Be My Forever Bride. Martha Kennerson

I’m Lori Murphy.”

      “These are for you. Mr. Watt has arrived already.”

      “Thank you,” Lori replied, clipping her badge to her jacket.

      “Please follow me to the elevators.” The guard swiped his pass in front of the keypad and the elevator door opened. “As a reminder, Mrs. Kingsley, please enter the elevator one at a time.”

      Brooke thanked him before they entered. Lori followed her in and when the doors closed, she asked, “What was that all about?”

      “Additional security. The doors activate the body-scanning device. That’s why there’s a slight pause before we start moving,” she explained, hitting the buttons to the forty-eighth and fiftieth floor.

      “Wow, they take their security around here very seriously.”

      “Yes they do. The Kingsleys have a lot to protect,” she mumbled.

      “How do you feel?”

      Brooke could see the concern written all over Lori’s face. “I’m fine. We’ll be in and out of here in a few weeks and then it’s back to Paris.”

      “I still can’t believe you’re moving your base to Paris.”

      Brooke shrugged. “With the success of my business, I can work anywhere, so why not France?”

      The elevator came to a stop on the forty-eighth floor. Brooke handed her things to Lori. “You not coming?” Lori asked with a deep frown.

      “I can’t put this off any longer. I’ll see you in a bit.”

      Lori stepped out of the elevator and Brooke plastered on a fake smile, hoping to calm her friend’s fears while she stood and watched the doors close. Brooke knew how worried Lori would be at the thought of her being alone with Brice. Lori understood how Brooke’s unresolved feelings for him could induce a negative physical reaction. However, Brooke also knew that if she didn’t address the very large elephant in the building first thing this morning, her time there would be even more difficult.

      * * *

      Brice stood in front of his vertical desk that sat on the left side of his traditional mahogany one in front of the wall of windows. He was trying to concentrate on the documents before him but failing measurably. He’d barely gotten four hours of sleep the night before, anticipating seeing Brooke again. It had been three months since she left him and a month since he’d seen her in Paris. Brice was experiencing a whirlwind of emotions, none of which he could seem to bring under control.

      “Excuse me, boss,” his beautiful and curvy research assistant interrupted, standing in his doorway.

      Brice smiled at the tall and lovely sight before him. A fact that others had pointed out in hopes that he would consider dating her and move on from Brooke. Most people couldn’t see past her beauty to her brilliant mind. “Come in, Amy.”

      “Everything’s set up for Mrs. Kingsley and her team’s arrival.”

      Amy’s words were like a shot to the gut. He used to love it when people addressed his wife by his last name. Now, hearing it was like nails on a chalkboard. “Thank you.”

      “Can I get you anything?”

      “Yes, actually.” Brice handed her a list of cases he needed researched. “Those are all relevant to the new pipeline. We need to make sure we cover our bases with the affected communities. We don’t want the EPA back in our lives.”

      Amy smiled. “Really? I thought you wanted to handle that project on your own.”

      Brice moved to his stationary desk, sat down and fired up his computer. “Yeah, well, I’m a little distracted,” he admitted, which was an understatement. “Also, can you call my cousin Kristen and tell her I’ll need to take a rain check on dinner tonight?”

      “Sure thing, and I’ll be down the hall in the law library if you need me.”

      “Thanks and close the door behind you, please.” Brice only wished he could stay hidden in his office during Brooke’s short stay.

      * * *

      Brooke stood in front of Brice’s office door, pushed out a quick breath and raised her balled fist to knock—only she couldn’t do it. She was suddenly hit with the memory of the first time she’d met Brice in that very office nearly three years earlier.

      * * *

      She walked into the office to find the most handsome man she’d ever seen wearing an expensive-looking gray suit and wireless headphones while he stared at his computer. Brooke had never found herself at a loss for words, yet the man before her, with his light-colored skin, dark, curly hair and full, sexy lips, were wreaking havoc on her system. “Excuse me,” Brooke said, walking up to his desk and waving, trying to get his attention.

      Brice removed his headphones and quickly got to his feet. “May I help you?” His eyes roamed her body. Brooke fought the urge to look down to make sure her black pencil skirt, matching jacket and white blouse didn’t have a stain or something on it. She was extremely happy she’d worn her five-inch heels to raise her five-foot seven-inch frame because she just knew he had to be at least six-feet tall.

      Brooke looked up at the handsome man with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips, hoping her nervousness wasn’t showing. After all, this was her first major client for her new firm. “I apologize if I’m intruding. They sent me up from downstairs but no one’s out front. My name is Brooke Smith and I’m looking for Mr. Brice Kingsley.”

      “I’m Brice Kingsley,” he replied, smiling and showing off a beautiful set of white teeth.

      Brooke extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

      Brice gave it a small shake. “Likewise, but it’s six fifteen in the morning. Why are you here so early?”

      “I like to get started early while it’s still quiet. It’s usually the only time I can enjoy my jazz at full blast before others get in and I have to wear my headphones,” she explained.

      The corners of his mouth quirked up. “You like jazz?”

      Surprise was written all over his face. “I love it,” she assured him.

      “I do too. Please have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

      “Yes, cream and sugar, please,” Brooke replied, taking a seat in one of the large round chairs in front of his desk.

      Brice walked over to a small table next to his desk where a vintage coffee station had been set up. He poured her a cup, pulled a vanilla-flavored creamer from the desk drawer along with several packets of sugar. He handed her the cup and placed the cream, sugar and a stirrer straw in front of her.

      “Please.” He directed her attention to the condiments. “Help yourself.”

      “Thank you.” Brooke added the sugar and creamer to her coffee and took a sip. “Very good.”

      “You sound surprised.” His brows were standing at attention.

      “Honestly, I am.” Brooke smiled over her cup at the amused look on his face. “But I’m also impressed. A lot of men can’t make a good cup of coffee.”

      “You have to have the right mixture of water to bean,” Brice explained.

      “Now I’m really impressed,” she admitted. “Most men don’t know that.”

      Brice took a seat behind his desk. “I’m the one impressed. Your catch saved us millions of dollars. I still can't believe our former tax accountants had been using several incorrect forms and overlooking valuable deductions. I can’t imagine your bosses at the IRS are very happy with you.”

      “Not at all. They fired me.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, frowning.

      “Don’t