Easton’s text telling her to get back to the office to find the missing paperwork he needed for an early-morning call with London had interrupted her date.

She swiped the card. The reader beeped and the glass door slid open.

It had been the most boring date she’d ever been on, so her overbearing boss had done her a favor, but she wasn’t telling him that. Her heels clicked on the marble floor.

She and Michael had sparked about as much chemistry as a couple of wet sponges. Harlow sighed. It’d been so long since any man had been near her lady parts that she’d suffered through the dinner longer than she should have.

Note to self: no more blind dates set up by her mother.

Harlow shrugged off her coat. The security guard at the desk stood. “Good evening, Ms. Carlson.”

She threw her coat over her arm. “Hi, Joe.”

The older man’s eyes widened. “You look like a million bucks tonight.”

She smiled. “Why, thank you.” Her red dress had long sleeves, a deep V neckline, and hugged her curves. It was also short.

“What brings you back tonight?” Joe asked.

“I was on a date before the Grand Master snapped his fingers.”

Joe’s lips twitched. “He works late a lot. Don’t let him keep you too long.”

“I won’t.” The elevator doors closed. One thing she’d learned—it paid to stand toe-to-toe with Easton Norcross, or he’d run right over you. The man radiated “I’m in charge” vibes every second of every day.

Growing up, she’d thought her dad had the same “man in charge” aura, but Charles Carlson was nowhere in Easton’s league.

Thoughts of her dad made her stomach tie up in little knots.

Two days ago, he’d left her a worrying, cryptic message.

Her father was a successful local businessman, who, even though he was retired, still kept busy with a few investment projects. Her mom kept busy lunching with friends, going on yoga retreats, and sitting on lots of charity boards. Eleanor Carlson had never met a charity she didn’t want to support.

That niggle of worry in Harlow’s belly grew. Something was going on with her dad. He’d left her a message saying that he had some trouble, but then he’d told her not to worry. He hadn’t sounded like himself.

Since then, she couldn’t track him down. He hadn’t returned her messages, and her mom said he was working late. Harlow got the feeling he was avoiding her.

Charles Carlson had fully expected his daughters to attend college, launch fantastic careers, and marry socially acceptable men.

So far, he was exceptionally disappointed. Neither Harlow, nor her younger sister, Scarlett, were anywhere close to married.