that there was no chance that he’d missed her red-rimmed eyes and her wobbly lip. Reame Jepsen, Lachlyn suspected, didn’t miss a damn thing.
Pride had her forcing her shoulders back, lifting her chin as she made her way to the couch and perched on the edge of the cushion.
Reame sat opposite her and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his legs, his hands dangling between his strong thighs. This morning, his eyes were a cool, light peppermint and, as always, invasive. She felt like he could see into her soul, read her thoughts. Lachlyn felt exposed and uncomfortable. God, she hoped that this conversation wouldn’t take long.
“Let’s talk security, specifically your security,” Reame said, his eyes cool and tone brusque.
Lachlyn forced herself to maintain eye contact and responded with a nod.
“Linc is concerned about you being on your own.”
“He doesn’t need to be. I’m used to being on my own.”
“If you were the ordinary woman you were a month ago, I’d agree.”
“But you’re not Lachlyn Latimore anymore, you’re now a Ballantyne—at least in the eyes of the press—and that changes the picture,” Reame continued, the warm waves of his voice rolling over her skin. “You’re the newest member of a very prominent, very interesting family. The residents of this city have grown up with the Ballantynes. They remember when Connor took in three orphans. They cheered when Connor adopted Linc alongside Jaeger, Beck and Sage. They mourned Connor’s death. The interest in the Ballantynes has never wavered and the fact that you are Connor’s daughter is big news. The Ballantynes pulling you into the family and sharing Connor’s wealth with you is huge news.”
“I’m not taking the money,” Lachlyn blurted out. For some reason she couldn’t articulate, it was important that he understand that she wasn’t a gold digger and that she had little interest in the Ballantyne fortune.
“You’re not?”
Lachlyn squeezed her hands between her thighs. “No.”
Lachlyn thought she caught a flash of surprise on his face but a second later his expression turned inscrutable. Linc lifted a big shoulder in a don’t care shrug. “That’s between you and them. I’m just here to talk about keeping you safe.”
Nothing in his body language, voice or eyes suggested that they’d shared a hot look across a crowded ballroom and that electricity had sizzled and sparked between them. He was all business, only business.
Good. Then why did she feel a tiny bit disappointed?
Linc sat up straight, leaned back and placed his ankle on his opposite knee. He tapped his finger on his thigh. “Linc also wants me to give you a PPO—”
That didn’t sound very nice. “A what?”
“A personal protection officer, a bodyguard,” he explained, sounding impatient. “You need a shield between you and the press. And any crazies.”
“Crazies?”
“There are eight million people in this city, most of whom have heard or read about you. More than a few are delusional and a handful might think of you as their new best friend, as a potential lover or something more sinister. Until the attention dies down, it’s wise to take precautions.”
Lachlyn tried to assimilate the barrage of information, to make sense of what he was saying. It didn’t help that every time she looked at him, she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers, whether his hands would be rough or smooth against her bare skin. God, she’d never looked at a man and felt her saliva dry up, her heart bang against her chest.
What was it about him that yanked her libido out of its coma?
Let’s think about that... Did it have anything to do with the fact that he was the sexiest man she’d met? Ever?
Frustrated with herself, frustrated in general, Lachlyn refocused. What were they discussing? Right, bodyguards.
Reame played with the laces on his trendy shoes. “So in order to give you the best protection, I need some information about you. Let’s start with the easy stuff, your job. You’re a librarian?”
Lachlyn shook her head. “I work as an archivist at the NYPL.”
A small smile touched Reame’s mouth and a butterfly in her stomach took flight, followed by another ten. “I love that building.”
The Beaux Arts building was her favorite place in the world. “I do, too.”
Reame kept his eyes locked on hers, penetrating and steady. “And do you like your work?”
“I love it. Libraries, books...documents make me hot.”
Reame’s eyes heated and turned speculative and Lachlyn cursed her choice of words. She’d opened the door and flat-out desire walked in and plonked itself between them, its smile mocking. “Uh... I...” Lachlyn stuttered.
Reame looked away from her and Lachlyn saw his chest rise and fall as he took a big breath. His expression was so inscrutable that she couldn’t tell if he was feeling the attraction too or whether he was just making an attempt to hide his irritation. So far, she’d seen nothing of the heat she’d seen in his eyes last night...maybe she’d just projected her attraction onto him. Because she was an emotional hermit, she was inexperienced with men so it was entirely possible.
“Let’s talk about your living arrangements. You live in Woodside?” Reame asked, smoothly changing the subject and ignoring her flaming face. God, she had all the poise and grace of a walrus.
Lachlyn thought about her bright, cheerful space packed full of books and sighed. “I live in a small apartment above a bakery.”
“And that’s where you would like to be?” Reame asked.
Lachlyn darted him a hopeful look. “Oh, God, yes! But Linc seems to think that’s not a good idea, that it’s too small and too far away.”
Reame didn’t look too concerned. “I’m in the business of making life easier for my clients, not my staff. My paramount concern is your safety.” In that statement Lachlyn saw the hard businessman, the tough commanding officer. She had no doubt that when Reame said hop, his people asked how far they should jump.
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