by Avery Laval
“No! You said I have three months to prove myself.”
“You’ve already proven yourself, Jenna. In a week you’ve been a great asset. But all those things you said about me to Justin—I know you meant them. And then there’s this other thing between us, this attraction.” He let his voice trail away and she tried not to meet his eyes. “Let me find you another position, at another firm.”
“No. I promised my father. And you promised me. That’s the end of it. Thank you for showing my brother such a good time. He clearly was very glad to see you again. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
“Suit yourself,” said Grant, and he uncrossed his arms and stepped aside. Jenna barged past and made her way down the long corridor to the parking lot, not stopping for even a moment to look back. She headed straight for her well-worn and well-loved little blue car, unlocked the door, and slid inside. The heat trapped inside the car overpowered her, matched the heat in her face and the fury surging inside her. If only she could get control of her temper around that man. Or her desire.
But the roller coaster of emotion she was on, the embarrassment she felt for her wanton behavior, the fear she struggled with constantly for her brother, the anxiety of facing down this new job—these powerful feelings all came crashing over her like a wave. When had she last slept? Every night this week she’d worked late, spent the evenings on office email, and then laid awake for hours planning everything that had to be done the next day, and done flawlessly. And then last night had been sleepless for entirely different reasons.
She just needed to get home, make a giant mug of camomile tea, cuddle up in bed, and hide from the world—and especially Grant—as quickly as possible.
She put the key in the car’s ignition, turned on the air-conditioning, and felt the hot blast of stale air push out of the vent like an echo of her mood. The radio popped on, and a classic rock song blared to life: “I Hate Myself for Loving You.” The moment the chorus started, Jenna rested her forehead on the hot black steering wheel and burst into tears.
10
Ten minutes later, Grant Blakely strolled out into the warm desert night toward the Oak Valley parking lot. On the way out he’d spoken with the night nurse briefly, asked for the name of the head of the center. The moment she’d told him, he’d relaxed. He was a good man, and someone Grant could get on the phone anytime he wanted. Grant would give him a call Monday morning to make sure Justin McCormick was getting the best care available. Maybe there was a room with a view of the hills and city he could be moved to, if he was interested. The kid deserved to fall asleep with the bright lights of Las Vegas to keep him company.
As for what the kid’s older sister deserved, Grant forced himself to keep his head right, despite all he’d seen tonight. Ever since his father had taken him for that horrible ride years ago, he’d understood that trusting the wrong person could be end a career. No matter how compelling that person might be.
But things hadn’t gone according to plan tonight. Not at all. He’d seen the way she longed for him, but even so, she’d beaten it out of there like a bat out of hell when the subject of last night had come up. Was she embarrassed? Playing hard to get? Or perhaps, fighting her feelings in an attempt to maintain the upper hand?
Well, she’d succeeded. He’d let himself anticipate a long, slow, mutual seduction. Anticipate the sensation of her lips, her breasts, her body giving itself to his. Instead, he’d gotten the brush off in no uncertain terms. And of course, damn his Y chromosome, it made him want her all the more.
Lost in his thoughts, Grant reached the parking lot without even realizing he’d been walking at all. He scanned the few cars left on the lot, assuming Jenna’s was long gone.
But her aging blue Toyota was still sitting there, a few stalls away from his own Lexus. The lights were on, but he couldn’t make out Jenna’s shape in the driver’s seat. His heart beat faster. What was the meaning of this?
Grant scanned the near-empty lot. They were truly in the middle of nowhere, and there wasn’t another soul for miles and miles. She hadn’t been hurt, had she? The thought sent icy fear racing up his spine. She was trouble on legs, but he certainly didn’t want her endangered. What had he been thinking of, letting her march out into the dark desert night all alone? It was nearly midnight, for God’s sake.
He moved quickly, aggressively, to Jenna’s car and looked inside the rear window, fighting down the rising panic and guilt. Sure enough, she was there, hunched over so that she was impossible to see from afar. Safe. Grant sent a silent prayer of thanks that the danger had only been in his mind. Then he moved around to her door and opened it, moving more out of instinct and relief than anything else.
Door open, he took in the view before him. Stunning even when collapsed over her wheel in tears, Jenna took his breath away. Her arms were crossed over her head and the long line of her lean arms to her gently curving breasts to her stomach looked like something carved by a great sculptor. No question, she was a great beauty, from any angle. Her shoulders shook gently as she wept, and her hair fell in all directions, wild. Like her.
She must have felt, rather than heard, his presence over her sniffles, for she turned her face to her left and acknowledged him with a wide-eyed, unfocused gaze before turning back into the comfort of her folded arms on the wheel and shrugging her shoulders with a sigh.
Grant’s heart twisted. Never in his life had he been faced with someone so utterly vulnerable before him. He couldn’t leave her there, all alone. But this was no time for schemes or seduction. He found himself in the unusual position of having no idea whatsoever what he should do.
So he let his gut take over. His brain fought him, every inch of the way, but his brain was of no use to him in this situation. For the first time in his life in years, he found himself shutting off his head and trusting his heart.
Tenderly, he bent down, put one arm under Jenna’s thighs, another around her shoulders, pulling her back gently so she rested in his embrace. Then, in a smooth motion, he scooped her up, pulled her out of her little blue car, and carried her gently to the back seat of his Lexus, set her down as gently as he could, and ran a hand through her long dark hair, pushing it out of her red, tear-filled eyes. He got into the driver’s seat, started the car, and drove Jenna McCormick home. Seduction could wait until morning.
Jenna woke up in her own bed, under the covers, still fully dressed in the suit she’d worn to work that day, except for her shoes, which had mysteriously vanished. It took her a few sleepy minutes to figure out exactly how she’d gotten there. When she sat up and spotted Grant sitting in her overstuffed reading chair across from the bed, his eyes closed, legs stretched out long in front of him, the whole night came flooding back in an instant. There had been crying, she knew—and her eyes felt puffy enough to confirm it. And then, she remembered, he’d picked her up as if she was no heavier than a small child and carried her to his shiny black car, set her down gently on the smooth leather backseat, and driven her home. How did he know where she lived? she wondered for an instant, and then reminded herself that she told him her address the night before, when he’d meant to drive her home.
At some point, she must have dozed off. The next thing she remembered was him waking her gently to get her keys, carrying her up the flight of stairs to her little apartment, and putting her to bed almost tenderly. Tenderly? For a second, she wondered if she had him confused for someone else. But no, that had been him. Just an entirely different side of him. The same side of him that had stayed right next to her until she fell back to sleep and then crashed overnight in the armchair, rather than leaving her alone.
Jenna shook her head in amazement. Would wonders never cease?
The clock read eight a.m. She’d slept right through the night. And it was no surprise, really. She’d never been so exhausted in all her life—not only was she adjusting to her new job, she was emotionally exhausted from everything she’d been feeling for Grant. Yes, she had to admit to herself that she was hav
ing very strong feelings for him. Not just lust, but something else.
It was the only explanation for why she’d been so upset about how things had gone the night before. After all, she had her pride. With anyone but him, she’d just have gotten on with her life and reminded herself that any guy who didn’t want her probably didn’t deserve her either. But there was no being sensible when it came to Grant Blakely.
Jenna threw both legs over the side of her little double bed and padded in bare feet to the dresser, pulled out some much more comfy Saturday-morning clothes, and turned to the sleeping interloper. He was dead to the world, as evidenced by his deep breathing and a sweet little snuffle at the end of every inhale. Wow. The man was gorgeous even when sleeping. How infuriating. No wonder she’d developed this crush against every reasonable thought in her head.
Confident he was asleep, she turned her back to him and slipped off the skirt and top she’d slept in, and then pulled on a pair of low-slung yoga pants that made for instant relaxation. Then she unhooked the back of her tight bra and pulled it over her arms…
“Hmmmm….” she heard behind her, and spun around, quickly covering her naked breasts with one arm, just in time.
“Are you awake?!” she cried.
Grant wiggled his eyebrows and cracked a sleepy grin. “I love waking up to the sound of a woman getting naked. It’s better than bacon frying.”
Jenna cut him a sharp look. “Go back to sleep,” she told him. “or at least close your eyes.”
“How can a man sleep when a beautiful woman is stripping right in front of him?” he asked, ever so innocently.
“I’m not stripping!” Jenna said, but to her annoyance, she felt her insides flutter at the word beautiful. A man like him probably dated models and actresses at the slightest whim. But here she was, sleep-muddled in yoga pants. And he found her beautiful?
“Well, don’t stop. Things are just about to get good.” Already leaning back, he brought his hands behind his head and laced his fingers together.
Jenna inhaled sharply and turned back around, telling herself to ignore him. As modestly as she could, she slipped into a light blue cami that had a little built-in shelf bra. Plenty of support for her B cups and so much more comfortable than an underwire.
“I’m going to go make coffee,” she said, after spinning around and waving open her arms at him as if to say Ta-da! “Try to control yourself while I’m gone.”
“No promises,” Grant called after her.
Jenna shook her head as she walked out of the room. As she made the coffee, she tried desperately to talk herself out of her feelings. Calm down, Jenna McCormick! she scolded herself. But it was no use. She was falling for this man. There was something so compelling about him. The tender way he’d cared for her when she’d fallen apart last night, the capable way he handled his business—
Not his business, Jenna reminded herself. Her business. Or at least it would have been, if it hadn’t been for him. How could she be falling for a man who had taken away her birthright? Clearly she was losing her mind, she decided, as she poured two mugs of hot coffee and put rich cream in hers. She’d just have to go back there and kick the man out and get on with her life. She could find another job, if it came to that. She would just have to forget about her promise to her father. The thought of it made her heart ache, but she could think of no other way.
Determined, she walked back into the bedroom with the two mugs and prepared herself to give him a prompt dismissal. Instead she found him lounged out on her double bed, shirt still untucked and top buttons unbuttoned from the night before, pouring through an old photo album she kept on her bedside table. The sight of him there, in her bed, like a present made only for her, knocked all thoughts of him leaving right out of her head.
“Um…” she said, instead of the grand “get out of my life” speech she’d had in mind. And then: “Coffee?”
Grant looked up from the photo album and patted the bedside next to him. “Come show me your family pictures,” he said.
As if in a trance, Jenna obeyed, handing him his coffee before crawling up onto the now-made bed—had he made her bed?—and propping a couple of pillows up behind her. She pulled the small album out of Grant’s hands and into her own lap. “These are pictures from when I was a kid and Justin was just a tiny baby. See,” she said as she turned onto the first page, “this is when he first came home from the hospital.” She gestured at a photo of her mother holding little newborn Justin with an exhausted grin on her face. Next to her mother was eight-year-old Jenna with a Mary Lou Retton haircut and a ridiculous pink jumper covered in lavender hearts. She was standing on tippy toes to get a good view of the baby and dangling a little stuffed bear in front of him.
“You’re so much older than he is. Were you jealous when he came home?”
Jenna smiled at the distant memory. “It was so long ago…but I don’t think I was jealous, actually. I just couldn’t wait for him to get bigger. I was so excited to have a buddy. The house could get lonely, with my mother and father working and socializing so much.”
She turned the page to more pictures of Justin growing up. Walking from the nanny to her own outstretched arms, playing with toy bricks, the two of them with their PB and Js with bananas, Justin wearing more of the sandwich than he ate. As she flipped through the pages, she narrated each scene, and Grant listened attentively. When she finished, she closed the album, and Grant said, “Interesting.”
Jenna tipped her head inquisitively. “What’s interesting?”
“The pictures. Not very many of your mother. And none whatsoever of your dad.”
Jenna thought about that for a moment. He was right. “Huh. You know, to be honest, we didn’t spend a lot of time together as a family. My dad spent every second he had on building the company, and my mother had a packed social life, networking with anyone who might do my father’s business good. And when she had spare time, she devoted it to my father. His schedule was just so crazy…” she trailed off.
“No wonder you were so devastated to lose the business,” Grant said. “Your parents put everything they had into it. Even to the detriment of their own children.”
“It wasn’t anything as dramatic as that,” Jenna said, even as she realized what he said had some truth to it. “But yes, we were pretty independent kids growing up, now that you mention it.” She paused, thoughtfully. “And yes, I wanted to hold on to the company because it meant so much to my father. He made it into the success it is today, you know. And he asked me to promise to always keep it in the family.” With those words, her face sank.
“What is it?”
“Grant, you have to leave. You’ve been kind—strangely kind. But…” she fished around for the words. Should she tell him how having him in her bed was affecting her? “I would like to try to keep our relationship as professional as possible.” It was a lie. She wanted to to climb into his arms. Follow the trail of buttons down his chest, opening one by one, revealing all that muscle and sinew that lay below. Laying him bare to her touch. Her kisses. She pressed her eyes closed, tried to envision anything else, and swallowed hard. “Because of that promise to my father, and what happened after he died, this job means everything to me.”
Grant paused. He was quiet for a long time. Jenna searched the dark planes of his face, wondering what it was he had to say.
“What?” she asked at last, when she couldn’t take the pregnant pause any longer.
“I’ll respect your wishes. Of course. But—” he ran a hand over his hair. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jenna, but it seems like you deserve to know. Your father loved the business, yes. And he worked hard, and taught me so much. I’ll be forever in his debt for that. But it’s time you knew what I know. I’m not so sure business was his real strength.”
Jenna sat up, her coffee cup poised precariously over her lap. “What do you mean by that?”
Grant took a big breath, stalling, or searching for the perfect words. “He borrowed
a lot, was too ambitious, put the company into a great deal of jeopardy with his risky investments.”
Jenna stared at him agape. Shock rushed through her. This couldn’t be true, could it?
Grant pressed on. “He was deeply in debt to a particularly aggressive venture capitalist, and when he couldn’t borrow any more, he began to spend down on the company’s capital. By the time he died, there was almost nothing left. If the public had found out the financial situation at that time, the shares would have collapsed, leaving the stock worthless.”
“But, that can’t be true. After all, the company is perfectly solvent,” Jenna said, but without conviction. Though she hated to believe what he was saying about her father, it rang true to the man she’d known. “He could have gone to jail if it hadn’t worked out,” she added quietly.
Grant paused, and Jenna wondered if he could hear her heart racing in the silence. “Luckily,” Grant went on at last, “someone within the company swooped in and repaid the debts quickly before things could get ugly.”
“Who would have done such a thing?” Jenna asked.
“Someone who saw the base value in the McCormick Jewels name and its talented employees, and wanted to run the company himself one day.”
Jenna blinked hard. “You? You were the white knight in this scenario?”
Grant smiled slightly, took her shaking coffee cup out of her hands and set it down on the bedside table. “I like the term ‘white knight,’ you know. No one’s ever called me that before.”
Jenna shook her head in shock. “But, but…”
“But the story doesn’t end there,” he said. “One person came on the scene a little late and wasn’t filled in on the rather, well, private financial workings of the deal. By rights, she could have taken over her father’s majority shares and held them for control, but instead—well, you know what you did instead. So they voted you off the board and named me successor. It was as simple as that.”
