Elle let out a short laugh. Her and Archer’s antagonistic attitude toward each other had been well documented. The thing was, Archer thought he ran the world, including her.
But no one ran her world except her. “If everyone would just do what they were supposed to and stay out of my way . . .” she said, trailing off because Spence was no longer listening to her. Instead he was staring out the window, his leanly muscled body suddenly tense, prompting her to his side to see what had caught his interest.
A woman was coming out of the coffee shop and Spence was staring at her. It was his ex, who had once upon a time done her best to rip out his heart.
“Want me to have her kicked off the premises?” Elle asked. “Or I could have her investigated and found guilty of a crime.” She was just kidding. Mostly.
“I don’t need you to handle my damn dates.”
Given that he was a walking Fortune 500 company and also that he’d been badly burned, he actually did need his women investigated, but Elle didn’t argue with him. Arguing with Spence was like arguing with a brick wall. But he hadn’t dated since his ex and it had been months and months, and her heart squeezed because he was gun--shy now. “Hey, in case you haven’t heard, hot genius mechanical engineers slash geeks are in. You’ll find someone better.” Much better, if she had her say . . .
He still didn’t respond and Elle rolled her eyes. “How come men are idiots?”
“Because women don’t come with instruction manuals.” He pushed away from the window. “I’ve gotta go. No killing anyone today, Elle.”
“Sure.”
He took the time to give her a long look.
She sighed. “Fine. I won’t kill Archer.”
When she was alone, she finished her tea, applied some lip gloss—-for herself, mind you, not for Archer—-and left her office, taking her time walking the open hallway. She loved this building and never got tired of admiring the unique architecture of the old place; the corbeled brick and exposed iron trusses, the long picture windows in each unit, the cobblestone courtyard below with the huge fountain where idiots came from all over San Francisco and beyond to toss their money and wish for love.
She was on the second floor in the far north corner, from which if she pressed her nose up against her office window and if there wasn’t any fog, she could see down the hill to the Marina Green and the bay with a very tiny slice of the Golden Gate Bridge as well.
She tried to play it cool, but even after a whole year it was a thrill to live in the heart of the city. Although she hadn’t grown up far from here, it’d been a world away and at least ten rungs down on the social ladder.
It was still early enough that the place was quiet. As she passed the elevator, the doors opened and the woman in charge of housekeeping services came through pushing a large cart.
“Hey, honey,” Trudy said in her been--smoking--for--three--decades voice. “Need anything?”
“Nope, I’m good.” Good plus mad, but although she adored Trudy, the woman couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. “Just taking in the nice morning.”
“Oh, that’s a disappointment,” Trudy said. “I thought maybe you were looking for that hottie with the nice package, the one who runs the investigation firm down the hall.”
Elle nearly choked on her tea. “Nice package?”
“Well I’m old, not dead.” And with a wink, Trudy pushed her cart down the hall.
It was true that Archer was annoyingly hot, not that she cared. Hot was useless to her. She’d much rather have the things that had eluded her for most of her life—-safety, security . . . stability.
Three things Archer had never been accused of.
At the other end of the hall, she stopped in front of the door with a discreet sign: HUNT INVESTIGATIONS.
The investigative and elite security firm was carried on Archer’s reputation alone, no ads or marketing required. Basically Archer and the men he employed were finders and fixers, independent contractors for hire, and not necessarily tied by the same red tape as the law.
Which worked for Archer. Rules had never been his thing.
She opened the door and let herself into the reception area, which was much bigger than hers. Clean, masculine lines. Large furniture. Wide open space. A glass partition separated the front from the inner offices.
The check--in counter was empty. The receptionist wasn’t in yet—-it was too early for Mollie. But not for the other employees. Past the glass Elle could see part of the inner office. A group of men, five of them, entered by a private door. They’d clearly just come back from some sort of job that had required them to be locked and loaded since they currently looked like a SWAT team.