“That is a scheduling conflict.”
“So that’s what we’re calling it.”
He poured two mugs of coffee and slid one toward me. I blew on it and sipped. “I should go.”
“Of course you should.”
He watched me pick up my keys. “Dominic is upstairs,” I said.
“I know.”
“Lock the gate behind me.”
“I live here. I know how to—“
“Both you and Dominic are learning.”
Luca tilted his head slightly. “You’re very charming in the morning.”
“I try to be consistent.”
“That’s one word for it.”
At the door, I stopped long enough to look back at Luca. He held his coffee mug in one hand and smiled. “Drive carefully,” he said.
“I always do.”
“Thiago.”
I paused.
“You buttoned your shirt wrong.”
I looked down. He was right. I hastily fixed it.
“I’ll be here when you come back.”
I wanted to kiss him again, but that wasn’t an option. I was already late.
As I stepped outside, I was already calculating the route to the airport and the conversation with Eamon waiting for me.
He wouldn’t fly to New Orleans for a social call. If he landed early, it meant something in his plans had changed
***
Eamon had a carry-on and no patience. He slid into the passenger seat of the SUV, shut the door, and looked at me.
“You’re tired.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He settled the bag at his feet. Standing just over six feet, Eamon had ginger hair cropped military-short. He didn’t fidget, and he had a habit of touching his close-cropped beard with three fingertips when sliding deep into thought.
“How’s the client?” he asked.
“Opinionated. Controlled. Refuses visible security.”
