“It’s business,” Griffin responds.
“You know what? Whatever. I don’t care. I’m off to weight training.”
A door slams in the background and then it’s quiet for a moment. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“Just peachy,” he bites out. “So, San Diego? Yes? No? I can schedule the jet.” He’s annoyed now, not as playful as he was less than a minute ago.
Isn’t it insane how one person can change your entire attitude? One minute your fine and dandy, and the next you’re ready to blow fire because they said something you didn’t like.
I lift my head, looking at the mirror on the wall across from me. It’s a floor to ceiling mirror.
I’m in a pretty sweet hotel in the heart of Miami, right off the coast, per Griffin’s recommendation. He sent the text only a few minutes after he left from Swede’s.
Griffin Boyd: In case you really want to spend another night here, I love The Swan. Great rooms. Pricey but truly worth it.
He was right. It is worth it. Room service is quick, the water is hot, the bed is so comfortable, and this view is spectacular.
I study my attire. I’m wearing my favorite pink robe, hair tied up, face clear of any signs of makeup. “Sure. San Diego sounds great. What time are you trying to fly out? As soon as possible, I assume?”
He laughs. “What makes you say that?”
“Doors slamming, attitudes swirling in the atmosphere. Seems you need a little vacation, Mr. Boyd.”
“Nah… it’s whatever.”
I push to a stand, phone glued to my ear as I walk towards the balcony window. The sun is blazing today. I feel the heat of its rays through the glass.
If only I had the time to really bask in its warmth.
“I’ll be there. Just send me the location.”
“You’re at The Swan, right?”
“I am.”
“How do you like it?”
“Oh, I love it. It’s great.”
“Knew you would. Since I know where you are, don’t worry about finding a ride. I’ll pick you up.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” I say in protest but he cuts me off.
“No,” he murmurs. “I feel awful for leaving you at Swede’s like that last night. Please, consider this handled. I’ll see you at 2 PM sharp?”
I nod as if he can see me, biting a smile. “Okay. Two on the dot. Bags will be packed and out the door with me by their side.” Oh, God. Why did I just say that?
“Sounds lovely.” I can hear the smile in his voice before he hangs up, like he sense my embarrassment.
I lower the phone, staring down at the screen. The fluttering in my chest is hard to ignore. I really need to get over myself.
He’s just a man. Men flirt all the time. Sometimes they do it and don’t even realize it.
I start packing some of my belongings, pulling out one of my favorite dresses. Burgundy, with black leather straps, perfect for this Florida heat.
Since I have time, I get dressed in a pair of leggings, a Nike T-shirt, and tennis shoes, and run across the street to the bistro. I order two chocolate croissants, a bagel with hazelnut cream cheese, and a diet Coke.
I devour my unhealthy, carb-filled breakfast while going over my papers for Quarter. They are fairly simple. I can organize these files in no time when I get back to New Mexico.
Scott will be pleased. He was ecstatic that we got things to work out so well.
While I’m doing all of this, I can’t pretend that Griffin isn’t on my mind… because he is. And I can’t stand it, but I also can’t help it.
I can’t get over how rude his wife was to him. Now that I have witnessed it firsthand, I feel truly awful for him.
Honestly, I don’t even think it’s that she doesn’t appreciate him. That’s far from it. There is a level of disrespect. Loathing.
She isn’t fond of her husband. She has fallen out of love with him for some reason—one I may never know. It’s been that way for years, I can tell. You can hear the displeasure in her voice.
The coldness.
The disconnect.
I lay down on the bed, resting my head on the pillows. My eyes seal.
Since I drank so much last night, I spent most of my night writing up a contract for Quarter and emailing my lawyer, Lexi, to make sure it sounded consistent and didn’t have any holes or loose ends.
I didn’t fall asleep until around three this morning. I’m in need of a quick snooze before this flight.
Just thirty minutes.
Well, that’s the plan anyway. Unfortunately my nap lasts longer than I thought because my phone buzzes and when I see Griffin’s name on the screen I spring up.
“Shit!” I jump out of bed, checking the time. 1:45 PM.
Fifteen minutes to get dressed, put on some makeup, and pack the rest of my shit. Oh, God.
I rush to the bathroom where my dress is hanging and slip into it, brushing my curls out, applying a light coat of mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick, and then rushing back for the room.
I grab everything that belongs to me, stuffing it in my suitcase. Picking up my folders and iPad, I tuck it all beneath my left arm, and then go for the mirror.
I’m a disheveled mess, but I have no time to adjust or fix that because in a matter of seconds my phone rings again.
Clumsily, I rush for the nightstand, struggling to pick it up. Griffin is calling.
I answer, putting it on speaker so I don’t have to hold it. “Yes?”
“All set?”
“Yeah. Coming down,” I say hurriedly.
“I’m out front. Take your time.” He can sense that I am in a bit of a rush.
I hang up, releasing the handle of my suitcase to grab my clutch.
I slide my phone into it, slip the clutch into the side pocket of my suitcase, and then I’m out of the door, hurrying down the hallway, and hitting the down button for the elevator, on my way to meet the beautiful Griffin Boyd.
The flight is soothing.
I have a mug of coffee at my side, seated comfortably in the ivory leather chair. I take a quick sip of the hot brew, peering up at Griffin.
He’s sitting right across from me, typing away on his MacBook. He’s been fairly quiet since picking me up. I can’t help but think it’s all because of his wife.
Placing my mug back down, I pick up a few papers and pretend to study them. But really, my eyes are shifting up to admire him. He has one leg crossed, his laptop on the wood-grain tray connected to the creamy ivory chair.
He looks handsome in his pinstriped navy blue suit. His hair has been trimmed. It is gelled to perfection, giving a professional yet messy appeal. It fits him.
“Do you know if Neil has contacted Milo again?” Griffin looks up at me over the screen of his laptop. I blink rapidly, staring senselessly as I watch his mouth. With a tilt of his head and an upward curve of his sculpted pink lips, he asks, “Angelina? You there?”
“Yep. All here. Sorry… I’m just really tired.” And really attracted to you. I lick my dry lips, dropping my papers and taking my cellphone out of my clutch, scrolling through my contacts to email Neil.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night?”
“Not much… but who needs sleep these days, right?” I laugh.
“I guess I can’t blame you. I didn’t sleep much last night either.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, keeping my gaze down. I think I have an idea why but I’m sure he won’t tell me.
“Had a lot on my mind.”
“You should have been sleeping like a baby last night,” I tell him, teasing. “You worked a miracle yesterday.”
“We worked a miracle,” he murmurs, looking me over.
He studies my bust again. He did it when I was walking to his car from the hotel and I’m pretty sure I felt his eyes on my ass when we were boarding the Maverick. The Maverick is what he named his jet.
“I guess I can’t blame you either. I was up working late. I wanted to be sure everythi
ng was on board. I want the contracts ready for them to sign before they can even bat an eyelash.”
“So you’re trying to trap them?” He quirks a brow, meeting my eyes.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Not at all. More like… let them know they’re making the right choice with us. No one can put up a better deal. If anyone tries to cut it as close as we did they’ll be losing more than they put out.”
He watches me for a moment, and I think I’ve said something wrong, that is until a subtle smile steals his lips.
“You’re really good at this, you know?” he says. “Really good. Maybe too good. I think I can vouch by saying that you may be a bit better than your brother at this whole stock thing.”
“Of course I am. I wanted to do this more than Scott. I pretty much showed him the ins and outs of this business. Scott just looks at it as easy money and with my help he gets it. Believe it or not, but I watched my father work more than he thought I did. I listened to his calls, figured out how he handled himself and his business. He never took big leaps—never gave a promise he couldn’t keep. I believe in trust and loyalty… another reason I told Scott to contact you. You are very trustworthy.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I’ve heard nothing but great things.” I press my lips to form a smile.
He pulls off the same expression, watching me for several seconds before returning his attention to his laptop screen.
My smile transforms into a grin as I pick up my contract papers again.
“If there’s one thing you should be sure of when it comes to me, Miss Clark, it’s that I do keep my word. My word is my bond. If I make a promise, I am guaranteed to keep it.”
“Is that so?”
He nods, brown eyes hard now. Serious.
“Luckily, Mr. Boyd, I don’t have a hard time believing it.”
SIX
Griffin
* * *
The meeting with Quarter went surprisingly well. They had many questions—questions I already had the answers to—but there was no need to answer them because my associate was truly spectacular.
Angelina stepped into the conference room without fear, the only female sitting at the round oak table full of older men, and answering every question with common courtesy.
She was far from impatient, and when it came down to handing the contracts out, the men were eager to jot their signatures down.
She is incredible.
She knows the job and she knows it all too well.
She’s a great asset.
Smart. Witty. Kind.
She knows how to make a person feel welcome.
I laugh inside, thinking I may be in a little competition here.
“That was something, huh?” she asks as we step into the elevator. I press the button for the lobby, nodding and tossing a quick wave at Bob at the end of the hallway.
“Yeah, that was something.” The doors close gradually.
“They trust us. I don’t think it would have gone so well with Neil here.”
“Probably not,” I laugh.
When we hit the lobby, I walk towards the double doors, checking my cellphone on the way. I have a call from my father-in-law again. Damn it. What in the hell does he want?
“Shit,” I hear Angelina hiss. I stop my walk, glancing over my shoulder to look at her. She’s staring ahead at the exit.
“Angelina, what is it?” I ask.
She bobs her head forward. “Got an umbrella?”
I turn forward, brows drawn together. When I see it’s pouring cats and dogs outside, I shake my head and press my lips.
Thunder rolls and lightning strikes the velvety night sky. The word shit is right.
“Damn.” I take a look around the lobby. A woman is at the front desk, clicking away at her keyboard. Walking towards Angelina, I murmur, “Wait here,” before going towards the desk.
The woman sees me coming and straightens up immediately. She tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear, her cheeks blazing more and more with each step I take.
With a suave smile, I lean over the desk, tilting my head as I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra umbrella, would you?”
“Not from around here?” she asks, but I already know she knows. “You can’t be because people saw this storm coming from miles away. We need the rain around here.”
“I heard about the drought.” I look her over. She’s dressed so simply. A blue dress beneath a grey cardigan, flats instead of heels. Her red hair is like straw, face smothered in freckles.
“Well, it’s just your luck, sir. We have a lost and found bin right in that back room. We’re technically not supposed to just hand the lost stuff away, the moral policy and all, but I’m pretty sure I saw your ‘missing’ umbrella back there.”
“Could you be a doll and check for me?” I ask, playing along with her.
She grins. “Sure.
She takes off, dashing for the backroom while fiddling with her keys at the lock.
I lean an elbow on the counter and look towards Angelina. She’s shaking her head, a soft smile on her lips. Can she hear the game I’m spinning?
I drop my head and laugh. This will be fun to discuss later.
It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds for the redhead to pop back up behind the desk with a large black umbrella in hand. She gives it to me, purposely brushing her hand across mine. “There you go. Make sure you stay dry. Personally, I hate getting wet.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” I note. “For me, the wetter, the better.” I throw a wink her way and thank her for the umbrella, watching a blush creep from her neck to her face. Turning and walking towards Angelina, I dangle the umbrella and ask, “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yep, Mr. Player.”
Chuckling, I walk towards the glass doors. Unstrapping the umbrella, I shoot it open and allow Angelina to get under before I do.
There is a cab already waiting, one we called in advance.
Sticking close to Angelina, my hand casually tight around her middle to save her from the rain, we dash across the sidewalk together, listening to the heavy sound of water pelting down on the umbrella.
I swing the back door open and Angelina ducks in, sliding across the backseat. I follow suit, sitting down before closing the umbrella and dropping it on the floor of the cab.
When the door slams shut behind me, the driver asks, “Where to?”
“Torrey Pines airport please.” I hope the flight is still on. My pilot hasn’t called it off yet.
The driver looks back with a frown. “Private airport? I don’t think any planes will be taking flight tonight, sir.”
I frown ahead.
“Look around, “Angelina says. I glance at her. “This is a bad storm, Griffin. Really bad.” Just as she says that, lightning strikes the sky and she gives me a wary smile.
I return my attention to the driver and he nods, giving me a complacent shrug. “I can take you to the airport but you will probably be sitting there all night until the bad weather passes.”
“No, no,” I blow a breath, head shaking. “Just… take us to the nearest hotel.”
“The Roundhouse is beautiful. It has a southern feel to it, but I love it. Great food too. And a pretty nice bar.” Angelina winks in my direction.
“How far?” I ask the driver.
“From here, I’d say about twenty minutes. Add five more with the rain and traffic.”
“Alright then. Take us to the Roundhouse.”
“Yes sir.”
The driver pulls off and I slouch back against the seat. Shit isn’t going as planned. I have a lot of work to get back to at the office. I run my palms across my damp pants, slowly exhaling.
“Hey,” Angelina calls, grabbing my attention yet again. “Don’t worry.” She rubs my thigh. I don’t know if she can tell, but she’s a little too close to my dick, not that I am against it. I’m now pulsing in my slacks. “One night won’t kill anyone. Better to be safe than so
rry, right?”
“I just wanted to get you home. I know that’s where you want to be.”
She laughs. It’s cute and sweet how she drops her head and blushes when I say something.
Colette used to do it years ago… when she was actually fond of me.
“Trust me, there is nothing waiting for me at home. I am fine. I’m used to traveling. You sure it’s not you that needs to get home?” she asks with a quirked brow.
“You say that like I have a curfew.”
“Well,” she urges, brows lifting, “Do you?”
My lips press and I give her a slight roll of my eyes. “Do I look like a sixteen-year-old to you?”
She lifts a hand, holding her forefinger and thumb in close proximity and whispering, “Just a tad.”
I battle my amusement, looking out of my window and praying to God I don’t explode again, this time from the sweet ring of her laughter.
SEVEN
Angelina
* * *
We checked in over an hour ago.
After I take a quick shower and get dressed in the slimming purple maxi dress I went down and bought from the boutique in the hotel lobby, I blow-dry my hair, pin it up, and then add a simple coat of eye and lip makeup.
I can’t help but smile as I do all of this. Today was a success.
I felt so brave in Quarter, owning the place, answering questions so fluidly, as if I’d done this a million times.
Truthfully, I’d only done this once before with a smaller company. This is the first time I actually had the chance to work with Boyd first hand.
Prior to this, it was only emails that included Scott and me. I would never reply, but Scott would answer on my behalf or with my thoughts.
I could tell Griffin was pleased with how I handled things today. Boyd and Clark Enterprises is what it should be called. Now that would make one hell of a team.
Picking up my room key and cellphone, I take one final look in the mirror and sigh.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m sure he wants some time alone, yet I can’t seem to leave him be.
We are only a few rooms down from each other.
Sudden Desires Page 5
