Easton followed her to the conference room. She sailed in, moving to the side table, to check the drinks and snacks.

The door opened.

“Easton,” Larry Miller boomed. The man was in his late fifties, with a wide, easygoing smile. “Good to see you.”

Then the man spotted Harlow and his eyes and smile widened. “I see you traded in that bossy, old dragon lady of yours. Well done.”

Easton felt a flash of annoyance. “Mrs. Skilton is on leave. This is Ms. Carlson.”

“A pleasure,” Miller drawled.

Harlow gave him a small, professional smile.

Easton sat at the head of the table. “Let’s talk business.”

The meeting went long. Miller talked a lot, but he was a savvy negotiator. Another assistant brought in lunch.

Harlow bent over, arranging the food.

Miller let out a low, appreciative noise and leaned closer to Easton. “Is your lovely, new assistant single?”

“Yes, but you’re not,” Easton bit out. “How is your wife?”

“Happy when I leave her to her own business.” Miller laughed.

Easton kept his face blank. Asshole. “Let’s get these final contract points decided.” Then Easton could get Miller out of here.

They ate their lunch and finished their business.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Norcross.” Miller eyed Harlow again.

“I’ll see you out,” Easton said.

“I’m going to say goodbye to the delectable Ms. Carlson.”

Easton gritted his teeth together. “No, you aren’t.”

Miller’s grin slipped a little. “Norcross—”

“You’re not going near her.”

The older man nodded and winked. “Ah, I see you’ve got your eye on her yourself.”

“Just go, Miller, before I change my mind about doing business with you.”

The businessman left looking disgruntled. Easton didn’t give a shit.

“Right.” Harlow bustled up to him. “You have a call with New York shortly. Zane Roth.”

Easton nodded. He enjoyed working with the finance billionaire.

“And lawyers from Cartwright, Dolan, and Bird sent some contracts over. Legal has marked some things for you to take a look at. It’s all on your desk.”

“Thanks.”

They crossed the floor, and reached her desk.

“You also have a two o’clock with Eva Morales from FlexDash. I’ll let you know when she arrives.”

God, she was more organized than Mrs. Skilton.

“There’s also fresh coffee on your desk. And a dark chocolate and pistachio cookie.”

His favorite. His gaze narrowed. “Firstly, how did you know about the cookies? And second, how did you organize that?”

She winked. “A good assistant never reveals her secrets.”

And yet, Easton wanted hers. He studied her face. “You’re really okay after last night?”

Her smile dimmed. “Yes.”

“When you were late this morning—”

“I met my father for breakfast.” She turned to face her computer.

She sounded normal, but every one of Easton’s instincts, honed sharp by the Army, itched.