by Avery Laval
“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 w
anted 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.
About the Author
Avery Laval (a pseudonym for a women’s fiction author you might know) was not allowed to read romance novels growing up. We can all guess what happened as a result—secret rendezvous with Heathcliff, midnight trips to Manderley, and the development of a precocious ability to recognize Fabio in any possible period garment. Now she reads romance, mysteries, fantasy, and everything else she might desire, and she spends hours and hours in her own imaginary world, full of strong, smart, and passionate people who know nothing about love…at first.
Having spent a lifetime with her head in the clouds, Avery surrounds herself with other dreamers and loves big ideas and big plans, even when they seem utterly impossible. Avery loves writing to uncover the beautiful sameness of people in love—how even the hottest billionaire has insecurities, and even the strongest, most successful woman needs compassion.
Avery’s amazing group of strong female friends guides her work, friends who have seen her through the best and worst of times. You’ll see their fingerprints on all of her writing. When not writing, reading, or sharing a laugh with her besties, Avery’s editing, sailing, teaching, and squeezing in as much travel as she can justify. After all, it’s research!
Stay in touch with Avery through her author newsletter bit.ly/averylavalnews and her website www.averylaval.com.
