Simon could speak up, “and a general pain in the ass.”
Rapp’s gaze bounced back and forth between them, clearly wondering what kind of weird relationship he had just stepped into.
“She’s my sister,” Simon explained before the man became overly confused, “and I own the company.”
“Aaah.” Rapp expelled a faint sigh of relief and turned his attention to Lara. “So you’re…?”
“My secretary,” Simon answered in quick retaliation. Of all his sister’s self-anointed titles, secretary was most decidedly not on the list. “But you might want to put her down as the office manager. She’s very sensitive about job titles.”
“Thank you, Boris.”
Though tempted to strike back, he realized that’s exactly what she wanted—an excuse to embarrass him with the story of how Boris Leonidovich Pasternak Simon became Simon Leonidovich—and he wasn’t about to step into that trap. “You’re welcome, Sissie.”
Rapp took a step back, as if wanting to extract himself from a situation he didn’t understand. “That’s all I need.” He pulled a couple of business cards from the breast pocket of his blazer. “Any questions or concerns about security—” He leveled his eyes on Lara, his tone going from helpful to inviting. “I’m the man to call.”
Eating her lunch—a footlong Italian sub that miraculously disappeared into the confines of her tiny stomach—Lara stared out the window and tried to hide her interest in the handsome Bill Rapp. “This really is a nice view.”
Simon suppressed a smile. He would have teased her about the obvious attraction, but the last thing he wanted was to dampen any possible relationship. It had been seven years since Jack’s death, Allie and Jack Jr. would soon be teenagers, and she deserved to have a life beyond work and kids. He followed her gaze down to the small community park, eight stories below. The patch of green, a pleasant little garden surrounded by ornamental wrought iron, offered a welcome respite from the surrounding towers of steel and concrete. Under the watchful eyes of mothers and nannies, children scampered back and forth through the playground, a pinball movement of colorful little bodies bouncing from swings to slides to climbing bars. “Yeah, sure is.”
“It looks hot.”
“Sure does.” He could see the heat shimmering off the hot cement; could almost smell the hydrocarbons through the glass.
“Bill seemed nice.”
He forked another scoop of salad into his mouth, trying hard to conceal his amusement. “Mmm-hmm.”
“This place might not be so bad.”
Not so bad! The building was newly remodeled with plenty of underground parking, the offices were light and airy, the security chief handsome and friendly—what more did she want? “If you decide you don’t like it, we’ll move.”
She gave him a suspicious look, realized he was yanking her chain, and immediately changed the subject. “What’s with you and the salad? You lose any more weight, you’ll need a new wardrobe.”
Wardrobe. He could barely keep from laughing. “Men don’t have wardrobes, Sissie. As long as we’re covered and comfortable, we’re good to go.”
“Yeah, well…” She leaned to the side, giving his ratty T-shirt and paint-spattered gym shorts the evil eye. “That’s probably the reason you keep getting dumped.”
“I didn’t get—” The sharp buzz of the phone saved him from once again having to explain his breakup with Caitlin Wells.
Lara pulled the tiny head-mike up from under her chin and toggled the switch on the wireless receiver attached to her belt. “Worldwide SD. How may I help you?” As she listened, her expression mutated from happy recognition to puzzlement. “Yes, he’s right here.” She pressed the HOLD button on her controller. “It’s Billie Rynerson. She sounds…odd.”
“Odd?” Simon was already up and moving toward his office. “What do you mean by ‘odd’?”
“I think something’s