by Vi Keeland
The three of us sat at the back of the boat for a while. Pops kept us amused with stories about when he’d first started building boats and all the trial and error that went into it. It was pretty amazing how far his memory stretched back, yet he would sometimes forget who family members were or where he was. At one point, he stood and announced he was going to go listen to his baby purr.
“He likes to listen to the engine,” Grant explained. He blew a ring of smoke from the cigar he’d lit a few minutes ago and held it up. “I think he comes for these more than anything these days. My grandmother won’t let him smoke anymore—not since he lit one and walked away and the rug caught on fire.”
“That’s just as well. They’re not good for you. And I never understood the appeal anyway. You don’t even inhale. I always thought they were a kind of phallic symbol men like to flaunt.”
Grant examined his cigar and grinned. “Glad I got the extra-thick Cohiba now.”
“Seriously, what’s the appeal with cigars?”
“It’s more about the moment it forces you to take. Sitting out here without this cigar in my hand, I’d probably take out my phone and scroll after a few minutes—or get up and do something around the boat. But a good cigar causes me to sit back and take a minute, reflect on my day or the beauty around me.” His eyes roamed my face, and his gaze heated. “There’s a lot to appreciate at the moment.”
Rather than squirm under his scrutiny, I opted to retake control. He had the cigar in the hand opposite me, so I leaned over him and plucked it from his fingers.
“Show me how to do this.” I raised the smoldering cancer stick to my lips.
Grant arched a brow. “You’re going to smoke my cigar?”
“Does that bother you?”
A dirty grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Of course not. You’re welcome to wrap your lips around my Cohiba.”
I rolled my eyes, but a shiver moved through me, even though there was no breeze.
“Hold it up to your lips.”
“Okay.”
“Pretend you’re sucking through a straw. But don’t inhale. Just take the smoke into your mouth and then blow it out. Don’t pull the air in deep from your diaphragm.”
I did what he instructed—at least I thought I did. But after I inhaled, I inadvertently swallowed some of the smoke and started to cough.
Grant chuckled. “I told you not to inhale.”
I sputtered. “Apparently that’s easier said than done.” I held out the cigar, and he took it back.
We sat together in quiet after that for a while. Grant kept his eye on Pops, who had his head buried in the engine on the other side of the boat while he tinkered. I looked around at the other boats and the marina.
“You must get some beautiful sunsets here.”
“I do.”
“Probably romantic. Do you bring your conquests here to get them in the mood?”
Grant brought his cigar to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the end. I was slightly turned on by the sight, especially knowing my lips had been there earlier. He puffed four or five times, then blew out a thick cloud of white smoke. “If by conquests you mean dates, then the answer is no. I don’t bring them here to get them in the mood.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t.”
A loud slam brought our attention back to Pops. Grant jumped up, but it had only been his grandfather letting the engine hatch door drop.
Pops brushed his hands together. “Still as sexy as the day she purred to life for the first time. The carburetor could probably use an adjustment though. You’ll get better fuel efficiency with a little tweaking.”
“I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Pops.”
“You two kids ready to go? I need my beauty sleep.”
“Ready whenever you are.” Grant stood and attempted to help his grandfather up the gangplank and over to the dock, though Pops wasn’t having it. He swatted Grant’s hand away and climbed off the boat on his own.
Grant and I exchanged smiles, and I let him help me off the boat. The three of us walked together back to the waiting car.
It was a short ride back to Grant’s grandparents’ house, and Pops climbed out of the car as soon as we stopped. Grant hopped out to follow him.
When he got to the front door of the house, Pops turned back and yelled, “Goodbye, Charlize!”
I poked my head out the car door. “Later, Balls!”
Pops spoke to Grant, although I could still hear him. “Boy, she’s a looker, ain’t she?”
Grant smiled. “That she is, Pops. That she is.”
The two men disappeared inside, and a few minutes later, a woman I assumed was Grant’s grandmother opened the door again. She hugged Grant, and he waited until the door was closed, then double-checked to make sure it was locked before coming back to the car.
He climbed inside and shut the door. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh no. Don’t be. Your grandfather is a pistol. That was fun, and your boat is beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you get to use it often?”
Grant hesitated before answering. “Every day. I live on it.”
“Really? That’s very cool.” I raised an eyebrow. “But you said you don’t bring dates on the boat.”
“I don’t. I also have an apartment downtown in Marina Del Rey. Some people use a house as their primary residence and a boat for fun. I do the opposite.”
Hmm… Interesting.
We talked the rest of the short drive to my place. Our conversation was casual, but it was impossible to feel completely relaxed near Grant. He just took up too much space—both literally on the seat next to me and metaphorically inside my head. The driver slowed as we turned down my street.
I pointed to the tall apartment building, suddenly glad I lived in a nice neighborhood. “This is me.”
The limousine pulled to the curb, and the casual and relaxed mood abruptly came to a halt. It felt like the end of a date with an awkward goodbye, rather than saying goodnight to the CEO of the company I worked for.
I put my hand on the door latch and spoke really quickly. “Thank you for the ride home.”
Grant leaned forward to his driver. “Give me a few minutes, Ben. I’m going to walk Ms. Saint James to the door.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said.
Grant reached and put his hand over mine, which was still holding the door handle, and pushed open the car door. He climbed out first and extended his hand. “It’s necessary.”
With his hand on my lower back, Grant guided me ahead of him up the narrow walkway. I felt the heat from his palm scorching my skin and wondered if it was my body or his that was on fire. Maybe it was the connection between us.
My apartment was on the third floor, and he insisted on riding the elevator up with me, too. At my door, Grant shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
“Thanks again for the ride,” I said.
“Of course.”
“Okay…well…you have a good night.” I did some sort of a curt, clumsy wave and fumbled to open the lock. Stepping inside, I looked back and smiled awkwardly one last time before shutting the door. Then I proceeded to lean my head against it and bang a few times. “God, you’re such a doofus around that man.”
Sighing, I walked toward the kitchen. But the bell stopped me after a few steps. Grant must’ve forgotten something. I walked back and checked the peephole before opening the door.
I smiled playfully. “Miss me already?”
Grant shook his head and frowned. He looked like he wasn’t very happy to be standing where he was. Blowing out an audible breath, he said, “Go out with me Friday night.”
“Uh... You sort of look like you’re asking me something dreadful.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I know it’s probably not the smartest idea, but I’d really like to take you out.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. “Is it not the smartest idea
because I work for you, or not the smartest because we met by me sending you a drunk email to tell you off?”
Grant smiled. “Both.”
I liked his honesty. And his jawline. And that tiny little dimple on the left side of his cheek that I’d just noticed for the first time. In fact, I couldn’t think straight when gazing at his handsome face.
So I looked down to gather my thoughts, but all that did was remind me of the other things I liked about him: his broad shoulders, narrow waistline… Damn, big feet, too.
Yet even with all that beautiful packaging, I still wasn’t sold. Though my reasoning wasn’t the same as his. Grant was wary because I worked for him. I was wary because something told me this man could eat me alive.
After inwardly debating the pros and cons, I looked up. “How about drinks? We see how it goes?”
“If that’s what you prefer.”
I exhaled. “I think so.”
“Then drinks, it is. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Could we have them on Leilani?” I asked. “Maybe watch the sunset?”
The muscle in Grant’s jaw flexed. “My apartment overlooks the harbor and faces west. The terrace gets a beautiful sunset. Or there’s a nice bar down at the pier.”
“I’d prefer your boat, rather than your porn palace.”
Grant’s lip twitched. “Porn palace?”
“You said you use your boat to live and your apartment for fun.”
His eyes roamed my face. “If I say yes, is it a date?”
I wanted to say yes in the worst way. I was incredibly attracted to him physically, but I also found his direct, no-bullshit attitude a turn on. Not to mention, he’d let down his guard around his grandfather and shown there was more to him than the gruff exterior. Yet…something about him terrified me.
I looked him in the eyes. “Do you just want to sleep with me, or do you want to actually take me out?”
Grant smiled. “Yes.”
I laughed and shook my head. “I appreciate the honesty. But can I think about it?”
His cocky smile fell. “Of course.”
“Thank you. Have a good night, Grant.”
I shut the door feeling deflated, but inside I knew I’d done the right thing. Nothing about Grant Lexington was simple. Especially the fact that he was my boss.
Chapter 13
* * *
Grant
“Mr. Lexington?” My assistant buzzed into my office. “You have Ireland Saint James on line one. Would you like me to tell her you’re about to go into a meeting?”
I stood with a file in my hand, ready to head to a ten o’clock meeting, but I sat back down. “No, I’ll take it. Tell Mark Anderson I’ll be a few minutes late and to start without me.”
I tossed the file onto my desk, picked up the receiver, and leaned back in my chair. “Ms. Saint James. It’s been three days. You must’ve had a lot to think about.”
“Sorry. I’ve been busy. But I wanted to get back to you on your dinner invitation, or rather our discussion about having drinks.”
“Okay…”
“You seem like a really nice guy—”
I sat up in my chair and cut her off. “Let’s finish this conversation over lunch.”
“Uh…well, can’t we just—”
I interrupted a second time. “No. I have a meeting now. Be in my office at one o’clock. I’ll have lunch waiting.”
“But—”
“We’ll talk then.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
On my way to my meeting, I stopped at Millie’s desk. “Can you please order lunch for me and Ms. Saint James for one o’clock?”
“Of course. What would you like?”
“Whatever.”
“Do you want salads, sandwiches? Is she vegan?”
“How the hell would I know? Just order a few things.”
Millie’s forehead wrinkled. “Okay.”
“And if I’m late, tell her to start eating without me.”
“The mail just came. Would you like me to put today’s letter on your desk?”
“Shred it,” I bit out.
When my meeting finally broke at five after one, I was impatient. Some people took ten minutes to dance around and spit out one damn fact. For the last hour, I’d found it hard to focus, too busy wondering if my next appointment was going to stand me up.
The tension in my shoulders dissipated as I walked into my office and found Ireland snooping. I shut the door behind me. “Looking for something?”
She turned with a framed photo in her hand. “Is this you and your grandfather?”
I walked over. The photo had been on the credenza since I’d moved into this office eighteen months ago, but I hadn’t really looked at it since. Pops and I were fishing off the side of Leilani. I must’ve been about seven or eight. “He caught a thrasher shark that day. I caught a sunburn.”
Ireland smiled and set the frame back down.
Lunch was set up at the small seating area, rather than at my desk. I held out my hand. “Please, have a seat. I’m a few minutes late, and the food is probably getting cold.”
Ireland sat on the couch, and I took the seat across from her.
“Are more people joining us?” she asked. “There are six different lunches here.”
“I didn’t know what you liked.”
Her face softened. “Thank you. I’m not picky. But I’ll take this cheeseburger, if you don’t mind. I’m starving.”
“Whatever you like.”
I grabbed a turkey sandwich and wasted no time getting to the point. I preferred to discuss business first, so I could actually enjoy my food after. “So, you were about to give me the you’re a nice guy, but… brush-off speech. It’s one I don’t hear too often.”
“Because no one says no to you?”
“No, because I’m not that nice of a guy.”
Ireland picked up a French fry and pointed it at me. “Well, that in itself is a reason I shouldn’t be having dinner or drinks with you, isn’t it?”
I leaned over and bit the fry from her fingers. “Probably. But I’d like a chance to change your mind anyway. I get the feeling you’re wary of me because you sense I’m not being forthright with you. But I’m in a difficult position here. I can’t say whatever is on my mind because you work for me, and I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
“I don’t feel pressured by you as a boss. Even though you did bark at me to come up here for lunch. I somehow know my job isn’t at stake, and it’s just you being you. If I’m being honest, your barking felt real, and I’d rather see that man than the hesitant one who is trying to be appropriate.”
“So you prefer me inappropriate and barking?”
She laughed. “I prefer you to just be you and not filter what you’re thinking.”
My eyes locked with hers. I’ve found that often a woman thinks she wants unfiltered honesty, but it turns out not to be the case once she hears it. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
I reached over and took her hand. “Good. Then let’s be honest. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in days. Hell, since you told me off in that email. You asked me the other night if I just wanted to sleep with you. I absolutely want to be inside you. I’d lock that door and take you on my desk right now, if you were game.”
She swallowed.
“But if you’d like to have drinks and watch the sunset on my boat, I’m up for that, too. I haven’t had anything but a sexual relationship with a woman in seven years, and to be candid, I’m not entirely sure what I’m capable of offering anymore. But if you’d like to start with drinks, we can most definitely see where it goes.”
Ireland started to shake her head. I couldn’t get a read on the surprised look on her face—whether it was a good surprise or one that confirmed she should run the other way.
“Was that supposed to be you pleading your case for me to go out with you? Because you basically told me you suck at relationship
s and might just only want to have sex with me. And oh by the way, if I’m up for banging on your desk, that’s an available option, too.”
“That depends. Did it work?”
She laughed. “Oh my God. I think I’ve lost my mind. Because I think it might have.”
“Good. Then shut up and eat your lunch because your food is getting cold.”
Ireland was still laughing and shaking her head as she bit into her cheeseburger. I’m glad I wasn’t the only one that had started to lose his mind. Especially since watching her sink her teeth into her lunch made me salivate at the thought of sinking my teeth into her skin.
With the important stuff out of the way, we managed to have a relaxed meal. We talked about work, our routines, and she asked if my grandfather had attempted any escapes again—which I liked. She was thoughtful, and her interest seemed genuine.
Too soon, Ireland’s phone buzzed. She had a reminder set on her phone, and it made me think of how I had Millie call to get me out of stuff. I eyed her cell.
“Is that a made-up appointment to help get you out of here?”
She brushed a hair from her face. “No. I wish it were. I have to run out to meet my contractor. I’m building a house in Agoura Hills. Construction is supposed to finish in a few weeks, but my builder said there might be some sort of a delay, and he wants to discuss plans.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No, it definitely doesn’t. Especially since my roommate is moving out in two weeks when she gets married, and our lease is up in just a couple of months.”
“I have a good real estate agent who can help you locate something temporary if you need it.”
“Thank you.” She squinted at me. “So is that something you do on a regular basis?”
“What?”
“Make up appointments to get out of a meeting faster.”
I smirked. “Occasionally.”
Just then, my desk phone buzzed, and Millie came over the intercom. “Mr. Lexington? Leo arrived a few minutes early. He just ran to the bathroom.”
Ireland raised a brow.
“That was a total coincidence. Leo is an actual person. I’m sure he’ll be busting in here when he gets back if I’m not out. So you’ll get to meet him. He has a button on his ass that makes him pop up after more than ten seconds of waiting if he doesn’t have a video game in his hand.”