“I admit to being intrigued by your association with my friend, I mean neighbor.” She squared her shoulders. “My neighbor friend, Mister…”
Flustered, Emerson’s cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink.
“Please call me Lennox.”
She closed one eye and pointed her index finger at me with her thumb raised, mimicking a gun, and then brought her hand forward and poked my upper arm. “Again, you dodged my question.” She walked into the lift as though she didn’t anticipate I would follow.
When we exited on the eighth floor, a man I knew but had to pretend I didn’t, was waiting.
“Good morning, Emme,” he said before turning to me. “This must be Mr. Edgemon. I’m Paxon Warrick.” He held out his hand, and I shook it.
“Emerson,” I murmured, loving that name so much more than the nickname the man known to me as Irish had just used.
“Yes?” she asked with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.
“Do you need a few moments before our meeting?”
“Um…sure,” she answered. “How did you know my…never mind. I’m sure it was in Dr. Benjamin’s notes.”
I nodded, waiting to see if my slip let on I’d recognized her like I guessed she had me.
“I’ll show our guest to the conference room,” Irish offered.
“Wait. Were you aware we were meeting with Mr. Edgemon instead of Dr. Benjamin?”
“I was.”
As I watched her face go from puzzled to pensive, I wondered why Irish wasn’t handling this better.
“I received an email. I assumed you did too,” he said, but it seemed too little, too late.
“Hmm,” she murmured, picking up her bags. “I’ll just be a moment.” She walked away, leaving me alone with the undercover agent the CIA had put in place when MI6 brought Saint in.
“Follow me,” he said when she disappeared down the hallway. “Coffee? No, wait. You’re a tea drinker.”
“Neither, thanks. Water would be nice, though.”
Irish led me into what looked like more of a war room than a place to meet. “I’ll forewarn you that Emme—Dr. Charles—can be…quirky, and that’s an understatement. But she’s a brilliant analyst.”
“As well as strategist.” And so much more than that. She was the woman I’d never been able to forget, and the one I never thought I’d see again.
Irish murmured his agreement, grabbed an envelope from the other side of the table, and slid it in front of me. “Beautiful too.”
Him saying so set me on edge, just like it had remembering that Saint told me they’d been seeing each other. “How close are the two of you?”
“Not as close as I’d like, but after this mission is over, who knows?”
My jaw tightened. Not if I had anything to say about it. And I planned to. Irish was out of his league. Way out. If I wanted Emerson—and I did—I’d have her. He and Saint could both be damned.
“She hasn’t let on that she knows anything about Saint’s disappearance,” he said quietly when he returned with my glass of water. “Or Dr. Benjamin’s,” he added as an afterthought.
“That was evident.”
“How so?”
“We crossed paths at their apartment building.”
“What did she say?”
I explained that I’d encountered Emme exiting Saint’s building earlier as I was going in. “There wasn’t anything specific, only that her demeanor when I mentioned knowing Niven was one of curiosity rather than concern.”
“Serendipitous, meeting her,” he commented.
“Or not.” I would’ve preferred to keep my association with Saint a secret longer than I had.
“Have a seat.” Irish motioned to a chair.
“I’ll wait for Dr. Charles. In fact, I’d prefer to meet with her alone.”
“Why?”
I was beginning to think a talk with Irish’s boss was in order. In the hierarchy of either of our agencies, I was several ranks above the man. I raised a brow.
“She expects me to be in the meeting.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
He appeared annoyed, but that wasn’t my problem.
“Let me know when you’d like to debrief,” he said before he walked out of the room.
A few minutes later, Emerson joined me. “I apologize about Mr. Warrick…Paxon…my assistant. Apparently, he had another appointment.”
“As he mentioned.”
“Oh. Huh. Well…shall we get started?” she asked without preamble of further small talk, which I found surprisingly disappointing. I usually abhorred mindless chatter, but in this case, I wanted to hear more of the beautiful lilt to her voice.
Her scent wafted in the air, and the desirability the woman exuded made my ability to keep my head on business nearly impossible. I adjusted my trousers and took a seat where she indicated I should.
“After his last visit, Dr. Benjamin sent over key points he wanted to cover when he returned.” As she reached around me to pick up the envelope that Irish had slid my way, her elbow knocked over the glass of water, the entirety of its contents emptying all over my lap. Simultaneously, the papers contained in the envelope spilled out and scattered on the floor at my feet.
“Oh, dear, I’m such a klutz,” she mumbled, dropping to her knees in front of me to clean up the mess before I could stand to do the same. As it was, she was between my legs, head slightly bowed.
Without stepping over her, I was powerless to do anything to help. “Emerson?”
“Yes?” When she looked up, it was obvious she realized where, exactly, her head was in correlation to my cock. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to scoot away, only to bang into the chair behind her. When she grasped it in an attempt to stand and it slid away, I watched as her head smacked into the table before I could prevent it from happening.
“Fuck, that hurt,” she muttered, pushing the offending chair back, landing on her bottom, and rubbing her head.
I stood and held my hand out to help her do the same. When she grasped it with hers, we both noticed blood on her fingers.
“Stay where you are and let me take a look.”
“That’s okay, I can—”
“I said, stay where you are.” Putting my hand on her shoulder, I held her in place; I could see dark red blood seeping into her lighter red hair. “You’ve got a laceration. Stitches will likely be necessary.”
“I’ll be fine,” she snapped, swatting my hand away. “And you’re kind of bossy.” Refusing to look me in the eye, she grabbed the offending table’s edge and pulled herself up.
“Take this and press it to your scalp,” I told her, placing my handkerchief in her palm and then guiding her hand to where she was bleeding.
I saw her start to sway and caught her before she toppled over. She was facing me, her free hand on my arm.
I told myself I was looking into her eyes for signs of a concussion, but the truth was, I was mesmerized by the swirling shades of ocean blue. Her pupils were dilated, but when my gaze drifted lower, the hardened nipples I could see through her thin blouse indicated her visceral reaction was more likely caused by our close proximity than the bump on her head. My cock was certainly reacting in a way I had little control of.