Harper opened it, wearing a pair of black jeans and a red short-sleeve V-neck sweater that accentuated her cleavage.
“Good morning. Ready?” Kip asked.
“Yes. Um, is it okay if I come alone? Channy has a doctor’s appointment, and then she has to go into work and finish the payroll.”
“Sure, sweetheart, are you okay with it? Do you want to go to the doctor with her?” Kip’s brows lowered.
She blew out a breath. “She doesn’t want me to. Do you want to go alone with me?”
Kip lifted her hand to his lips. “Yes, of course. I hoped you’d feel this was a safe first date.” She aroused every instinct he had as a protector and—he shifted his weight—as a lover. “Today is my last day for a while where I can create my own schedule. Tomorrow, all my staff arrives.”
She sucked her lower lip. “Okay, it’s a first date.”
Kip wanted to reassure her by giving her a hug, but all he could think about was sucking on that full lip. A Tahoe drove down from the main house.Saved.
“Wait for us!” Owen Errol, wearing hot pink skinny jeans and a sequined shirt, hopped out of the car. Barry Errol, wearing brown leather pants and a loden-colored shirt, came around from the other side.
“Kip, house is move-in ready. I got your picks for security and a house manager.”
“Great. Owen and Barry, you know Harper.” Kip helped her into the Suburban.
“I told you,” Owen said to Barry. “Maybe there’ll be some knocking boots sooner or later.”
Harper’s eyes widened, and her face turned red. “Oh my,” she choked.
“Owen,” Josh, Barry, and Kip growled in unison. The Suburban’s driver, Noah Paulson, Bravo Team’s executive officer, remained stoic.
“Sweetheart, you met Josh last night, and this is Noah. He’s our driver for today.” Kip smiled.
When the group had climbed inside, Josh tapped his comm. “This is Brav…Easy One. I have November Oscar Alpha 1 plus three on board. Bravo Two is driving. Our destination is…” Josh turned in his seat. “Boss, where to?”
“Clothes Contact,” Barry responded, then gave the address.
Harper shoved Kip’s shoulder. “Chantal told you so.”
“Destination Clothes Contact.” Josh listened. “Roger,” he answered.
Kip wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. He couldn’t resist kissing the tip of her nose. “Everything is okay. The codes help our communications unit keep track of us.” He realized she likely felt his sidearm in the shoulder holster. He’d move her to his right side where she couldn’t feel the gun.
* * *
When they arrivedat Clothes Contact, Kip held Harper back when the SUV stopped. Josh stepped from the vehicle and opened the passenger rear door, holding his hand for Harper and helping her step out. Kip slid out behind her. She felt Kip’s hand press into her mid-back the same way he did when he walked her into her house.
Once their group was inside, Harper realized the entire store was empty of customers. A tall, painfully thin man with a crooked nose and a woman wearing so much perfume, she smelled like a funeral home both hugged and gave Owen stage kisses. “And the king is here,” the man crooned.
The woman bowed. “Owen, what have we done for you to grace us with your presence?”
Harper heard Kip’s sharp intake of breath. Standing on her toes, she whispered, “I’ve got you.” This was the world Harper knew all too well.
The look on Kip’s face was priceless. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m glad I brought you more every minute.” He kissed her lightly on the lips.
She jumped and hated herself for it. He was being spontaneous. That was a word she hated. Chantal was spontaneous.
“Richard, this is Mr. Kip Brennan. He requires ten suits for New Orleans’s weather. The suits must be well fitted, not gauchely fitted. He is a businessman who must project leadership. He also requires ten pairs of slacks and half-sleeve shirts, and five sports jackets. That will get him to November.
“Shari, love, this is Mr. Stone. He is a junior executive. He requires the same number, but he must not eclipse his boss.” Owen gave orders, “I will be sending more to you, so get your tailors moving. Each client needs two within forty-eight hours.”
“Hmm. Kip, you are six feet, 195 pounds, V-shaped torso. Muscular thighs and upper arms. You’re a swimmer,” Richard said, circling him like a buzzard over prey.
