She dials and places the phone between us on speaker.
“Woods residence.”
“Hey, Monica, it’s me. Is my father available?”
“Just a moment. Let me check.”
Wow. So formal. I may need to go back and review Corrine’s background check. What’s going on there?
“Sunshine,” booms through the speaker on the phone.
That’s more of what I was expecting.
“Daddy!” Corrine’s shoulders tense. “Sorry to bother you. There’s been a problem here.” She slips into the most delicious southern drawl.
“Worse than what happened earlier this week?” he asks.
I can hear the stress rising in his voice and the fluster in Corrine’s.
“Mr. Woods?” I interject. “This is Jackson Graham. I’m standing with Corrine and Jim Adelson, the head of my security team and owner of Clear Security. Today, while Corrine and I were at Cecelia Lancaster’s funeral, someone broke into Corrine’s apartment. The home was ransacked. Anything that could be broken was. The police are investigating, so we need Corrine to remain here in San Francisco. I wanted to let you know, I’ve offered her a guest suite in my apartment. Jim’s team has been on duty with her since Wednesday. She’s safe with us.”
“I see.” There’s a small moment of silence, and I know he must be trying to determine the best way to protect his daughter. “Corrine? Can you pick up the phone?”
“Yes, Daddy?”
I can still hear his question. “What do you want to do?”
She looks at me and gives me a half-smile. “I don’t know. Jim can probably watch me here better than if I’m in a hotel.”
I hear him say, “I’d like to talk to Jackson again.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She hands me my phone.
I take a deep breath, ready for the wrath of a protective father.
“Mr. Graham,” he says in a deep baritone. “Look, I checked you out when my little girl went to work for you. If this is a player move to get her into your bed, you’ll regret this.”
I chuckle. Corrine has heard every word. She blushes and covers her eyes.
“No, sir, it’s not. As you know, your daughter is very proud, but we believe this is a real threat, and it’s easier on Jim and his team for her to be here.”
He sighs. “I never liked that apartment. She literally lived in a closet. All that fit in her damn room was a silly twin bed. There certainly isn’t room for anyone else at her current place.”
Twin bed? Closet? I’ve got to get her out of there.
“I promise to look out for her,” I assure him.
“Thank you. May I speak with Corrine again?”
“Of course.” I hand her my phone, and she walks away. I don’t know what to do without my phone.
“He’s my boss,” I hear her say. “Yes, I know that’s how you and Monica met. Trust me, Daddy. I’m not his type.”
That stings worse than anything she could’ve said. She’s exactly my type—beautiful, smart, a wicked sense of humor, and most importantly, she doesn’t care about my money. Then I remember she refers to my dates as Barbies—all beautiful women when naked, but that’s it. Nothing more. I have no doubt Corrine would look delectable naked, and she’s everything I want in a woman.
But I can’t go there. She works for me. That’s a horrible idea, especially right now. Someone needs to tell my dick that.
“I’m going to check on Detective Lenning. This is taking too long. I’ll be back,” Jim tells me.
I really am lost without my phone. It occurs to me that Corrine needs to eat. I go over to the stack of takeout menus I have and order Chinese from my landline. It’s getting late, and I’m sure she must be hungry. Plus, this could show her I’m not entirely inept at taking care of things myself.
As I wait for my phone and Corrine, I watch the game on TV. After a few minutes she walks out in her bare feet, and she’s pulled her hair up. The curls that have fallen from her updo look sexy. She really doesn’t know what she does to men.
She’s in my apartment, and she looks stunning. She’s my assistant. I need to stop thinking like this.
“I ordered dinner,” I tell her.
“Oh, right. Thank you. I forgot it was late.”
She looks out the window. It’s dark outside.
“Jim went back to your apartment to find out what’s keeping the detective.”
“I can wait in my room and be out of your way.”
That’s not what I want. “No, that’s silly. Please, I want you to feel at home here.”
Her brow knits.
I’m trying too hard, and it’s glaringly obvious.
“Let me give you a tour.” It’s all I can think of to pass the time and fill the awkward silence. I walk her around the apartment. It’s enormous, even by non-San Francisco standards.
“What made you buy such a palatial space?” she asks, her eyes wide as we walk from room to room.
“My mom used to work in real estate, and she talked me into it. It was the first thing I bought when my first company went public.”
“She has excellent taste.”
“She’d love that you think that. It’s so much more house than I need, but I think she hopes I’ll grow into it.”
“Not likely,” she mutters.
“I have nothing against marriage. Look at what Nate and Cecelia had. If I can find that kind of love, I’d go for it and have as big a family as she wants.”
“I guess you need to look for it.”
That comment has a ring of truth. Her honesty stops me cold. “I suppose I do.”
The bell rings, and our dinner has arrived. I’m saved.
As we sit down to
