by making them wait.
âYou may have an audience alone, Mr. Nash, and your companions may make themselves comfortable until theyâre needed,â the butler instructed carefully.
Liam nodded shortly in acknowledgment and he looked back at his team. He touched his watch and silently made a sign meaning âfifteen minutes.â They would make contact one way or another by then; comprehension was in their eyes.
Nash turned and followed the manservant out of the room and up a sweeping staircase that was the centerpiece of the entryway. From the tumbled travertine marble beneath the fine indigo carpet protecting it, to the highly polished brass banisters, it spoke of art and style as much as function.
He took note of everything he passed, counting rooms and hallways, marking exposures and exits. It wasnât much of an assessment because he was shortly led into a large room little different from the one heâd left Inez and Kellen in. It was another parlor of sorts with plainly upholstered furnishings in a very spartan style. There were minimal pieces, making the hung artwork the central focus. Liam noted a second set of doors at the opposite side of the long room and at once realized this was where his future client would enter.
He wasnât disappointed. When he heard the click of a turning latch a few minutes later, he faced the approach with nothing between himself and the door. This left a long expanse of carpeting to act as a runway, and he would use the span to observe his prospective client. The doors opened with a burst of energy, a no-nonsense movement and confidence, and in walked Devon Candler.
Time suddenly ground to a halt for Liam. Every single muscle in his heavily powered body contracted abruptly with shock.
Devon Candler was a woman.
She entered the room with a display of powerful presence, blatant femininity, and the most mouth-watering curves Liam had ever laid eyes on. And just like that, in the breadth of a nanosecond, Devon Candler robbed Liam Nash of his peace of mind.
If there was one thing Nash prided himself on, it was his unwavering professionalism. Even when he was off duty he had to maintain a constant level of control. These were dangerous times and there was no telling what troubles could crop up unexpectedly. Considered a deadly weapon even if he were stripped naked, Liam had always taken his responsibility to exercise caution and discrimination very seriously.
His entire morning had been spent in high gear Field Leader mode. That meant that nothing, absolutely nothing , could distract him from his obligations and purpose. Devon Candler shouldnât have made any impressions on him other than what was necessary for divining her intent in the coming transaction.
However, Liamâs reaction as she crossed the threshold to enter the room had nothing at all to do with professional focus. She floated in on a confectionary cloud of white silk and deep, dark sable hair. Her thick mane rippled down her back in long waves like ribbon candy, billowing around her elegant face and collarbone in a fall that exhibited its extraordinary body. Liam felt his fingers twitching as a rapid-fire fantasy of plunging his fingers into that rich drape of dark chocolate hair spat though his mind like a burning acid.
She drew his attention with ever-increasing focus as she began to move toward him, crossing the long span from the doorway just as heâd planned. Or perhaps it was her plan, a part of his analytical and distrusting brain tried to whisper to him. And yet he ignored himself. Didnât even hear himself.
She wore a white dress, if it could even be called a dress. Its halter top caressed the back of her neck, falling over each breast with a neckline that plunged all the way to her navel, and then met up with an ankle-length skirt that fluttered like a banner against her hips and legs as she walked. She might as well have not been wearing anything at all. The material was so
âYou may have an audience alone, Mr. Nash, and your companions may make themselves comfortable until theyâre needed,â the butler instructed carefully.
Liam nodded shortly in acknowledgment and he looked back at his team. He touched his watch and silently made a sign meaning âfifteen minutes.â They would make contact one way or another by then; comprehension was in their eyes.
Nash turned and followed the manservant out of the room and up a sweeping staircase that was the centerpiece of the entryway. From the tumbled travertine marble beneath the fine indigo carpet protecting it, to the highly polished brass banisters, it spoke of art and style as much as function.
He took note of everything he passed, counting rooms and hallways, marking exposures and exits. It wasnât much of an assessment because he was shortly led into a large room little different from the one heâd left Inez and Kellen in. It was another parlor of sorts with plainly upholstered furnishings in a very spartan style. There were minimal pieces, making the hung artwork the central focus. Liam noted a second set of doors at the opposite side of the long room and at once realized this was where his future client would enter.
He wasnât disappointed. When he heard the click of a turning latch a few minutes later, he faced the approach with nothing between himself and the door. This left a long expanse of carpeting to act as a runway, and he would use the span to observe his prospective client. The doors opened with a burst of energy, a no-nonsense movement and confidence, and in walked Devon Candler.
Time suddenly ground to a halt for Liam. Every single muscle in his heavily powered body contracted abruptly with shock.
Devon Candler was a woman.
She entered the room with a display of powerful presence, blatant femininity, and the most mouth-watering curves Liam had ever laid eyes on. And just like that, in the breadth of a nanosecond, Devon Candler robbed Liam Nash of his peace of mind.
If there was one thing Nash prided himself on, it was his unwavering professionalism. Even when he was off duty he had to maintain a constant level of control. These were dangerous times and there was no telling what troubles could crop up unexpectedly. Considered a deadly weapon even if he were stripped naked, Liam had always taken his responsibility to exercise caution and discrimination very seriously.
His entire morning had been spent in high gear Field Leader mode. That meant that nothing, absolutely nothing , could distract him from his obligations and purpose. Devon Candler shouldnât have made any impressions on him other than what was necessary for divining her intent in the coming transaction.
However, Liamâs reaction as she crossed the threshold to enter the room had nothing at all to do with professional focus. She floated in on a confectionary cloud of white silk and deep, dark sable hair. Her thick mane rippled down her back in long waves like ribbon candy, billowing around her elegant face and collarbone in a fall that exhibited its extraordinary body. Liam felt his fingers twitching as a rapid-fire fantasy of plunging his fingers into that rich drape of dark chocolate hair spat though his mind like a burning acid.
She drew his attention with ever-increasing focus as she began to move toward him, crossing the long span from the doorway just as heâd planned. Or perhaps it was her plan, a part of his analytical and distrusting brain tried to whisper to him. And yet he ignored himself. Didnât even hear himself.
She wore a white dress, if it could even be called a dress. Its halter top caressed the back of her neck, falling over each breast with a neckline that plunged all the way to her navel, and then met up with an ankle-length skirt that fluttered like a banner against her hips and legs as she walked. She might as well have not been wearing anything at all. The material was so
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