Название: Bodyguard Reunion
Автор: Beverly Long
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Wingman Security
isbn: 9781474063128
isbn:
“Australian, right?” he asked.
She nodded. “I could listen to him read the phone book and be totally entertained.”
“The phone book, huh? I haven’t run across one of those, but there’s a manual that describes how the dishwasher works in that cupboard.” He pointed across the room.
It was a spark of the old Royce, the one who made easy jokes and found pleasure in silly things.
“I’m sure that would be lovely, too. Wayne is one of the most respected people in the industry,” JC said. “The project we’ve been collaborating on is making children’s vaccines more readily available in underdeveloped countries.” She paused. “Of course, I let him do most of the talking in the meetings.”
“The accent thing,” he said. “I got it.”
He was staring at the paper. Wayne was a good-looking man. Was it possible that Royce thought they were collaborating on more than the vaccine project?
“Wayne Isman has been married for many years. He talks about his wife all the time. I met her once and thought she was lovely. And he’s crazy about his three daughters.”
“How nice for him,” he said, as if he couldn’t care less.
Maybe she’d read him wrong. Or maybe she’d been hoping that he was just a teensy bit jealous.
She was pathetic.
“Do attendees preregister for these sessions?” he asked.
“No. This is like most conferences. There are concurrent sessions and attendees are free to choose whatever sparks their interest at the time. There are probably seven or eight different sessions in each time slot. Presenters have been advised to plan for 150 to 200 attendees.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” he said.
“We’re not confident that it’s even a real threat.”
“We’re not confident that it isn’t.”
She sighed. “Look, I don’t want it to be obvious that I’ve got security.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” he said. “But no promises. If I feel that the situation warrants it, I’m going to shut it down.”
“The session?” she said incredulously.
“At least your participation in it.”
He was serious. “Royce, I have a professional reputation to maintain.”
“My job is to keep you safe. That’s the priority.”
Of course that was what she wanted, too. “All I’m asking is that if it’s possible, I’d like the two goals not to be mutually exclusive.”
He shifted his attention back to the calendar. Six to ten on Thursday night was colored green and labeled Ballroom. “Is that the awards dinner?” he asked.
“Yes. It may not last that long, but I wanted to plan on the careful side.”
She was not the type to arrive three minutes before going onstage—after anyone remotely responsible for the event had had a mild stroke for fear that she wasn’t going to show—and then leave as soon as the applause had ended.
She would arrive on time, mingle with other attendees, participate in dinner conversation, hopefully give a great speech and then hang around to answer questions afterward.
He leaned back in his chair. “Who else has access to your schedule?”
“Glory, my administrative assistant, and I are the only one who can see the details. Others, many others, of course, can look at my calendar and know if I’m busy or out of the office. Makes it easier to schedule things.”
“We need to change that. Immediately.”
“But—”
Royce shook his head. “Can Glory do that on your behalf?”
She nodded. This was a small hill. Certainly not one she intended to die upon. “Yes.”
“Good. And I need Glory’s information. Full name, address, social.”
“Miatroth has a rigid background screening process, I assure you.”
“I don’t care. How long has she worked for you?”
“Five years.”
“No recent issues? Strange behaviors? Odd conversations?”
She shook her head. “She’s amazing.” She wanted to implore Royce not to do anything that might upset Glory. The woman was already a little irritated with JC because she hadn’t gotten to come to Vegas, one of her very favorite places. “A good assistant is worth his or her weight in gold.”
“Noted,” he said.
A knock on the door made her jerk. Royce motioned for her to stay where she was. He looked through the peephole. “Room service,” he whispered, turning to look back at her. “Fast.”
“Bet the orders from the suites get priority.”
This from Charity who’d again emerged from her bedroom. She was carrying Hogi. The cat seemed calmer and when Charity put him down, he promptly jumped into one of the deep windowsills and pressed his nose up against the pane.
Royce opened the door and motioned the young man outside to come in. Then he watched him like a hawk, as if confident that he was intent upon doing them harm versus getting the tray delivered and returning to the kitchen for the next one.
She signed the room charge slip and added a generous tip, not only because of Royce’s scrutiny but partially in pity for the checkered bow tie and cummerbund the poor man had to wear. She’d always thought periwinkle blue was sort of a pretty color before this, but the combination of it and olive green just wasn’t nice.
Once he was gone, the three of them sat down at the glass-topped table. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room was silverware softly clicking against the plates.
Royce was almost half-done with his burger before he spoke again. “So, Charity, are you a student?”
“Like in college?” Charity said, her upper lip raised in a sneer.
Royce nodded.
“Not for me,” Charity said.
Royce put down his fork. “So you’re working?”
“I would,” Charity said. “But nobody seems inclined to help me have the American dream.”
If Charity had come across as snippy in the interviews as she was acting now, JC understood why she was unemployed. But based on what the private detective СКАЧАТЬ