7. Imagining Things
IMAGINING THINGS
“What?” Paris said into the phone, then pulled it back to look at it as if it’d reached out and bit her. “There is no reason for this, West.”
“It’s my building, my decision,” West said. “It’s going to be done and you and London can design it any way you want to make it warm and welcoming.”
“London isn’t touching it. She doesn’t know how to make anything warm. And do you know how hard it’s going to be to work during construction?”
Just the thought of that alone was making her shiver, her knee bouncing so hard that it was almost hitting her desk.
“It will be started and finished over the weekend. Come Monday all that will be left to do is paint. You can live through that, I’m sure.”
“Do you promise?” she asked.
“It’s not as much work as you think,” West said. “It’s getting done, end of story.”
“Guess that says it all.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t lost on me. But I don’t want to deal with my aunt and uncle if they find out and I didn’t do something about it.”
“Oh, West. That’s the lowest form of guilt. I thought you were better than that.”
Her cousin laughed. “I’m not afraid to use any weapon I can. I mean it, Paris. This is about safety and I should have done it to begin with.”
She blew a breath out. “Fine. I hope I get to help design it before it’s built. Or don’t I get any say in it?”
“You’ll get a say. I’ve got people working on getting a crew ready. With any luck, maybe this weekend we can get it thrown up, if not next weekend.”
“Fine. Is that all?”
“No. Fletcher will be down to meet with you this afternoon to get more information on what happened and all the people involved. Security cameras will also be installed tonight.”
Paris heard nothing else other than Fletcher would be down.
She was already ready to kill her sister, but this only amped it up more.
“Why does he need to come here?”
“Because I said so.”
“Now you sound like my father when you don’t want to dispute it anymore.”
“It’s not a dispute nor a discussion. It’s a fact,” West said.
Which meant she had to put a lid on it. “Is he even going to reach out and let me know when he’ll be here?”
“Most likely. He’s not the type to just show up. He knows you’re busy.”
There was no use arguing, so she’d save her breath. “Thanks.”
“I heard the sarcasm. I’ll have chocolate sent down.” Her cousin hung up after that.
She looked at the phone again and slammed it down.
“London!”
“Coming,” her sister said cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”
“Rat.”
“I love you too.”
“Don’t pull that with me,” she said.
“Then stop acting like this wasn’t a big deal because we both know it was. And... if I’d been here, I would have assaulted him, so consider it a favor to me for not needing my boyfriend to defend me in court.”
“Go,” she said, waving her hand to the door.
“You might have time to go home and change before Fletcher gets here.”
Her lips disappeared behind her teeth, her eyes widened and she might have snarled.
Her sister laughed, turned and walked out of her office to hers across the hall.
Paris looked down at her blue skirt. Her shoes were off and her bare toes were on the carpet. Not even power pumps like she would have put on if she knew she’d be seeing him. But cute wedges that went with her long skirt.
A long flowing skirt that wasn’t even the least bit sexy.
Which she had no business thinking of at a time like this.
When her computer dinged, she lifted her eyes to her email and saw one from Fletcher Wilcox.
Damn. Didn’t even let the dust settle before she got off the phone with West.
She’d bet he was standing right there while West issued orders.
She touched her mouse, opened the email and laughed.
Short and sweet. I’m available to meet when it’s convenient for you.
That’s it. Nothing more. No explanation.
Not that he really needed to give one.
Might as well get it over with. “London, we are going to have a visitor in twenty minutes or less so change anything you’re doing.”
“You just can’t wait to get your eyes on him again.”
She silently snarled. No use letting her sister know that statement hit with sharp precision.
“I just want to get this over with.”
“Keep lying to yourself,” London sang out.
No use arguing.
She typed back short and sweet. I’m available now.
If they were texting, she was positive she’d see the bubbles on the screen because the reply was back before she exhaled out the large breath she’d sucked in.
“He’s on his way down now,” she shouted to her sister across the hall.
Talk about unprofessional. Though Molly was used to it.
“Guess he can’t wait to see you either.”
She wasn’t going to answer. She was done yelling, even if she started it.
A minute passed, and London appeared in the doorway.
“Come in,” she said. “I didn’t even have time to tell you about West’s conversation.”
“I heard most of it from your end.”
“Yeah. He’s already got it in the works for the construction. No arguing, but I’ll see the plans before it’s done.”
“How much noise are we going to be dealing with?” London asked. “Might be better to work from home.”
“A weekend job. We’ll come in and it will be done. Painting might be the only thing left on a Monday. It pays to have the last name Carlisle.”
“As long as it’s done quickly, I don’t care. We don’t need another episode like that.”
“It’s not likely to ever happen again,” Paris argued. “We’ve never dealt with anything like that before.”
“Nope. But we are in a much bigger city now.”
“Whatever.”
London snickered. “Someone has their skirt twisted. What’s the matter, not feeling powerful dressed like you belong in a cult?”
Her nose twitched and it only reminded her to bend down and put her shoes back on.
“I’m very comfortable today. Business casual.”
“You look fresh,” London said. “Sweet. But we know that is your personality and not mine. I wonder what Fletcher will think of it after what you had on last time when you’d planned on his eyes landing on you.”
“Shhh. He’s going to be here soon. And you’re imagining things.”
“I don’t think so,” London said. “Are we meeting in here?”
“No, the conference room.”
“Are you going to get him when he comes in or let Molly do it? And maybe let Molly know so she doesn’t take one look at him and think someone else is coming in to terrorize us.”
“Just stop,” she said. “I wasn’t terrorized.”
London huffed out a breath. Maybe her sister was a little right.
“If you say so. Fletcher?”
“I’ll go meet him when he gets here.” She picked up her phone. “Molly, Fletcher Wilcox will be here any minute. I’ll come get him. He’s the Head of Security for The Carlisle Group.”
“I know who he is,” Molly said. “I’ll let you know when he arrives.”
She hung up the phone. “Do you think Fletcher talked to her?”
“No,” London said. “He found out today. So I doubt it.”
And Molly would have told her on top of it.
“I’m going to make sure the coffee is filled. Every time I’ve seen him he has a cup in his hand.”
“Every time?” London asked. “How often do you see him? Why am I just hearing this now?”
“Stop. I can’t right now.”
She waved her hands around her head in frustration and went into the kitchen to get the box of coffee and fill the stand in the conference room.
Her phone was ringing, so she ran to get it. “Yes.”
“Fletcher is here.”
“Thanks, Molly.”
She ran her hands over her white sweater that was at least fitted to her frame and stopped at the top of her skirt, then walked out. Not much she could do about how she looked.
It wasn’t like she looked bad.
She just didn’t look as good as she’d like if she knew she was going to be seeing him again.
Which was completely ridiculous and she wished her mind would stop going in that direction.
Paris marched down the hall full of pep and a touch of vinegar, saw Fletcher standing with his back to her and looking at some of the art she had on the wall.
It gave her a moment to look at his broad shoulders, his neat short hair, long legs in pants that were tailored to his height.
She was pretty sure he had some muscle under his clothes, but he wasn’t really letting too many people see it closely.
Not like some men who wore their shirts tight on purpose.
“Stop staring,” London whispered in her ear.
She jumped. “Don’t sneak up on me,” she hissed. “Hi, Fletcher.”
He turned. No smile on his face. Not even relaxed. No annoyance either.
Just kind of stone like as always.
“You know why I’m here. I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said.
His voice was smooth. So smooth it felt like water flowing over her skin.
“We’ve got time,” London said. “Right, Paris?”
“Of course. What West wants, West gets.”
“Don’t be that way,” London said. “We’ll meet in the conference room, Fletcher.”
Her sister nudged her arm. “Yes, sorry. It’s down the hall.”
She turned and knew he was following behind her. It was as if she felt his eyes on her back.
Maybe her step had her swishing her skirt a bit more and she hated herself for that.
She walked in ahead of him and held her hand out. “Have a seat. Can I get you a coffee? Water?”
“Water is good,” he said.
She noticed he didn’t have his cup with him. “A change from your coffee?”
“You just assume coffee is in my cup. Assumptions can bite people in the butt.”
She wasn’t going to let him get to her.
Instead, she bent at the fridge in the conference room, pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him, then got one for herself.
“What is it you’d like to know?”
“I want to hear in your words exactly what happened on Friday. I’ll be talking to Molly also.”
“You’re not going to ask if that is okay?”
London’s face shrank back. Maybe she was a little harsh with that question.
But geez, he started it making that comment about assumptions.
Though she asked the coffee question. Maybe he thought she threw the first dart when she was only making conversation.
By now she should realize there was no idle conversation with the guy.
“I don’t report to you and I don’t believe you have as much control as you wish in this situation.”
“Burn on you,” London said. “And I own half the business and Molly would love to talk to you about this. She’ll feel much safer to know you’re on it.”
Her sister was kissing ass.
London never kissed anyone’s ass.
“As I told London earlier, you don’t know what you need until something happens and then you will prepare or avoid the next instance. Now we know, now it won’t happen again,” he said calmly, matter-of-factly.
“A wall isn’t going to stop someone from yelling at us,” Paris said, lifting her chin.
“I’m positive you can handle a little bit of a raised voice if you’re protected behind a wall and know there are cameras on you. There will be a panic button installed and it will go right to my phone and my team. Someone will be here immediately.”
“That makes me feel much better,” London said. “And as I pointed out to everyone earlier, when hiring new staff, I’m sure it will make them feel more secure also.”
Paris let out a breath. “You’re right.”
London turned to Fletcher. “I’ve got a witness to that. It doesn’t happen often in my sister’s eyes.”
“Why don’t we get on with this,” she said. “I’m sure Fletcher is extremely busy and this isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Don’t keep lying to yourself,” London said.
Seemed like something she’d been doing for weeks now.