One More Night

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “I was hoping to schedule a meeting with you this week while it’s all still fresh in my mind. You gave me so many great ideas.”

  “Of course.” Grace was already pulling up her weekly calendar, the days neatly sectioned and color-highlighted. Her nail appointment was shaded a pale lilac, as were all her grooming appointments. Hair, waxing, meeting with a personal shopper at Nordstrom. Clients were always a warm, grassy green that reminded her of the first buds of spring coming to life. Just as marriage was the start of a new life together. “Which day were you thinking?”

  Grace always built in extra pockets of time for these types of calls. A bride who panicked that she’d chosen the wrong color of tablecloths and that her big day would be ruined. A groom who decided at the last minute that he actually did want a say in the flowers—it had happened. Once. Or a parent who felt that they should be more involved in the choices, since they were paying for the event.

  She ran her eye down the segments shaded a soft, buttery yellow. Flex time. “I have time tomorrow morning, Wednesday at three or anytime Thursday.”

  “Could we come and see you today?” Julia’s enthusiasm was evident in the breathlessness of her voice. “The restaurant tends to be quieter on Monday, so it’s easier for me to get away during prep.”

  It would be tight but manageable. “Absolutely.” Grace double-clicked to enter today’s schedule, already mentally rearranging her appointments to make space. There was nothing that couldn’t be shifted or postponed if necessary. “You can come in at two or three.”

  “Fantastic. We’ll see you at two. And, Grace, thank you again for last night. It was wonderful.”

  Grace wondered if Julia would feel the same way if she knew how Grace had spent her time after the party had shut down. She shook off the thought. Hadn’t she already decided she wasn’t going to linger over it, but was going to move on?

  She placed the meeting in her calendar, let her team know that the boardroom was booked at two and returned to her office. If only she could schedule her emotions as easily as her workday.

  * * *

  THE MEETING WAS much as Grace had expected. Easy and productive. She’d provided Julia and Donovan with some preferred locations, those she worked with regularly that she knew could be relied on, as well as some suggestions for decor and food. They’d meet again in a few weeks and start making some final choices.

  She was elbow-deep in the wedding of another client, one who had the unfortunate habit of changing her mind frequently, but a father with the kind of money to pay for any cost the last-minute cancellations incurred, when her phone rang. “Good afternoon. Grace Monroe.”

  “Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about all day?” Owen’s voice flowed across her skin like the water from her shower last night. “I thought about those sexy little moans you made last night when my fingers slipped up your—”

  “Owen.” Her temperature spiked and her office, which had been perfectly comfortable before, suddenly felt too warm. She turned on the small desk fan and grabbed the bottle of water beside it. The bottle was still cool and she rubbed it along the back of her neck and over her temples until her racing pulse slowed. Then she cracked open the water bottle and drank. There. Much better. It was fine. She was fine.

  “What are you wearing?”

  She told herself this was not a turn-on, even though it was. “Owen, enough.”

  “Actually, I don’t think either of us got enough. Which is why I’m taking you out tomorrow.” She had to say no. Even as images from last night poked through her resolve. “Good food, good wine, good company.” It would be, too. She already knew Owen would deliver. “Julia’s promised to make a special meal. Off the menu.”

  Grace closed her eyes as a sense of dread flooded her system. “You told her what happened?” She was humiliated. Julia had known? While Grace had been talking about colors and flowers and selecting food to go with the spirit of the ambience, Julia had known?

  “Of course not. I don’t kiss and tell.” Which eased the dread if not her discomfort. “So, tomorrow—”

  “I have plans.” Which was true. After her nail appointment, she planned to pick up groceries for the week and go over the agenda for the wedding scheduled this weekend.

  “Like what?”

  Of course Owen wouldn’t be satisfied without a detailed explanation. Of course not. “Plans.” Because he didn’t need to know.

  “A date?”

  Grace might have felt a tiny bubble of pride at his jealous tone. If he’d actually sounded jealous and if she were the type to get googly-eyed over a man getting possessive. Since neither of those things were the case she merely clarified. “No, I don’t have time to date.”

  “Ah. So you’re looking for something with no strings attached. You know, Grace, I’m not a piece of meat. I have feelings.”

  She smiled, then pressed her lips together to hide it, even though no one was around to see. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I think you could use a little ridiculous in your life. So, what time works best for you? Seven? Eight? I could convince Julia to make a midnight supper, but she’d probably make me regret it.”

  It was on the tip of Grace’s tongue to ask how, but she swallowed her curiosity. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t having a midnight supper with Owen, or any meal. “I’m afraid dinner isn’t a possibility. Tomorrow or any other night.”

  “All right. What about lunch? Breakfast?”

  “I work through lunch and breakfast.” Totally, completely true.

  “What about if we call it a working lunch?”

  Grace gave him points for perseverance. Though she didn’t much enjoy it being focused on her. “And what would we be working on? You’re not the client—Julia and Donovan are.”

  “Exactly. Which means you are not professionally obligated to turn me down. So about that dinner?”

  He’d set a nice trap there and she’d walked right into it. “I think you missed your calling. You should have been a lawyer.” Kind of too bad he wasn’t. He’d probably have ticked most of her future-husband boxes then. “But I’m still unavailable.”

  “I think you’re forgetting something.” His voice lowered.

  A shiver rolled through Grace. She loved the low rumble of a man’s voice, which was something best kept to herself, as she doubted Owen would have any qualms in using it against her.

  “I saw how you responded last night. Are you really going to make me ask if it was good for you?”

  Grace took a sip of water, but it did nothing to address the desertlike dryness in her mouth. She exhaled slowly. “Last night was—”

  “A revelation,” Owen finished for her.

  “That’s not what I was going to say.” Even if he was sort of right. Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone home and brought herself to orgasm off schedule.

  “No? Well, you can thank me later for helping you figure it out.”

  “Owen.”

  “I like it when you say my name. Liked it better when you moaned it into my ear last night.”

  Grace’s cheeks burned. She didn’t have to think back to know it was true. She’d always been a talker during sex.

  “Tell me what I have to do to hear you moan in my ear again.”

  “Nothing.” Her tongue felt thick. She shouldn’t let him get to her. Shouldn’t let his little games work their way into her mind and her body. “Because it’s never going to happen again.”

  “Now, that would be a shame. For both of us.”

  Grace shut her eyes, tried not to think of how she’d come in the shower last night with his name on her lips.

  “I’m not going to pressure you, but I am going to ask you to think about it. Just give it a chance. Give me a chance.”

  And damn if the man w
asn’t smart enough to hang up before she could deny his request.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  OWEN SMILED AS he hung up the phone and left the manager’s office at Elephants. He wasn’t on duty tonight, but he was around anyway. A month ago, he might have thought of that as sad. Pathetic, even. But now, he found it preferable to anything else he might be doing.

  Except Grace.

  The floor was busy, which was normal, but more so tonight, since they’d been closed for Julia and Donovan’s engagement party the night before. Which was another reason Owen was on-site. He’d already had a night off and felt guilty about taking another, even if Mal told him it was fine.

  He worked the room, stopping to chat to some regulars and explain the reason they’d been closed last night, then spent a few minutes chatting with some tourists who were interested in what kind of nightlife the city had to offer.

  He wished he’d been able to convince Grace to come out tonight. The old Owen would have just let it—and her—go with a shrug, but this was the new Owen. He was willing to work for things he wanted. Like Grace.

  There was satisfaction in making a true effort, even if it wasn’t successful. Like his attempt to introduce some of the menu from La Petite Bouchée to the wine bars. That had gone over about as well as his attempt to fly using a towel as a cape when he’d been six and Donovan eight. But that was okay. It had been a learning process. He’d learned that people liked the more casual fare at the wine bar and he felt as though he was getting a handle on some of the back-end business aspects.

  He knew how to handle the front of the house, work the crowd, handle questions and concerns and make sure staff was performing well. But the business was about more than that. Following a budget, identifying customer wants and needs before they did and implementing changes so the place never grew stagnant.

  Owen found he liked that part of the business, too. He knew Donovan worried that his interest wouldn’t last, that Owen would grow weary of the workload and leave when something else caught his attention, but Donovan was wrong. Owen liked what he was doing, liked seeing the changes he was making in the workplace and himself.

  He wouldn’t push Grace. That would be creepy and illegal and he wasn’t a stalker. But he liked her and he liked spending time with her. And despite her assertions that she wanted to keep things between them professional, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

  Owen might not be an expert in business, yet, but he was an expert in people. And from the tone of her voice to the way she responded to his touch, he knew she wanted him on a far more personal level.

  All she needed was permission to admit it.

  He decided on a week. During that time, he wouldn’t call or email her. Wouldn’t send her a funny text message or photo and he sure as hell wouldn’t drop by her office. It wasn’t exactly playing hard-to-get—for that to work, she needed to actually be actively pursuing him—but it would get her thinking. About him. And hopefully she would miss him.

  He was still hoping when he turned up at her office exactly seven days later. Never let it be said that Owen Ford didn’t follow through.

  Hayley offered him water and a seat. He declined both, feeling antsy to see Grace. It had been a long seven days. He prowled the room while Hayley called Grace to inform her that she had a visitor.

  He hoped to take her to dinner tonight, something casual, no pressure. Maybe a glass of wine on a patio after the meal. Somewhere they could get to know each other a little better.

  “Owen?” Hayley smiled. “Ms. Monroe will see you now.” She pushed open the door that led from the lobby to the back offices, but didn’t follow him. Owen wondered if that was policy for people who knew their way around or that she simply didn’t want to get another eyeful of him and Grace making out. He liked the idea of the latter.

  Grace’s office door was glass. He could see her working, fingers zipping over her keyboard, an intent expression on her face. She was wearing one of those sexy suits again. He’d never really liked the buttoned-up look before, but there was something about Grace in those suits. The way the lines followed the curves of her body, highlighting her femininity and the soft colors that invited a person to look. Today’s suit was cool ivory and was paired with a bright pink scarf.

  He knocked once and then pushed the door open. She was expecting him. “Good afternoon, Grace.” He’d decided on coming near close of day, figuring she was less likely to be in a meeting or have one to rush off to. If things went well, he hoped to convince her to leave with him now. Maybe they could have both a pre-and post-dinner drink on a patio.

  “Owen.” She rose from her chair to shake his hand, but he noticed she was careful to keep her distance. Fine. All the better to check her out.

  “You look great.” Which might sound clichéd, but it was true. Even with her trying not to get too close, he could smell the bright fragrance she wore.

  “Thank you.” Her handshake was quick, but he still managed to appreciate the softness of her skin. Especially as he now knew that she was soft all over.

  He didn’t say anything else, just placed himself in the guest chair and watched her.

  Her hands fluttered, smoothed down her skirt. She sat down and folded them in front of her. “Why are you here, Owen?”

  He noted that, unlike the other times she’d tried to back away, she called him by his first name. An improvement. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  She lifted one pale blond eyebrow. “Were you?”

  “No.” Because he didn’t want to start their relationship off by lying. “I came to see you.”

  “Why?” Her nails were painted a pink just a few shades lighter than her scarf.

  “Because I wanted to ask you out to dinner tonight.” This time, he hadn’t approached Julia about making a special, off-menu meal. She’d harassed him enough about his sudden lack of skills with the ladies last week.

  Grace’s fingers tightened. Just barely, but since he happened to be looking at those pretty pink nails again, he noticed. “I have plans.”

  Owen looked into her dark blue eyes. “Do you?” He supposed she could have a standing event on Mondays—dinner with a friend, tennis lessons, beach volleyball at Kitsilano Beach. His body tightened at the thought of Grace in a bikini.

  Her eyes darted away. “Yes.”

  He was almost sure she was lying. “Then how about tomorrow?”

  “Owen.”

  He was encouraged that she didn’t say no. He might even consider it a green light. “Then Wednesday or Thursday. Or how about the weekend? Do you have a wedding?”

  Her lips turned up in a quiet smile. “Actually, I don’t. My clients rescheduled for a later date.”

  “Then you’re free.” All weekend, by his calculations.

  “No, I promised my family I’d go and visit.” That small smile shrank and then disappeared.

  Owen wanted to put it back. “That shouldn’t take all weekend.” He sat forward, caught another whiff of her perfume. “Tell me what you want to do and we’ll do it. Sailing in English Bay, zip-lining in Whistler, a getaway to Aruba.”

  She pinned him with a look, but he thought he saw a shimmer of that smile. “Really? You can organize a getaway to Aruba without any notice?”

  “I have some notice, unless you want to leave right now, which I am completely willing to do.”

  This time, her lips definitely turned up and rewarded him with a grin. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. Tell your family something came up and come spend the weekend with me in the Caribbean.” He’d have to rearrange his work schedule, but it could be done. He’d barely taken any time off this year, so he was due a short vacation anyway. And Travis would definitely set him up with a suite in the hotel his beach bistro was attached to.

  Grace exh
aled and he heard her answer. Disappointing, but he had other ideas.

  “Maybe we should save that for later.” He wasn’t about to let her close off this topic of conversation. “Give you something to look forward to.” He was pleased when she laughed. “Why don’t we start with dinner. Friday, Saturday or Sunday?”

  “I really did promise to visit my family.”

  “That won’t take all weekend, will it?”

  She nodded. “They live on Salt Spring and I said I’d stay over.”

  “I’ll go with you.” It had been years since Owen had been to the vibrant community and he thought it might be fun to go back.

  She hesitated. “To see my family?”

  “Why not? Ashamed to introduce me? I’m not that bad.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, we’re not dating.”

  “Aren’t we?” He showed off his surprised face.

  Grace shook her head and her smile disappeared, replaced by something else. “No. We’re not.”

  “We could be.” Their eyes met and Owen felt that zing that kept him coming back. That and the fact that she challenged him, which he’d been surprised to learn he liked. Maybe it was just because it was different and maybe the novelty would wear off, but Owen didn’t think so.

  “I don’t think so.”

  But she didn’t tell him he couldn’t come, so Owen marked it as a victory.

  * * *

  GRACE STARED AT HIM. Why wasn’t she taking a hard line and telling him to forget it? To move on and find someone else to charm? Because some part of her—and not some deep, hidden part, but a big part hovering right below the surface—was interested. Which wasn’t good.

  “Owen...” She tried for a firm voice.

  “I’m just asking for a chance.” He lifted one shoulder in a small, nonthreatening shrug. “We’re attracted to each other. I have a good job. I’m single. We’re both young and healthy. So I really don’t see the problem.”