Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  “You are not an s-l-u-t, sweetheart. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, passionate woman.” He edged closer, friendly erection saying hello against her hip. “You’re responsiveness is an incredible turn-on, in case you’ve failed to notice.” He leaned down, his mouth beside her ear. “Is there any particular reason we’re spelling words?”

  A reluctant grin tugged at her lips. “Well, it’s not a very nice word.”

  “No, it’s not.” He shook his head, adopting a stern expression she recognized from numerous board meetings. “You shouldn’t use it in reference to yourself. Ever.”

  She snapped her hand up in a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

  He shook his head and spoke to the ceiling. “I’ve been harboring a smart-ass. A smart-ass who should know I’m serious.” He met her gaze, the tenderness in his expression doing things to her she’d rather not think about. “Save those words for the bedroom, sweetheart. You can be my slut anytime, anywhere.”

  While she melted, he helpfully tucked her blouse back into her skirt, his long fingers brushing the lace band on her panties.

  The elevator dinged and they jerked apart like teenagers caught necking. Matt hastily buttoned his suit jacket. The doors slid open on them standing several feet apart, serene business-like expressions on their faces. At least, she hoped so. Especially since several of her co-workers lounged around the reception desk, including Luke.

  She stepped off the elevator and almost ran into Matt in her haste to escape. His hands on her waist kept her on her feet and set her nerve endings clamoring.

  “Excuse me.” Matt released her and smoothly stepped to the side. “Have a good morning, Miss Debry.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Duncan. You too.”

  The click of her heels followed her down the hall.

  Luke caught up to her. “What was that about?”

  Let the inquisition begin. “What?”

  “You, Mr. Duncan, long elevator ride to the top of the building.”

  She frowned. “I ride in the elevator with people all the time.”

  “People, yes. Mr. Duncan, no. Besides, you’re flushed. And your hair’s down. And you’re wearing those hot fuck-me shoes.”

  “You’re critiquing my outfit?” They reached her office. She tossed her purse on the desk, faced Luke and crossed her arms. “If I’m flushed, it’s because Mr. Duncan was lecturing me about turning in that report late last week. Not that it’s any of your business. What do my shoes or how I fix my hair have to do with anything?”

  Luke lounged against the doorframe, grinning. “So you didn’t get off so easy about handing it in late after all. Maybe I should start measuring your office to make sure my stuff will fit.”

  “What stuff? Everything you have belongs to the company.” With him effectively diverted, she stowed her purse and sat in her chair. “Besides, you’re not getting my office.”

  “You probably fluttered your lashes and distracted him with those big green eyes. He would have to be made of granite not to respond. Although, I could’ve sworn he was made of granite.”

  Damp panties reminded her of exactly how granite-like certain parts of Matt were. Even so, irritation flared. Where did he get off talking about Matt like that? She bit her tongue. Defending her boss would only get her in trouble.

  Didn’t mean she couldn’t defend herself. “You’re treading a fine line there, buster.”

  “Yeah, I know. Hey, I have tickets to a concert in a couple of weeks. Wanna be my date?”

  A headache throbbed to life. “Luke, I’m not going to date you. You’re sweet, but I value our friendship.”

  “So, you can be my friend date.”

  “You’re fine with that? There isn’t someone else you’d rather ask?”

  He shrugged. “Nope. Besides, it’s a Celtic Women concert. I know you love them.”

  “Ooh, I do. Yes. I’d love to go. Thank you.”

  “No problem. See you later.”

  He left and she spun her chair around to retrieve the Peterman Project files. The drawer was empty. She yanked open the one under it, then two more. All empty. She whirled back to her desk and her foot bumped something in the knee space.

  Grace shoved back so hard her chair slammed into the filing cabinets. Under her desk, in neatly stacked piles, were her files. Air wheezed out of her lungs and black spots danced at the edge of her vision.

  Snatching the phone up, she dialed and then put her head between her knees. Angels’ wings, she hadn’t hyperventilated since her nine-year-old foster brother hid under her bed and grabbed her ankle. That had been the first year she’d moved in to the foster home, a freshman in high school.

  “Yes?” Matt’s voice rumbled over the phone.

  Some of the tightness in her lungs eased.

  “Hello?”

  “Matt?” she whispered.

  “Grace? What’s wrong?”

  Just like that, his tone went from all-business to “who’s ass am I kicking?”. So willing and able to play hero to her damsel in distress. Sweet baby cherubs, he was dangerous.

  “Someone’s been in my office.”

  Silence.

  “Hello? Matt, are you there?”

  Nothing. Huh. So much for playing hero.

  “Grace?”

  She sat up so fast the room spun. Matt’s rough, warm hands cradled her face. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes while the room reoriented itself. His thumbs smoothed over her cheeks. Warmth bloomed in her chest. Very dangerous, indeed.

  Grace opened her eyes. He was down on one knee in front of her, concern darkening his eyes. Her heart jumped into her throat and choked her.

  “You’re pale as a sheet of paper, sweetheart.”

  Breathe in, breathe out. She could get through this. So not the time for silly romantic fantasies. Only, she’d never had a gorgeous, rugged hunk of a man drop to one knee before.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Right. Business at hand. Finger trembling, she pointed under the desk.

  Matt’s gaze followed, and he frowned. “Are those your files?”

  “Yes. I don’t…”

  He eased the phone from her clenched hand, punched in some numbers and barked a few orders. He replaced the phone then smoothed a hand down the back of her hair.

  “Building security is on their way up.” He glanced around. “I take it the files were removed from the drawers and stacked there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I don’t think so, no.”

  “Any notes?”

  Her gaze flew to his and her stomach lurched. “You think this is related to what happened at my condo?”

  “I think it would be foolish to dismiss the possibility.”

  Grace dropped her head to the desk with a moan, fighting a wave of nausea. “I was really, really hoping you wouldn’t think the same thing.”

  His hand smoothed her hair again and some of the tension in her belly uncoiled. She lifted her head. Solid as a rock, his steady gaze reassured her. Oddly enough. She didn’t like people taking over, bossing her around, not giving her the freedom to do things her way. She swallowed.

  Uncharted territory made her nervous. Not knowing how things would progress, unable to guess at what would happen, her future twisting and turning until it disappeared in a kaleidoscope of confusion. Not how she liked things. She swallowed again against the acid rising in her throat and focused on Matt.

  He paced to the door and back again. All that coiled energy—a restless lion in her office. Her gaze dropped to his butt when he walked away.

  At least the view was nice.

  CHAPTER NINE

  What was taking the security guys so long? Were they walking up the twenty stories instead of using the elevator?

  Matt turned. A myriad emotions clouded Grace’s face. He wanted to drive a fist through whoever the hell was scaring her. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he spun away. With a deep breath, he drew on a thin veneer of implacabl
e resolve.

  “Mr. Duncan?”

  “Yeah, in here.” He waved the two uniformed security guards into the office and shut the door against the curious faces peeking over the cubical walls. The office was cramped with so many people shut inside. Grace rose from her chair and edged toward the windows.

  “Someone broke in. Over the weekend, I assume.” Matt gestured toward the rear of the office. “He emptied Miss Debry’s file cabinets and stacked the contents underneath her desk.”

  One of the men peered under the desk. His gaze shifted to Grace’s legs and tension seeped through Matt. The jerk-off took his time standing up, staring at Grace the whole time.

  “Is there a problem?” Grace stared the guy down, voice sweet as maple syrup.

  “No, ma’am.” The other guard glared at the younger one.

  The younger guard managed to drag his gaze from Grace, glanced at the second guard and snapped to attention.

  “If you two could step out of the office,” the senior officer said, “we’ll have a quick look around. I think it would be best if we called the police.”

  At least one of them had some sense. The other guy was still making calf eyes at Grace. She was busy ignoring him, deeply fascinated with the view from her window. Matt wanted to smack the guy upside the head.

  “Sure. We’ll be down the hall in my office. Miss Debry?”

  Matt stepped back, deliberately herding the two guards into the corner of the office. Grace passed in front of him, flashing a look of gratitude on her way out. He closed the door behind him.

  A crowd had gathered in the hall.

  Luke stepped forward. “What’s going on, Mr. Duncan?”

  “Someone messed with Miss Debry’s files. No need for any of you to worry. You can get back to work.”

  Giving orders came as naturally as chewing his food, and people always responded—even to the more subtle orders. They shuffled back to their desks, talking quietly to one another and glancing over their shoulders. Rumors would be flying within the hour. He ran his company with an iron fist and a twenty-foot wall of reserve, but that didn’t mean he was oblivious to the under-currents.

  Grace stood silent beside him. Awareness heightened his senses. He could stand in a crowd of five hundred, blind and deaf, and he’d still know the moment she was within reach. His pheromones liked her pheromones. Or something.

  Hand on the small of her back, he steered her down the hall to his office. She went quietly, without even token resistance. Her unusual docility worried him.

  He closed the door and faced her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Some jerk is messing with my stuff and you’re asking what’s wrong?”

  The battle spark in her beautiful green eyes surprised him. He couldn’t help grinning. The woman was feisty and gorgeous. At least she wasn’t hysterical. Dealing with an irrational woman wasn’t exactly at the top of his to-do list.

  Grace crossed her arms and glared. Hard to be intimidated by a five foot five curvy bit of woman.

  “You find something amusing?” She arched her brow.

  Her sweet tone didn’t fool him. She was pissed and she needed an outlet for her anger. Apparently, he had a nice fat bull’s eye painted on his chest. Which was fine. He didn’t mind being her punching bag, surprisingly enough.

  “I know it’s stressful.” He patted her arm. “I’m just glad you’re not a blubbering mess.”

  Lovely arched eyebrows climbed skyward. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “Your sensitivity overwhelms me.”

  “Trust me. No guy in his right mind wants to deal with a hysterical female. No matter how high up the hotness scale she rates.”

  Grace blinked. “You think I’m hot?”

  “Like you don’t know.” What was it with women? She was beautiful. Stunning, intelligent and sexy enough to freeze brain cells made her a triple threat.

  Grace strolled over to stand in front of him. One white-tipped fingernail trailed down his chest to rest on his belt. His dick leapt to attention like a well-trained dog. Her fingertip burned a path back and forth across his abdomen, hardening everything in the vicinity.

  “I think you’re pretty hot too.”

  Unaware he’d even fisted them, he uncurled his hands and reached for her. Someone pounded on the door. Biting back a curse, he dropped his hands and memorized the desire glazing her green eyes. Lips full and pouty, eyelids drooping, cheeks flushed, she was a walking advertisement for sex. She made it damn hard to walk away.

  “Mr. Duncan?”

  He groaned. Grace spun away. The image of her nipples pressed against the delicate material of her blouse was imprinted on his brain. Front and center.

  Striding across the room, he flung open the door. The two security guards on the other side stepped back. The man he assumed was a police officer did not.

  “Come in, gentlemen.” He shoved aside his impatience and waved them in.

  “Uh, that’s okay.” The older guard remained rooted to the spot. “I think the police can take it from here.”

  “Fine.” Matt shifted his gaze from the guard to the other man. “Officer?”

  The police officer walked around the two guards and into the office. Matt shut the door without another glance at the petrified guards. He expected more gumption out of men in their position, even if he did sign their paychecks.

  “Matt Duncan.” He held out his hand to the police officer.

  “Detective Spencer Harrison.” Harrison shook his hand with a firm grip.

  Detective. That explained the suit.

  “Grace Debry.” Matt gestured toward Grace.

  She crossed the room to shake the officer’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Detective Harrison.”

  “I understand your office was broken into.”

  “Not broken into exactly, as I don’t lock the door. But, yes, it’s my office.”

  Harrison glanced at him, obviously looking for confirmation.

  He nodded. “After business hours, you have to enter a security code in the elevator panel to reach this floor.”

  Harrison made a notation on his pad. “Who has the code?”

  “The majority of the employees. The exclusions would be temporary help and anyone who has worked here for less than ninety days. Unless they hold an executive position, in which case they’re given the code immediately.”

  Detective Harrison glanced between them and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Doesn’t look like they took anything, so it comes across as a prank. I’m not sure what you’d like me to do. You have a decent-sized company. That leaves an awful lot of people open as suspects.”

  Matt nodded. “I understand. Normally, I wouldn’t have requested the police. But there have been incidents at Miss Debry’s home.”

  “What incidents?”

  Grace answered. “Someone has broken into my condo twice. The last was Saturday afternoon while I was out. I called the police.”

  “They filled out a report?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes”.

  “Okay.” Detective Harrison scribbled something in his notepad then stuck it in his pocket. “I’ll pull it when I get back and add this to the report.”

  Frustration tightened Matt’s gut. He understood there wasn’t a whole lot the police could do, but he didn’t have to like it. Plus, the timing bugged him.

  “Thank you, Detective.” After showing him out, he glanced at Grace. “You want some help putting the files back?”

  “No.” She sighed. “We’ve already got the whole office in a tizzy. Helping me sort through papers would set off a whirlwind of whispers.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He didn’t. He was too concerned about her reaction if she found another note stuck in the files somewhere. She shouldn’t have to deal with this crap alone.

  “Well, I do. I can manage just fine.”

  Slipping past him, she tugged open the door. She glanced over her shoulder. The picture
she presented stalled his heart in his chest. Black curls cascading down her back, perfect butt, long slim legs, drawing the eye down to those sexy-as-hell shoes.

  “Thank you for your help, Matt. Your swift response really…” Her lashes dropped to conceal her eyes. A small frown creased the skin between her brows. “Helped.”

  The door closed with a quiet click behind her. Standing there in the middle of his big office, he puzzled over her. Her admission had obviously cost her. Not surprising, considering a childhood spent in foster care. She’d probably learned to take care of herself and not depend on anyone at a painfully young age.

  He couldn’t honestly say he understood what her childhood had been like, the circumstances that would have driven her. Growing up the eldest boy in a typical suburban family, he hadn’t had to cope with anything difficult. Nothing outside of the normal situations that arose in any family. His childhood consisted of two loving parents, a younger brother to pester him and sports, hunting, and horses to keep him busy.

  Matt sat, swiveling to face the windows. Gray clouds hung low and heavy over the city. The balmy weekend had given way to weather more suitable to a wet spring. There wouldn’t be any more rides on his Harley for a while.

  The memory of Grace clinging to him on their ride after dinner and her low moan increased his heart rate. If she came like that, without being touched, how much more incredible would it be when he was inside her?

  Damn. He had a meeting in fifteen minutes with a bunch of stiff-necked executives. They were considering using his firm to build a state-of-the-art factory near Salt Lake. An erection tenting his pants would not impress them.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I am so not dressed for this,” Grace muttered.

  She shifted again. Her job didn’t usually entail crawling on the floor and a snug pencil skirt that did not lend itself to this sort of situation.

  Her left foot had long since fallen asleep. Whoever did this hadn’t bothered messing up the files. It shouldn’t take her too long to restore order. They had a pretty odd sense of humor, but at least she wouldn’t be wasting an entire day on her office floor.