His head was pounding. Too much Jack Daniels last
night. When Ben Slocum pulled his big black SUV into the
driveway in front of his garage, the only thing on his mind
was getting a couple hours of sleep.
Reaching up to hit the garage door opener on his visor,
his gaze swung to the porch and he spotted a woman in a
conservative yellow business suit, rapping on his door.
Ben groaned.
Still dressed in the black tuxedo he'd been wearing last
night, Ben shoved the Denali into park and turned off the
engine, cracked open the door and slid out from behind the
wheel. His slacks were wrinkled, his white pleated shirt
haphazardly buttoned and opened halfway down the front. His
black bow-tie hung loose around his collar.
Company this morning was the last thing he wanted.
He took a long look at the woman whose attention was now
fixed on him as he crossed the front lawn. She was tall and
slender, with dark brown hair clipped back at the nape of
her neck, and a very pretty face. High cheek bones, a
heart-shaped face, and full lips. Too bad they were
currently thinned in a disapproving line.
He wondered what she was selling. Whatever it was, he
wasn't buying. He just wanted to hit the sheets.
Ben strode up on the porch. "'Fraid nobody's home," he
said, hoping she would just go away. He wasn't in the mood
for another female, no matter how good she looked.
"I can see that," she said. "I'm looking for Benjamin
Slocum. I presume that's you."
He lifted a black eyebrow. "And you would be?"
"My name is Claire Chastain. I need to speak to you, Mr.
Slocum, on a matter of extreme importance."
"I'll be in my office this afternoon. We can talk about
anything you like."
"This can't wait."
Of course not. She was a woman. Everything was a matter
of critical meltdown. "Is this business or personal?"
"Personal."
He let his gaze drift over her, taking in the soft
curves. "Do we know each other, Ms. Chastain?" As in
have we spent the night together, maybe I drank too much and
don't recall? But he hadn't done that since he'd left
the SEALs. Since then he had pretty much behaved himself.
Well, more or less.
"No, we've never met. Please, Mr. Slocum. This is
important and I would rather not discuss it out on your
front porch."
Irritation filtered through him. Who the hell did she
thinks she was? "Angel, this had better be good."
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