“Well, yeah, Legal Eagle, she’s with you. She works for you.” Vince snorted.
“No. She’s with me.” Grant jutted his chin up even more. “With me, with me.”
First of all, she wasn’t a pawn to toss around. Second of all, why did they have to put up with nonsense? Vince and Arnie were the doormen. Bodyguards, whatever. But weren’t they supposed to be adults? Did Grant have to call Paul and report that his employees were pulling stunts and prohibiting their approved absence?
“Prove it.” Vince crossed his arms, a glint of something like amusement in his eyes.
Grant sighed—probably just as irritated at this crap—and pecked a kiss on her temple. “See?”
Jesus Christ. If Vince wanted Grant to prove he and she were an item, that chaste press of his lips would do nothing. More like showing he was her uncle.
“Hell, that ain’t a kiss.” Vince shook his head.
So, what, because she wasn’t with Grant—which, obviously, she wasn’t other than as his assistant—she had to give him a kiss? Could this get any more childish? “Excuse me, but—”
“Vince,” Grant said, his tone escalating toward warning.
But Grant wasn’t in charge. Roxie would bet her bottom teeth Vince and Arnie could hardly give a damn if they got in to check the knives in the kitchens. They thought they were comedians. Ha. Ha. But it was clear they had to play along to get anywhere.
She turned into Grant’s embrace and patted his solid chest. Kiss him. Get in. Look at the knives. Get out. Go home. It was simple. A simple sacrifice to play along and get things moving. Clearing her throat, she tilted her head to give Vince what she hoped was a sheepish smile.
“He’s not a fan of public displays of affection. One kiss, and we go in, right?”
Vince smiled and raised a brow.
“This is how we kiss.” Without hesitating to second-guess her motivations, she slid her hands up the sides of Grant’s neck and slipped her fingers through his silky blond hair. Pulling him down, she molded her lips to his mouth.
His soft, often smirking or frowning lips. Against hers, they curved to match, opened to welcome her and offer his taste. As heat spiraled from her head to her core, his kiss melted her like a potent drink on an empty stomach.
His hand on her back gripped tighter, and his other clutched her jacket just above her waist, slamming their chests together. Her heart raced and her breaths turned to desperate gasps. She curled her fingers in his hair, forcing him closer, herself higher.
More. I want more.
He let out a low groan as he shifted his face even closer, the faint scruff of his beginning stubble scratching her cheeks. There was no distinction between where he began and she ended, and it wasn’t enough. Locked in his hold, Roxie kissed him harder, wrapped her arms around his neck tighter, and still needed to get even closer to his wicked warmth.
Thoughts couldn’t process as her body and soul gave over to a combination of magnetic and natural forces. Once his tongue danced with hers, she whimpered, and she was no longer on her feet. Whether she had slowly hooked her legs around his waist, or he had roughly grabbed her ass and picked her up, it didn’t matter. But airborne she was, clinging to him and still anxious for more.
“Da-amn, Legal Eagle.” Vince whistled.
“Need a room upstairs instead?” Arnie asked through his laughter.
Roxie froze. Her swollen lips remained parted against Grant’s, their rushed breaths battling each other’s. She inhaled sharply as the doormen’s remarks paralyzed the moment and shocked her out of her blanket of desire she was so contentedly trapped in.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What the hell am I doing? She swallowed as she let her lips forfeit their claim on Grant’s, but she couldn’t open her eyes and face him. Instead she squinted slightly tighter. His hands slid across her bottom as he slowly let go, her legs unwrapping until her feet met cement.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. How could she have? How could she have given in and just…fallen? It was supposed to be a kiss. A stupid, simple maneuver to appease Vince’s idiotic game, and it turned into the most memorable blur of desire in her life.
How long had they kissed? Ten seconds? Five minutes?
A groan tickled her throat. Not only from the idiotic decision to cross that line between boss and employee—even in the manner of a joke—but from the stark reality of what she’d unearthed. Grant wasn’t merely curious about her, interested in her. If his kiss could speak for itself, he burned for her just as much as she did for him.
Open your eyes. Do not sigh. Do not motherfucking sigh. Look him in the eye and march your ass on into the kitchen. It meant nothing.
It had to mean nothing. He was her boss. Schooling herself to pose aloofness, she swallowed, opened her eyes with her best poker face, and smoothed down his tie—all the while avoiding his stare.
“See, Vince?” she asked and chided herself for the breathlessness in her voice. Clearing her throat again, she glanced up at Grant.
Back on her own two feet, instead of the heaven in his arms, she had to bend her neck to meet his gaze. No, he hadn’t minded that kiss at all. In fact, if she didn’t step back and regain some propriety, some professionalism… He must have read the alarm on her face because he seemed to shove his desire away as he wiped a palm over his face, rubbing at his cheek.
Darkness painted the sky behind Grant, and she fretted over just how long they’d been embracing each other like a soldier coming home to his lover after years overseas. She gritted her teeth.
“Come on through, Legal Eagle,” Vince said with too much amusement in his grin. “Event’s gonna start soon, so in and out.” He extended his arm to allow them access to the club’s private entrance.
In and out. Yeah, that had been the goal. Roxie walked at Grant’s side through the door. Only now her mind raced with thoughts of a vastly different ‘in and out’. Over and over. Naked skin against naked—
She pressed her lips together in a tighter line to avoid the forbidden thoughts.
Inside, Grant led the way to the main club area, where workers scurried around as they set up and prepared for a private event. Before they entered the kitchen, he pulled her against a wall and caged her in with one arm. He rubbed at his face again. “Roxie—”
Jesus. The desire in his eyes. Like a druggie needing his fix. Had it always been there? Or had she just catalyzed and ignited this passion?
She held her hand up and shook her head. “No.”
He opened his mouth to speak.
“No. That didn’t happen. That shouldn’t have happened. That will never happen again.”
His absolutely kissable, lickable lips slammed into a fierce frown. “I refuse to pretend that never occurred.”
“I’m not pretending. Believe me, I am fully aware of what happened. I did that to go along with that fool’s game. And there’s no way to erase that.”
He leaned in, capturing the side of her face with his hand. “Damn straight there isn’t.”
She shifted from his hold. “But that was it!”
With a harsh inhale, he stood back. She expected a glare, a tantrum-like expression of ‘but I want’. Instead she found him considering her calmly. “You’re going to deny it? You think you can turn around and deny this doesn’t exist between us?”
And what is this? Other than rabid attraction and, at least on her part, intense, pent-up sexual fire? She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Regardless of how he viewed what they shared, the hottest kiss and promise of passion she’d ever experienced in her life, she would not, could not go down that path. He. Was. Her. Boss.
“All that remains between us is a job. You are my boss. That’s all.”
He tilted his head to the side as he stuck his hands in his pockets. “How long do you think you’ll be able to believe that?”
She clenched her teeth. Was he challenging her? Teasing her? Ha. She gave him a wide smile. “There’s no changing the truth.” And she would never do th
at again. Ever.
“Exactly,” he said and stepped away. He cast her his own triumphant grin and worry settled in her stomach. Was he going to try things with her now? Had she instigated a murky muddy pool of their ability to work together?
No. She could do this, she coached herself as she followed him to the kitchen. She had only kissed him to go along with Vince’s antics. She was not some lovelorn hormonal woman who had no control of her dignity. She could forget every little detail and sensation of him holding her, caressing her skin, sliding his velvety lips across hers—
She fisted her hands at her sides as they entered the kitchen. Grant quickly sought identification of the man Paul mentioned on the phone and they were immediately shown deeper into the atmosphere of stainless steel.
In front of the kitchen manager, Grant stood behind her, seemingly ceding her permission to ask whatever questions she desired. With the list of room service deliveries from the night Josh was murdered, she asked the manager to show her the knives and other utensils that would be arranged on the trays with the meals ordered. One steak knife seemed promising. It was lethal-sharp, and, paired with a dinner knife provided with the dinners Kylie and Jaydon ordered, could have been enough to sever the flesh of Josh’s lower appendage.
Nodding, she thanked the manager for his time. As they left, she wasn’t clear-headed enough to focus on any one train of thought and opted for silence.
“Satisfied?” Grant asked as they approached his car.
She shook her head. Wait, was he asking about the knives or the kiss? She blinked her eyes a few times. No. The kiss was over. Nothing happened. Nothing would happen. Keep it on the job, woman. “That served no purpose.”
“Because you realize there is no physical method to prove one of those knives could have been used to cut Josh?” he asked.
Oh thank God. He was back on the case.
“Yes. No physical evidence. Again. And no utensils were reported as stolen or missing. I already called the manager last week about that. In the melee of Velocity being a crime scene the morning after Josh was murdered, he admitted that there wasn’t any effort to pay attention to the details of the silverware from the entire club and hotel deliveries that night. They had already washed everything. Inventories showed utensils missing in some numbers, and plateware too, as he explained should be expected in the natural course of business.”
They entered the car, Grant started the engine, and then he directed them to the office. Darkness coated the sky, no trace of the lingering sunset. How late was it? She had made a mess of the night because of her idea.
“I’m sorry,” she said, deflated at the adrenaline rush of kissing Grant, the self-administered scolding for acting on her subliminal desire, and the disappointment of a senseless search in the haystack for nothing.
“I’m not.”
She whipped around to squint at him.
He held up his hand before she could speak. “Settle down. I heard you. I will respect your wishes. No mixing business with pleasure.”
Why did she think there was a hint of teasing in his voice?
“I don’t regret going there on your whim of the knives. There are many dead ends in this case, Roxie. But we have to explore all of them. And consider what we can now infer.”
“What’s that?”
“The likelihood is higher that whoever did this probably brought his or her own blade to do the deed.”
She mulled over that, thankful for his encouragement to not put down her ideas. “So now we search for every blade every one of the VIP guests has ever owned?”
He shook his head. “No. How could we? But it paints a little more substance to the identity of the killer.”
It wasn’t clear to her how. But she wasn’t going to push it. She was done for the day, the night, and the next time she contemplated acting on impulse, whether it be an impromptu decision to look at knives or to kiss her boss, she’d think twice, thrice even.
“Do you have anything at the office that can’t wait until tomorrow?” he asked.
“Not really.” She had her tote. And the damn phone. His tether to her.
“How about I stop by for some carryout for you to bring home to Sophia, and I can drop you off? Instead of going back across town to the office?”
Defensiveness prickled her back. Was he going to invite himself in? Seek a goodnight kiss? Was he concerned about her riding the bus late at night in a crappy neighborhood? Did he…
“Just stop. Whatever you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be an even longer one. I’m offering a nice gesture. Take it or leave it.”
Oh, like he could actually read her mind. She shrugged. “Okay.” As long as he wasn’t viewing her as anything more than an assistant, okay.
Twenty minutes later, she carried a couple bags of takeout in her arms as Grant waited in his car for her to go inside. It wasn’t until she’d deflected Sophia’s questions about her night, and why she was acting so strangely, that Roxie finally surrendered to exhaustion. After she snuggled with Lucy, fed her, and tucked her into the crib, Roxie lay on her bed, still in her clothes. She lifted her hand and peered at the screen of her phone.
Not one call. Not one text.
A stark difference to the constant summons Grant normally sent her way after the work day had ended. Too tired to debate if she’d jeopardized her job, or her heart, she closed her eyes and succumbed to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Two mornings later, Grant’s car sat parked at the curb in front of Roxie’s crummy apartment building. He’d left his condo an hour ago, packed and prepared for their short trip to Miami Beach. Not much to bring since all they intended to do was finally sit down and talk with Josh’s lover Kylie, the elusive and hard to find ex-supermodel. It was a business trip. One night away. He’d booked two damn rooms so she could keep her feathers from ruffling. A simple, short getaway…if they ever got on their way.
As he stood at the front door to Roxie’s modest dwelling, Trio—the greyhound Roxie introduced to him—sniffed at his pants as the universal canine greeting. Roxie frantically scurried around, collecting objects to rearrange them, all the while announcing last-minute suggestions to Sophia. This green and white elephant toy in case Lucy was bored. The foam-covered books should be by the coffee table. Oh, this blanket is good for laying out on the carpet.
Grant glanced at the older woman who Roxie deemed was the single human suitable and trustworthy enough to watch her daughter. Sophia caught his attention and quirked one black brow as the tips of her lips allowed a slight hint of amusement. If Sophia watched Lucy every workday when Roxie was with him, he imagined all the impulsive instructions were unnecessary. The gentle smile in Sophia’s eyes told him to let Roxie run out of breath.
“Are you sure there’s enough milk?” Roxie called out as she peeked in the fridge. Lucy sat at her hip, patting Roxie’s back and blowing raspberries.
“For Lucy or a herd of buffalo?” Sophia replied.
Roxie shut the refrigerator door and deadpanned. “I’ve never been away from her for an entire night,” she said. “How would I know how to prepare for this?”
“Even so, baby girl ain’t going to use up a month’s worth of milk in one night,” Sophia said.
Roxie’s lips pursed and Grant wanted to remind her it really was only one night. They’d be back in less than forty-eight hours. As soon as he opened his mouth, he shut it. A couple months ago, this would have been precisely the reason he’d refuse to work with a young parent. Often in his cases he’d travel across the country, sometimes internationally. Ready to go at the drop of a hat. His job was his life. His hours were his commitment. And even with his toxic ‘marriage’ to Tara, he’d never experienced difficulties with getting up and going.
Since having met Roxie, and learning of and respecting her determination and intelligence, he couldn’t help but soften at her reluctance to leave Lucy for even a tiny business trip. Kissing her and wanting h
er wasn’t helping him to focus much either. If she were the kind to bat her lashes and pout her lips, he’d properly be putty in her hands. Hell, if she asked to bring Lucy along, he probably wouldn’t hesitate too much.
But, no. He was her boss. She was his assistant. She’d made it perfectly clear she wanted no mixing of duties. As effectively as a strip of nails on the road, she’d put up a stiff hand to welcoming any affection past the confines of a working relationship.
He wasn’t stupid enough to pat her back and console her that she and Lucy could survive the separation of a little trip. Nor was he crass enough to maintain his role as her employer and firmly remind her they needed to be at the airport in… Shit, one hour. Traffic was a bitch in the morning.
“Okay, okay.” Roxie frowned at him.
She must have caught him looking at his watch. No, no. He wasn’t going to let her revert back to thinking he was an impatient, asshole boss. Even if she wouldn’t give in to their mutual undeniable attraction to each other, he wished to at least be on friendlier terms than simply: me, boss, you, PA. God, she was so much more than just an assistant.
“No, no. Take your time.” He adjusted his tie.
Dammit, her distress at leaving Lucy was rubbing off on him. He didn’t want her to be unhappy, but really, it was just one night away. And they’d been trying to snag an interview with evasive Kylie for weeks. How was she going to be when it was time for Lucy’s first day of school?
Her eyes squeezed shut and her lower lip tucked between her teeth, Roxie hugged Lucy tight.
Fuck me. If she starts crying…
“You know what, I’ll just take your bags downstairs, I can, uh, I’ll wait in the car for you. Take your time.” Unable to watch her say goodbye to her child, Grant hastened to grab her carry-on and tote. He nodded at Sophia as he backed to the door.
“Have a safe flight,” Sophia called out as he exited.
After he stowed Roxie’s things in the trunk of his car, he climbed into the driver’s seat, turned on the car, and then tried to distract himself with the radio. Moments later, Roxie came out of the apartment building, thankfully dry-eyed, and got into the passenger seat.
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