He frowned. “I trust you.”
“Not that either. I mean, after Lucy, I haven’t even had time to think about getting laid.”
Lucy. A baby. Jesus, how stupid can I be?
She hurried on. “I’m still breastfeeding on demand. Which isn’t a lot. But I haven’t started my period again, so I assume I’m still not ovulating. TMI, I know. And breastfeeding isn’t a guarantee of birth control at all.”
He lowered back to the couch, tucking her closer. A baby. “Roxie, I’m sorry. I’d never try to— I was—”
“Caught up in the moment? Yeah, me too. Like I said, I don’t regret anything. But maybe we could invest in a box of condoms?”
Meaning she wasn’t planning to give up on him, them? With her Lucy’s conception coming from a night with Roxie’s former boss, Grant wanted to kick himself for not being considerate of how important this was for her. He nodded. “Thank God you’re thinking straight for both of us. First thing in the morning, we’ll stock up.”
“Mmm. Looks like it’s just sleep for the night then.” She turned to kiss his shoulder, and he returned the gesture to the top of her head.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sleep had never felt so good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a relaxing night’s rest. Lucy was getting the hang of making it through the night again, now that the hell of teething abated.
Thanks, baby girl. Mama loves her Zs.
Extending her legs until her toes pointed down, and stretching her arms until she relieved the tightness in her back, she shifted too far and fell to the floor.
“Ow.”
A deep chuckle, a sound of laughter that was inhibited too often, came from the other side of the room. Scrambling to sit on her butt, immediately experiencing an unfamiliar and ancient soreness in the lower region of her body, the memories of the previous day’s events flooded her. Waking up on a different sofa, and Grant pleasuring her. Then the theft of her notes, breaking into Tara’s, running from the guards…having sex—twice—with her boss.
She’d crossed the line she’d vowed to never near.
So much had happened in too short of a time.
Tiredness conveniently spared her from a discussion she’d garnered Grant would insist on having. She hadn’t missed his stares the night before, as though he was trying for a mind-reading skill to interpret her reaction to mixing business with pleasure.
Grant sat on the couch, still in his t-shirt and boxers, holding Lucy on his lap as she drank from a bottle.
That was why she felt like she was exiting a season’s hibernation? He’d gotten Lucy up for her?
This is what it would be like to have a partner in parenting.
She kicked the door shut on that thought. Them having sex didn’t change everything.
“Sleep well?” he asked. Lucy smiled around the nipple of her bottle as Roxie still sat on the floor. “She started to wake up an hour ago, so I warmed milk up and let you sleep in.” When she didn’t comment, and simply continued to stare at him, he frowned. “No good? I figured she’d want milk first thing?”
Roxie shook her head, forcing herself out of her stupefied lack of words. “No, no.” She took the spot on the couch next to them. “That’s perfect.” You’re perfect. Or would be if you weren’t my damn boss. “Thanks.”
He let Lucy crawl her way to Roxie’s lap.
“You should have woken me up.”
Grant rubbed at his chin before replying. “Do you say that because I’ve never taken care of a child before? You don’t trust me with her?”
Roxie reared back, and her jaw dropped. “No! Not at all. I meant you shouldn’t have to do that. I’m her mom. It’s my job to take care of her. I’m not—I don’t want you to think I’m foisting her on you. Or slacking. Or—”
“You’re human too, Rox. It’s not a crime if you sleep in and let someone else help.”
She stalled to find the best words. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
He shook his head. “The only trouble you ever give me is when I don’t say ‘please’.”
She cocked her head to the side, as though to say, ‘well…?’
“I…” He relaxed back to the couch cushions. “I enjoy spending time with her.”
The quiet tone and softness of his voice shot spears to her heart. How callous could she be not to see it from his perspective? A man who’d lost his chance for a family years ago, suffered his ex-wife’s two miscarriages.
When he’d held Lucy for the first time, Roxie insisted he keep carrying her because she deduced he wanted to get it right.
When she’d returned to his office the day before, when he’d changed diapers, fed Lucy, rocked her, tried to apply the illogical concept of skin-to-skin to comfort her fussy daughter, she’d realized how much he’d learned, how much he’d appeared to appreciate the opportunity to bond with her baby.
Grant was a demanding, alpha kind of man, but when it came to Lucy, and his willingness to help take care of her, he was the gentlest, most generous soul. Roxie didn’t have the heart to be a bitch enough to deny him that kind of nurturing love.
She gripped his shirt to pull him closer and kissed him on the lips, lingering long enough to win a grunt from his chest, to taste the coffee on his tongue, and to have him smooth his hand down her arm. On a sigh, she admitted, “And I’d never deny Lucy a chance to see your big heart.”
They sat there, side by side, holding hands while Lucy finished her breakfast. Peaceful, and it was serene to merely relax together. Almost like a family, if Roxie wanted to be completely foolish.
“Oh, my God!” She jerked up, startling Lucy. “What time is it?” She craned her head around, searching out the clock. “Eight-fifty?”
Grant answered her freakout with a shrug. “Want coffee?”
“We should have been at the office an hour ago!”
He stood and went to the kitchen. “Not today.”
A day off? He understood that rarity?
“Why bother? Everything we need is here. And it will be easier with Lucy.”
So he was accommodating her? Putting his job on a lower priority status than Lucy’s supervision? No. He couldn’t. She couldn’t let his career suffer because of her. Because she had to manage Lucy. Exactly what Lia had warned about Grant—not being a family guy, sneering at the compromise to have to deal with childcare while keeping down a demanding, challenging career.
But those misconceptions were before she’d witnessed and learned who Grant really was. A man yearning for his own brood, maybe morose and sad, depressed even, when he’d missed out—not a Grinch who detested children and their needs of adults.
“So we’re working here?” she asked.
He nodded as he filled a coffee mug. “I’ve got you here. We’ve got all our notes. Both our computers.” He glanced up at her briefly before adding creamer. “We can run out for milk and some food. Diapers or whatever Lucy might need.”
He looked at her again. “Or Chris. He can stop and pick some stuff up for us. He’s coming by later to jump in with the case. He’s already grabbing some Starbucks for me.”
It didn’t seem like a horrible idea. Concentrating on who could have killed Josh was a task they could perform, well, anywhere. “Okay…”
With a coffee in one hand, he offered her sustenance, his other hand, he gestured for Lucy. They switched, he taking Lucy and the bottle, and she taking the jolt her brain needed to function. “Trust me. Tara will be bound to be a pain in the ass today.”
“Avoiding her, then? That’s how we’ll do this?”
“No.” He held Lucy at his hip like a natural. “Just for today. She’ll simmer down. You’re right, though. She will know it was us. But I’d rather be productive for a good day’s worth of work than put up with her nonsense.”
Roxie sipped at the coffee before speaking. “Any, uh, calls from the police?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” He took the bottle from Lucy. “I think she nee
ds to be changed, but I’m…”
Roxie smiled.
“No, no. I’m game. I just want to see how you do it.”
“She’s quite the squirmer, huh?”
They got up and set out to get Lucy ready for the day. One diaper and outfit change later, Lucy settled in to play with a toy in her pack-n-play, and Roxie gathered some clothes from her carry-on to change into.
Grant had disappeared after tossing out the diaper and washing his hands. With her clothes clutched to her chest, Roxie wasn’t sure where to go. She could change out here in the great room. She shifted her gaze to the guestroom. Or there… Just because they’d had sex didn’t imply she was a girlfriend, a lover, a… Heck, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to impose.
Wincing, she wanted to whimper with anxiety. She had no ground rules. No clue how to do this. Grant was her boss. Friend. Lover? Which title was she supposed to heed? What were the new rules? Redefined lines?
He exited his bedroom as she still stood at the doorway. Shuffling to a sudden stop at her blocking his way, he ducked lower to peer at her face.
“Rox?”
“How does this work?”
As he studied her grimace, she licked her lips, emboldening herself to woman up and face this bull of a dilemma in the face. “Us.”
He sighed. “You work for me.”
She nodded. Wait. As in I am your employee, or I ‘work’, like I make sense with you?
“We work on this case,” he said.
Another affirmation. Plus a warmth at his inclusion of her in an abstract way. Yes, she knew she was still his PA, but it was so gratifying to know he valued her input beyond the bitchwork.
“And we…make love.”
“Am I a workplace fuck buddy?”
He shook his head. “We’re coworkers.”
That’s a heckuva exaggeration. We’re only coworkers by the definition we both receive paychecks from Kaniz.
“And something more.”
What more?
“So when am I assistant Roxie and the something more Roxie?”
“All the time.”
She smirked. “That was an ‘or’ question.”
“Just be yourself, Rox,” he said and closed the distance to her, cupping her jaw. “When you want to bring up a point about the case, do it. When you want to let me kiss you”—he pressed his lips to hers—“do it.”
“Where? When?”
He stepped back and wiped at his face. “For the sake of professionalism, we could try to keep this between us at the offices. Until the end of the case. Remember, that’s it for me and I’m gone from Kaniz. But other than that…” He shrugged. “I’m just as clueless as to how to grapple this. But I know it feels right. We feel right. You are— We’ll take it one day at a time.”
Roxie nodded, bursting to know what he’d just caught himself from saying. “I can do that.”
“I’m not Jimmy.”
She stiffened. How could he ever think he was? “No, you’re not. But you have to understand why taking this step with you is, well, difficult. Work should be work, and everything else separate.”
He started to smile. “You know what they say about best-laid plans.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“This matters to me. You matter to me. If we have to wait until Ben’s case is over and I leave Kaniz, we can.” He grunted. “But I intend to bring you with me. If you want. Regardless, I’m not an ass enough to pressure you. Are you sure you’re okay…with all of this?”
She jumped up to kiss him for a yes.
When she retreated, he smiled down at her and then narrowed his eyes. “All right. Chris is coming over in an hour. He’s the only one I trust to not run the gossip about our relationship—and with my request for him to purchase the biggest box of condoms, he’ll catch on quickly—but I’m not sharing the image of you wearing next to nothing.”
She sneered and saluted.
He smacked her ass lightly as she went to get dressed in his room.
By the time Chris had arrived with Grant’s Dirty Chai, her iced tea, a package of diapers for Lucy, and bags of brunch-type takeout, Grant and Roxie had more or less arranged their workspaces.
Grant had papers, books, and his laptop sprawled on the countertop of the bar before the kitchen. Roxie had her laptop opened on the coffee table—with duct-taped wads of hand towels protecting the sharp corners of the slab of granite—her notes in a messy order on the couch, and Lucy’s toys all over the floor.
Chris didn’t offer any snide words or expressions of ‘oh, I see how it is’ when he let himself in. Either he had anticipated the sexual tension between Grant and Roxie would naturally explode, or he was that damn stoic and professional in keeping his opinions to himself.
The men huddled to work at the bar, and Roxie multi-tasked. She watched Lucy crawl around what seemed like acres of carpet. She fact-checked the notes they’d broken into Tara’s for—the numbers and details of Ben’s potentials for contracts.
She’d explained she would give the matter a little more attention before returning to the assignment of familiarizing herself with the love affairs between Kylie and Wayne. Meanwhile, Grant delved in deeper with the matters of the music video contract and Dave’s business transactions.
Once Lucy started to get clumsy pulling herself up and resorted to sitting and sucking her thumb, Roxie put her in the pack-n-play for her routine morning nap. As her daughter snuggled into rest, Roxie sent a few texts to Sophia, checking in to ensure she was taking her antibiotics and not trying some herbal homemade remedy from her hippie days. Content that she was giving her best to her daughter and ‘aunt’, she finally tried to pay her complete attention to the research.
Even though she was freed up from following Lucy around for the moment, she still struggled to delegate all her attention and concentration to her laptop. Kylie and Wayne were star-crossed lovers who had flocked back to each other over the years, regardless of either’s relationship status. Same old, same old. No matter what source she perused, it was the same. A demanding, vindictive, manipulative woman and her destined on-again, off-again lover.
Recalling the vibes Kylie projected at their lunch only two days before, Roxie found no inconsistencies. Kylie was a woman who acted in her own best interest. Whether that could include murdering Josh…Roxie wasn’t convinced.
It was a startling parallel between Kylie and Tara—two women who marched to their own drumbeat and said ‘fuck you’ to anyone in their way. No wonder Grant had clammed up, taken the demeanor of a gargoyle after their lunch with Kylie. When he’d swam those laps in the pool, Roxie would have had to been blind to miss the frustration he had wrestled with. And after hearing about Tara’s deception in their marriage, and experiencing the woman stealing her damn notes, Roxie couldn’t blame Grant for his mood.
Spying on Grant discussing a point with Chris, she stole the few minutes to appreciate him, all of him. The sex, the affection, the respect, the companionship. Overlooking his fastidious and too-proper traits, he was nearer perfection than she could have ever expected. And his flaws only made him so much more attractive.
Never had she curled her toes so tightly from a man pleasuring her. Never had she been on the receiving end of a man’s, not a boy’s, not a one-night stand’s, but a masculine, strong and commanding man’s genuine concern and care. While she’d always kept at the top of her classes in school, and she was inches from graduating with a perfect academic record, she’d never been included and incorporated in her work like with Grant. Dr. Wonn hadn’t taken advantage of her at Jimmy’s ranch, but there was always that subtle prejudice just under the surface that convinced her that her mentor still viewed her as ‘just a vet student’, never a potential future colleague.
Grant… He was a man who believed in her, it seemed. For the many times she’d lost faith in herself through all her tragedies and hardships, she’d never dreamed of having a sense of support that Grant offered. In her reckless teenage time, she’d
had dates, slept with maybe a dozen guys. She hadn’t been either a puritan or a prude back in her day. But none of them ever got close, none ever mattered in the slightest bit.
This matters to me. You matter to me.
God, she could have swooned at his remarks. He was so damn much more than her boss, whether she wished it or not.
As he slouched over the counter, oblivious to her ogling him, he set his chin in one hand, his elbow atop her notepads, and his thumb smoothed small circles on the pad of his index finger. From their abrupt end of last night’s shower, sleeping on the couch, and their lazy morning, his hair was deliciously rumpled, begging for her to run her fingers through it. He had yet to refrain from making guttural sounds of pleasure when she played with his hair. Blond stubble showed on his chiseled jaw, such bold lines like the finest sculpture at the Met. A perfect friction she couldn’t wait to feel rough against her neck, her thighs, her—
Shaking her head, Roxie ordered herself to get a grip. He was working, listening to Chris about the case she should be focusing on as well. They could play later. They would enjoy each other later, she decided confidently. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she.
“It’s not much money,” Chris said about something pertaining to the financial matters.
Grant straightened and scoffed. “But it’s money. People will always obey the need for it.”
Roxie frowned. Not everyone. She could sympathize with his jadedness for him putting up with scum in his line of work. But she was curious how far his cynicism of humanity expanded. She could very well fit in with the scum. There was no denying her motivation to earn fast big bucks. All those fees and fines to repay, and the mountains of loans she owed, and the remaining debt from funerals. Roxie was just as driven to make money as anyone else, desperate perhaps—did he judge her in the same vein?
What about the bonus?
Cringing, she considered how he’d react to learning that she’d only stuck to working for him for the sake of a bonus. When he might have thought she was honestly sticking with him for the sake of who he was, for the goal of hard work, she was only thinking of her own bank account and staying afloat.
Resisting Redemption Page 29
