by Avery Laval
He thought of the way her body seemed to turn itself over to him, the far-off look of pleasure in her eyes as he traced his lips all over her, the way she’d pushed into his body urgently. She’d wanted him, all right. That kind of desire he knew she couldn’t fake.
But then, even as he’d run his hands over her bare midriff, he’d caught himself thinking of her in altogether the wrong sort of way, not just like any woman, but like his lover. He’d begun to fantasize about all the ways he’d want to have her in his bed, over and over again. About holding her afterward, running her long, dark hair between his thumb and forefinger and listening to her breathing as she slept. Those traitorous thoughts made him stop dead in his tracks.
And that moment’s pause was all it took. In that instant, he saw how she’d instinctively covered herself under his intense glare. One arm sliding up to shield her breasts, the other moving down, resting on the inside of the opposite thigh, protecting the core of her. A tiny defensive motion, but enough to bring him back to his senses. Make him realize he was close—too close—to going too far.
He’d been drunk with desire. And then he had sobered up just in time.
Grant balled his fists, furious—at himself, sure—but at Jenna, too. For making him feel so out of control. For being so hard to understand. For being so damn desirable. For letting him kiss her, for kissing him back.
A ding sounded in the elevator, shaking him out of his ruminations.
He spun around from the window and started toward the hall to push the backlit button that allowed the elevator access to his suite. It was probably Martin, coming to ask him further instructions for Jenna’s departure. The doors opened. “What is it, Mar—” he spoke—until he saw the long, smooth legs and telltale shiny d’orsay heels he’d slipped off a few minutes earlier. He cursed quietly and advanced on Jenna, unwilling to give her even the slightest foothold back in his suite.
“Don’t, Jenna. You’ve put me in a terrible position. Don’t take another step.”
Jenna ignored the shivers of fear she felt as she advanced out of the elevator, into the close proximity of a man she couldn’t bear to look in the eye for fear she would crack open. But looking down at his firm chest—still bare—only brought back the rush of desire she’d succumbed to so quickly before. She shook her head to clear it. Get in, get out, go home, she reminded herself. It was mortifying to have to return here, just minutes after he’d so coldly and mysteriously rejected her, but she’d had no choice. She’d had to come back, if she wanted even the slightest chance of still having her job tomorrow.
And she needed to have her job tomorrow.
Without a word—she didn’t trust her voice—she reached out her cupped hand and dropped the beautiful blue diamond earrings on the glass console that sat just inside the doors. A clattering sound, like ice dropping into an empty glass, rang through the room.
“What are—” Grant began, then stopped himself when she took her hand away and revealed the steel blue gems.
Jenna took a deep breath and tested her shaky voice. “When I…when we…I—I forgot to return these to you. I know it would have been totally inappropriate for me to have taken them home with me.”
“Totally inappropriate?” Grant asked, his voice sounding at once bitter and surprised. “What else would you have done with them but taken them home? Pawned them on Sierra Vista?”
“Of course not.” She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, hoping he didn’t see the goose bumps that covered her exposed skin even on such a warm night, and summoned every ounce of professionalism she had—the same professionalism she’d dropped like a hot potato the moment he’d kissed her. “I appreciate the loan for the party, but I don’t think it’s right for your employees to take home company property, especially property so valuable as this.”
Grant turned from her and crossed his arms, giving nothing away. “And I would agree with you, if those earrings were company property. But they aren’t. I purchased them by bank transfer this evening before I left the office.”
Jenna started. Could this be true? His words stunned her, added yet another mystery to her list of things she didn’t understand about Grant Blakely. She shook her head no, wishing that for just a moment something could make sense. Why he’d kissed her in the lobby tonight. Why he’d kicked her out just as she’d lost her head to the pleasure his hands, his lips, his body could give. Why he was treating her so coldly now, just minutes later.
She searched for reason. “In that case, Grant, they belong to you, not me.”
“I gave them to you, in the car.” Grant said, slowly, not breaking his icy demeanor for even a second. “You snatched them up before I’d even fully opened the box. Don’t tell me you didn’t love them the moment you laid eyes on them.”
“It doesn’t matter if I love them—which I don’t”—she knew better than to think one could love possessions anymore—“because I thought they were a loan. I would never have accepted them if I’d known they were meant to be a gift. It would be too much. Especially after the dress and the shoes.”
Grant snorted at that, and she realized he didn’t believe her. He thought this was all some sort of pandering.
That he thought she could stoop so low hurt just as much as his earlier rejection. She felt the tears she’d stifled in the elevator well up again.
She heard her own defeat in her voice when she asked him, quietly, “Did you think I was for sale, is that it? Did you think you could purchase me with a pair of diamond earrings and a designer dress?”
Grant turned back on her, quickly, as if he’d suddenly come unfrozen. “How could I think otherwise?” he demanded. “Put yourself in my shoes. Here’s a girl who’s never worked a day in her life, who is used to having things handed to her at every turn, who suddenly, out of the blue, wants to keep my schedule and take dictation? And then I saw your face when you were shopping. When you laid eyes on those diamonds. When you tasted the champagne. When you stepped into the Bellagio. You say you want to leave your past behind you, but your behavior tells me something completely different.”
Jenna recoiled, stumbled backwards first one step, then two. “But you’re wrong about me,” she tried, hating how weak she sounded through her choked-back tears.
“I am quite familiar with women like you, Jenna. And I know exactly what your price is.” His words burned her. She felt the unstoppable tears begin to make their way down her face.
“If that’s true,” she said softly, defeated before the words were even out of her mouth, “why am I not in your bed right now?”
“You’re not in my bed, Ms. McCormick, because I don’t enjoy being used.”
The truth of his words, twisted as they were, took Jenna’s breath away. He was right. She had loved, for just one night, pretending life was the glittering whirlwind it had once been, when her parents were still alive. The dress, the diamonds, the toasts and the society. Part of her had missed it all.
But would she sleep with a man to get those things back? Never.
A tear escaped from one eye, despite all her fighting it. She could say nothing more. She simply nodded her understanding, leaned down and took off those spiteful shoes, and retreated, barefoot, into the waiting elevator.
Grant slept poorly that night. He’d been hard on the woman. Too hard.
But it was not without a purpose. He had hoped getting out his anger would have been both gratifying and effective. It would have sent her a message, and sent himself one as well. Stay away. Keep your distance. Protect yourself at all costs.
Instead, he felt himself roiling with regret even after Jenna had been gone for hours. He’d done nothing more than spell out the truth to her, but the painful look on her face as he’d done so was burned into his memory.
Two fingers of good scotch had done little to make him forget how close he’d come to abandon. Abandon that was wrong on so many levels. That she was his assistant and he was in a position of power over her had not escaped his notice. No
r had the fact that she was, if not actually drunk, definitely uninhibited by the champagne she’d consumed. If he had gone forward, made love to her as he’d longed to, he would never forgive himself on either point.
And even still, he wished the evening had ended differently.
As he tossed and turned that night, he had to remind himself that Jenna was not someone he could confidently trust. Returning the earrings might have been genuine. Or it could have been a ploy. Even now he wondered if she’d truly thought the jewels were only on loan to her, not given as a gift. He wanted to believe she was genuine almost as much as he wanted her back in his bed.
But he’d been fooled before. The memory of his father’s scheming flashed through his mind. This woman was likely no different. Which meant she wouldn’t give up until she’d gotten her way—or been stopped once and for all.
When the phone rang at just after seven a.m., Grant was roused from a fitful sleep. He ignored the call—as he always did with restricted numbers—but when it rang for the second time, Grant picked up the phone and barked, “Blakely” into the mouthpiece, mostly to stop the ringing.
Then he said little else. Instead he listened, carefully. He felt groggy from bad sleep, but his faculties snapped into action quickly enough as he heard what his caller had to say. After grasping around the nightstand for a pen and paper, he took a couple of notes, a few names, and—most importantly—an address. With a quick word of thanks to the caller, he hung up the phone, swung his feet out of bed, and started his day with new energy.
He had been right about Jenna McCormick. Wrong about her motivations, but right about her ultimate motive.
And now he knew exactly what to do about it.
He’d already decided that firing her wasn’t an option. He’d promised to give her three months, and as long as she kept doing her job well, he had to keep his word. But it would be an excruciating three months, as long as she was intent on looking at him with such naked desire in his eyes. Or worse, with undisguised hurt.
So now, he saw another way. A way to guarantee she would want out of the job in a matter of weeks, not months. And, truth be told, it was a way that was all too tempting.
Seduction.
A small smile of anticipation formed on Grant’s lips. Now that he knew why Jenna needed this job so badly, he knew how to get her to quit it. And once she did, then, and only then, he could succumb to the temptation she incited.
Not only would this plan grant him freedom from Jenna once and for all, it had the pleasant side effect of allowing him to give in to his attraction for her.
The private investigator had been a wise investment. Grant had wondered what Jenna had done with her trust fund, how she could have possibly spent all that money so quickly. Now he had a very good explanation indeed.
And with it, a chance to indulge his every desire.
.
8
Jenna was sitting at her desk at 8:25 that morning, a full pot of coffee ready in the executive lounge, Grant’s computer booted up and ready to go, and a feeling of absolute terror coursing through her veins. It was the exhaustion, she told herself. That, and the surefire humiliation that was coming at the hands of her ruthless, heartless boss.
She knew what she’d let herself do last night had been dangerous. Foolish. The man was her employer. There had to be HR policies on the books for taking off your dress in front of your direct supervisor.
But then, she reassured herself, there would probably also be policies for taking off your tuxedo in front of your direct subordinate, too.
Most likely, they’d both be motivated to keep last night’s indiscretion to themselves. But would she be able to conceal the way he’d hurt her in that terrible moment at the Bellagio? Or the way he’d made her feel before that moment?
She looked at her desk clock for the forty-seventh time in the past four minutes. He’d be here any minute, she figured. She checked her outfit one more time, making sure she looked, if not fashion-forward, at least unquestionably businesslike. She was wearing the other of her two suits, navy with light pinstripes, with a bold yellow sleeveless sweater underneath. The canary color spoke of confidence, and that would have to serve until she’d gotten the real thing back. Working with Grant Blakely, she wasn’t sure she ever would.
At least today was Friday. Friday had been her favorite night of the week ever since Justin had moved into his new facility. And this Friday would be even better because tonight she’d walk out of this office and know she wouldn’t have to see the CEO again for an entire weekend. It would be sweet mercy.
Jenna’s fantasy of escape was shattered by the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Here he comes, she thought. Brace yourself. The footsteps got closer and closer, then stopped in front of her desk, expectantly. Jenna tore her eyes away from her computer screen, prepared herself to take in the six feet and two inches of man who’d been stretched out on top of her next-to-naked body last night.
Instead she found Sandy, the receptionist she’d briefly met yesterday, looking incredibly impatient.
“He’s not coming in today,” Sandy said when she saw that Jenna had noticed her. “He’ll be at a construction site, working on one of the new holdings for the Blakely Corporation. He says he called in twice but hasn’t heard back from you. Didn’t you check your messages?”
Jenna looked down at the phone and found it blinking red. “Oh, no! I completely forgot to check.”
Sandy smiled at Jenna’s innocent foible. “Eh, don’t worry about it. The guy is acting a little odd, if you ask me. He doesn’t usually expect his assistants to be at his beck and call.”
Jenna blushed, glad Sandy had no idea just how much beckoning he’d done last night. “I guess it’s because he’s got so much going on.”
Sandy raised an eyebrow. “What, you mean the Blakely Corp thing today? That’s how it always is for him. He’s always developing new properties, and somehow never lets anything here slide. You didn’t think his entire bankroll came from McCormick, did you?”
“I guess I never really thought about his bankroll,” Jenna said, wondering what territory she was wandering into. Was Sandy looking for a pal to gossip with, or trying to tell her something important? “I always figured McCormick was a big enough company to keep a CEO pretty busy.”
“A normal CEO, yes.” Sandy said, with undisguised admiration in her voice. “But not Grant. He’s something else; a real genius for finding solutions when everyone else thinks there aren’t any.” Sandy leaned in conspiratorially. “That, and he hires the best. He researches every new hire meticulously, and makes sure he knows their job as well as they do, so he’ll know when they’re doing it well—or not. Over time, the technique has resulted in an amazing management team. But don’t tell them that. It’s the receptionist’s job to keep egos under control, you know.”
Jenna smiled at that last statement. She thought of the way Sandy had dressed her down earlier in the week when she was trying to learn how to work the phones. If Sandy was in charge of ego control, then Grant really did hire the best. “I see,” she said. “So he does double the work of a normal man?” Her eyebrows lifted, so Sandy could see how ridiculous she found that statement.
But the receptionist either missed her cue, or truly was caught in Grant’s spell. “Exactly. So expect to be holding down the fort here a couple of days a week without him. Answer any emails you can handle, keep his schedule in order, and generally try to keep chaos from reigning while he’s gone.” Sandy turned to leave, her message delivered, but then thought of one more thing. “And Jenna?”
“Yes, Sandy?”
“I like you. So don’t mess anything up,” she said with a big smile, and then showed herself out.
Don’t mess anything up. Sandy’s instructions echoed in her ears. They were easier said than done, especially considering last night. She’d already messed things up, and very badly. But Grant had given her a stay of execution by not coming in today, and she would have to be thankf
ul for small favors.
Except, for some reason, not seeing Grant didn’t seem like such a favor.
Maybe she was hoping he’d come in and be his harsh, unwelcoming self. Then she’d forget the embarrassment she felt at his rejection and just be glad she hadn’t gone to bed with him. Except she wasn’t sure she could be glad of that, even now. Even though she wanted to blame her wanton behavior on the champagne and the memories, she knew in the deepest part of her that she was fiercely attracted to the man. Attracted to his strong, confident manner in the office, his smiling support as he shepherded her through the jewelers’ reception, and to his listening ear when she’d confided in him in the lobby of the Bellagio hotel. And perhaps even more, she was attracted to his strong shoulders, his narrow waist, his smooth stomach and powerful chest.
Time to get a grip, Jenna scolded herself. It didn’t matter how attractive he was. She had to stop thinking of Grant as a man and start thinking of him as the enemy—so she could survive this job. Fortified, Jenna picked up her phone and dialed in for her messages. Sure enough, there were two from Grant. The first told her where he’d be and gave her his mobile number, the second was him checking back a half hour later to see why she hadn’t called him back. There! That kind of demanding behavior would help her remember why he was trouble. Maybe she would start making a list: “Reasons to avoid Grant Blakely like the plague.”
“Reason one,” Jenna spoke aloud. “He stole your family business.” She punched in his cell phone number and listened to it ring.
“Blakely,” came his unmistakable voice. “This must be my assistant at long last.”
“It is indeed. Good morning.”
“I’m so glad you decided to show up today.”
Jenna frowned into the receiver. Was it possible to hear a man smirking over the phone?
“Of course I showed up,” she said smoothly. Stay calm, Jenna.