Page 69 of Direct Action

Poppy was lingering and didn’t delay as soon as I stopped next to her.

“Why’s he here?” she whispered. But even whispered, it was angry.

“No clue.”

“Chloe.”

“I’m totally freaked out right now. Just let me get this order in before I forget.”

She waited impatiently for me to finish. As soon as I hit send, her face was so close to mine I could smell her mint gum.

“Who’s the chick?”

There it was.

The double take.

Yes, it was because Beckett was there, but also because of the woman.

“No clue,” I repeated.

Muriel came around the corner. Poppy jumped back, catching her attention.

“Everything okay?”

Apparently, Poppy was better at the spy stuff then I was. Even though she’d jerked away from me like we’d been caught doing something wrong, she had a lie at the ready. “I had a sub for lunch with onions. I was asking Chloe if my breath smelled bad.”

“There’s mouthwash in the ladies’ room,” Muriel returned.

“There is?” Poppy smiled. “Thanks.”

Poppy bounced away like she didn’t have a care in the world, leaving me with my heart pounding in my chest, standing with my stern-looking boss.

“Everything okay with Mr. Blackwell and his guests?”

“Yes, perfect.”

The stern got sterner the longer she studied me. But there was a twinkle of something else. Concern maybe. Even a hint of alarm. Whatever it was didn’t help the heart palpitations I was experiencing.

“Let me know if you need anything.”

I watched her walk away, seriously wishing I could’ve talked Poppy into quitting.

I was going to give myself a stroke if I didn’t get better at this.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“And that’s all that happened.” Chloe finished telling me about her night.

Which recapped some of what Beck had reported over the phone while I drove us back to Chloe’s. Now we were in her apartment, the clothes I’d folded still on the coffee table, and she was on the couch, heels abandoned but the skintight leopard-print pants still on. I was back in the leather chair I’d sat in the first time I was in her apartment, doing my best to control my temper.

Those pants would be coming off soon and going in the fucking trash.

Earlier when I saw her pull them out of a shopping bag, I thought they were butt ugly. She came out of her bedroom wearing them with her makeup done in full eighties vixen—which she explained by telling me it was rock-chick night, something I didn’t understand but didn’t ask for clarification about because I was too busy explaining to my dick that now was not the time to fuck her against the wall. When she slipped on her spiked heels, I damn near lost the battle.

Knowing she’d worn those pants to work and that motherfucker Sterling had gotten an eyeful of her fantastic ass in them, they were toast. And the shirt—which was oversize, belted at her waist, and not skimpy by any stretch, was joining the pants. Beckett carefully and unhappily informed me, the shirt had slipped over her shoulder, revealing her bra, and from Sterling’s vantage point, he’d gotten a good look at my woman’s tits. It was Beckett’s estimation that if Sterling wasn’t interested before, he was very interested now.

After Chloe filled in some of the things that Beckett didn’t hear and the way she felt when Sterling was staring at her, there was no guessing—Chloe had landed on Sterling’s radar with a huge fucking ping.