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Sophia leaned against the wall, her stomach flip-flopping all over the place like a fish out of water. Her presentation had to be perfect. This job was important to her, and she was determined to impress her new colleagues.
Then there was her other task—the one from Admiral Dane.
Lachlan Mackay.
Did Jared Landry know he might have a traitor in his midst?
No one has to know.
Sophia’s nerves settled after Penny showed her to her new office. It was a significant step up from the cramped, windowless government cubicle she’d had for the past few years. The glass behind her desk took up most of the exterior wall, and she reveled in the glorious natural light. She’d hang her bachelor’s and master’s diplomas on the wall to her left and her framed poster of Monet’sThe Artist’s Garden at Giverny,with its purple brushstroke flowers, on the wall by the door. She made a mental note to bring in a small potted palm for the corner and another plant for the top of her credenza.
Taking a seat at her desk, she placed her favorite photo of her and Emily at their college graduation, tucked away in her briefcase this morning.
The executive committee meeting was at eleven o’clock. She logged into her office computer with her new security credentials and got to work. After two hours, she gave her presentation one last critical eye, then clicked the print icon. Penny had warned her some of her new colleagues were still old school and would want to see handouts. Once her presentation registered in the network’s print queue, she hurried down the hall to the central copy room, scanning her speaker notes on her tablet one last time.
Rounding the corner, she bounced off an unexpected wall of fabric and muscle. The tablet flew from her grasp. She staggered back, and her ankle gave way. A pair of large male hands shot out to wrap around her upper arms, steadying her so she didn’t tumble to the floor in an embarrassing heap.
She peered up at her tall savior. The reflexive thank you forming in her mouth died. Her hormones, on the other hand, sprang to life. Her blood heated, sparks of arousal arrowing straight to her center.
Emerald eyes with traces of gold around the irises swept her in a bold perusal. His face was marred only by a thin white scar on his chin and a shadow of ruthlessness around his mouth and eyes. A few strands of neatly trimmed ebony hair had rebelled at his attempts to sweep them back and hung defiantly across his forehead. For some reason, her fingers itched to brush the wayward locks into place and feel their silky strands against her skin.
He let her go to crouch and pick up her tablet. Her attention snagged on his grimace when he straightened and handed her the device.
“Lachlan Mackay.” His name slipped out, and she froze. They hadn’t met yet; she shouldn’t know who he was. Her secret agent skills needed work.
One arrogant black brow arched as he looked down his perfectly straight nose at her. “Aye, and you are?”
She straightened to her full height, barely reaching his shoulder even in heels, ignored her runaway pulse, and thrust out her hand. “Sophia Russo, the new director of legislative affairs.”
The body she had slammed into under the dark navy suit was rock hard, with no soft parts whatsoever. He really was a Hot Scot.
Her traitorous cheeks heated.Great.The curse of fair skin. She probably looked like a neon sign.
His large hand engulfed hers briefly, then let go as if he didn’t care to waste time on such niceties. “You might want to pay attention when you’re walking.” His melodic Scottish accent and deep voice poured like finely aged whisky over her senses. He smelled good, too, a clean, woodsy, masculine scent that made her want to lean into him and take a deeper sniff.
Until his words and the irritated tone he’d wrapped them in finally registered. Sophia’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She’d nearly ended up on the floor, not him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he was the one who needed to watch where he was going.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized instead. The firm, assured tone of voice she’d been aiming for came out breathless as if he’d stolen all the air from her lungs. The flames heating her cheeks leaped to singe her ears. This was not the impression she’d hoped to make on LAI’s head of global security, especially as she would need to find a reason to stick her nose in his business.
He glanced at the military-style watch adorning his wrist. “I assume you’ll be at the executive team meeting in thirty minutes, then?”
“Yes.” She waved her arm in the general direction of the copy room. “I’m making copies. Of my presentation. For the meeting.”Great. Now she was rambling.
Judging by the scowl on the Hot Scot’s face, he was not impressed. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” With a nod, he brushed past her and strode down the corridor. The barest hitch in his gait didn’t diminish the aura of power and hint of danger surrounding him.
She rubbed her shoulder where it still tingled from the heat of his touch. Admiral Dane wanted her to spy on this guy? Her stomach gave a nervous flutter.
Lachlan Mackay might be drool-worthy, but he gave off an unfriendly vibe.
Had his military experience so jaded him that he could sell weapons to the enemy and not care about the people whose lives would be ruined by his actions? There was only one way to find out.
She had to get him to trust her.
Chapter Five
LachlanstudiedLAI’snewestemployee as she stood next to the video monitor mounted on the conference room wall at the far end of the long rectangular table. The can lights in the ceiling highlighted strands of copper threaded through the deeper red of Sophia Russo’s hair.
She was a wee thing, bonnie in a fresh, wholesome way, her body made of soft curves he’d registered when she’d bounced off him in the hall. Her eyes were a light brown embedded with flecks of green and gold, her oval-shaped face ending in a slightly squared chin with just the suggestion of a dimple in the center. She’d make a terrible poker player, her expressive features mirroring her every thought. He guessed she was in her mid-to-late twenties—a bit young for her new position.