Free To the Limit by Cindy Gerard

her that if she didn't keep out of Tiffany's life, the consequences were that Tiffany would be the one who would be punished.
     
    Eve had thought then that the punishment would most likely be in the form of putting a lid on Tiffany's spending. Perhaps Clayborne would even disown her. For Tiffany's sake, Eve had backed away. The only problem was, Tiffany had seen it as yet one more person cutting her out of her life. She'd accused. She'd cried. And in the end, she'd told Eve she never wanted to see her again. Childish, yes. But she'd been hurting.
     
    "Mr. McClain," Edwards said, and Eve realized she'd tuned out of the conversation, "your purpose here is to be apprised of Mr. Clayborne's vehement objection to any contact between Ms. Garrett and Tiffany. You are not, in any way, to confer, collaborate, or conspire with Ms. Garrett should you encounter her during your search for Tiffany. Additionally, should you choose to disregard Mr. Clayborne's wishes, your contract will be terminated immediately. Is that understood?"
     
    She didn't have to look to know that McClain gave Edwards a sober nod.
     
    "All right then," Edwards continued. "Then we're finished here. Good day to both of you. And Ms. Garrett—I truly anticipate that this will be the last we see or hear of you."
     
    He depressed a button on his phone. "Jazelle. Please show Ms. Garrett and Mr. McClain out."
     
    Jazelle appeared with the same cool, calm elan and held the door open for them.
     
    Eve had little she could do but leave.
     
    "Good day, Ms. Garrett," Jazelle said with a nod as Eve walked past her through the open door.
     
    Eve could have sworn the woman was gloating.
     
    Eve was hot. Sizzle hot, Mac realized as they walked together toward the bank of elevators. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd been thinking. Showing up here, asking for an audience.
     
    A part of him admired the hell out of her for having the guts to confront the Clayborne machine after the way it had rolled over her three years ago. She was pretty cheeky about the explosion Saturday night, too—Mac didn't know whether to admire her or lecture her about watching her back. And though her safety wasn't his concern, along with digging up dirt on her background last night, he'd also found himself keeping an eye out for anything that raised warning flags— like who, from her past, might want her dead.
     
    Secret Service. Hell. Sweet little Eve Garrett—single Eve Garrett, he was happy to find out—was also ex-Secret Service agent Eve Garrett. Now she was a security specialist, a partner with her brothers—three tough, forceful men who had, frankly, scared the hell out of him back in school.
     
    When the elevator doors opened, he pushed the button and they entered it together. Beside him, her face was flame red, her nostrils flared, and if she crossed her arms any tighter over her breasts, they were gonna pop right out from under that sexy little white camisole thingy she was wearing under a blue silk jacket the color of her eyes. Not that he'd mind the prospect all that much.
     
    It was a damn shame, though, that she was expending all that energy on anger. He could think of a much more pleasurable way to let off steam. Actually, he could think of several. Some involved Jell-O. Not that he'd suggest it. He may be horny, but he wasn't stupid.
     
    Hadn't stopped him from spending a lot of time thinking about her during the last couple of days, though—or from finding out what he could about where she'd been and what she'd been doing the past fourteen years. It hadn't taken much digging to get the goods on Eve or her connection with Tiffany. And as long as he'd been digging, he'd dug a little deeper into Clayborne's closet.
     
    Not that long ago—before he'd gone Howard Hughes the hermit on everyone—Jeremy Clayborne had been tight with the Oval Office. Real tight. He'd been working for the administration in some capacity, and the work sometimes took him out of the country.