He straightened, watching the flicker of hurt cross her expression before she masked it with practiced composure.

“I didn’t sneak in,” she replied, her voice firm. “I was invited—by Mr. Richard.”

Nathan let out a low, dry laugh, shaking his head. “Richard Butterpants? Please. That man’s a walking disaster. Last week, he set up a meeting, forgot about it, then barged into the wrong office. He pitched a software deal to a company that sells filing cabinets.”

Sarah’s jaw ...