by Olivia Dade
He clasped her hand in his and drew her onto the small dance floor that separated the bar area from the pool hall. As they wedged themselves between enthusiastically bouncing couples and groups of women, the jukebox switched to another song. A slow one. Prince began to sing about purple rain, and Blaine took her into his strong arms. They swayed together silently for a minute, his embrace providing her with the solace and support she needed so badly. With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder. He drew her closer, one hand holding hers and the other resting gently on her back.
Finally, he leaned down to speak into her ear. “I worried about you after that staff meeting. You didn’t seem like yourself. And you don’t seem like your usual bubbly self now, either. What’s going on, Angie? Is it about your job?”
She shook her head, her nose bumping the soft cotton of his shirt. “Man trouble.”
“Ah.” He unexpectedly lifted their joined hands high and spun her in several quick circles.
She laughed helplessly. He grinned in return, drawing her close once more.
“Any man who doesn’t appreciate you doesn’t deserve you, darling,” Blaine said. “You need to hold out for someone who realizes how special you are. Don’t waste your time on a blind fool.”
She looked up at him. “He’s not a fool. It’s just a bad situation.”
“Bullshit.” Blaine shook his head. “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet. If you really care about someone, any problem can be solved.”
“I’m not sure that—” she began.
“Unless he’s married, dead, or gay,” Blaine interrupted. “Is he married, dead, or gay?”
She laughed again. “No.”
“Well, then.”
“Thank you for caring about me,” she whispered.
“Thanks for being someone worth caring about,” he said. He spread his hand on her upper back, and then lowered her into a dip.
She smiled at him as he raised her back to vertical. “No one’s ever dipped me before,” she exclaimed. “That was amazing!”
“Speaking of things that could be amazing,” he said. “Do you want to come over to my house tonight?”
“That sounds—”
A broad hand landed on Blaine’s shoulder and jerked him backward, a few inches away from Angie. She looked up to see Grant, but not a Grant she recognized. Not the slightly shy, gentle man she’d come to know in private. Not the controlled, rational man he presented to the world.
No, this Grant looked dangerous. His eyes had narrowed, and his fists clenched close by his hips. His nostrils flared as he breathed. Hectic color washed over his cheekbones.
Blaine turned to face Grant, his eyes widening when he recognized the aggressor. “Grant? What the f—”
“Get your hands off her,” Grant ordered, his voice quiet and lethal. “She’s not going home with you. Tonight or any other night.”
Blaine didn’t let go. If anything, his hand in hers tightened. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? She can do anything she wants. You’re her supervisor, not her keeper.”
“No, I’m not her keeper,” Grant rumbled. “I’m her lover.”
Angie’s jaw dropped, and she fought hysterical laughter. So much for keeping their previous relationship a secret. By pure luck alone, Grant had outed them to one of their few colleagues who wouldn’t betray them to the administration. What the fuck had happened to the cautious man she’d met only four days ago? Was he drunk? High?
Grant switched his stony gaze to her, and the force of it almost made her gasp.
No, she realized. Not drunk. Not high. Not unless testosterone and possessiveness were considered drugs.
Even though Blaine still held one of her hands, Grant had dismissed him. Her supervisor spoke directly to her. Only to her. And what he said next was both the most exciting and the most terrifying thing she could have imagined.
“You,” Grant told her, “are coming home with me tonight.”
19
Grant was pretty sure he was having an out-of-body experience.
Only a minute before, he’d been sitting at an oddly named bar next to his brother Nathan, who’d come to visit their parents for the weekend. They’d taken slugs from their beer bottles and talked about work, about Grant’s move, about their father’s health—anything and everything except the subject dominating Grant’s thoughts. Angie. As usual.
Then he’d looked up and seen her. Not chatting with her friends, whom he now spied sitting around a large table and laughing loudly. Not making her way to the bar for another drink or to the women’s room. Not coming by his table to greet him.
No, Angie had been standing on the dance floor, held close in the arms of another man. The tall, blond asshole he’d seen hug her earlier in the week at the staff meeting. She’d rested her cheek against his shoulder as he pulled her close, and then laughed up at him as the bastard twirled and dipped her.
Grant had never learned to dance. He had no idea how to dip, spin, or otherwise romance a woman on the dance floor. This man—Blair? Blake?—definitely did. And from the look of happy relaxation on Angie’s face, she’d appreciated the man’s efforts.
Grant had stood abruptly, making his chair topple behind him. He didn’t give a single, solitary fuck. All he could see, all he cared about, was swaying on the dance floor with another man. She was oblivious to Grant, the man whose hand had made her come so hard yesterday. The man who’d met her fucking parents. The man who’d claimed her as his. His.
“Grant?” Nathan had asked. “What’s wrong?”
He hadn’t bothered to answer. With a dozen long strides, he’d reached the oblivious couple. And then he’d heard this . . . this . . . interloper ask Angie to come home with him.
It was at that point Grant seemed to disconnect from his body. It wasn’t at all like the descriptions from survivors of near-death experiences. He didn’t feel like he was floating on the ceiling, watching his body from above. Instead, he felt like someone else had taken over that body. Someone who spoke in short words, short sentences. Someone who dealt in violence for the sake of his woman. Someone driven by a single, overriding imperative: to stake an unmistakable claim on Angie, as publicly and quickly as possible.
“You,” that someone said to Angie, “are coming home with me tonight.”
Evidently, the body-snatcher who’d taken control of Grant didn’t care if his ass got fired for an affair with his subordinate.
Grant had to admit, however, that the body-snatcher got results. When the blond asshole turned to Angie and told her she didn’t need to go anywhere with anyone she didn’t want to, she merely shook her head and detached herself from him.
“Thank you, Blaine,” she said. “But I’ll be okay. Can you keep this between the three of us? I’d prefer not to lose my job, if at all possible.”
“Of course,” the man had said, a deep frown carving lines into his perfect goddamn forehead. “But are you sure you want to—”
“I’m sure,” she said, and gave Blaine a quick hug. The man’s arms closed around her, squeezing tight.
Whoever was currently inhabiting Grant’s body apparently liked to growl. He was good at it, too.
Angie swung back around to face him. “Cool it,” she snapped. “I’m coming with you, crazypants. Though I make no promises about what’s going to happen once I get to your house.”
And with her acknowledgment that she was coming home with him, Grant suddenly snapped back into his body. His normal, diffident, slow-to-provoke brain started working again. His heart rate slowed. His fists unclenched, and his shoulders loosened. He no longer had the urge to head-butt his new colleague, no matter how disgustingly well that man danced.
He did, however, have the urge to vomit. If this Blaine chose not to keep his promise, Grant could get fired. Maybe Angie too.
A firm hand on his shoulder made him turn around.
“Grant? You okay, bro?” Nathan asked.
He closed his eyes in disbelief. He’d forgo
tten about his fucking brother. The same brother he’d been talking with literally one fucking minute ago.
With a sigh, he opened his eyes again. Blaine was glaring at him with narrowed eyes. Angie was tapping her foot in an impatient tattoo. Nathan seemed confused. And then . . . less so.
In fact, his expression turned downright smug. “Oh. I understand,” Nathan said with a smirk. “I’ll head back to Mom and Dad’s house. Just remember the Christmas gift I gave you.” He gave Grant an ostentatious wink. “Remember? It came in a big, big package.” He winked again, even more exaggeratedly.
Angie turned to Nathan with a dangerous smile. “I assume you’re referring to the shitload of condoms you gave him. Is that right?”
Nathan, who obviously hadn’t expected Angie to understand his reference, appeared to choke on air. Biting back an unexpected grin, Grant thumped his brother on the back.
He turned to Nathan. “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” he said, giving his brother a little push toward the door.
His face a bit pink, Nathan saluted Angie and Blaine with a flick of his forefinger. He then stumbled toward the exit with a final, lackluster good-bye: “Later, bro.”
Angie turned to Grant. “He’s a microbiologist? Really? I suddenly fear for our nation’s health during the next pandemic.”
“Really,” he said. “I know it’s hard to—”
“Look,” Blaine interrupted. “I’ll be going. Are you sure you’re all right, Angie? Because I’d be happy to take you home.”
Grant felt another growl begin to emerge from his throat, but he choked it back.
“I’m fine,” Angie said with a sigh. “I just think Grant’s big head abdicated in favor of the little one for a moment. Thank you, though, for the dance and for your concern. I’ll talk to you on Monday.”
Blaine gave Grant a long, hard look. “Angie knows she can call me at any time, day or night. And if I hear you’ve harmed her in any way, rest assured I’ll make you regret it.”
For the first time in his life, Grant had to suppress an urge to bare his teeth and snarl at another man. What the fuck is going on? he thought incredulously. Who am I? And how the hell does Angie have this effect on me?
With an effort, he responded as politely as he could. “I would never hurt Angie.”
He was pretty sure Blaine received Grant’s intended message: Angie was safe. Blaine was not.
With a final touch on Angie’s arm, Blaine departed. She watched him exit out the door to the parking lot, and then heaved a heavy sigh.
“What the fuck, Grant?” she asked, swiveling to face him. “I thought we didn’t have anything but a working relationship and a platonic friendship anymore.”
“I . . . I don’t . . .”
She shook her head. “Whatever. We’ll talk about it when we get to your house. Let me check in with my girls and grab my purse and coat.”
With quick strides, she headed back to her friends’ table. Penny turned toward her, looking concerned. The petite woman glanced at Grant, and then quickly looked back at Angie. After a minute of conversation, though, Penny leaned in for a hug good-bye. Angie went around the table, distributing and collecting hugs from the rest of her friends. Finally, with her purse in her hand and her coat draped carelessly over her arm, she headed back his way.
“Okay, Mr. Neanderthal. Let’s go,” she said.
All the way out to their cars, he couldn’t think of a single intelligent thing to say. All he could do was hand her into her car, looking down at her tousled blond hair and beautiful, wary face.
“You still want me to come to your house?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t know much of anything at the moment, but he knew that.
“Okay. Meet you there,” she said, and then closed her car door.
He waited until he knew her engine had started before he walked to his own car. When he turned his key in the ignition, Beethoven blasted from the stereo. He turned off the music with a jab of his finger. He didn’t need the distraction. Instead, he needed to think hard about what he could say to Angie. How he could explain what had just occurred. What he wanted from her.
With the body-snatcher’s departure, his brain had started working again. All too clearly, as a matter of fact.
I can’t believe Angie’s even willing to come home with me after what I did. I interfered with her personal life, which I had no right to do. Worse, I endangered both our jobs by announcing a relationship that doesn’t even exist anymore, despite what I may want. Despite what my hand was doing only yesterday. Despite how enticing a secret affair sounds.
He figured she’d agreed to follow him home for one reason and one reason only: to demand an apology in private, where her coworkers couldn’t hear. Or maybe to give him a swift kick in the balls without any witnesses. Otherwise, he had no other explanation for why she’d trusted him, the man who’d disrupted her evening with a primitive display of possessiveness.
Her headlights followed him all the way home. And even when both cars arrived at his house, he didn’t know what he’d say to her. He put a hand lightly on her back to guide her up the two steps to his front door, unlocked it, and waved her inside before him. The deadlock on the door slid into place. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face her.
And then he didn’t need to find words, because Angie—as always—took the lead.
“What happened back there, Grant? You risked our jobs and interrupted my time with my friends for . . . what?”
She stood with her hands on her hips and her booted foot tapping the floor in a staccato rhythm. A tight pair of dark jeans revealed the enticing roundness of those hips and clung lovingly to every inch of her stupendous legs. Her black shirt somehow crossed over her breasts, revealing more cleavage than he’d ever seen from her. Other than their times in bed, of course.
Angie looked amazing. Sexy as hell. She also looked pissed as hell, which he could certainly understand.
“And what was your problem with Blaine? Do you somehow think if you can’t touch me, no one else can either?” she added.
He barely heard her words. Instead, as he looked at her, he tried to put a name to everything she forced him to feel. Angie enticed him. Fascinated him. Exasperated him. Enlivened each moment he spent by her side. Made him laugh. Hardened his cock at inappropriate times. Last night, at her parents’ house, she’d even made his heart ache for her.
Actually, no. That wasn’t quite accurate. She’d made his heart ache long before he’d met her parents. That ache had consumed him since Tuesday morning, the moment when Tina had announced that Angie was one of his branch managers. The moment when he’d realized their romantic relationship would have to end. The ache had only intensified with each minute they spent together and each minute they spent apart.
He didn’t see his pain ending anytime soon. Not as long as they failed to follow through on what they’d promised during their one night together.
I’m yours. You’re mine. No regrets.
The right words finally came to him. Even twenty-four hours ago, he’d never have expected to say them. But right now, they felt right. They expressed everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Every way in which she’d changed him.
His shoulders straightened, and he held her exasperated gaze directly. No matter how she responded to what he told her, he needed to say it. And he needed to say it without hemming, hawing, or protecting himself with words like “probably” or “maybe.” What he felt was simple. Clear. The words expressing those feelings needed to be the same way.
“I’m falling for you, Angie,” Grant said. “I want you in my life. As my friend and as my lover. Any way I can get you. Every way I can get you.”
Her mouth fell open, and her foot stopped tapping. He stood and waited patiently until she gathered her thoughts.
“But . . . our jobs,” she finally managed to say.
“It’s a problem. I won’t argue that it’s not. But we’ll only need to hide ou
r relationship until I can find another job within driving distance. Usually, it doesn’t look good if you leave a position within a year, but I have some connections. I’m sure I can eventually find something.”
He pushed the thought of his parents to the side. They needed his help, no question about it. And if he got caught having an affair with his subordinate, he’d get fired. The likelihood of finding another nearby job with that kind of blot on his record . . . well, it wasn’t high.
Gambling with his parents’ well-being didn’t sit well with him. He loved them. He owed them. But he had to take this chance with Angie. If he didn’t, he knew he’d regret it for a long, long time. Maybe for the rest of his life.
Surely he could manage to conceal his feelings for Angie long enough to get a new job within commuting distance. If he played this right, no one but he and Angie ever had to know the exact timing of their relationship. No one needed to get hurt, least of all his parents.
Her eyes had grown wide. “For me?” she whispered. “You’re willing to risk your job and find a new one for me?”
“There’s a risk to you too,” he reminded her. “If someone in charge finds out, I assume I’d take the blame, but I don’t know for sure. You could get fired too, especially since you’re already in such a precarious situation at work. Even if you’re not fired, people might think you slept with me for job security, like you said before. As angry as that implication makes me.”
“I’m used to risks. But you . . .”
“I know.” He smiled wryly. “I’m a cautious man. Usually. But you’re too important for me to lose. I don’t want to work my whole life in anticipation of joy that never comes. I want the joy now. I want you.”
She blinked at him, her brows drawn together and her hands twisting around and around each other. He couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. Not revolted, which he considered a good sign. Not angry anymore. But . . . frightened, maybe. Almost as if she were afraid to believe what he was saying.
“You should be proud of me,” he added. “I’m making decisions with my gurt.”