willing the brew to work its magic.
When it had become evident early this morning they weren’t going to get any sleep, Abby had suggested to Campbell they shift gears and head to the office. Although a shower had gone a long way toward reviving her, the lack of sleep was definitely kicking in now that she’d been at her desk for the better part of an hour.
On a resigned yawn, she clicked on the first link and watched as an image of her next-door neighbors instantly downloaded to her screen. The portly man with the ruddy complexion looked pretty much as she’d remembered and a quick read-through of the text confirmed her suspicions.
The statuesque Celine was a relatively new acquisition.
The couple, dressed in formal wear, had her thoughts drifting to the evening before, along with a powerful image that hadn’t quite faded from her mind.
Campbell Steele in a tuxedo.
Since the search program was still open, she went with instinct and typed his name into the open box.
The list of links associated with him numbered in the hundreds, which wasn’t a huge surprised based on his lineage. Although Kensington had always played it down, the Steele family had a long and storied history, both in England and here in the States.
What she did find curious was that very little existed about the man beyond his family connections.
In the current day and age of social media, near-constant updates by friends and family and the press’s fascination with anyone who possessed even the remotest bit of wealth, the lack of information was a surprise.
“You are a mystery, Mr. Steele.”
Her gaze caught on a link to his parents’ obituary and she clicked it, despite knowing the basics of their death. Fueling up on another hit of caffeine, she read the article. Even as someone who’d lost both of her parents, the story of the car crash that killed Charles and Katherine Steele on their twentieth wedding anniversary trip in the Welsh countryside never failed to leave her with a restless sort of sadness in her heart.
The question of why hovered briefly in her mind, even as she knew there were no answers for the vagaries of life.
As the why over Campbell’s parents faded, two questions rose up to take its place in rapid succession.
Why was she so interested in him? And why was she fighting it so hard?
They were a couple of healthy, unattached adults. Although there was the slightly messy connection with Kensington, it wasn’t insurmountable, especially if her friend’s eager nosiness last night was any indication. A fling with Campbell would have very little—if any—impact on her friendship with Kenzi.
So why was she holding back?
The heavy knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts—and from answering the question.
“Stef. What’s up?”
“You’re in early this morning.”
“No rest for the weary. And I know you’ll be happy and relieved to be rid of me for a week.”
Stef flashed a wide grin before offering up a quick wink and extending a heavy file folder. “I’m counting down the minutes.”
Abby reached for the folder, groaning at its heft. “What’s in here?”
“I know, I know. You’re trying to get out of here and there are a million things to do. I’ve held back what can wait, but I need everything in there signed off on.”
“What is it?”
“Several memorandums to the foreign offices, the proposed insurance plan changes for next year that require your final signature and a review on one of your patents.”
“That can’t wait?”
Stef shrugged. “You’re the one who’s brilliant enough to even need to file a patent on your ideas. Do you think it can wait? You’re the boss.”
“No.” Abby shook her head as she dropped the folder on her desk, the heavy thud going a long way toward adding to the bone-weary exhaustion she felt. “I’d best get to it, then.”
“Can I at least get you a refill on the coffee?”
“Only if you want me to get down on both knees, sing your praises
When it had become evident early this morning they weren’t going to get any sleep, Abby had suggested to Campbell they shift gears and head to the office. Although a shower had gone a long way toward reviving her, the lack of sleep was definitely kicking in now that she’d been at her desk for the better part of an hour.
On a resigned yawn, she clicked on the first link and watched as an image of her next-door neighbors instantly downloaded to her screen. The portly man with the ruddy complexion looked pretty much as she’d remembered and a quick read-through of the text confirmed her suspicions.
The statuesque Celine was a relatively new acquisition.
The couple, dressed in formal wear, had her thoughts drifting to the evening before, along with a powerful image that hadn’t quite faded from her mind.
Campbell Steele in a tuxedo.
Since the search program was still open, she went with instinct and typed his name into the open box.
The list of links associated with him numbered in the hundreds, which wasn’t a huge surprised based on his lineage. Although Kensington had always played it down, the Steele family had a long and storied history, both in England and here in the States.
What she did find curious was that very little existed about the man beyond his family connections.
In the current day and age of social media, near-constant updates by friends and family and the press’s fascination with anyone who possessed even the remotest bit of wealth, the lack of information was a surprise.
“You are a mystery, Mr. Steele.”
Her gaze caught on a link to his parents’ obituary and she clicked it, despite knowing the basics of their death. Fueling up on another hit of caffeine, she read the article. Even as someone who’d lost both of her parents, the story of the car crash that killed Charles and Katherine Steele on their twentieth wedding anniversary trip in the Welsh countryside never failed to leave her with a restless sort of sadness in her heart.
The question of why hovered briefly in her mind, even as she knew there were no answers for the vagaries of life.
As the why over Campbell’s parents faded, two questions rose up to take its place in rapid succession.
Why was she so interested in him? And why was she fighting it so hard?
They were a couple of healthy, unattached adults. Although there was the slightly messy connection with Kensington, it wasn’t insurmountable, especially if her friend’s eager nosiness last night was any indication. A fling with Campbell would have very little—if any—impact on her friendship with Kenzi.
So why was she holding back?
The heavy knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts—and from answering the question.
“Stef. What’s up?”
“You’re in early this morning.”
“No rest for the weary. And I know you’ll be happy and relieved to be rid of me for a week.”
Stef flashed a wide grin before offering up a quick wink and extending a heavy file folder. “I’m counting down the minutes.”
Abby reached for the folder, groaning at its heft. “What’s in here?”
“I know, I know. You’re trying to get out of here and there are a million things to do. I’ve held back what can wait, but I need everything in there signed off on.”
“What is it?”
“Several memorandums to the foreign offices, the proposed insurance plan changes for next year that require your final signature and a review on one of your patents.”
“That can’t wait?”
Stef shrugged. “You’re the one who’s brilliant enough to even need to file a patent on your ideas. Do you think it can wait? You’re the boss.”
“No.” Abby shook her head as she dropped the folder on her desk, the heavy thud going a long way toward adding to the bone-weary exhaustion she felt. “I’d best get to it, then.”
“Can I at least get you a refill on the coffee?”
“Only if you want me to get down on both knees, sing your praises
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