by Addison Fox
“Damn, damn, damn.” Abby dropped her head in her hands as she stared at her laptop screen. Her head of PR had already emailed her with the name of the reporter who’d asked the question about McBane security, confirming what she already knew.
Dan Porterfield was a nuisance, but he was damn good at his job.
So who the hell had told him about the seven minutes? The information was on lockdown until they could figure out what had happened and the few members of her team who did know held positions of trust in her organization.
Could the one responsible have leaked the information?
And what the hell was she really dealing with?
Her phone rang and she snatched it up as her admin’s name registered on the display. “Your three o’clock is here to see you. A Mr. Campbell Steele?”
Kensington’s brother.
“Thanks, Stef. You can send him in.”
With one last look at her computer screen, Abby tapped out a brief set of instructions that the party line to Dan or anyone else who asked was the same. There was no breach and there were no problems with their firewalls. “McBane Communications maintains the highest standards and layers of industry-leading technology,” she muttered to herself as she finished typing the email.
Even if the sentiment didn’t sit all that well with her—she was worried enough to call in an outside firm—they technically hadn’t found anything newsworthy.
The door opened and Stef gestured the man through, before closing the door with a light click. Abby crossed the office toward him and took in a sharper-than-normal intake of breath as she stared up into a pair of blazing blue eyes.
“Mr. Steele?”
A smile that was too sweet to be fully cocky lit up the hard planes of his jaw. He extended a hand and she caught the briefest glimpse of long fingers and a broad palm before his hand clasped hers. “Campbell. Please.”
Heat lit up her nerve endings, the sensation completely at odds with the purpose of his visit. She’d seen photos of him before, but nothing two-dimensional could have prepared her for this reaction. “Abby McBane. It’s so good of you to come. Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?”
“Water’s fine.”
She retrieved a bottle for each of them before gesturing him toward the bank of couches on the far side of her office.
The urge to take the seat behind her desk and put some distance between them was strong, but the very fact she wanted to do that had her choosing the opposite.
The brief walk also gave her an opportunity to examine Kensington’s brother. She’d met the oldest, Liam, once before, but never Campbell and she marveled at the distinct differences between the two men. While no one would miss the resemblance as brothers, Liam had a suave charm that was heady when fully turned on. Campbell had a more subtle attractiveness.
His frame was leaner and if she hadn’t felt the strong grip of his hand she might have been tempted to call him skinny.
The memory of that masculine grip had her amending that assessment to lean and rangy as they took a seat on the couch. She watched him shrug out of his jacket and had to acknowledge he was deceptively larger than her first impression, his broad shoulders filling out his button-down shirt.
Oblivious to her assessment, he leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. Abby didn’t miss the way his dress shirt stretched to accommodate his movement.
Nope, nothing skinny about him.
“My sister filled me in on your circumstances, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective. Especially since it was obvious the question during the press conference caught you off guard.”
Abby took a deep breath. “I handled Porterfield’s question.”
“Yes, you did. Doesn’t change the fact that he asked it.”
“No. No, it doesn’t.”
“So why am I here? From your perspective.”
“McBane Communications has several satellites in various stages of deployment, development and design. Per today’s press conference, our latest designs are nearing the end of production and will be operational in less than ninety days.”
“Anyone who wants to stop that from happening?”
The decidedly sensual thoughts she’d not been able to shake when looking at him faded at the problems facing her company. “I’ve got a select group of competitors and my competition is stiffer than most. The race for the latest modernizations has implications across the telecom industry.”
“You think it’s another provider?”
She shook her head. “The signature...isn’t identifiable.”
“Signature?” Interest blazed in the depths of his gaze and she felt herself drawn forward at his focus. Most—even members of her own team—tended toward a glazed look when she got going in the inner workings of her business, but Campbell seemed fully engaged.
Tamping the rush of interest that barreled through her own veins, she tried to focus on the point at hand. “Most major providers have a series of protocols in place. Checks and balances in their systems that make it incredibly hard to do anything undetectable. The sheer invisibility of whatever this was—”
“A breach.”
She winced at that, more than willing to drop her poker face. “I’m not ready to concede to that word. But to the original question, another telecom provider just doesn’t ring true for me.”
Abby watched as a series of emotions played across his face. Underlying all of it was that ready curiosity and sheer inquisitiveness that was intriguing. “So not a competitor. Anyone else who’d like to see you fail?”
She couldn’t hold back the small laugh. “I’m sure there are several.”
“Yes, but any of them who has a real reason to do you harm?”
The casual, almost sweet air she’d originally perceived was gone, replaced by a hard man without a trace of humor on his face. The lightning-quick change was as surprising as its source and she sat back and tried to parse out her whirling thoughts.
She knew Kensington Steele—had known her for over a decade—and had met much of the woman’s eclectic family. Her Scottish-Irish grandmother and dyed-in-the-wool British grandfather knew how to leave a delightful—and altogether unique—impression and their smart, interesting and savvy grandchildren followed suit.
But she’d never met Campbell.
There had been whispers of trouble. Nothing that went public, but Kensington had hinted that her brother was too smart for his own good.
Was that the root of his computer abilities? And his very quick leap to overt threats to her and her business?
Add on the fact that he was the one assigned to her problem—a problem that originated in the rarified universe of computer security—and she couldn’t help but wonder if Campbell Steele was the equivalent of fighting fire with fire.
* * *
Campbell didn’t miss the assessing glances of the oh-so-intriguing Ms. Abigail McBane. He’d sensed a sharp, discerning businesswoman throughout her presentation at the press conference, but the woman seated opposite him was an intriguing mix of qualities.
Shrewd, yet perfectly willing to lay a few cards on the table. Smart, in a way that was approachable instead of stuffy and irritating. And very, very beautiful.
He’d been a student of many things through the years, game theory riding high on his list of interests. The choices someone made through a negotiation—and the implications of those choices—had always fascinated him. The average person thought of a negotiation as something simply to win, but the truly adept negotiators—the ones who most often got what they wanted—understood that it took some measure of give and take to net out in an acceptable place.
Abby was honest with her analysis and had also been more than willing to share it with him. So what was her bigger game?
And who was the nameless, faceless threat?
“I can’t imagine anyone wants to hurt my business. Or me,” she voiced the afterthought, in direct opposition to her drawn brows and slight frown.
“Yet you�
�re sitting on a significant problem in your technology infrastructure. A problem—” he leaned forward for emphasis “—that has possible personal overtones.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why else are you looking for a resource outside your company to fix it? You clearly don’t trust the people who work for you and have access to that technology.”
The dark depths of her eyes clouded over with a noticeable layer of fear and Campbell inwardly cursed himself for his hasty words.
Damn it.
His brother, Liam, was the smooth one, not him. Why the hell had Kensington sent him into this job in the first place?
Despite his best intentions, Campbell knew his own personality swung more often to blunt instrument than suave operator. And now he’d gone and scared their client, five minutes into their first conversation.
“My sister often accuses me of being so narrowly focused on my goals, my manners suffer. I think this is one of those times.” Campbell sat back, settling into the plush leather of the couch. “Why don’t we start at the beginning and you tell me in your own words what you think is happening and why you felt the need to call us.”
Campbell saw her visibly relax and he felt his own stomach muscles unclench a bit. Damn, but Kensington was right.
As usual.
His rush to solve a problem usually meant a polite facade and any lick of charm he might possess were nowhere in evidence. And if he peeled back the layers of the woman opposite him, it was clear she was more scared than she was letting on.
“Do you mean Kensington or your other sister, Rowan?”
Campbell couldn’t hold back the grin. “Both of them, really. But I was actually referring to Kenzi. She’s accused me of being the proverbial bull in the china shop on more than one occasion.”
Abby—and that was the name he was fast coming to think of her by—cocked her head. “Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be a man who simply likes to get things done. There’s something innately practical and efficient about that.”
“So now I’m a vacuum cleaner?”
A light flush crept up her neck. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Well, I count practicality and efficiency as virtues to be celebrated, so please consider it a compliment.” She took a deep breath, the light fall of her blouse fluttering around her breasts. “No matter how poorly given.”
“Why don’t we call it even and start over again.” He leaned forward and extended a hand. “I’m Campbell Steele. It’s nice to meet you.”
She flashed a quick grin before extending her hand. “Abigail McBane. And likewise.”
The feel of her hand in his registered somewhere in the middle of his chest with a hard swift punch as her palm rested against his.
Her deep dark eyes grew wide for the briefest moment before he let her hand go and Abby exhaled on a heavy breath before she sat back. “Okay. The beginning. As you no doubt know, modern business depends on the integrity of the services we provide.”
“As does modern government, modern education and pretty much every other industry you can name in the technology-laden world we live in.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “So to the point I made in the press conference, we maintain a very strict set of procedures for ongoing checks of our systems.”
“Are the mysterious seven minutes the only breach?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’ve had other problems here at McBane?”
A light flush crept up her neck. “Not exactly.”
“Abby. What’s going on?”
“I’ve had several attacks on my home system.”
Whatever Campbell expected her to say, that answer wasn’t it. “Your home? As in personal threats.”
“Nothing as overt as a threat. Just problems. Inconsistencies. And a whole lot of attacks on my firewalls. I maintain government-level security on my home systems.”
“How long has this been happening?”
“A few weeks. A month, maybe.”
“Well, what is it? A few weeks or a month?”
“The first thing I noticed was about five weeks ago.”
He shook his head, unable to believe it had taken her so long to do anything. “Why’d you wait so long to call us?”
The slight flush of embarrassment flipped to irritation in the blink of an eye. “I know how to manage my own affairs. I called your firm for another opinion. Kensington indicated you could look at our systems.”
“That’s my first priority but my sister led me to believe you need more than another opinion. I’ve got tickets to fly with you to Paris tomorrow.”
“Yes, well, that was a bit premature.”
Campbell stood and paced the office, the sudden wave of panic in his limbs forcing him to walk. He wasn’t easily panicked, but he was well aware something that had escalated to her home was a different sort of threat.
It was personal.
The city spread out before his gaze at the window. He turned around, determined to make his point. And despite his earlier protests to his sister, suddenly very determined to get Abby to take on House of Steele to deal with her faceless threat.
“I don’t think there’s anything premature about it, Abby.” He crossed back to her, ready to sit and attempt to make his case when she stood, meeting him eye to eye.
Or as close as she could get to eye to eye.
Even with heels, her tall frame didn’t match his own six foot two.
“I’m assessing your capabilities.”
“Like hell you are.” Campbell knew he had a competitive streak to rival an Olympic athlete’s, but her words had him seeing red. Add on the image of her scared and in danger from some psycho and his emotions were far more raw than he’d have expected. “I can run circles around any problem you have. And for the record—” he leaned forward, unable to keep the disgust from his tone “—I’m not here to try out.”
Chapter 2
Abby had heard the term “baiting the bear in his den” before—had even experienced it from time to time in difficult negotiations—but the tension that radiated from Campbell gave new meaning to the old adage.
With the focus she’d honed through years of boardroom negotiation, she pressed on and avoided thinking about how interesting it was to stare up into his eyes. “As I told Kensington, I’ve no doubt you’re good, but the team I have in place includes some of the brightest minds in the world.”
“And what if the problem is coming from within your organization? From one of those bright minds?”
“I’m well aware that’s a possibility, but it still doesn’t mean you’re the solution to my problem.”
She saw the light of battle leap into his eyes. “I don’t think you’ve got a better option.”
“There are always options.”
“Actually, darling, I think you’re out of them.”
The “darling” had her snapping her mouth closed before she pressed on with the first words that popped into her mind. “I thought you were the mild-mannered one.”
Although the sentiment wasn’t all that polite, Abby was surprised by the hard bark of laughter that followed his raised eyebrows. “You’ve met my brother, I take it?”
“A few times.”
“Liam’s honed the dark and brooding routine to a perfect fit.”
Abby thought about the large, imposing man who held a James Bond sort of sexiness to his demeanor and couldn’t quite shake the impression that Campbell had been sorely underestimated if they gave his brother more credit. “You’re no slouch. I’ve been in business long enough to know mild-mannered can be a rather effective strategy.”
His smile was back but it bore the distinct notes of family baggage and sibling rivalry. “I’m well aware I have to work a bit harder.”
As an only child, she was endlessly fascinated by family dynamics and the ways siblings related to and communicated with each other. Support and resentment, l
ove and frustration and always—always—a fierce sense of devotion.
If she weren’t mistaken, Campbell’s responses about Liam held a lifetime of feelings toward his brother, from genuine affection to a dose of competition with a small dash of big brother hero worship on the side.
She dropped back into her seat, satisfied when he followed suit. Perhaps the clouds of battle had blown over.
With a firm voice, she tried once again to make her point. She’d always found that calm voice soothed a rowdy business meeting or a loud press conference, but, strangely enough, it hadn’t been all that effective in soothing her nerves of late.
“My take away from my conversation with Kensington was that you’d come over here and evaluate my situation.”
“Consider yourself evaluated.”
His words—were they intentional?—had her fumbling briefly to stay on track. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking the man lagged behind his brother. Where their approaches may be different, both men had a ready sort of charm that made a woman well aware she was being watched.
“Kensington leaped to the plane tickets?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure why.”
“I’d trust her instincts.”
Abby tried a new tactic, willing the man to see reason. “Look. I’ve known your sister a long time. She’s just being overprotective of an old friend.”
“Since she has the irritating habit of never being wrong, I’d get on board with those instincts.”
“Mine aren’t too shabby, either.” The quiet voice inside that had been questioning those instincts rose up to argue, dancing through the back of her mind on swift feet.
Why was she resisting the help?
Especially when it came from someone who was capable of understanding her business at its most basic level.
“I’m sure they’re not. Which is why I can already see you relenting and agreeing to bring me on this project.”
Abby held back the sigh, unwilling to give up any more ground than necessary, even as she admitted he was in the right. “Okay. Let’s assume I’m in agreement with your capabilities. How do you propose to deal with this...situation? Kensington said she’d leave specifics up to you.”