Switched Read Free

said I needed a party venue. Why are you here?”
    “This is unbelievable.” His mouth stayed open even after he stopped talking.
    His shock was nothing compared to hers. No matter how hard she tried to blink, she couldn’t. She took in the same sexy eyes. Same dark brown hair he liked to smooth his hand through. A dark suit and a firm jaw.
    But not everything about him looked familiar. She focused on the gun tucked into the holster at his waist. “Since when does a tax attorney carry a gun?”
    He held up his hands. “Keep your voice down.”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    “Not at all.” His voice barely carried over the soft hum from the heating vent above her head. “I can explain all of this.”
    Fury blew over her with the force of a hurricane. “While you’re at it, maybe you can make up an excuse for why you didn’t call after our last date.”
    “What?”
    “You know, the dinner we had. The call you never made.” Her head buzzed with red-hot rage at the memory.
    He finally clamped his jaw shut. “This isn’t the right time.”
    “Oh, really?”
    He winced the second before he glanced behind him again. “Look, I know this is awkward.”
    “No kidding.” This time she did keep her voice down, but only because she was muttering.
    “In my defense, I’ve been a little busy.” His mouth hovered over her ear as he spoke.
    “Lying takes up a lot of your time, does it?” Now he had her whispering. And arguing in a bathroom stall on an empty floor of a not-yet-opened building.
    The day just kept getting better and better.
    “We can fight about this later, which I’m not looking forward to at all, by the way, but right now we have to—” He reached for her again.
    “Since when are you so grabby?” She shrugged out of his grasp and then stopped when she spied the tiny lines of tension around his mouth. “What is it?”
    “I need you to stay calm.”
    “I’m not thirteen. I can take bad news.” She fought the urge to ruin her point by rolling her eyes.
    “Then you won’t lose it when I tell you we have to hide.”
    She tried to stop her eyes from blinking so fast. “I didn’t say that.”
    * * *
    A NGIE T ROUTMAN STOOD up from the empty table without bothering to scan the room. People were staring and whispering because that’s what these losers did. So much jealousy packed into one small room. The room pulsed with it. She was almost sorry she’d talked Lowell into wasting money on them. Their lack of gratitude choked out any chance of enjoying the party.
    She scanned the unhappy faces for Palmer, official Craft security, but instead spied a member of the outside team hired to back up Palmer. Not that the backup team viewed itself as anything other than being in charge. She’d warned Lowell about the potential turf war and he’d ignored her, citing the death threats.
    Men never listened.
    She tried for eye contact with the random security guard nearby. She couldn’t remember his name. It was something odd, one of those names parents chose when they wanted to be clever but ultimately ended up dooming their children to snickers.
    But the name didn’t matter. She had a bigger issue. Aaron McBain had been trouble since he’d walked through the Craft lobby doors and taken over without saying a word. Something about his presence demanded attention. He issued orders and people jumped.
    Worse, bringing him on board added to the Craft hierarchy, a pyramid she’d already given up so much to climb. After only a few days in the building, McBain had showed up everywhere, making it nearly impossible for her to speak privately with Lowell when needed. And now, when she needed him to stay in one place and in clear sight, McBain had disappeared off the floor. Hardly the keen skills of a crack security expert promised by the lucrative contract he’d signed with Craft.
    Since his assistant—whatever his name was—was talking to someone rather than looking at her, she poked him in the arm to get his