The Paris Assignment. Addison Fox
would be in such high demand?”
A quick light sparked in Campbell’s eyes and Abby didn’t miss the clear notes of excitement there. “Nothing prepared us for the reaction we’ve had. We knew our parents’ friends had the need for quiet inquiries into certain matters or help managing an enemy bent on destroying them, but we were unprepared for the response we’ve received.”
“So you help the very lifestyle you disdain?”
“It’s not disdain—”
Intrigued, Abby sat quietly, waiting for him to say more. She sensed something underneath his words she couldn’t quite identify and for some reason it was suddenly very important to her to understand what drove him.
His words were quiet when he finally spoke again. “I want more out of my life than watching my stock portfolio all day.”
“Your parents raised you and your siblings with a work ethic. There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s also nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of your labor, however you choose.”
“This from a woman regularly known to work ninety-hour weeks. Tell me, Abby—” he leaned toward her across the expanse of the limo, his voice husky “—how often are you enjoying the fruits of your labors?”
She could hardly argue with the assessment, even if it suddenly struck her as a rather cold view of her life. “I enjoy a full life.”
“Outside the boardroom?”
She laughed, the sound surprising her with its hollow echo. “I lead a privileged life. I’m hardly in a position to complain.”
Their driver pulled to a stop and Abby sensed their conversation was at an end. “Speaking of privilege, what you do does have a few perks.”
“Perks?”
“You weren’t exactly fending off the advances of a world-renowned diva, now were you?”
She purposely looked away from Campbell’s widened eyes as the driver held her door open. Abby took the man’s proffered hand and stepped from the car, satisfied that—for the moment—she’d had the last word.
* * *
Campbell walked behind Abby through the ornate entryway to one of his favorite bars, his gaze returning again and again to the long cascade of her hair falling rich and lush over her back. The woman was a sight and he couldn’t quite shake off the small kernel of enjoyment that Carlotta had gotten to her.
He also thanked his lucky stars the diva hadn’t ruined his cover.
Carlotta had a rather sizeable chip on her shoulder at her ill-fated seduction attempts and this evening could have gone sideways faster than a computer virus in a mainframe if she hadn’t recognized the financial value in sucking up to Abby.
He could only offer praise to the few brain cells he possessed that he’d never taken the diva up on her more than generous offer—one given while stark-naked—the previous fall. She was an assignment—the victim of a high-end ring of identity thieves—and he didn’t mix business with pleasure.
So why was he struggling to keep that in the forefront of his thoughts as he spent time with Abby?
And what the hell was he thinking coming on to her in the limo? He had no idea how she chose to live her life and insinuating otherwise was seriously out of line. Despite the knowledge he needed to stop this ridiculous curiosity about his newest client, he couldn’t deny how the woman intrigued him.
Nor could he deny the overwhelming urge to wipe away the sadness he saw in the depths of her lush brown gaze.
He was neither a fanciful man, nor a poetic one, so the fact that thought even crossed his mind was proof positive he was far more gone than he’d realized.
The hostess led them through the bar to a prime seat in front of the oversize windows. The south entrance of the park sat open before them and he could see several horses with their riders waiting to ply their trade.
With deliberate movements, he slung an arm around Abby’s shoulders once they were settled on a small high-backed settee before the window.
“There’s no one here,” she hissed as she looked up at him.
“What’s the matter? Not enjoying my company?”
“That’s not what I meant. The event is over and we’re not on display any longer. You said the evening didn’t seem out of the ordinary.”
His impressions earlier in the day as well as observing her throughout the evening were one of a woman used to being in control. Add on her comments in the car when he tried to probe deeper and he knew she wasn’t used to giving up one precious bit of that power.
Whether it was his own stubborn, subversive nature that his family regularly cursed him for or the fact that the woman tantalized him like no other he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t resist baiting her.
“Just because the evening didn’t seem out of the ordinary didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone watching. Nor does it mean we don’t need practice for our trip to Paris.”
“Practice?”
“Of course. People have to believe we’re really together. If a few drinks together can’t loosen us up, there’s no way we’re going to convince a room full of people who’ve known you for years that we’re an item.”
“They’ll just think we’re not a very affectionate couple.”
The pert retort gave him the exact opening he needed. With deliberate slowness, Campbell leaned in, pressing his lips toward her ear. “Like anyone would believe you could be cold and indifferent in a relationship.”
“There’s cold and indifferent and then there’s wildly inappropriate. I wouldn’t be inappropriate at a business function.”
Her spine was arrow-straight and her face was a mask of that indifference he’d accused her of and suddenly, despite the fact she was a client, he simply couldn’t resist seeing where she was willing to take things. With deliberate slowness, he ran a finger down the length of her forearm, the soft feel of her skin beckoning him. “Shame.”
“Wh-what’s a shame?” Her voice was breathless as he trailed his finger once more over that delicate skin, turning her hand over so the expanse of her wrist was bare to him.
“It’s a shame that you wouldn’t allow even the tiniest bit of passion to make its way into your business meeting.”
“The boardroom’s not the time or place.”
“I suppose you’re right.” With a quick shift, he put some space between them as their waitress came over to take their drink orders. He gestured Abby to go first, then ordered his standard whiskey and soda.
And settled back to see what move Ms. Abigail McBane decided to make next.
* * *
“Don’t think I’m not on to your game.”
Campbell’s gaze was diverted as he scanned the room but his words held no hesitancy. “I’ve no doubt you are.”
Yet again, Abby felt herself caught off balance as he fully acknowledged what had roared to life between them. “Oh.”
He finished his perusal and turned the full power of that vivid blue gaze on her. “We’re attracted to each other. It’s a wee bit inconvenient, but some of the best things in life are.”
She watched his face in the subdued lighting of the bar, curious at the mix of ennui and matter-of-fact sincerity in his tone. “You’re rather practical.”
“There’s that word again. I just prefer to think of myself as honest.” He reached for a pretzel nestled in a small silver bowl on the small cocktail table between them and popped it in his mouth. “There’s a difference.”
“Honest?