Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

      WREN’S BLUE EYES WIDENED. For a moment she was silent. “Let’s chat later,” she said into the phone and ended the call. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today, Rhys. Is this official security business?”

      “It is. Can you take a minute to talk?”

      Her eyes darted to the door. “I was supposed to be starting my shift on the front desk in a few minutes.”

      “We can talk there.”

      A crease formed between her brows. “Sean doesn’t like it if we’re sitting around talking.”

      “He hired Cobalt & Dane to look into his security issues, so I’m sure he’ll make an exception.” He hated to be a hard-ass, but it would drive him crazy if he didn’t get to the bottom of Wren’s involvement with Sean Ainslie. “Shall we?”

      She nodded and motioned for him to follow her inside. “Sure.”

      Today she wore a blue skirt that clung to the sweet curve of her hips and ass, accentuating her long lines. A paint-splattered apron sat over a white T-shirt that showed a hint of creamy skin without revealing too much.

      But his mind could fill in the gaps. He knew how soft her shoulders were and how perfectly the swell of her breasts and the gentle indent at her waist filled his palms.

       Stop it. This is business, and you’re not laying a finger on her until you learn the truth.

      “So, what can I help you with?” she asked as she removed her apron and stashed it away in a cupboard behind the desk.

      “Do you know a Kylie Samuels?”

      As the color drained from her face, Rhys realized he’d made a terrible mistake. Perhaps she was a lot better at hiding things than he’d given her credit for. Judging by her expression, Kylie Samuels was more than a simple acquaintance.

      “Can we not talk about this here?” Her hands twisted in her lap.

      “This is work, isn’t it?”

      “Please.” Her eyes darted to the hallway that led to Ainslie’s office. “I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t do it here.”

      Ice trickled through his veins at the hushed tone of her voice. He knew fear when he saw it. But he barricaded his sympathy deep inside. “What are you scared of?”

      “There’s more to Sean than he’s letting on. Something bad is going on here, Rhys.” She drew a deep breath. “And I’m scared I’ve screwed things up with you.”

      Why would she think she’d screwed things up with him if she’d simply forgotten to mention that someone she knew had worked here? It was an admission of guilt if he’d ever heard one.

      “Please let me explain myself. Tonight—I’ll make dinner,” she said with a hopeful smile.

      “Maybe we should go out.” The farther away they were from any flat surfaces the safer it would be, since it was clear his self-control seemed to vanish around her.

      He scribbled the address of a quiet diner not too far from their walk-up. They’d be able to get a booth away from prying eyes and he wouldn’t be tempted to let his body do the thinking for him if they were in a public place.

      “Do you need to speak to Sean while you’re here?” she asked. “I can call him out, if you’d like.”

      “No. Quinn and Owen will run Sean through the new monitoring system later. We’ve also got an update for him with the log-in reports.”

      “Find anything interesting?” she asked.

      “I can’t discuss that with you.”

      “Of course, I was just kidding,” she said, but her eyes were suddenly guarded. Closed off.

      In other words, message received.

      He had to draw a line in the sand with her until he knew exactly where they stood. It had been wrong to assume Wren wasn’t involved from the beginning. Naive, even. But that didn’t mean he had to continue down that path. A mistake could be corrected at any point, and that’s exactly what he would do now.

       11

      RHYS ARRIVED AT the diner early and procured them a booth. He’d been antsy all afternoon, unable to concentrate on the work he’d brought home. Unable to think about anything but how his carefree connection with Wren had become a career hazard. A potential liability.

      Of course, he could be overacting. There might be a perfectly reasonable excuse for her not mentioning her friend’s involvement with the gallery. Perhaps they’d drifted apart and were no longer friends. Or maybe she’d really believed that it wasn’t worth bringing up.

       Nothing wrong with being optimistic, but the rose-colored glasses are coming off now. Your number one priority is to get the facts.

      The moment Wren walked into the diner heads turned in her direction. She was still in the fitted blue pencil skirt, but she’d swapped the T-shirt out for a black lace-trimmed camisole. The effect was mouthwatering. Appreciative eyes swept over Wren from all directions and Rhys found himself fighting back the urge to claim her with a kiss.

       Facts first. Your lips don’t go near her until you have what you need.

      “Hi,” she said almost shyly as she slipped into the seat across from him. A few wavy strands of blond hair had escaped her ponytail and framed her face.

      In the intimate space of the booth, his senses were heightened. The accidental brush of her knee against his almost undid his resolve to keep his hands to himself.

      “This is a cute place,” she said. “I hope their burgers are good, I’m starving.”

      “This isn’t a date, Wren.”

      Her lips pursed. “I know that, but thanks for making yourself clear. I’m still ordering food, though.”

      “I want to make sure we’re on the same page,” he said, signaling to a server. “This is work, nothing else.”

      “Got you loud and clear, Captain,” she replied with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I bet you keep your employees on the straight and narrow.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      Her eyes remained on the menu. “You’re a bit of a hard-ass when you’re in work mode.”

      “Tough but fair, that’s my motto.”

      “Yes, well, I’m sure that’s fine at the office.” She paused as the server took their orders. “But I’m not your employee.”

      He resisted the urge to ask her how she classified their relationship. It wasn’t information that would help him right now. “So tell me how you know Kylie Samuels.”

      “Gee, you’re not wasting any time, are you? Straight down to business.” She poured water into both their glasses, her hands shaking ever so slightly. “She’s an old friend. We grew up together.”

      “And you were aware that she’d interned for a brief period under Sean Ainslie?”

      “Yes.”

      Wren’s entire demeanor had changed—normally, she had this relaxed, fluidity to her movement. Now she appeared stiff and jerky. She wore an expression on her face that was so closed off, she may as well have been wearing a bag over her head.

      “Do you know why she finished up her internship early?”

      Her hands knotted in her lap. “Not exactly.”

      “I