by Nia Arthurs
Chuckling under his breath, he leans down. I’m a trembling mess and I’m grateful for his grip at my waist, helping to keep me upright.
My eyes slide closed.
I have to hide how much I want this, just in case Griffin’s ego gets any bigger.
One palm moves up to my chin and angles my head. His paws are so big that the heel of his hand is at the base of my jaw and yet his fingers can easily touch the soft shell of my ear.
Grip tightening, he presses one thigh into mine.
Heat explodes in my core.
Waiting one more second would end me.
I surge up, my lips puckered.
Ready.
But, instead of his mouth, it’s his words that brush against my lips. “One date, Cobie.”
My eyelashes flutter up.
He grazes his thumb against my cheek. Something tender lingers in the depths of his darkened gaze.
Affection.
I see it, swimming beneath his desire for me, but it’s so potent, so intense, and so out of place between two strangers who’ve met only twice, that I can hardly understand it.
“Give me what I want,” his thumb moves from my cheek to my bottom lip, softly tugging it as he scrapes the underside, “and I’ll give you what you want.”
I swat his hand away.
My stomach twists, seesawing between irritation and embarrassment.
I’ve been played, but I can’t exactly blame him because I set myself up for that.
Flirting with fire always leads to getting burned.
And still… it’s so strange. Griffin’s not just teasing me. There’s a purpose to his words and a question in his eyes. As if he’s truly trying to figure me out, to see beyond the promise of momentary pleasure.
It’s affecting me. My gut is screaming that I need to guard my steps here.
One faulty move and I’ll plummet.
My tongue flickers out to wet the corner of my lips.
I notice the way Griffin traces the area with his eyes and hiss, “If you want more than a kiss—”
“You know what I want, Cobie,” he says, stepping back. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”
I bristle. “Why do we have to be exact with each other? If you start something, you should follow through.”
“I will.” His tone shifts from dark and growly to slightly playful. “I have every intention of satisfying you.”
Heat rushes my face and I’m immensely glad that I don’t blush like my Caucasian brothers and sisters because my skin is on fire.
“You’re all talk.”
Griffin raises an eyebrow. “Try saying it again. Doesn’t seem like you believe that.”
Presumptuous little… “I hate men who act like they can read my mind.”
“It’s not intentional. Your eyes have a habit of spilling your secrets. Work on that if you want to be coy with me. ”
I chomp down on my bottom lip.
Shuttle a curse beneath my breath.
I’ve never been great at flirting, playing around, none of that. I get to business and then go about my day. This back and forth exchange is so out of my element, it’s no wonder Griffin can see right through me.
I hide how flustered I am behind a hard stare. “You’re assuming I want you badly enough to spend more hours than I need to in your presence. And you’re wrong. I don’t. It was just a joke.”
There.
Perfect way to avoid the ricochet from my own damn bullet.
He dips close.
His nearness makes me shiver.
Whispering into my ear, he smirks. “Liar.”
Someone knocks on the door.
The sound clangs in the air like a gunshot.
I jump around, guiltily crossing my arms over my chest as the door eases open and reveals a short, older man in a lab coat and a pair of heavy, black glasses.
My ability to talk is gone. Stolen by a six-foot-something massive heartbreak waiting to happen.
I’m glad when the stranger speaks to Griffin and pretends I’m not there.
“Griff, I heard you were looking for me?”
“Doc, you’re just in time. I’d like you to meet Cobie Simmons. She’s the creator of the line of conditioners we’re launching next summer.” Griffin gestures to me.
I tug my purse strap higher. “Actually, I didn’t create it. My mother did. I just followed her instructions.”
Cold brown eyes swerve to me and I’m suddenly reminded of the receptionist downstairs. This guy makes High Fashion Elsa look like the singing, sun-obsessed snowman.
“I see.” He surveys me with an expression that sours by the second. Turning to Griffin, he frowns. “Why was I assigned to a publicity stunt?”
A nervous chuckle spills from Griffin’s lips. He shoots me a sheepish look before consoling the scientist. “Come on, Doc. This is our first foray into a new market. We needed the best.”
His only response is a deep sneer.
Griffin clears his throat. “Doc produces Winthrop’s brand of luxury conditioners and shampoos. He’s got twenty-five years of experience in this field and all of his product launches are hits. We’re lucky corporate chose him for the job. It means the conditioners are almost guaranteed to do well.”
“Hmf.” Doc rolls his eyes.
Annoyance nips at my heels. They expect me to hand over my mother’s precious legacy to some dipstick who has better things to do?
“It seems he’d rather be assigned to something else.”
“Excuse me?” Doc glares.
“If it’s such a hassle, I’ll take this back”—I slide the envelope off the table—“and be out of your hair.”
“Wait, Cobie!” Griffin calls.
“I’m sorry, Griffin.” I smile sweetly at him. “But I refuse to work with an egotistical twat.”
“Did you just call me a twat?” Doc gasps.
“Me?” I place a finger to my chest in mock-horror. “I would never.” Nodding at Griffin, I say, “I think I made a mistake. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Hurling a glare in response to Doc’s sour-faced frown, I tuck my envelope under my armpit and stalk out the door.
10 Griffin
“Did she just… did you hear her?” Face flushed, Doc trembles like a madman caught in a thunderstorm.
“Let me talk to her.” I start forward.
He grabs my arm and holds me back. “Don’t bother. It’s impossible for me or anyone else in our department to work with a lunatic like that.”
I stiffen. “She’s not a lunatic.”
“Then am I the lunatic? All I did was walk in and she started hurling insults.”
“You looked down on her and her product,” I shoot back. “It was hard enough convincing her to give us a chance. You practically ran her out the door.”
“Are you taking her side?” Brown eyes narrow in accusation.
I scrub the heel of my hand down my face.
A disaster.
How the hell had it gone off the rails so quickly?
“I’m warning you.” Doc thrusts a finger in my face. “Try to force me to work on this project and I’m handing in my resignation immediately.” He steps closer until I can smell the coffee on his breath. “And then you can explain to the board why Winthrop lost it’s most lucrative clinical expert.”
“Doc…”
He ignores me, turns with a theatrical whip of his lab coat and storms through the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
I grab my hair and tug.
Totally off the rails.
Great.
“How do I fix this?” I mumble.
Blowing out a breath, I throw the door open, run down the hallway and head to the elevators.
Doc is a stubborn mule, but we’ve got a solid friendship, so I’ll save him for last.
If I can catch Cobie before she leaves, maybe I can smooth things over and finagle that contract back into my hands.
Without that flimsy piece of paper, this product
will never launch.
And…
I might never see her again.
Both realities are inconceivable.
Unable to keep still, I tap my foot against the floor and stare at the digital numbers changing on the screen above the elevator doors. What feels like hours later, it lands in the lobby.
I sprint out, my eyes skimming the crowd for Cobie.
“Griffin!”
I ignore the call and stalk forward, my chest heaving and my eyes desperately clinging to every brown-skinned woman in the vicinity.
“Griffin!” The voice is more insistent this time.
I stalk toward the receptionist’s desk. “What?”
Ella tosses her platinum blonde hair. “Are you free this weekend?”
I’m not in the mood to deal with her right now.
Swallowing back my growl of frustration, I whirl away from her desk and jog to the exits.
Sunshine blazes from the highest point in the sky, shooting daggers of heat on the sidewalk.
I squint against the too-bright light and search the pedestrians trotting past.
Women gawk at me, their eyes flickering over my body with abandon.
But they’re not her.
They’re not Cobie.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and call her.
It rings.
I grit my teeth and walk around the corner, hoping she might have settled under the bus stop at the end of the street.
The line clicks.
It goes to voicemail.
She’s not picking up.
I run stiff fingers through my hair and slouch back inside. The shade of the building turns my world dim. The future of this project looks equally bleak. I have no idea how I’ll dig myself out of this hole.
Things had been going so well too…
The momentary high from holding Cobie in my arms dissolves, leaving a quiet ache in the hollow of my chest and a throb in my temple.
As I pass Ella’s desk, she rises. “Is that woman your girlfriend?”
I stop.
“She’s not, right?” There’s a tremble in her voice. When I turn, I find her rubbing her hands together. A skittish look bounces from her eyes.
Even though it’s none of her business, I snarl, “No.”
But that’s not from lack of trying.
I press pause on my impatience.
There’s no need to feel antsy.
I’ve only just begun.
“Great.” Dazzling white smile back in place, Ella simpers, “Griff, do you happen to be free this weekend? Me and a couple of friends were going hiking—”
“Ehem…”
We both freeze.
Heels click in staccato rhythm.
A thick bun catches my attention.
My gaze travels down to a pair of narrowed brown eyes. Lips too thick and luscious to be tamed even when pressed together in a firm line.
Cobie.
“You came back,” I blurt in surprise.
She holds my gaze for a second—eyes darkened in silent accusation—and then she shifts to Ella. “Here. I forgot to bring this back.” She slides the lanyard over her head.
Or at least she tries to.
The material gets stuck in her voluminous bun.
Cobie mutters a curse beneath her breath and yanks hard, but it only snags the material further.
Ella snorts derisively.
I cut her a warning look.
Move closer to Cobie.
“Let me.”
“I’ve got it,” she grumbles, both arms rising now to battle with the clingy tie. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Stubborn.” The word is laced with affection.
“Name-calling. How mature.”
“I’m stating a fact. Not my fault if you find the truth offensive.”
She glares at me.
My body stirs.
I’m starting to know and love that icy expression.
Cobie lets out a guttural moan as the lanyard becomes more and more entwined in her hair.
I reach out. “Stop fighting me.”
“It’s called being an independent woman. I don’t need help from a man.”
“Don’t think of me as a man then, if that will make you feel better.” I easily rescue the lanyard trapped in her hair. Swinging it around my finger, I smirk at her. “I was worried you wouldn’t come back. You seemed pretty serious.”
“I am.” She folds slender arms over her chest.
As I step closer, I’m hit with a ridiculous and reckless desire to spout out how I feel about her. To shout it to the world. To kiss her so deeply she’d lose her breath and sanity.
Just as she’s stolen mine.
“Throwing tantrums doesn’t suit you,” I say.
She opens her mouth to argue with me.
I press a finger there to quiet her.
Bad move.
Her lips are soft and warm. They mold perfectly to my finger, parting slightly. I picture that bee-stung mouth against mine and almost lose my train of thought.
With herculean strength, I jerk my gaze back to her eyes.
Remove my finger.
Clear my throat.
“I understand that Doc was rude. I’ll talk to him.”
“Griffin,” Ella’s voice crawls into our conversation like fingernails scratching on chalkboard, “is there a problem?”
“No problem. I was just leaving.” Cobie snags her purse higher.
Turns.
“Answer your phone when I call,” I say.
She spins back, just as I knew she would.
Her eyes are a stormy black.
She stalks toward me. “Who do you think you are?”
“Please.” I know better than to smirk, but it’s just so damn fun to mess with her. ”I’d appreciate it.”
She scoffs.
“We’ll set up another meeting with the rest of the team. Bring the contract then.” I check my watch. “It’s almost lunch—”
“I have an appointment,” she says quickly.
I take in her skittering eyes, the hands nervously clamping and releasing her purse strap.
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“But that’s okay.” I lean forward and brush my fingers over her cheek, enjoying the feel of her soft skin. “So do I. Rain check?”
She steps forward. Pretty sure she’s digging my grave in her mind as we speak. Reaching out, she grabs a hold of my tie and runs her palm down the silky length of it.
Ella gasps.
My bravado melts away, leaving me a muddled mess of a man firmly in the palm of her pretty little hands.
Cobie slides her palms back up.
Winds her fingers around the knot of my tie.
Pushes it up.
An inch.
Another inch.
I choke.
Snag her hands.
Is she trying to kill me?
Ella yells, “Hey! What are you doing?”
The same question echoes in my head.
“I’ve changed my mind.” Cobie arches an eyebrow in challenge. “How about we have that lunch date now?”
11 Griffin
Cobie glides out of the lobby claiming she’ll meet me at a coffee place called ‘Brew Drop’ in half-an-hour.
I’m so shocked, I can only nod and watch her leave.
I got beaten at my own game.
Damn it.
“Did she really just try to choke you with your necktie?” Ella whispers, blue eyes wide. “In front of all these witnesses?”
“I know.” I sigh. “So damn sexy.”
“What?”
“Ella, do you know of any vegetarian restaurants around here?”
“You’re not actually going to lunch with her, are you?”
“It’s not for her. It’s for Doc.”
She calms and recommends a place nearby.
I run out quickly and return with a huge tray of Doc’s favorite vegetarian dishes, hopin
g to appease him.
He glares at me when I enter the lab but allows me in when he sees the food.
“Figured you’d be hungry.”
“Take it to my office. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I nod and leave the lab.
A few minutes later, Doc joins me.
He tears the plastic off the container and scoops the lettuce wrap in his veiny hands. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m not accepting this because I’ve changed my mind.”
“I know.”
He waves. “Then you may continue.”
“Doc…” A bunch of explanations sail through my head, but I settle on being honest. “This isn’t just another project to me.”
Mouth full, he asks, “You have something with that girl?”
A date.
After so many years, I’ve got a date with Cobie Simmons.
I played that scenario in my head so many times as a teenager, it’s almost unhealthy.
My excitement must show on my face.
Doc sets his wrap down with a sigh. “You do.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s insolent.”
“She’s vulnerable. And you didn’t make things easier.”
“Are you blaming this on me again?”
“I’m asking nicely. Neither of us can do this without you.”
“It’s not her I have a problem with,” Doc grumbles. “It’s the gimmick. Every product I make works. I try my best to give people an experience that will keep them coming back for more.”
“You think Cobie doesn’t want the same thing?”
“I think you’re pandering.” He frowns. “Forgive my lack of political correctness, but I analyzed samples of every one of the products and hers wasn’t the best. Not by a long shot. If she wasn’t black…”
“That’s not the reason.”
“Then what was?”
“Her story,” I admit. “Family. Legacy. Health. Culture. It’s got everything we need to snag not just the bottles but increased word-of-mouth marketing and social media mileage.”
He snorts. “Hogwash. We’re not selling sob stories. We’re selling conditioners. And frankly, hers are subpar.”
“Then make it better,” I coax. “You’re the only one who can.”
“If I forgive her, and that’s a big if, I get the feeling she won’t accept any changes without a fight.”
“Let me handle that part.”
Doc grabs his wrap again and takes a big chomp out of it. The lettuce crunches loudly in the silence. He crumples a napkin and swipes the corner of his mouth.
