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Babies for my Ex’s Bodyguard

Page 25

by Summer James

I know where criminals find weaknesses. I know what happens when someone notices the threat five seconds too late. Every product we release exists because I’ve lived through the alternative.

Unfortunately, none of that experience helps when the threat is a woman with honey blonde hair and a smile I’ve spent forever trying to forget.

My gaze settles on the blinking cursor beside my name. The longer I sit here, the more ridiculous this becomes. Emma deserves to be evaluated on her abilities, not my inability to forget her.

After another minute, I exhale and click approve.

The confirmation disappears from the screen, leaving the hiring file sitting open in front of me.

I stare at it anyway.

Then I mutter a curse, close the laptop, and head for the kitchen in search of coffee I don’t need.

I’ve already spent years trying to put Emma Love behind me.

Judging by the knot tightening between my shoulders, hiring her may prove considerably harder to live with than walking away ever was.

CHAPTER THREE

Emma

MARCH 7TH

I’ve been inside the building less than thirty seconds, and I’ve already picked a fight with the security system.The gate beside the elevators flashes red again every time I try my badge.

I stare at it. The badge stares right back, looking completely innocent while the machine blasts another warning tone across the lobby.

A security guard peels away from his desk and heads toward me with the cautious expression usually reserved for suspicious packages. “Everything okay?”

“Absolutely.”

The gate flashes red before I’ve even finished the sentence.

His mouth twitches. Mine doesn’t.

He takes the badge from my hand, checks the screen, and frowns. I lean sideways, trying to read whatever disaster report is apparently attached to my employee profile.

“First day?” he asks.

“Do I have a sign taped to my back?”

“Your expression gave it away.”

I shut my eyes. Fantastic.

“Most people wait until after lunch before challenging the building.”

“I like making an impression.”

“You definitely did that.”

A few taps on his keyboard later, my identity returns from whatever administrative abyss it disappeared into. He hands the badge back with enough sympathy to make me nervous, and I head toward the elevators hoping the worst of the morning is behind me.

It isn’t.

About fifteen minutes later, I’m lost again.

The Wolf Shield building contains an unreasonable number of hallways, and whoever designed them clearly enjoyed psychological warfare.