead.”

That was his thought.

“She was available.”

“Available and competent are two different things,” Paris said. “Right, Spencer?”

He looked between the sisters again. “Are you asking me to pick sides in a fight between siblings? Or my professional legal opinion?”

“Man,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Are you going to be one ofthoseattorneys?”

He refused to let his back get up over that. “What kind of attorney is that?”

“The one who won’t pick my sister’s side,” Paris said. “I’d like your professional opinion and thoughts on our new employee.”

“Pros,” he said. “She’s friendly. Can carry on a conversation so that there is no tension in the air.”

“She hasn’t shut up,” London complained. “I could hear her talking to herself as she put her little figurines on her desk. Give me cons. I know by the look on your face you’ve got a lot of them.”

Paris leaned back in the chair, a smile on her face, her arms crossed. “Because you see them too and just hate to admit when you’re wrong.”