Chapter 163

LUKE PULLED OUT THE chair and held it. He needed to check, but his tongue might still be on the floor.

Hot damn.

That black dress was made of pure sin. Or at least the way it molded to Abigail's curvy, toned body was. Though it lacked the beading and detail of their employer's preferred clothing, it was in the way it fit, the elegant cut, that set his dinner date apart from every other woman here. Her make-up was light, barely there, which was for the best. Abigail's face was a study in fine bones, sloping cheeks, large eyes full of secrets, and a mouth he was desperate to make smile.

She was, in a word, perfection.

If only they weren't working and he could spend the entire night coaxing her secrets out of her.

"Thank you," Abigail said. She set her clutch on the table and shifted her chair the right amount to have the perfect view of the client's table. She flipped the catch and he glimpsed her holstered Glock. Nice.