by Raquel Belle
“That’s incredibly sweet of him,” Beth says. “I wish I had a boss like yours. No way mine would send me to Paris just because he knew I wanted to go.”
Jazz snorts. “None of us has that kind of boss, Beth. Grace hit the jackpot in the boss department.”
A smile tugs at my lips. I really am lucky to have found someone I can work so well with. “Yeah. That’s why I’m not going to go out and enjoy Paris solo. I’ll wait for Nick. He deserves to have fun too.”
Beth smiles. “Well, as Jazz said last night, have the time of your life. I want details when you get back too.”
I giggle. “Do I ever disappoint?”
“Nope,” Jazz and Beth chorus.
Jazz glances away from the screen and huffs. “Grace, I have to get back to work. There’s something I have to finish before I head home. We’ll talk later. Bye girls.”
“I have to run too,” Beth announces. “Hugs and kisses!”
Both ladies check out, leaving just Cara and myself. “Don’t you have to get back to work?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ve got time to talk. So, how are you?”
I roll onto my back with a groan, holding the phone upward. Gazing at Cara’s face, I admit, “I’m a little nervous.”
She frowns, “About what?”
“Being here with Nick.”
“You’ve traveled with him plenty of times…” She blinks. “Oh. Paris. Nick. I get it now.”
I’m glad she can appreciate the precariousness of my situation. “But I shouldn’t be nervous, right? I just have to avoid certain situations with him.” Although, as much as I try not to…we always seem to end up in intimate encounters. I still haven’t told any of the girls about the kiss Nick and I shared the other night. “Don’t tell Beth and Jazz about this, not yet. I don’t want them to worry about my emotional state.”
“You don’t think I’m going to worry?”
“Yeah, but you’re the practical one. And you never seem to be fazed by anything that happens between Nick and I. As a matter of fact, you always seem to expect something…” I glare at the screen and she erupts into a fit of giggles.
“Because I know what I know,” she smirks.
“What do you know?”
“Maybe one day you’ll figure it out, grasshopper,” she says, still laughing.
“Go ahead and laugh it up.” I continue to glower at my screen, but her laughter is infectious and a smile begins to lift my lips. “Oh, shut up,” I huff.
Cara sobers to stare at me. “I couldn’t help myself. I really am concerned you know. I can see that you are too. You know you can call me anytime, right? No matter the time difference. I’ll answer.”
“I know,” I sigh. “But I’m a big girl. I can handle my situation.”
“That’s the spirit. I’m going to let you go. I have a few more things to look over. Looks like I’m going to have another late night.”
I give her a reprimanding look, but don’t bother to say anything. Telling Cara to take it easy will only go in one ear and out the other. She’s a workaholic just like Nick. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a lawyer thing. “Okay, just remember to eat something.”
“I will, mom.”
I flip her the bird, but give her a sweet smile. Her laughter resonates as I end the call, still smiling. Relaxing on the comfortable bed, I suddenly realize I’m feeling exhausted and let out a huff of breath. That seven hour flight along with the journey to the hotel is taking its toll. I’m not sure when I dozed off, but it’s an alert from my phone that wakes me.
It’s a text from Nick.
N: You awake?
Rubbing my eyes, I reply,
How did you know I fell asleep?
N: You didn’t come to my room to chat at all… That could only mean you fell asleep.
I let out a laugh. It’s true. If I hadn’t dozed off, more than likely I would have gone to his room to talk about something—or at least to make sure he was getting some rest.
G: You got me.
N: I’m almost ready and I’m on edge...I’m never nervous.
Without hesitation, I tap out:
Be right there.
Jumping up, I slip back into my shoes that I’d kicked off and hurry to the bathroom to make sure I don’t look like something out of a horror movie.
Minutes later, I enter Nick’s room with a soft knock and look around. His room is identical to mine except his minibar isn’t so mini. “Nick? Where are you?”
“Right here.” He emerges dressed in a gray pinstripe suit. Can you say drool-worthy? I’ve gone from drooling over him in jeans to drooling over him in a suit. Stifling a sigh, I put on a brilliant smile that I hope will bolster his resolve.
“You look great.”
“Is my anxiety showing?”
I lift a brow. “You know it isn’t.” The man could be dying and no one would ever know it unless he wanted them to. I wish I could control my emotions as expertly as he can.
His lips quirk. “Well, I’m feeling it.”
Like I always do, I reach for the tie hanging around his neck and begin knotting it. “A little bit of anxiety is normal. This is big. Partner big. You’re great at your job, Nick. You’ve already got Oliver Campbell in the bag.”
I run a hand down his chest, affectionately, smoothing his tie. I think nothing of our usual routine of me fixing Nick’s tie while I give him a pep talk…until our eyes meet. Suddenly, it’s like something ignites a charge of electricity in the air between us as his blue orbs stare into mine. My hand stills and I gulp. Maybe touching him like this isn’t a good idea. Holding his gaze, feeling too close to him, but unable to pull away, I place my hands on his shoulders instead. This comforting gesture is much safer. Then his eyes dip to my mouth and I change my mind. Perhaps it isn’t so safe. Being around him, so close, it’s just plain dangerous. Anything can happen at this point.
He blinks and lifts his eyes back to mine, as if realizing that his thoughts had strayed.
“You really think I’ll do it? Get Campbell to sign on?”
It takes some effort to get my mind back on track so I’m able to answer his question. I’m so distracted by my body’s reaction to him, it’s hard to get out what I want to say. Willing my pulse rate back to normal, I reply—much too breathlessly—“I don’t think. I know you will. You’re Nicholas Parker, the best damn lawyer I’ve ever known.”
Even the slow curl of his lips upward into a slight smile makes my heart flutter. I really need to get a grip. “You’re biased.”
I shrug, “Doesn’t mean I’m not dishing out facts here. I believe in you. I always have.”
He chuckles and I feel the tension seep out of his shoulders. “Thank you, Grace. You always know how to make me feel better.”
It looks like he’s about to say something else as he holds me captive with his eyes, but he doesn’t. “I’m glad I can do something since I’ll just be waiting in my room twiddling my thumbs until you get back.”
“Or you can take the car and go shopping.”
I wrinkle my nose and consider the offer. He’s hired a driver who's supposed to be available anytime we need him. Shopping always sounds good to me but...without Nick? “No, I’d rather wait for you. We’ll only be here for two days, we should enjoy the time together. Besides, you might need the car.”
Nick reaches into his breast pocket and presses his card into my hand. “Oliver Campbell and I aren’t going any farther than this hotel’s dining room. Go out and treat yourself, on me. Hit the spa, buy a few outfits and shoes. You love shoes.”
“I do,” I murmur with a growing smile. “But, I don’t feel right going out while you have to work. I’ll stay in my room and check your emails or something constructive. There are a few letters I have to write for—”
“You’re taking a break. Boss’s order.”
“Really?” I laugh. “You’re going to play the boss card to get me to go shopping? Incredible.”
“Only because I know you’ve
been dying to shop in Paris. I know you don’t feel right not working when I am—but, I don’t feel right about you staying in your room waiting on me. Go out and do something fun. I insist.”
Giving in, I glance at the card in my hand and sigh. “Alright, this is Paris and since you insist. What’s my limit?”
He lifts a brow. “Do as much damage as you can.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” I grin reaching up to fix his collar, taking in his delicious scent at the same time. He’s wearing one of my favorite colognes. The one with the rich musk—the one that made me discover that a scent could be sexy and sensual. It’s mixed with his own natural masculine scent…it would drive any woman wild. It’s certainly driving me wild. Taking another deep whiff, I resist the urge to moan and step back, dropping my hands to my sides. “There, you’re perfect. Go get ‘em.”
“Thanks, Grace. What would I do without you?”
Every time he calls my name like that—in that husky tone, I swear I feel my panties slip. Watching him—wide-eyed—as he lifts a hand to tuck my hair behind one ear, I barely remember to breathe. It’s as if everything is in slow motion as he smiles and leans forward. My heart gallops, because he’s obviously about to kiss me, and I’m not doing anything to stop him. My eyes dip to his mouth and my breath hitches. He does kiss me, but his lips only brush my cheek. “Have fun,” he says, peering down at me for a good five seconds before stepping around me to walk toward the door.
I remain frozen for a while, waiting for my pulse rate and my breathing to stabilize. I didn’t know it was possible to feel relief and disappointment simultaneously. If he had really kissed me, I would have loved it, but I’m glad he didn’t because I would have lost myself and my will to keep that line between us drawn...even though that line is already blurred to the point of being unrecognizable.
“This might be a hard two days to get through” I huff and march out of Nick’s room.
Chapter Seventeen
Nick
The phone is pressed to my ear when Grace walks in with her hands full of shopping bags. I arrived back from my lunch meeting with Oliver Campbell about an hour ago and was disappointed that Grace hadn’t returned yet. I’d stopped at her room first to tell her how the meeting went. I’m definitely not the type to share much. Yet, I’m always eager to share everything with Grace. I suppose it’s her reactions that I love. There’s never any doubt that her reactions are genuine.
She’s frozen at the door, looking at me with a concerned frown. “How was the meeting?” she mouths.
I realize that my expression must have given her the wrong idea. Making a mental note to smile more, I answer her question and that of the partners who have me on speaker in one breath, “Oliver Campbell is officially a client of Davis Michael Porter.” While I maintain eye contact with Grace, who’s face just lit up, I listen to the hum of excitement on the other end of the line. The partners sent me to Paris to sell our services to Oliver Campbell, but I’m sure their only expectation was to have him verbally agree to join our firm. I went a step further and got the man to sign documents, which are sitting in my briefcase as we speak. “He’s signed on.”
“As in he’s agreed to come to our offices and sign?” Mike Porter asks.
“As in he’s already signed.” As if I’d give Campbell the chance to change his mind. I made sure that my name at the entrance of DMP was a done deal. There’s a wave of excited comments and praise from the partners, but it’s Grace who still has my full attention.
The shopping bags fall from her hands and she jumps up and down, silently clapping. It’s amazing how excited she always gets about these things. She seems more excited than I am right now. One of the partners says something, but I barely register his words because I can’t take my eyes off of Grace. She’s always so vibrant and her smile is so infectious. I return her grin and she flies across the room and hurls herself at me. Catching her in an embrace, I fill my nostrils with her lavender shampoo. She always smells great.
Someone else says something but I don’t catch it—I don’t know if it’s Walter Davis or Conrad Michael. It’s an innocent hug, but Grace’s body flush against mine has my brain out of whack. I can feel her breasts pressing into my chest and now I have to shift some of my focus to keeping my boner suppressed. Luckily, she breaks our connection by stepping back. I’m relieved because I don’t want to embarrass myself if she happens to look down and see a tent at my crotch, but I also miss the physical contact. Everything about her is so warm, from her body to her personality. I always find myself wanting to bask in the warmth she exudes.
“What was that?” I ask, realizing that someone had said something.
Conrad Michael booms, “Congratulations, son!”
Son. Of course, no one ever means anything negative with the word, but I hate it when they call me that. It has everything to do with me not having a father. The man I knew for a short period in my life could hardly be classified as one. He’s nothing more than a sperm donor in my eyes. I can’t help the scowl that forms. As if sensing my annoyance, Grace smiles reassuringly and rubs a palm down the length of my arm. Even that’s distracting. If I don’t get laid soon I’ll explode from the simplest of touches. Stifling a sigh, I return my attention to the partners.
“We knew you’d win this one,” Davis grates with his raspy voice. “You always do.”
“You know what this means,” Porter says. “When you get back you’ll be one of us.”
A Partner. Holy shit I did it. The gravity of the accomplishment hits me now. I inhale and smile at Grace again as she slips my card back into my breast pocket. “I’m very happy about that. Thank you gentlemen.”
There’s another wave of congratulations and murmured goodbyes. The moment I end the call there’s an excited squeal. “I knew you could do it,” Grace grins from ear to ear.
“Thanks to your faith in me.”
“Davis Michael Parker,” she gushes. “It sounds right.”
It does have a ring to it. “Our names will be on the front of the building by the time we get back to New York. I think that’s what Davis said, I was a bit distracted.” By you, I add silently, giving her a subtle once over. I have Grace right here in my hotel room in Paris and I have to keep my hands off of her. If she gives any hints of wanting to cross the line like we did four years ago, I’m all in. I study her closely, longingly, wishing she’d say something like let’s celebrate like we did the last time. What a celebration that was.
No such luck, though. She takes another step back as if just realizing that she’s standing way too close. Her cheeks are suddenly highlighted by a tinge of pink. “You mean your name.”
“Physically yes, but I’ll always picture your name beside mine when I step into Davis Michael Parker.”
Her entire face flushes this time and she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got to be the best boss ever.”
“That’s what it says on the mug you gave me last year,” I grin, knowing she’d laugh.
Her laughter fills the room and touches me in parts a simple laugh isn’t supposed to. “Let’s not bring up the subject of my lame gifts. Please.”
“I happen to love my ‘world’s best boss’ mug. I adore all of your lame gifts.”
She swats my arm playfully and snickers. Only this time our banter isn’t as light and carefree as it usually is. It’s hampered by an uneasy tension, which is painfully obvious.
Clearing my throat I nod to the numerous bags resting on the floor. “So, looks like you managed to buy all of Paris.”
“No, only half,” she shrugs with a smirk. “I’m sorry I just barged into your room. I was so anxious to hear about the meeting.”
“No need to apologize.” Shoving my hands into my pockets to help resist the temptation of touching her, I clear my throat again. “What do you say we celebrate tonight?”
There was a stretch of silence before I realized the association of the word celebrate with sex. Damn. Grace’s face i
s so flushed now, I’m afraid she’ll burst into flames. “By going out,” I quickly add. “For dinner.”
Her eyes are darting to every point in the room—everywhere but in my direction. Is the incident going to hang in the air between us like a flashing neon sign of awkwardness forever? Wait, we aren’t calling it the incident anymore. Shoving back a groan, I reach for her hand. “We don’t have much time left here and I want you to enjoy this trip. I’m thinking dinner tonight and sightseeing tomorrow, and maybe some more shopping.”
Finally, she meets my gaze and I practically see the tension seeping out of her. Her face lights up. “That sounds great.”
“Good because I already made dinner reservations.”
“Of course you did,” she laughs. “Which restaurant?” She glances at her shopping bags. “I don’t think I bought anything appropriate to―”
“Already taken care of. There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room. Several surprises.”
She blinks, her eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Really? I love surprises.”
“I know.” I also know her style and measurements. I pay keen attention to her body when she isn’t looking. “The car is coming back at six. Why don’t you take a few minutes to relax and then get ready.”
She smiles. “Okay. Make sure you rest too. You must be jet-lagged.”
“I’m fine.” I’m accustomed to running on very little sleep.
I watch her skip excitedly to the door to gather her shopping bags.
Chapter Eighteen
Grace
I do a three-sixty, which incites a chorus of oohs and ahs and at least one gasp. I’m pretty sure the dramatic gasp is from Jazz. I facetimed the girls for the second time today. It’s late in New York but I had to let them see me in this dress before I leave. None of them mind that I called so late and they all adore the dress.
