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Holding the bagel aloft, she eyeballed her unexpected visitor. “This from you?”
He shrugged, then hitched the trousers of his gray suit over his stomach. The acrid smell of tobacco wafted her way, Fred’s de facto cologne. “You did a good job on your presentation. I guess you know your stuff, even if you seem kind of young.” He glanced at her before taking an excessive interest in an old water stain on her ceiling.
“Thank you.” How sweet, even if it felt a bit like a backhanded compliment. She gave him a bright smile. “This was a very nice gesture.”
His stubby fingers toyed with the tip of one ear. “I, ah, could use your help on the government report I mentioned. It’s due at the end of the month. You might have noticed we don’t have a lot of administrative help here. Jared runs a lean operation.”
“I’d be happy to help. What do you need me to do?” Her offer at the executive team meeting may have made her look a bit like a suck-up, but the more she learned about LAI’s operation, the better she could do her job promoting the success of LAI’s projects to Congress so they stayed funded.
Fred tossed a substantial-looking document on her desk. “Here’s a copy of last year’s annual compliance report. Look it over. Each division is supposed to provide project summaries and financials, but Meier and Mackay travel often, and I always have to harp on them for the documentation I need.”
Sophia kept her expression neutral even as her insides buzzed with nervous energy. “I can start with their divisions if you’d like.” Fred had just given her the perfect opportunity to peek into Lachlan Mackay’s files.
Fred snorted. “Good luck, and uh, thanks.” He flashed her a brief but genuine smile that reached his weary brown eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, and shuffled off without another word.
She picked up her bagel and took another bite, chewing slowly. Her brief interactions with LAI’s head of global security so far had been unnerving. Lachlan did more than make her jumpy. When he was nearby, he generated some kind of magnetic current to which her feminine senses were particularly attuned. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to like her. And why was that? She hadn’t done anything to earn his disapproval.
Yet.
Her appetite disappeared beneath a twinge of guilt. If Lachlan Mackay was involved in activities that undermined all the good LAI and other companies were trying to do to help the people of Afghanistan, he deserved to be exposed.
With a last lingering glance at the remainder of her bagel, she tossed it into the trash. Time to strap on mental armor and beard the Scottish lion in his den.
Her heart gave a strange flutter. Nerves. It had to be nerves.
She took her time walking down the hall until she came to the door with the nameplate that read,Lachlan Mackay, Director, Global Security. What was it about the man that had her so off-balance? It could be that he was a bit hostile and, possibly, a criminal. It had nothing to do with his model face and hard, masculine body wrapped in wicked temptation that a girl like her only read about in steamy novels.
A Billy Joel song about a good Catholic girl and a bad boy popped into her head. She rolled her eyes at the fanciful left turn her brain had just taken and raised her fist to deliver two firm knocks on his door. Her pulse pounded hard enough to feel at the base of her throat.
“Come in.” The deep voice that answered was infused with the lilting melody of the Highlands.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, pasted a polite smile on her face, and opened the door.
Lachlan’s office was larger than hers. Tall glass windows also lined his back wall, but his blinds were closed, denying the space the benefit of natural light from the sunny afternoon. His desk was the size of Jared’s but darker—espresso rather than cherry. In place of a credenza, two tall, four-drawer filing cabinets sat against the side wall. Three canvas panels, each showing a section of a rocky seashore, hung between the filing cabinets and a small round table and chairs near the windows.
Great.She glanced down at her plum skirt and jacket with a wince. She matched the fabric covering his chairs.
He was seated behind his desk, minus his suit coat. The crisp white fabric of his dress shirt stretched across broad shoulders and muscular biceps. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the black hair on his forearms, his face a mask of grim concentration as his fingers pecked at the computer keyboard. The sight of a ballpoint pen lodged behind his ear was oddly comforting. It made him look friendlier.
He looked up, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face.
She bit back a sigh.So much for friendly.
“What can I do for you?” From his dismissive tone, she could tell there was nothing he’d like to do for her, which stung.
She raised her chin and held eye contact. “Fred asked for my help with the government report. Starting with your division.”
He sat back with an irritated huff and flicked the pen behind his ear onto the desk. It bounced and skidded along the smooth wood surface before being stopped by a large cream envelope and matching cardstock.
Her shoulders hunched at the display of temper before she could control her reaction, drawing his gaze. His lips pursed, and a brief flash of what looked like regret darkened his emerald eyes to a deep jade.
Nothing escaped this man.
He ran his fingers through his hair, dislodging the neatly groomed locks at his forehead. “I don’t have time for this right now. I’ve been out of country and have other work to catch up on.”
Now she knew why the wayward strands were out of place and, once again, found herself wanting to smooth them back. Her cheeks warmed.
Work.She was here to do a job. “I understand.”