© Jessica Ingro
I walked slowly down the hall wanting to prolong the inevitable. Maybe Grant was angry because he had to wait for his file. That could be the only real reason. It couldn’t have anything to do with me. The man didn’t even know me and with any luck, he wouldn’t recognize me from the club either. The chances were slim that he’d realize it was me, so I wasn’t sure why I was even that concerned. It was silly really. I was nobody in the life and times of Grant Morgan.
When I reached the partially open door, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Come in,” was barked out in a deep, rich voice that coated my skin like the finest silk.
I pushed the door open further and timidly stepped into the room. My stomach was a bundle of nerves, and I felt my body sweating in places that were very unladylike.
The room was bright. The wall opposite the door was made up of large windows with dark, wood shelving below it. Different items and pictures graced the shelves along with a scattering of books. On the farthest wall was a wet bar and a doorway to what appeared to be a bathroom. On the opposite wall there was a large, masculine wood desk. His office screamed “man”. There was no denying this was his space. I itched to take in all the personal things in this room, to find out more about the man who occupied it. There was more character here than there was in his whole condo.
Grant was standing behind the desk in a three-piece suit, minus the jacket. A quick glance showed me it was draped over one of the chairs in front of the desk. His hair was perfectly coiffed, showcasing a slight wave and begging for your fingers to run through it. His crisp, light blue dress shirt was accentuated by a navy blue vest and dress slacks. His blue and gold striped tie matched perfectly to the gold buttons on his vest. The suit was clearly tailored and fit him like a glove.
He was utterly fuckable. There was no other way to describe him. Unless you were within a ten foot radius of the man himself, you would never truly know what that statement meant. It had to have been created just to describe him.
“Ms. Ward. It took you long enough to get here. I presume you have the file I need.”
Breaking myself out of my stupor, I rushed to his desk as he rounded it. As I handed the folder to him, our fingers brushed. Instinctively, I tried to pull away from the charge I got from his touch, but his hand engulfed mine, and I found my body swaying closer to him. The folder dropped between us, and papers flew everywhere. I vaguely registered that though, because my breathing was fast and my heart was racing as I looked up into his face. Being in the position to touch Grant Morgan could very well make a nun question her celibacy. His scent was utterly masculine. His cologne was both citrusy and woodsy, and I found myself wanting to sniff him.
I could see something working behind his eyes, but I wasn’t sure what it was. It was a penetrating look, and it scared the crap out of me, so I decided I probably didn’t want to know what it meant.
My face flushed with embarrassment at the situation, and I ducked my head, hoping to hide my riotous emotions. I had no way to explain why he made me feel the way he did. I didn’t even recognize myself when I was around him.
Without any warning, Grant set me away from him and bent down to pick up the fallen papers. I dropped to my hands and knees and started scrambling to help, completely flustered that I was so clumsy.
“I am so, so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” I mumbled as I moved quickly on the floor.
Grant cleared his throat, and I looked over my shoulder to see him now standing and clearly staring at my behind. His eyes were heated and his voice was rough when he said, “Please get up off the floor, Ms. Ward.”
I jumped up as quickly as I could and smoothed my hands down my pants. “Yes of course. I’m truly sorry.”
It was as if I was a child being scolded by a parent or a teacher.
Grant rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth over his bottom lip as he studied me, and I tried not to squirm. Something about him was just so intense, and to be honest, a little scary. He was an enigma to me… Hot, yet cold. Sexy as hell, yet completely intimidating.
“So, we finally meet. I must say, you are more impressive face to face,” he surprised me by saying.
What the hell was that all about? Was he complimenting me? No, it had to have been a sarcastic jab at my less than stellar delivery of his case files.
“Tell me, Ms. Ward. Are you enjoying working for me so far? It’s been what now? A week? Two?”
“A week, Sir,” I croaked out of my parched throat. This just kept getting better and better.
Grant walked over to the wet bar and poured some water into a glass for me, before returning and handing the much needed liquid to me.
“Ah, yes. So, are you enjoying yourself?” He watched closely as I drank the cold water and licked the stray moisture from my lips.
I sat in one of the chairs across from his desk and set my glass on the desk in front of me. How the hell did I answer that? I’d barely done anything for him yet. It wasn’t like he was really challenging me like some of my clients. If anything, it was an easy transition taking him on. Ms. Litchfield gave pretty damn clear and concise instructions on what he needed done. And what did it matter if I enjoyed working for him? Shouldn’t I be concerned with whether or not he was pleased with my work so far?
“Yes, Sir. But the uh… better question would be… um… are you happy with me?” When I said that, his eyes flared and his gaze grew more acute.
“Oh yes. I’m very pleased with you so far. So tell me. Do you frequent the White Rabbit often?”
I just about fell out of my chair when he asked me that. He did recognize me and now I felt like a total ass. How could I have let myself act so loose and inappropriately?
“No, Sir. Not very often. I was visiting with some friends. Were you there the other night?” In an attempt to regain my composure, I chose to play dumb about seeing him there. Maybe he would think it was all a misunderstanding. He was far enough away where I could still pretend I didn’t recognize him. We were in a club, damn it. There were people all over the place, dancing in and out of my line of sight. It was a real possibility.
“Oh, I was there Ms. Ward. And you very well know it.” He sat in his chair behind the desk and leaned back, clearly amused that he backed me into a corner with no choice but to acknowledge my behavior.
“Hmmm… perhaps you do look familiar.”
I sat, shocked when he tipped his head back and laughed. The sound was beautiful. Damn.
“Yes, perhaps I do. So, Ms. Ward…”
“Elizabeth,” I interrupted him and prayed he was going to put me out of my misery and change the subject.
“Elizabeth,” he conceded. “I noticed you were friends with Valentina Leokov. Are you close with her?”
When he mentioned Nik’s wife, Tina, I was surprised. It was as if we were playing twenty questions, and I wasn’t enjoying it. What did he care if we were close? I needed to shut this down.
“I suppose we are. I’m not sure that has anything to do with—” I couldn’t finish my thought before he cut me off.
“I’m just trying to get to know you, Ms. Ward. Elizabeth.” He added my first name after my censured look.
“Whereas I appreciate you wanting to know more about me, that doesn’t really change our professional relationship. As I told Ms. Litchfield, I am prepared to take on any tasks you might need. Laundry, dry cleaning, running errands, planning events, and whatever else you see fit. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a full day and had to rearrange my schedule so that I could deliver your work to you.”
I stood and extended my hand, the picture of professionalism. Grant took my hand and raised it to his mouth. His sensuous, full lips grazing the skin there and causing my whole body to break out in goosebumps.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you, Elizabeth. I look forward to seeing you again. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Spinning from how quickly he dismissed me, I walked on numb legs down the hall and out to the elevator. That man was confusing as hell.
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About the Author
Jessica is the author of the Love Square series. She grew up in Central New York, where she spends her days as a Security Analyst at an IT consulting company. In her free time, she enjoys reading books and developing ideas for her own stories. Writing is her secret passion that she's been fostering since elementary school, when she wrote her first book about a puppy. It has always been a dream of hers to be able to share her stories with the world. Jessica currently lives in New York with her husband and three dogs.
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