The Paris Assignment. Addison FoxЧитать онлайн книгу.
be malicious, their actions within this building are monitored. Anything they do with a piece of technology equipment from this company is monitored.”
“Just because someone’s monitored doesn’t mean your senior team had to give up the information. A lower-level person could have inadvertently allowed the break-in. That’s what we have to find.”
“I’ve got over twenty thousand employees. I realize we could likely narrow down a group of suspects, but the breach could be anywhere.”
“Which is why we’re going to social engineer a little con of our own.”
Confusion and curiosity combined in equal mix across Abby’s face. “And what do you propose?”
He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but the moment the words were out, Campbell knew it was the exact right course of action. “You’re looking at your brand-new boyfriend.”
* * *
“No way. Absolutely not.”
“Come on, it’s the perfect cover.”
“It’s so not the perfect cover.” Abby stood to pace, unable to sit still any longer.
“Come on, Abby. As a cover, it’s ideal. People will grant a dewy-eyed couple, wrapped up in a fresh, brand-spanking-new haze of passion quite a bit of leeway.”
She came to a halt at his words. “We’re not brand-new or spanking.”
A light flush crept up her neck at the obvious gaffe, especially as a decidedly naughty twinkle lit up Campbell’s gorgeous blue gaze. “You know what I meant.”
“I think I do but maybe you can give me a few pointers.”
Abby crossed to her desk, eager to escape the sudden shot of sexual tension that gripped the room. Although her initial reaction to his idea was less than positive, his scheme actually had quite a bit of merit. Presenting a social front to her team would give Campbell the leeway to investigate behind a legitimate cover. Add on the idea of having an ally with her for the week of meetings in Paris—both with the board as well as with her key European management team—and she couldn’t quite shake the sense of relief that she wouldn’t be facing it all alone.
“Do you really think this will work?”
Campbell stood and crossed the room. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her gaze from following the long lines of his body or the competence that sat on his shoulders. “It’s the cover we need to find who’s doing this to you. And it will give me access in a way no one will dispute.”
A light knock on the door broke the moment and Abby turned to see Stef opening the door and poking her head into the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt but you’ve got one more meeting this afternoon and your dress came for the benefit.” Stef held a garment bag high.
“Thanks. Mr. Steele is actually joining me for the benefit this evening. If you could give him the details.”
Her stalwart assistant simply nodded, as if Abby brought last-minute dates to every event. “I’ll have the details for you when you leave. I’ll just need your address, Mr. Steele, and we’ll get the car service rerouted to pick you up.”
Whatever surprise Campbell might have had was masked behind that ever-present smile that managed to be an intriguing mix of endearing and sexy as Stef turned on her heel and walked out.
As soon as the door closed, he added one raised eyebrow to the mix. “Your date this evening? I assume this means you’re fully on board?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then I’ve only got one question.”
“What’s that?”
Campbell moved up and took her hand in his. The moment his fingers brushed over her wrist her stomach cratered as heat flooded her entire body. “How did we meet, darling?”
* * *
Abby struggled to keep a hold on her emotions three hours later as her limo glided down Fifth Avenue toward Campbell’s home in the West Village. Her stomach had continued its weird gymnastics routine since that brief moment in her office when he’d held her hand and try as she might, she couldn’t get her emotions in check.
What was it about the man? He was attractive, certainly. And she was a healthy, single red-blooded woman who could appreciate a man with a strong intellect and a ready self-assurance that was confident without being overbearing.
But it was something else.
Like a good old-fashioned dose of sexual attraction, her inner voice piped up as she stared out the window. With the unfailing honesty she was known for—especially when it came from within—she acknowledged the sentiment. And then went to work debunking whatever insanity had gripped her since he walked into her office.
Campbell Steele was an enticing package. Altogether too enticing, she quickly admonished herself. And, as of this afternoon when she’d signed off on the contract Kensington had sent over, he was also an employee.
“So get a freaking grip,” she whispered to herself and turned toward the window in an effort to quell the feel of her hand enclosed in his.
The lights of Washington Square Park and the George Washington Arch filled up the early fall dusk as her driver took a right onto Waverly. The neighborhood was known for its effortless blend of old townhomes and bohemian apartments and she held no small measure of surprise when the car pulled up along one of the townhomes that ringed Washington Square Park.
She’d have pegged Campbell for the bohemian apartment, for sure.
Of course, the debonair man swathed in a custom-fit tuxedo standing on the front steps went a long way toward assuaging that thought. The nerves that had accompanied her trip downtown took off on another flight through her stomach, but this time they were paired with a dose of anticipation as he beat the driver to the car door.
Campbell slid his long frame into the limo, the fading evidence of a shower curling his slightly damp hair at his nape as he shifted toward her on the bench seat. The driver had the door closed and the light winked off overhead as Campbell’s leg brushed against hers.
“You look beautiful.”
That anticipation morphed another determined step toward infatuation as she allowed her gaze to settle on his mouth. “And you look very handsome. Not the bohemian I’d taken you for.”
His lips quirked into a slow smile. “What?”
“When the driver mentioned we were headed to the West Village, I pegged you as the resident of a bohemian studio for sure.”
Where she expected a quick retort, instead a far more sober note tinged his face with the slightest edges of sadness as the smile faded. “It was my parents’ first home. My mother’s sister kept it until she retired to Florida and I moved in a few years ago.”
Of course.
“I’m sure it’s absolutely lovely.”
Abby forced herself to keep the sympathy at a minimum, but knew instinctively she’d hit a raw nerve. Charles and Katherine Steele had been killed in a car accident a few years before she and Kensington became college roommates. Although she’d visited some of the family’s other homes, the brownstone on the Upper East Side that now served as House of Steele’s headquarters had been the most frequent destination. Even so, she knew their wealth had extended to other homes.
Other memories.
“What’s that look for?”
She saw the question in his gaze before adding a question of her own. “I’m trying to understand how it is we’ve never met. I’ve known your sister for twelve years.”
“I had quite a few years where I didn’t spend much time at home.”
“What changed?”
“A