The Paris Assignment. Addison Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t miss the hard set of her shoulders or the steady clip of her heels as she walked out of sight.

      * * *

      “Damn, damn, damn.” Abby dropped her head in her hands as she stared at her laptop screen. Her head of PR had already emailed her with the name of the reporter who’d asked the question about McBane security, confirming what she already knew.

      Dan Porterfield was a nuisance, but he was damn good at his job.

      So who the hell had told him about the seven minutes? The information was on lockdown until they could figure out what had happened and the few members of her team who did know held positions of trust in her organization.

      Could the one responsible have leaked the information?

      And what the hell was she really dealing with?

      Her phone rang and she snatched it up as her admin’s name registered on the display. “Your three o’clock is here to see you. A Mr. Campbell Steele?”

      Kensington’s brother.

      “Thanks, Stef. You can send him in.”

      With one last look at her computer screen, Abby tapped out a brief set of instructions that the party line to Dan or anyone else who asked was the same. There was no breach and there were no problems with their firewalls. “McBane Communications maintains the highest standards and layers of industry-leading technology,” she muttered to herself as she finished typing the email.

      Even if the sentiment didn’t sit all that well with her—she was worried enough to call in an outside firm—they technically hadn’t found anything newsworthy.

      The door opened and Stef gestured the man through, before closing the door with a light click. Abby crossed the office toward him and took in a sharper-than-normal intake of breath as she stared up into a pair of blazing blue eyes.

      “Mr. Steele?”

      A smile that was too sweet to be fully cocky lit up the hard planes of his jaw. He extended a hand and she caught the briefest glimpse of long fingers and a broad palm before his hand clasped hers. “Campbell. Please.”

      Heat lit up her nerve endings, the sensation completely at odds with the purpose of his visit. She’d seen photos of him before, but nothing two-dimensional could have prepared her for this reaction. “Abby McBane. It’s so good of you to come. Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?”

      “Water’s fine.”

      She retrieved a bottle for each of them before gesturing him toward the bank of couches on the far side of her office.

      The urge to take the seat behind her desk and put some distance between them was strong, but the very fact she wanted to do that had her choosing the opposite.

      The brief walk also gave her an opportunity to examine Kensington’s brother. She’d met the oldest, Liam, once before, but never Campbell and she marveled at the distinct differences between the two men. While no one would miss the resemblance as brothers, Liam had a suave charm that was heady when fully turned on. Campbell had a more subtle attractiveness.

      His frame was leaner and if she hadn’t felt the strong grip of his hand she might have been tempted to call him skinny.

      The memory of that masculine grip had her amending that assessment to lean and rangy as they took a seat on the couch. She watched him shrug out of his jacket and had to acknowledge he was deceptively larger than her first impression, his broad shoulders filling out his button-down shirt.

      Oblivious to her assessment, he leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. Abby didn’t miss the way his dress shirt stretched to accommodate his movement.

      Nope, nothing skinny about him.

      “My sister filled me in on your circumstances, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective. Especially since it was obvious the question during the press conference caught you off guard.”

      Abby took a deep breath. “I handled Porterfield’s question.”

      “Yes, you did. Doesn’t change the fact that he asked it.”

      “No. No, it doesn’t.”

      “So why am I here? From your perspective.”

      “McBane Communications has several satellites in various stages of deployment, development and design. Per today’s press conference, our latest designs are nearing the end of production and will be operational in less than ninety days.”

      “Anyone who wants to stop that from happening?”

      The decidedly sensual thoughts she’d not been able to shake when looking at him faded at the problems facing her company. “I’ve got a select group of competitors and my competition is stiffer than most. The race for the latest modernizations has implications across the telecom industry.”

      “You think it’s another provider?”

      She shook her head. “The signature...isn’t identifiable.”

      “Signature?” Interest blazed in the depths of his gaze and she felt herself drawn forward at his focus. Most—even members of her own team—tended toward a glazed look when she got going in the inner workings of her business, but Campbell seemed fully engaged.

      Tamping the rush of interest that barreled through her own veins, she tried to focus on the point at hand. “Most major providers have a series of protocols in place. Checks and balances in their systems that make it incredibly hard to do anything undetectable. The sheer invisibility of whatever this was—”

      “A breach.”

      She winced at that, more than willing to drop her poker face. “I’m not ready to concede to that word. But to the original question, another telecom provider just doesn’t ring true for me.”

      Abby watched as a series of emotions played across his face. Underlying all of it was that ready curiosity and sheer inquisitiveness that was intriguing. “So not a competitor. Anyone else who’d like to see you fail?”

      She couldn’t hold back the small laugh. “I’m sure there are several.”

      “Yes, but any of them who has a real reason to do you harm?”

      The casual, almost sweet air she’d originally perceived was gone, replaced by a hard man without a trace of humor on his face. The lightning-quick change was as surprising as its source and she sat back and tried to parse out her whirling thoughts.

      She knew Kensington Steele—had known her for over a decade—and had met much of the woman’s eclectic family. Her Scottish-Irish grandmother and dyed-in-the-wool British grandfather knew how to leave a delightful—and altogether unique—impression and their smart, interesting and savvy grandchildren followed suit.

      But she’d never met Campbell.

      There had been whispers of trouble. Nothing that went public, but Kensington had hinted that her brother was too smart for his own good.

      Was СКАЧАТЬ