by Donna Hill
“I was beginning to think that maybe you were only a voice or a figment of everyone’s imagination.”
Graham chuckled, the kind of deep robust sound that made one all warm inside.
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. Unfortunately, my focus is on building the organization and getting the kids of the inner city into the kind of schools that they deserve. I don’t always have time for the elbow rubbing and schmoozing. I prefer to remain behind the scenes as much as possible, in addition to which the work involves a great deal of travel.” As he spoke he stared directly at her, never averting his gaze. It was mesmerizing as much as it was unsettling.
Alexis cleared her throat. “And that’s why you hired me?”
“Yes. I want you to be the face of R.E.A.L. and I need your expertise.”
Want and need had never sounded so erotic. She shifted in her seat and linked her long fingers together and rested them on her lap. The pure surprise of stepping into a car and meeting her very gorgeous boss for the first time had completely thrown her for a loop. She was accustomed to being in control of a situation and certainly in control of her thoughts—but not now. And what was that intoxicating scent he was wearing?
“At least you have the weekend to get comfortable—a little.” He grinned.
“I’m looking forward to getting started,” she managed.
He slowly nodded his head without taking his eyes off her. “Good. I have several new projects waiting for you on your desk. You’ll have to hit the ground running.”
“I’m ready.” The instant the words were out of her mouth she wanted to pull them back. She knew what she’d said was simple and direct, but in her head they held a completely different meaning.
He stroked his clean-shaven chin with his thumb and forefinger and Alexis had the overwhelming need to open the window. It was as if someone had struck a match in her belly.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asked, jumping into her head.
She blinked and smiled. “That would be great. Thank you.”
He reached into the minibar. “Water, juice, soda or something stronger?” He gazed across at her from beneath his lashes.
“Uh, water is fine.”
He produced a bottle of water and plucked a glass from the holder, and handed both to her.
“Thank you.” Somehow she managed to get the bottle open and pour it into her glass without making a mess and a fool out of herself. She was quite amazed actually, as her fingers usually wavered between being board-stiff or weak as wet noodles. When she lifted her head from the minor task, she was rattled to see Graham looking at her with a bemused expression on his face.
“Are you always so intense?”
She straightened. “Intense?”
“Yes. You were working on that bottle as if it was the most important job you’d ever undertaken.”
Her cheeks flushed. She lifted her chin. “You haven’t seen me intense,” she said, the hint of a taunt on her tongue.
Graham made a humming murmur in his throat. He angled his head to the side and his eyes creased ever so slightly at the corners. “Have they found a replacement for you at the college?”
“Not yet. The position has been posted. I’m sure they’ll find someone reasonably soon.”
“I’m sure they feel your loss already. You made a lot of important changes over there. Several of the departments missed the ax because of you.”
At that moment she wasn’t sure if she was seriously impressed or annoyed. The fact that she’d been able to work with the board and the department chairs to restructure without losing students or teachers was not common knowledge beyond the boardroom of Atlanta College. “How did you know all of that?”
“I make it my business to know everything there is to know about the people that get hired at your level. I also want to make certain that there is real substance behind the fancy words on a résumé and cover letter.”
“I see.” She now knew she was annoyed. What else did he know about her that wasn’t on her résumé and didn’t come out in the phone interview? Clearly it didn’t matter if he was around to ask direct questions or not. He still got answers.
And then as if reading her mind he asked, “How did Ian take your leaving?”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ian...Matthews. Isn’t it?”
Her heart began to race. “Yes.” Her response was as much a question as an answer.
“He was one of your references,” he said as if in answer to the question that hovered on the tip of her tongue. “He had wonderful things to say about you and gave the impression that...you would be missed.”
Her cheeks were on fire. A tight line formed between her brows. “I don’t recall giving Ian Matthews as a reference.”
“You didn’t. Whenever I’m interested in a potential candidate for the organization at the management level, I look into their surrounding circle of colleagues.”
“So basically, screw what’s on the reference letters.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight grin. “Well, let’s be honest, what person who really wants a job would get reference letters or use references from someone who wouldn’t say that they were wonderful?” Her right brow arched. She almost laughed but didn’t.
He was actually right, but she’d never tell him that. “So who made these calls? You?”
“Yes. I generally do, but I felt it was even more important since I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you in person during your visit. You’ll come to see in the days and months and hopefully years ahead that I’m a very hands-on person.”
Her gaze dropped to his hands that rested casually on his thighs. She swallowed and nearly choked over the dry knot in her throat. She coughed and took a sip of water.
Graham moved forward, halfway reaching for her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded her head. “Yes,” she managed. “Throat got really dry.” She took another sip of water. She made herself look at him and forced a confident smile. “Fine. Really.”
He leaned back in his seat, eyed her for a moment, and then took out a pair of glasses from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, slipped them on and picked up a folder that was next to him on the seat. He flipped it open and began to read.
Glasses. Nice touch, she thought absently. He had that whole GQ look down to an art form. He scanned through the papers in the folder and then handed them across to her, taking her a bit by surprise.
“Some easy weekend reading so that you won’t come in cold on Monday.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the folder. “Those are the plans for the upcoming projects. Some of the details were hammered out while I was in London. No one has seen them as yet. I’d like to get your take on it.”
Alexis cleared her throat. “I’ll let you know.”
He gave a short nod just as the Lincoln cruised to a halt. “We’re here.”
Michael rounded the car and opened the door. He extended a hand to help her to her feet. Alexis stepped out onto Sutton Place. She glanced upward at the four-and five-story town houses that ran between Fifty-Seventh and Fifty-Eighth Streets, oozed style and sophistication, and paid homage to the bygone era of the roaring ’20s. The building boasted a long list of who’s who from the financial world like the Vanderbilts and the Morgans of J.P. Morgan fame, and celebrities such as Marilyn Monroe, actress Sigourney Weaver, designer Kenneth Cole and architect I. M. Pei.
“I know originally that we were to set you up in Midtown,” Graham was saying as he stepped out of the car to stand beside her. “A good friend of mine owns one of the apartments at 10 Sutton and he’s never here. R.E.A.L. leased it from him. I hope you’ll like it.”
Okay, now she was speechless. She’d heard about Sutton Place, read about it and saw pictures of the
stately homes and co-ops. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined living there. She wanted to do the happy dance but was sure it would be inappropriate.
“Very nice. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, with a slight wave of her hand as if she lived in million-dollar homes on a regular basis.
Michael retrieved her bags from the car and was met at the curb by the red-vested doorman complete with a luggage cart.
“Welcome back, Mr. Stone. How was your trip?”
“Very productive, Glen. Thanks. How’ve you been? Did your wife have the baby yet?”
“Any minute now,” the young man said with a beaming smile. “And I really want to thank you for writing the scholarship letter for my niece.”
Graham clapped Glen on the shoulder. “Not a problem. You just tell Misty to make us all proud.”
“Oh, she will. I know she will.”
Alexis took this all in as Michael and Glen loaded the suitcases onto the cart. Did Graham Stone live here or did he just know the doorman? She could hear her voice rising in her head. Michael took Graham’s bags and added them with the others, answering her unspoken question. “I want you to look out for Ms. Montgomery. She’ll be taking over Vernon’s apartment on three. Alexis Montgomery, Glen Johnson.”
“Nice to meet you.” Alexis shook his hand.
“Ms. Montgomery.” He gave her a short nod and a smile. “Well, that explains the cleaning company and all the moving. I thought Mr. Vernon was finally coming back,” Glen said as he began pushing the cart to the entrance.
“Hopefully they did a good job,” Graham said as he strode forward. He stopped at the front desk and shook hands with the man behind the counter, took a set of keys and waved Alexis over.
“Alexis Montgomery, this is Milton, the building’s concierge. Whatever you need, he’ll help you.” He placed the keys in Alexis’s hand.
“Welcome to 10, Ms. Montgomery.” He produced a brochure from beneath the desk and handed it to her. “It contains a list of amenities as well as information on local services.”
“Thank you.”
Graham had walked off and was in conversation with a woman who’d just gotten off the elevator. He kissed her cheek and held the elevator door for Michael and Glen, who stepped aside to let Alexis board.
The door swooshed closed behind them. Alexis was working hard at being cool, but it was becoming more difficult by the minute.
Michael pressed the button. Within moments the doors opened onto her floor. The corridor was as exquisite and lush as a staged photograph. The cool spearmint-colored carpet made the hallway virtually soundproof and exuded a sensation of tranquility. Michael and Glen led the way toward the front door. Alexis’s heartbeat escalated with each step. Graham lingered a few steps behind. He was busy texting on his phone.
Alexis stood in front of apartment three. She fiddled with the keys until she located the correct one and then inserted it into the lock and turned.
The front door opened onto a spacious living space flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows that rose to meet cathedral ceilings. She slowly walked in, feeling as if she were entering someone else’s life. It was ultramodern with splashes of noir chic. The wood floors sparkled. The open floor plan showcased a chef’s kitchen complete with an oversize stainless-steel refrigerator, dishwasher, double oven, and a center island with a sink in the center and seating for four. The overhead cabinets wrapped around the kitchen and were inset with opaque glass. At the far end of the living room was a metal spiral staircase that led downstairs.
“Where would you like your bags, Ms. Montgomery?” Glen asked.
Alexis blinked rapidly, gave her head a slight shake and turned to face the three men who stood behind her.
“Umm.” She looked around quickly.
“The bedrooms are downstairs,” Graham offered, briefly glancing up from his cell phone.
She looked at him with a raised brow of question. “My apartment is similar,” he said by way of an answer. “I’m on top of you.”
Her insides quivered. On top of me. Her thoughts galloped off at breakneck speed and nearly dragged her along with them. She drew in a breath. “Downstairs, then,” she said. “Thanks.”
Glen and Michael unloaded the cart and began taking the bags to the lower level.
“This apartment is fabulous.”
“They’ve upgraded all of the units in the past five years.” He looked casually around. “Vernon did a nice job with the space.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Almost eight years.”
Glen and Michael returned. “Your bags are in the master bedroom,” Glen offered.
“Thank you so much.”
He nodded his head and hurried out, shutting the door softly behind him.
“We’ll let you get settled,” Graham said and was walking to the door before all of the words were out of his mouth. Michael reached the door before him and opened it.
“Thank you again,” Alexis called out.
Graham raised a hand in acknowledgment just before the door closed behind them.
Alexis released a breath of pure, giddy delight. She grabbed the handrail and hurried downstairs, stopping in her tracks when she reached the bottom. The bottom of the stairs opened onto a sitting room. The walls had built-in shelves with cabinets underneath. Beyond the sitting room was a full bathroom on the other side of the stairs. Down the narrow hallway was another kitchen—smaller than the one upstairs but just as finely detailed and equipped. Opposite the kitchen was a formal dining room. The next room over was a good-size bedroom and around a short corner was the master bedroom with a cedar walk-in closet complete with en suite.
Now this is off the charts. She opened and closed doors and explored all the nooks and crannies. Wait until I tell Naomi. She had definitely hit pay dirt. Dream job, dream apartment in the city that never slept and a boss that... Her breath caught in her chest. She wouldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about it. Instinctively her eyes rose and she imagined Graham walking through his apartment—on top of her.
Chapter 3
Graham loosened his tie and shrugged out of his jacket while he walked from the entrance straight to his bedroom. He’d opted to keep his bedroom on the lower level as well, with the main level reserved for dining and entertaining. He’d purchased the apartment almost eight years earlier, but he was still unaccustomed to the luxury of it all. His former life was a far cry from the one he lived now, and even though the battle scars weren’t visible they remained.
He hung his jacket on the hook behind his bedroom door, opened his walk-in closet and slid his suitcase in-side, only taking out his shaving kit. He’d deal with unpacking later. He tugged his tie all the way off and hung it on the tie rack, stepped out of his shoes and placed them on the shelf with the others, then shut the closet door. Two rows of shoes. Sometimes he had to look more than once to believe it.
What he wanted was a cold beer, to stretch out on the couch and catch a Knicks game. He stripped out of his shirt, tossed it in the laundry bag and hung his slacks up with his jacket on the back of the door. He’d have Milton send everything over to the dry cleaner in the morning along with his other suit and the shirts from his trip.
He grabbed a white T-shirt from the middle drawer of his dresser and a pair of navy blue sweatpants that were faded and as soft as a baby’s blanket from years of washing and wearing. The U.S. Navy insignia on the right pocket was barely visible. He headed back upstairs with the hope that there was at least one beer in the fridge. He lucked out.
He plucked the bottle of Coors from the shelf and took a quick look at the contents inside the fridge and then the deep freezer, packed tight with meats, fish and chicken. A ball of tension knotted in his stomach. He walked over to the pantry and pulled the door open and then the cabinets on
e by one. His heart thundered in his chest. Not enough. There wasn’t enough. For a moment his right hand trembled ever so slightly as he ran it across the rows of canned goods, boxed items, bags of pastas, jars of sauces and columns of spices. What he saw was half-full, not abundance. Rationally he understood that, but emotionally he saw empty. He felt pangs of hunger and an unreasonable fear that made his heart race.
He forced himself to close the cabinet door. He twisted off the cap on the beer bottle and took a long, calming swallow. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his pulse to slow. By degrees he began to relax and the images of his past slowly receded.
Graham crossed the room, picked up the remote from the coffee table and aimed it at the wall-mounted flat-screen television. He surfed until he found the game before setting down the remote. Second quarter. The Knicks were down by ten. He shook his head, chuckled and stretched out on the couch.
When a commercial played across the screen, showcasing a quartet of beautiful women celebrating with a night out on the town, he thought of Alexis Montgomery and wondered how she would fit in with his team and the pace of the New York lifestyle.
He’d read her résumé. It was impressive to say the least. She had an MBA in finance and a doctorate in education. She spoke fluent Spanish and French and was competent in Mandarin. She was well traveled, well-read and well respected, and she was definitely easy on the eyes. He was eager to hear her thoughts on the proposal that he’d given her to review. He liked the sound of her voice, the even throatiness of it and the way she looked directly at him. And even the way she’d tackled opening that bottle of water. He smiled and took another long swallow of beer just as the game resumed.
