The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair. Sara Orwig

to the door.

      Anna stood stone still for a full minute after the door slammed; the only thing moving was her poor, overworked heart as it tried to redirect blood back into her brain.

      Finally, she sank into a chair and took a breath.

      She had all night to do his spreadsheets. She needed that run in the worst way. The way she felt right now, she could tear down Biscayne Boulevard, cross the MacArthur Causeway and throw herself into the Atlantic Ocean and it wouldn’t erase the fire and need in her body.

      But she would try.

      “I gave her plenty of rope,” Parker said, taking a sip of the draft beer Stephen had just handed him. Instead of hops and wheat, he tasted misery. And regret.

      “You gave her all fake numbers, right?” Stephen leaned back on Brittany Beach’s comfortable couches as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

      He didn’t, Parker thought drily. Stephen hadn’t just arranged an elaborate setup that could ruin a woman he respected. A woman he liked.

      A woman he wanted so bad he could howl at the rising moon.

      “Yeah,” Parker said. “Every single line item a lie.” He checked his watch, imagining his dutiful secretary entering made-up profits into a spreadsheet. Would she e-mail that file directly to Jordan Jefferies?

      “And you’re sure she’ll do the work on your PC, not hers?”

      Parker nodded. “I set it up that way.”

      “And you’re sure you installed the software?” Stephen prodded. “The one that tracks every keystroke?”

      “Yes,” Parker answered impatiently.

      “Cool stuff, isn’t it?”

      “Very. I just wish I wasn’t using it to bring down Anna.”

      “To bring down a spy,” Stephen reminded him. “I have that on my PC, too. It’s just smart protection. Did you know it was invented by a private investigator?”

      A P.I. That didn’t make Parker feel any better about spying on the woman whose only sin might just be having perfect legs. And a killer smile. And beautiful hair. And that sweet laugh. And a sharp intellect. And—

      “You’re having second thoughts.”

      Parker sipped the beer, which still tasted flat and bad. “I’m way past second, bro.”

      “Hey, if she’s the spy, this will be the smartest business move you ever made. You’re a hero for trapping her.”

      He didn’t feel like a hero. He felt like a heel. Keeping her close all day long, feeding her BS just to see if she’d spread his lies to the competition. And all the while, every time she moved or breathed or looked at him with all that unmistakable longing in her eyes, his whole being constricted with the fight not to take her in his arms and annihilate her with his mouth.

      “What if someone else gets to my computer and it’s not even Anna?” he said as the bizarre thought took hold. “What if she gets blamed for something she didn’t do?”

      “What are the chances of that?” Stephen asked.

      “Slim. None.”

      “Relax. Here comes Brittany.” Stephen gave his sister an inviting wave. “Let’s torture her.”

      But Parker’s heart wasn’t into teasing his sister, so he let Stephen and Brittany talk while he stared at the horizon.

      A beautiful redheaded model glided by and gave him an interested smile, but he just looked past her, his mind seeing a different woman altogether. A little while later, Brittany introduced him to her newest waitress, Tiffany, and he barely noticed her generous cleavage, so she turned her charms on Stephen. Even the arrival of two Miami Heat cheerleaders didn’t snag his attention.

      Brittany brought him another beer. “Your first one’s flat and warm by now.” She picked up the barely touched pilsner glass. “If I didn’t know you as an arrogant master of the universe, I’d say you were lovesick tonight.”

      Parker pulled his focus from the darkening Atlantic Ocean to his sister. “I’m not lovesick, Britt.”

      She laughed. “No argument on arrogant, I see.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Then what’s your problem?”

      He swallowed the smart-ass retort he’d usually give his sister and just shook his head. “Business, of course.”

      “Of course,” she said, perching on the rattan armrest of the sofa. “It’s never anything else with you, is it?”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

      She shrugged. “Just wondering if there’s a heart in that big old chest of yours, or just a calculator.”

      Was that how he seemed? To her? To everyone? To Anna? The thought made his chest ache. Not the way a calculator would at all.

      A customer called Brittany and she stood, giving Parker a rare squeeze on the shoulder. “Too bad you’re such a machine, Parker. If you’d loosen up, I might actually like you.”

      He looked up, ready to remind his sister that she had the right to be flighty; she was the youngest. He, on the other hand, had the weight of the family name on his firstborn shoulders. But Brittany had taken off, and Stephen was flirting with the new girl.

      He’d had enough.

      “Where are you going?” Stephen asked when Parker stood and set the new beer on the table with a thud.

      “I’m leaving,” he said vaguely.

      Stephen frowned at him. “You changed your mind?”

      Parker opened his mouth to argue, but just held up a hand. “I’m going to handle this my way.” He hustled away before his brother could argue.

      If she was the spy, he’d catch her in the act. Forget tracking her keystrokes and placing blame, he’d walk in and find her there, make her freeze before she had time to close whatever info she was stealing and then they could have it out.

      He’d fire her and she’d be gone, no chance for an excuse.

      This catching-her-with-software was just not his style.

      Propelled by the need to take action, and maybe by the need to see her again, regardless of what he found her doing, Parker was in his car in no time. He zipped back over the causeway and whipped down Brickell toward his office. He parked underground in the high-rise and made it to the elevator in a few steps, his blood already spiked.

      Would he tell her he’d set her up? Would she be gone already? The elevator seemed to drag up each of the twenty-two floors as his gut tightened in anticipation.

      The soft ding of the elevator echoed in the empty hall. To his left, the wide glass doors of Garrison, Inc. were closed and locked, the reception area bathed in shadows formed by up lighting under the brass Garrison logo on one wall.

      He had a key, of course, and turned it quietly, then locked the door behind him. He stood for a moment near Sheila’s desk, listening. He heard nothing.

      Could Anna be gone? Something like disappointment shifted in his stomach and he walked soundlessly down the hall to his office.

      Anna’s desk was empty, her computer off. But the file with the spreadsheet information was right on top. Curious, he opened it. It was untouched. She hadn’t done it yet? In two hours? Had she spent the entire time raiding his computer?

      His door was closed tightly and he paused, wondering if he should just use his key or jiggle the handle. The latter could alert her and she could quickly clear the screen.

      But her moves would be tracked with the software.

      He jiggled, but it was locked. Quickly, he slid his key in and with a dramatic thrust, pushed