And she would fall short by a few billion.
“Hi.” She carried a few folders, but not where they’d hide her breasts. At least a D cup and, from the placement of those large globes high on her chest, he would bet she’d purchased them herself. Like the rest of the blonde, they were magnificently constructed and hard as a rock.
His dick practically yawned. “Hello. I’m looking for Mr. Townsend.”
Her painted mouth curled up in a sex-kitten smile. “He recently changed his last name to James.”
Good for Dex. A little warmth flooded Kade’s system at the thought of his friend finally finding his true place beside his two biological brothers, along with their shared wife, Hannah. “Excellent. Then where is Mr. James this morning?”
Dex was the head of security. He would be the one to talk to about the little problem Kade was having. He needed information on one of Black Oak Oil’s employees. Little things like where her office was and whether or not she had all her teeth. All the things his eldest brother, Talib, hadn’t seen fit to mention when he’d ordered Kade and their middle brother, Rafe, to fetch this girl and bring her home to Bezakistan. The sheikh could be a bossy asshole at times.
God, if Talib didn’t settle on a wife soon, Kade was going to lose his bloody mind—and a lot more. Of course, the problem was that once Talib settled on a wife, Kade and Rafe would have to settle for her, too. One wife for all brothers. God bless Bezakistan.
He had to hope this candidate looked better than the mousy pictures included in Talib’s dossier. It wasn’t that she was ugly, merely plain and deeply somber. And the photos were grainy, a driver’s license picture and a little black and white image that looked like it had come from a school yearbook. Neither had been promising. And her background was so bland he’d forgotten most of it already. Grew up in a small town. Apple of her parents’ eyes. Graduated from college with a degree in economics. Yep. He’d gone to sleep just after reading that tidbit.
“He’s in a meeting, but you can wait in his office.” Her eyes softened, an obviously practiced move. “Or you could buy me a cup of coffee.”
Nothing. Not even a stir. His cock was still completely flaccid, despite her less than subtle come-on. Damn it, he was barely thirty. His dick should be standing up and shouting “let’s party!” Kade would rather take a nap. He sighed. Maybe his dick’s lack of responsiveness didn’t matter since he’d likely soon be chained to some boring, dull-as-dishwater intellectual because that was Talib’s type.
Maybe he should try to convince his cock to take the blonde up on her offer.
Before he could, a flurry of chaos walked by, her brown hair caught at the back of her head in a messy bun. She quickly rushed down the hall, barely containing a haphazard stack of files in her arms that stuck out this way and that, the edges poking at all sorts of odd angles. She was talking on a cell phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, her face animated. She plowed right into the blonde, who dropped the two little folders she’d been carrying. The stack in the brunette’s arms exploded, paper filling the air like a ticker-tape parade.
“Goddamn it,” the blonde cursed. “Fucking researchers.”
“I am so sorry, Amanda.” The brunette spoke in a soft Texas twang as she dropped to the ground on her hands and knees, phone tumbling across the office carpet as she began wrangling the wild herd of papers. “I was talking and I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m really sorry.”
“Here, let me help you,” a deep voice said. Rafiq, his brother, always the gentleman, hurried up the hall and got to one knee.
“Thank you,” the blonde purred. Then she realized Rafe was talking to the little brunette and frowned down at her. “There’s a reason everyone around here calls you Pandora.”
Pandora. Goddess of Chaos. The messy bun on the back of the brunette’s head looked like it would unravel at any moment, unleashing a cascade of brown curls lit with strands of honey blonde and warm red. She turned her face up, and Kade nearly cheered.
His dick was back in top form now, standing tall and eager. Oh, yeah.
There was nothing at all artificial about Pandora. She was soft and feminine, with bee-stung lips and blue eyes that were nearly hidden behind a pair of big glasses that might have been fashionable in the eighties. She wore a shapeless blouse, but as she moved, she popped a button, and he caught sight of creamy white cleavage flushed with a hint of pink. Clearly, she was flustered and embarrassed.
“They don’t call me Pandora because I unleashed evil on the world or anything,” she explained. “I’m just clumsy. I apologize to you, too, sir. So sorry.”