by Elsa Kurt
A surge of protectiveness washed over Griff at the sight of Jenna retreating, her long legs kicking up dust and her ponytail swaying. He may not know exactly what her past was, but he did know he’d shelter her from it for as long as she needed it. He just had to figure out a way to tell her so without scaring her away. He looked skyward and said, “See what you’ve turned me into, Gracie?”
He told himself—from the moment he decided to hire Jenna—that he was doing it on Grace’s behalf. But now, watching the long-legged beauty retreat, and feeling his heart swell with something more than compassion, he wondered. Could he be falling for her? He scowled at his confusion. It was unlike him to feel uncertain about anything. Griff Pierce was not a man for trifling emotions or actions. Decide how you feel and act on it, damn it. It would prove easier said than done, however.
The weeks went by quickly, and Griff’s interactions with Jenna were brief but impactful. His impression was that she was avoiding him, but he trusted that time would soothe her embarrassment and wariness. Tilly watched them with openly curious eyes and knowing smiles as if she were in on some secret that they were oblivious of. It had become his practice to dine with the staff, a change that seemed to set everyone in a state of bafflement. However, no one dared to question him. Jenna seemed unaware of the chaos her arrival had stirred at Averly Estate.
Griff, on the other hand, was well aware of the talks between the other staff regarding Jenna Maxwell. The whispered, ‘what do you think her story is,’ to the ‘have you noticed she never talks about anything other than work or the weather,’ all came around back to him, usually from Tilly.
“She never gets phone calls, you know. No mail, either,” Tilly said one early morning before the others arrived for breakfast.
“Maybe she uses her cell phone. Or her own computer. People email now, Tilly.”
“Agh, email. And no, she has no phone. No computer,” said Tilly.
“How do you know?” Griff was surprised that he hadn’t already known this.
“I know because Louisa say so. She clean guesthouse. No cell phone. No computer. Nothing. She never ask to use house phone, either. She is in hiding, I think.”
Griff said nothing. Jenna had been with them for nearly a month. No one could get a word from her about her life before Averly. He hadn’t pushed her. Not yet, at least. “Well, if she is, then she came to the right place, didn’t she?” Griff’s eyebrow climbed high on his forehead, and his gaze was pointed. Tilly harrumphed and walked away, making more noise than usual in the sink. They both knew Tilly’s citizenship was not what she’d claimed it to be. Griff smiled into his coffee cup.
From outside came the laughs and barks of Jenna and the dogs. Griff stood by the window and watched. When Jenna was unguarded, she was a sight to behold. Long flaxen hair catching streaks of gold in the sunlight, her laughter ringing through the air as the puppies nipped and stumbled all over her as she lay in the soft green grass. Griff found himself being pulled through the doors with a magnetic force, a smile plastered on his face.
The puppies spotted him first and galloped at him, immediately yanking at his trouser legs with their sharp baby teeth. “Oh, what naughty pups, you are! Let go, now. Come on.” He walked them back to Jenna and glanced down at her, still lying in the grass with the rest of the pups still climbing all over her. She sat up and darted glances at him with wary eyes but said nothing.
“May I join you, Miss Maxwell?”
“Of course, Mr. Pierce, it’s your home,” she replied.
He teased, “Ah, sticking with icy professionalism, are we?”
Jenna’s eyebrow lifted, but so did the corner of her mouth. She pursed her lips in an obvious attempt to suppress the smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Griff dropped his head, smiling and shaking it slowly. To one of the puppies, he said, “Do you hear that, little one? Miss Maxwell is playing coy. What shall we do about this, hmm?” The fat-bellied pup rolled onto her back and batted at Griff’s hand. He looked up at Jenna, who was gazing out across the lawn, her face unreadable. He continued, “You see, the problem with that is, we’ve already established some…connection.” He lifted the pup and looked into its round eyes. “That was before she knew I was the boss.” He set the wriggling dog down and looked at Jenna, waiting for her to return his gaze. When she did, he spoke directly to her, all teasing gone from his voice.
“Jenna Maxwell, I am not a young man. I do not have the luxury—despite my considerable wealth—of endless time on earth. So, you’ll have to forgive me for not engaging in this charade any longer. Let me be blunt. I know that you are not a professional dog behaviorist, nor is your last name even Maxwell. I also know you are on the run from someone, and I know that you are terrified.” Jenna began to rise. “Sit, please. You’re in no danger here, Jenna. I promise you. Do you believe me?”
Jenna’s chin quivered, and she bowed her head. “Yes, Griff. I—I think I do.”
Griff—making mental note of her use of his name—asked in a gentler tone, “Would you care to hear what else I know?”
Jenna nodded, still not looking up.
“I know that I am immensely attracted to you. I know I wake up in the morning wondering what you’re doing, or if you’ve slipped away in the night, not trusting that you’re safe. And I know, that if I wait another day to tell you these things, I’ll not forgive myself.” Griff stood. “You don’t have to say or do anything, Jenna. I have no expectations of you past your job—which, by the way, you’re wonderful at, with or without a certificate—you are completely free to stay on after your twelve weeks, or go, if you choose to. I—well, I’ve said enough, I suppose. Enjoy your day, Jenna.” Griff stood and walked away, unsure if he’d made a terrible mistake in being so frank with Jenna.
From behind, he heard her voice waver. “Griff? I—I think I’d like to tell you my—my story. If you want to hear it, I mean.”
Griff released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “I would like that very much, Jenna. How would you feel about dining with me by the lake this evening?”
Jenna’s smile was tentative as she said, “I’d like that.”
At dusk Jenna and Griff met by the path, she in a simple ivory shift dress and sandals with her hair cascading in waves down her back, he in beige slacks and a dark blue polo shirt. He’d had one of the house staff stake torches along the path to light their way. At the lake, a table was set with a linen cloth and the Raynaud Turenne china. Tilly’s sous chef, Charles, waited with a trolley laden with silver domed platters. Griff was uncharacteristically nervous and slid worried glances at Jenna’s profile as they walked side by side. He felt her hand brush against his, then saw her pull it across her waist.
They made small talk and took turns glancing at one another. At the table, Griff thanked and dismissed Charles after he served them. The moment he was out of earshot, Jenna spoke.
“This is beautiful, Griff. Thank you.”
He could hear the genuine appreciation in her words, but her expression was cautious, nervous even. Griff longed to take her hand and ease her discomfort, however, he suspected it would be ill received. So, instead, he said, “You’re very welcome, Jenna. It’s my pleasure.”
“Is this Raynaud Scheherazade, or Turenne? I always got them confused,” she asked shyly.
Griff’s brow lifted, and he replied, “I believe it’s the Turenne. You know China, I see. Do you have a favorite? This was Grace’s—that’s my wife—choice.”
“I saw her portrait in the hall. She was beautiful, Griff. Don’t be mad at Tilly, but she told me all about her. She was very loved.” Jenna reached across the table and laid her hand over his as she said this.
Griff smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, and yes. She was. I wasn’t nearly the husband she deserved though.” He shook his head to clear the wave of melancholy and said, “Now, about you? Besides your knowledge of fine china, that is.”
“Well, I can also tell a Ch
agall from a Dali, but I suppose that’s not what you were asking, hmm?” She laughed softly, bowing her head as she did. Griff smiled and waited. Jenna lifted her head, her eyes not meeting his, but instead focused somewhere over his shoulder. She took a deep breath and told him her story, beginning with the first meeting in the library, to the postcard left at the Lannister penthouse.
“And your mother, Jenna? When was the last time—”
“She died. Just over a year ago.” Her words were clipped, her jaw clenched rhythmically, and her hands dropped to her lap. She still wouldn’t look at Griff. “So, yeah. I-I’m alone.” She looked at Griff at last, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Her shoulders rose once and fell.
“Jenna, I—”
“So,” she said brusquely, “I totally understand if you want me to leave. No one needs this kind of drama, especially in a place like this.” She began to stand.
“Jenna, please sit. Nothing has changed for me. I very much would like you to stay. I can’t imagine what it has been like for you. Say you’ll let me help you get that sadistic bastard out of your life for good.”
He saw the hope in her eyes, then he watched it drop away. “I can’t ask you to do that, Griff. This is my problem, not yours. I’m afraid of what—”
“But I’m not. Do you trust me, Jenna?”
“I-I don’t know, I…”
“You will, Jenna. By the time this is all over, you will.” Griff stood, walked around the table to Jenna, and extended his hand. After a brief hesitation, she slipped hers into his and stood as well. Gently, he pulled her against him and folded her in an embrace that he’d needed just as much as she did. He rested his rough cheek against her head as her grip tightened around him. Her cheek was warm on his chest, over his heart. She nuzzled closer. Griff stroked Jenna’s hair, marveling at its softness, at her.
He pulled away slightly, took her small chin between his thumb and fingers and tilted her face up to his. “You’ve been so brave, and so alone for too long, Jenna. I need to help you, you see. I need to repay you for bringing me out of my own darkness. Let me do this for you, yes?”
Jenna searched his eyes, perhaps looking for falseness, but there was only openness and…something more. Something in her gaze changed in those seconds. He could see it happen. Doubt, hesitation, and fear melted away. There came a softness, a tenderness to her face as she considered him. She pressed the balls of her feet into the sand, her heels left the ground, and her hands slipped to Griff’s waist as she brought her lips closer to his. Her mouth hovered beneath his, and her head tilted slightly as his thumb caressed her cheek. He slipped his hand through her hair and cupped her head gently, then pressed his lips to hers, breathing in deeply.
Jenna
Jenna gasped a little as their lips touched. He was so gentle, his touch so tender, that tears sprung to her eyes. There were no comparisons to the way Griffin Pierce kissed her, it was passionate yet sweet, and she wanted the moment to last forever. The way his hand traced the curve of her jaw, then coiled through her hair, his fingertips scratching her scalp in slow circles. Every touch, every move was made with sweet reverence. No touch was made without consent, no kiss was demanded…only asked.
He led her from the table, deftly snagging a blanket from under the trolley—one that Tilly had no doubt had the foresight to leave for them—and led her to the now moonlit beach by the lake. There he opened the blanket with a flick and let it settle on the sand. Griff took her face in his hands and searched her eyes for the answer to an unasked question. She slipped one strap off her shoulder, letting it drop. Jenna gave a small, encouraging nod, and Griff’s hand teased a trail down her throat, across her collarbone. His fingers slipped under the other strap, and as he lowered it, he placed a soft kiss on her bare, moonlit skin.
Her head fell back, and she sighed his name as her dress fell to the ground with a whisper. Then his lips found hers again, and they kissed deeply. Griff lowered her to the blanket, then pulled off his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants with measured, deliberate movements, like a man ready to love a woman slowly and thoroughly. He was by far the most beautiful man Jenna had ever seen. With a sense of wonder, Jenna realized that her heart wanted him as much as her body did. There were no warning bells, no voice of caution hissing in her ear. There were only Griff and the moonlight.
He laid down beside her, brushed the long hairs away from her face, and gazed down at her with the same awed wonder she felt. “Sweet girl, what have you done to me, hmm?”
Jenna smiled and raised her hand to his face. It was small against his warm, rough cheek and tickled her palm when he nuzzled against it. She giggled and said, ‘Oh, what have you done to me, old man?”
He gave her a look of mock indignation, then winked as he said, “I’ll show you old man,” just before he kissed her and rolled her on top of him.
They made slow, unhurried love under the stars and moon, exploring each other’s bodies with lips, tongues, and hands. They whispered sweet words against one another’s skin and held on tightly in the most profound throes of passion. Then, in the pre-dawn hours, they ran back to the estate and into Jenna’s guesthouse, where they fell into bed. She curled against Griff and slept soundly for the first time in years. Sometime later in the night, in dreamy pre-dawn hours, their bodies awoke before their minds. Jenna climbed on top of Griff, letting her hair spill over his chest. His cock hardened between her legs and she guided him inside her. He lay back, letting her control every movement. She marveled at the space where their bodies joined, slipping her fingers between them and rubbing her clit as her hips made slow, deep circles and thrusts. When she was close to the edge, she cried out, “Oh, Griff.” It sent them over the edge and they came together, hard and fast. Sleep claimed them again.
The cruel morning sun and distant barks woke Jenna late the next morning. She looked at the space beside her, expecting to see Griff’s sleeping form, but his side of the bed was empty. His side of the bed? Fool. It was a one-night stand. With the boss. Jenna cursed herself, her stupidity. But then she recalled the night, Griff’s tenderness. The look in his eyes sent a tidal wave through her. No, it was real. All of it. She looked at the time and swore. Ten o’clock in the morning. She had long overslept. Whipping off the covers, Jenna ran to shower and dress. Surely Griff or Michael, or one of the other hands had attended to the dogs, but she still felt awful for neglecting them. In the kennel, she found Michael. “Hey, have you seen Griff?” Then, looking around, asked, “Where are all the dogs?”
Michael, no longer awkward around Jenna, said, “Uh, yeah. He said to tell you that you had the day off. George is handling the dogs today. Oh, and he said to give you this.” He pulled a slightly crumpled, sealed envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Jenna. She frowned and took it outside, where she promptly tore it open to read.
“Hello, lovely. Had urgent business to attend to. I’ll be gone until tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. Enjoy your day off. Keys are with Tilly if you’d like to take yourself into town. No more hiding out, Jenna. You’re free. xo- Griff
Jenna traced the ‘xo’ with her finger and smiled. Okay, so not a one-night stand. She folded the note and went into the kitchen in search of Tilly, who was right where she always was. “Good morning, Tilly. Any breakfast left?’
“Ah, there is the Sleeping Beauty! Sit. I save food for you.” Tilly set a plate before her, smiling and nodding expectantly.
With a mouthful of toast, Jenna said, “What, Tilly?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing. I just wonder if you and Mr. Griff have nice dinner, is all?” Jenna blushed. It was all the answer Tilly needed. “Yes, I thought so. He say I should give you keys for the truck. You go into town, do shopping or whatever.”
Tilly pulled a set of truck keys from her apron and set them down in front of Jenna. She eyed them dubiously, then looked up at Tilly and stammered, “Oh, I-I don’t think so, Tilly. I’ll just, you know, stay around here. Take a swim or grab a book from t
he library. It’s—”
Tilly shushed her and took both of Jenna’s hands in her large, red, dishwater-raw ones. “If Mr. Griff say to you that you are safe, then you are safe. I know this, Jenna.”
“He told you?” Jenna’s tone wasn’t accusatory. She knew Griff’s attachment to the cook went well past an employer/employee relationship. She was like a beloved surrogate aunt to him.
Tilly shrugged and said, “He tell me enough. The rest, I figure out.”
Jenna jumped up and hugged the older woman, surprising them both. She blushed and thanked Tilly before grabbing the keys and heading out front. She hadn’t driven since Connecticut, and she was giddy with excitement. Following the signs into town, Jenna made her way slowly at first, then with more confidence. She rolled the windows down and blasted a country station on the radio.
In town, she delighted at the sight of the charming little main street lined with gaily painted, quaint boutiques and novelty stores. Jenna parked, and after a brief hesitation, climbed out of the truck. She felt vulnerable and exposed, but she was determined to not let fear win. Though each store looked inviting, Jenna didn’t stop until she found a quiet looking bookstore. It was called Nook, and Jenna was drawn to it like a magnet. They served scones and specialty coffees and had deep leather chairs with reading lamps and side tables. She ordered a chocolate hazelnut coffee and an apricot scone, then took them to a corner seat, close to the back entrance and facing the door.
Oh, how she looked forward to truly relaxing, and not always tensing at every door jingle, bracing for the sight of Dane. Griff certainly seemed confident it would happen. She pulled his note from her pocket and reread the words—you’re free—over and over. But Griff didn’t know Dane like she did. He was relentless. Jenna shuddered.
