by Avery Laval
Grant looked up at her curiously, wondering what she might have to say. “Only because I’ve reviewed this design several times. I liked this one from the word go.”
“It looks very familiar.” She spoke without thinking. “I think it’s quite similar to a new Tiffany design.”
Grant’s brow furrowed, surprised at her observation, and in response, Jenna’s confidence soared. Maybe she wouldn’t always be tipped off balance when they were together. At the moment it almost felt as though they were relating to each other as equals.
“Yes. I’m quite sure of it,” she went on. “It’s almost identical.” Though she hadn’t spent a dime on jewelry since her brother’s diagnosis, she had let herself linger at the windows of her second favorite designer now and then.
Grant took in what she was saying and then uttered a cold, sharp laugh. “I’m not surprised that you’re familiar with the competition’s inventory,” he retorted quickly. The words held a sting, and they found their target. He pushed himself back from the desk, rose to standing—tall, commanding, ready again to pounce. Jenna felt herself deflate in his shadow.
“Pull up the matching ring on the Tiffany website,” he said, after a moment’s consideration. “I don’t doubt your claim for a second, but I need to be prepared when I discuss this with my designers.” He rubbed his angled jawline and frowned. “It’s a serious issue, you know. Of course legal would have caught it, but by then we might have wasted a portion of the Series 5 budget on development and research. Besides, cutting corners like this is not what McCormick Jewels is known for.” Grant looked right at Jenna with this last bit and scowled. “At least, not anymore.”
Her blood boiled. For a fleeting second she’d felt so proud of herself—she’d noticed something important that others had missed, saved the company money, done good work for the first time in her life, and on her very first day! But with just a sentence, Grant Blakely had changed that pride to bitter scorn. Her eyes narrowed, but she held tight to her dignity. She turned away from him, injured, but unwilling to let it show.
“I’ll see to it right away,” she said as she showed herself out of his office. Her head raced with witty retorts but she pushed them back and reminded herself to swallow her pride. The most important thing in her world was keeping her brother safe. And it was for that reason that she needed to keep this job, no matter the frustrations—and temptations—of her new employer.
Two days later, though he’d tried to force her out of his head, Grant was still tormented by thoughts of his new personal assistant. He was supposed to be concentrating on a presentation by a potential new ad manager, but his mind kept wandering back to her. Jenna McCormick, he was quickly discovering, had the potential to be his undoing.
What was it about her that had him so distracted? Perhaps it was her flair for the unexpected. He’d expected to walk into the office on her first day and find her poised to seduce him. A low-cut blouse, a flip of the hair, a coy glance over her shoulder—that was the Jenna McCormick he’d expected to meet. Someone similar to the many women he’d dated—and usually regretted—countless times before. Instead, he’d gotten a buttoned-up, prim little secretary with pulled-back hair and next to no makeup, who within days had taught herself the phone and computer systems, deftly navigated the political waters of the office, and even managed to save him great expense on a derivative design. It threw him off his guard.
And he hated that. He’d built his career on staying focused and never misplacing his attention, and he wasn’t about to let a spoiled heiress with a budgeting problem ruin that. No matter how much sexual energy seemed to vibrate between them, he added to himself grudgingly. Once again Grant found himself wishing he could be rid of her. Three months of Jenna’s temptation could be too much, if he wasn’t careful. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t go back on his word now, not while she was doing a perfectly competent job as his assistant, and putting up with each and every request, no matter how inconveniencing, with aplomb. If he hoped to drive her out with his demands, he saw now that would be much harder than he’d imagined. If only there was another way he could prompt her to quit…
“Grant?” asked the ad manager, clearly noticing his lack of concentration. He looked up across the boardroom and really took in the woman talking to him for the first time. Dianne Framsworth had been strongly recommended to him by a board member. She was lithe, catlike, with a head full of tousled waves that he guessed took hours to put together, and a red mouth that spoke much more loudly than any words she could have used. In short, she was his type. So how had he failed to notice her existence until a half hour into the meeting? In fact, he hadn’t heard a single word she’d said. He’d been too busy wondering what made Jenna McCormick tick—and why on earth he cared.
“I’m sorry, Dianne,” Grant said, feeling defeated by his own mind, but refusing to let on the depth of his frustration. “I’m having trouble getting an office issue out of my head at the moment, and I think I’ve got to tend to it rather than give you anything less than my utmost attention.” He’d return to his office and get the investigator on the phone—see what he’d dug up so far and confirm his impression of Jenna McCormick’s motives. Then he’d be able to concentrate again. “Can I ask you to put forward some alternate times for the continuation of our meeting? I’ll take you to my PA’s desk to be scheduled right now.” He rose, knowing he was being rude but not caring, unable to keep focus on anything but Jenna, and hating it.
“I understand completely,” Dianne replied smoothly, leaning in closer to Grant, like a confidante. With one seductive motion, her shoulders rolled forward, letting her lacy camisole fall low on her cleavage. “You’re passionate about your employees—it’s an attractive quality in a man.” As she spoke, she smiled coyly, as if she knew him well, even though they’d only just met.
So she was flirting with him. Typical. The woman who had come here to seduce him was sitting down the hall filing his paperwork, while the woman who was supposed to be conducting actual business was throwing herself at him shamelessly.
Ah, well. Who was he to deny an attractive—if somewhat aggressive—woman the pleasures of innocent flirtation? Perhaps she could help him forget his vexing personal assistant. He grinned like a wolf and gestured for Dianne to follow him down the hall with a light touch on her elbow, just slow enough to qualify as a caress. “And your flexibility is an attractive quality in a—” he paused, let her brain go where it might, and then finished, “—colleague. If you’ll follow me?”
He escorted her down the long hallway toward the reception area, watched her play with her hair as they walked. He fussed over some imaginary speck of lint on his suit’s lapel, but the normal charge he got from flirting with an attractive, interested woman was missing. He thought of taking Dianne out to some exclusive restaurant, lingering over a nice bottle of wine, and then going home together—but the idea held no interest for him. Then, unbidden, the thought of Jenna McCormick as his dinner date popped into his head, and he felt a tightness in his groin in response. Dammit. Jenna was the last woman in the world he should be thinking of.
As if conjured by his wayward thoughts, the very woman appeared at the end of the hallway, looking just as prim and proper as she had all day, and just as enticing. But when she spotted Dianne and Grant heading in her direction, the look on her face switched from her quiet confidence to shock. Openmouthed, she looked from Dianne to Grant, and then back to Dianne. Her eyes clouded over with some fierce emotion—could it be jealousy? And was that what he’d actually wanted?
Jenna swallowed hard when she saw the face of Grant’s companion. What was she doing here? she wondered, then shook her head fiercely to bring herself back to the real world. Of course Dianne Framsworth would be darkening the hallways of McCormick Jewels—after all, hadn’t her husband been on the very board that had dismissed Jenna once and for all? But Jenna could have sworn she’d heard through the grapevine that Dianne was now divorced. The way she was looking
at Grant, as though he were the last man in the world, confirmed it—and, though she tried to ignore it, filled Jenna with irrational jealousy.
Before she could compose herself, Dianne’s high singsong voice filled the hall. “Jenna McCormick!” she cried. “Why, what are you doing here?”
Dianne hardly let Jenna take a breath before she spoke again. “Well, of course, you’re back at the company. How fantastic! When did they bring you back onto the board?”
Jenna flushed. Six years ago, before her parents died, Dianne had seemed like a best friend to her. But when she’d lost the company—and the high-flying lifestyle that went with it—Dianne had dropped her like a hot potato, moving on to other friends whose connections were better, whose outfits were newer and more fashionable. Now that she thought Jenna was back among the upper crust, of course she’d act like nothing had ever changed. It made Jenna cringe with embarrassment—for both of them.
“Actually, I’m not on the board,” Jenna said, trying to keep her head held high.
“Upper management, then?” Dianne supplied. “I knew they’d forgive you for gambling like that with the company’s stocks. It was naughty, and just plain dumb, of course, but it’s not like you violated any actual laws or anything…” Her voice trailed off, as she at last noticed Jenna’s narrowing stare.
“No, actually.” Jenna straightened her shoulders and tamped down the flood of irritation. This was her chance to be a professional. To prove to Grant that she could handle this job. “I’m working here as the personal assistant to the CEO.” She forced a smile as she gestured to Grant. “This is my third day on the job.”
Dianne coughed politely. “Oh,” she said, her voice no longer excited. “An assistant. I see.” Jenna watched as Dianne looked at Grant helplessly, almost imploringly, as though he might somehow help her escape from this awkward situation. But Grant only stood there with a slightly amused look on his face.
In the silence, Jenna forced a smile, hoping it looked more genuine than it felt. “You’re looking very well, Dianne,” she said, saying the only nice thing she could think of in this situation. “You’ve hardly aged a day in six years.”
“Oh, has it been that long?” Dianne asked, innocently. “My goodness. You know how it gets—our busy schedules. So much to do, so many fundraisers, and committees, and then fashion week, and…well, you know how it is. Or at least, you used to.”
Hard as it was, Jenna forced herself to ignore the insult. She couldn’t afford to let her temper get the best of her on her first week on the job. “Of course,” Jenna said, as smoothly as she could, hoping her face wasn’t turning too red.
“One of these days we should really get together and catch up.”
That was the last thing in the world Jenna wanted to do, and for a moment she thought to tell Dianne so. But just then Grant seemed to come to her rescue, as though he sensed how close she was to breaking her composure.
“Jenna would never be so rude to say so, but she’s got an absolutely packed schedule in these next weeks,” he broke in smoothly. “The jewelers’ convention, you know. I’m counting on her to work long hours in preparation.”
“Yes,” Jenna echoed gratefully, though the thought of working long hours in such close proximity to Grant made her uncomfortable in a completely different way. “Very long hours.”
“I completely understand,” Dianne said more to Grant than to Jenna, sounding just as relieved for the out as Jenna was.
“Now then, if we can get back to business. Dianne needs to reschedule—” Grant started, but with a wave of her arm the other woman cut him off.
“I think I’d better just have my assistant call in. She does my calendar anyway. Grant, see you soon?” Dianne touched his bicep seductively—a move that seemed to Jenna to be one last power play before she disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“Very well.” To Jenna’s surprise, he spoke curtly and pointed out the route to the elevator dismissively, bidding Dianne only the most businesslike of goodbyes. When she was gone, he turned to Jenna, eyebrows raised, a questioning look on his face. She thought of how he’d bailed her out just a moment ago and wanted to thank him, to explain why she and Dianne had such history, but he cut her off before she could get far. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you in the past,” he said brusquely, “and I don’t care. Just be sure to keep holding onto that temper of yours, if you wish to keep this job.” With that, he turned and stalked away.
4
By six o’clock on Thursday, Jenna McCormick was exhausted, brain-dead, and more than a little proud of herself. If this week had been Grant Blakely’s attempt at hazing her, she’d proved quite up to the challenge. By next week, she felt sure she’d know the whole job inside and out. Even after a childhood of letting people hand things to her, she was making things happen for herself, and doing well at it.
What she wasn’t doing as well at was ignoring the raw masculinity that surged from her new boss. Though concentrating on her work had proved her best defense, every time he walked past her desk, a rush of awareness tingled across her body. There was no denying the effect he had on her, and she shouldn’t have been surprised by it. He was an incredibly handsome man, and she’d seen it the first time she’d laid eyes on him all those years ago. But somehow she’d hoped that the passing of time, along with everything that had happened between them, would have dulled the attraction for her. Instead, it was only more acute.
And then there was the vague suspicion that he seemed to be responding to her in exactly the same way. Perhaps she was imagining things—it could hardly be called wishful thinking—but at moments his gaze grew so dark and intense that she wondered if he too were feeling the pull between them. But that couldn’t be. She knew he despised her—just look at how difficult he was making her life at work. She had to be mistaken.
As though summoned by her thoughts, Grant chose that moment to open his heavy office door and stick his annoyingly gorgeous head out. As usual, Jenna felt the vibration of chemistry shoot through the air between them the moment they locked eyes.
“Going somewhere, Jenna?” His tone may have been light, but the words were menacing. And his countenance—the dark eyebrows, hard-set mouth, and five o’clock shadow dusting his chin—was simply daunting.
“Home, I thought,” Jenna said, hoping no hint of a stammer had entered her voice. “It’s been another long day.”
Grant made a show of looking at his watch, then back to her. “So it has. But your house is so far away, you’ll have to turn around and come back downtown the moment you get there.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” Jenna asked, knowing something wicked was coming.
“You haven’t seen the calendar? The Vegas Designers Association’s summer cocktail party is tonight. But I don’t have to tell you about it—I’m sure you’ve been countless times. Millionaires’ club wives wandering about, looking for the newest thing in diamonds and pearls—it’s exactly your scene.” With that, he turned away from her and returned to his desk, as though the matter was settled.
But Jenna couldn’t let this drop. There was no way she’d get through the whole night with this man. It was too dangerous—in so many ways. “I’m sorry,” she sputtered as she followed him into his office, “But there is no such event in your calendar. I’ve been quite friendly with that calendar software since about two o’clock this afternoon, when I finally figured out how to access it.” It was a little tidbit he might have shared, but never mind that.
Grant wasn’t even slightly fazed by her protest—in fact, he barely looked up from his paperwork. “Oh, no? Well, that comes as no surprise. One of the temps before you—Karly? Kathy?—she wasn’t exactly vigilant about keeping my schedule. I hope you’ll do better.”
Jenna nodded. She would, if she could bear to work with him long enough to do so. “Be that as it may,” she pushed on, “I’m not sure I see why you’d need me there. It’s just a meet-and-greet. My father went every year, and I kn
ow he never did any actual business there.”
“Perhaps that’s why things were so dire for this company when he left,” Grant replied, as though her father had just abandoned the company, rather than been killed right at the height of his career.
Jenna felt her face redden with anger, and before she could stop herself, it simmered over into her words. “I don’t know what you think you mean by that.”
At her admonishment, he seemed to catch himself. “You’re right—I make it sound as though he left by choice. Forgive my choice of words,” he said, looking up and letting his gaze settle on hers.
Jenna swallowed, hard, and looked away. There was no doubting the earnestness of his apology, but the thought of forgiving him—for anything—overwhelmed her. After all, it seemed like the residual bitterness was all that was keeping her from falling face forward into a pool of desire.
But she bolstered her defenses and reminded herself why she was here—why she couldn’t let down her brother. “Of course,” she said. As she spoke, she felt the wall between them crumble ever so slightly.
“Thank you,” he said. Then he moved on briskly as if the whole exchange had never happened. “The point is, there is business to be done at these events, and we can’t afford to miss an opportunity. It’s not enough to be the leading jewelry brand in Bendels and Bloomies and to have a bustling flagship. One day, if I do my job right, McCormick products will be available at every fine jeweler in the country. We will be a major presence in the casino shopping centers, independent jewelers across America, and on the necks of the most stylish women. Women like you.”
“So you want me as arm candy?” she asked him.
He had the decency to pause. “Not primarily as arm candy.” He paused to look her up and down, sending a shiver upward through her body. “Though you’ll do nicely in that respect. Mostly you’ll be there to help me keep track of the connections I make, or need to make. And you’ll be especially useful since you already know everyone there.”
