She lets out a breath. “At least I can makeyousweat.”
“You can definitely do that,” I say, stepping closer. My arms slide around her waist. “Don’t worry. Most of these guys you’ve already met. There are some new faces, but they all know who you are.”
She takes a deep breath, shoulders lifting. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
I dip my head so she has to look at me. “We don’t have to do this today.”
“No,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “If I put it off, I’ll just spend all day thinking about it.”
I nod. “Fair. And if anyone gives you trouble, let me know and I’ll punch them.”
She laughs, looping her arms around my neck. “You’ll just punch them?”
“Yep,” I say seriously. “Even if it’s a girl. Right in the face.”
She laughs harder and kisses me quickly. “You’re a doofus.”
I shrug, then lean down and kiss her more deeply.
Because I love this. Us like this. Back on track.
Chapter Three
Jess
As the elevator climbs to the seventh floor of the Unity Building, home of R&D Associates, I try not to let any of my nerves show.
Logan said I have no reason to be worried, and I’m not. Not completely. But it’s been a good five years since I contributed to society in a way that didn’t involve raising quality little men.
Logan squeezes my hand, and I give him a small smile in the reflection of the mirrored walls.
God, do they clean this thing every day? The mirrors in our house don’t even shine this well.
I guess with both of us being hotshots again, we can finally hire that housekeeper.
I’m kidding. We already have one.
Logan and I were hired at R&D Associates straight out of college. Me in management, him as muscle. It didn’t take our boss long to realize Logan was more than just his size and strength.
He started mentoring my husband to take over without us even realizing it. We bought Mr. Duncan out completely three years ago.
Now we co-own the place.
The office isn’t a typical corporate setup. Since we’re a service firm, the elevator opens directly into a waiting area and reception desk instead of rows of cubicles.
Past that is the surveillance room.
While we don’t install cameras ourselves, we monitor them if the client requires it. That’s also where the tracking feeds from our field employees come in. Every operative wears one. Several workstations line the room, staffed around the clock.
The next door down is the employee break room. There’s a massive eighty-five-inch screen mounted on the wall, usually reserved for games or reality TV, and a small kitchenette for the workers on standby or break.
At the end of the hall sits Logan’s assistant and operations manager.
Mackie.
Her desk.
The one that used to be mine.
