morning, Grace.”
Her whole prepared speech about how important and busy she was abandoned her.
This man had been her brother’s friend. He was here trying to do something nice for her. Probably to honor her brother.
She could not treat him like the enemy.
Not even to protect herself.
“I hear we’re going for a ride,” she said. She cast a warning glance at Beth who looked as if she was going to stand up from behind her desk and clap.
“I was hoping you could squeeze it in.”
He was offering her an out. It was her last chance to claim, yes, indeed, she was too busy. If she looked away from him, maybe her head would clear.
Maybe she would have a better chance of making the right and rational decision.
Her eyes moved beyond him, but unfortunately they drifted to the big picture window of her office that faced the front street. The car was parked at the curb, already attracting attention. Two teenage boys had their cell phones out and were taking turns taking pictures of each other posing with the car.
For as long as she could remember, Grace had carried a picture of a red Ferrari in her wallet. If you asked her why, she didn’t even know. It appealed to some part of her that was deeply secret.
She was not sure how she felt about this secret being exposed to Rory Adams. Her brother must have told him. That link, her brother, connected her to this man in ways she was not at all sure she could handle.
And she liked having a handle on her life!
Instead, Grace felt the terrible loss of control. And she felt an equally terrible temptation just to surrender. She fought it.
“We are going to discuss Warrior Down?” she asked, trying for a stern note, trying to recapture at least an illusion of control.
“Of course,” he said smoothly.
“All right. Beth clear my calendar for—” She looked inquiringly at him.
“A couple of hours?”
Impossible. But her control seemed to have abandoned her despite her attempt to fight for it. “All right.”
But in one last ditch effort to salvage something of all that time wasted in an effort to manipulate his impressions of her, Grace darted back into her office and grabbed the flowers, hugged them to her chest.
She plunked them down on Beth’s desk. “These need water,” she said, regally, and Beth, bless her heart, did not say But they just arrived.
She said, “Oh, yes, I noticed that. I’ll look after it right away.”
And before Rory could get a look at the water level in that crystal vase, Grace marched by him, waited for him to open the door for her, and then passed through it, and waited for him to open the door of the car.
The car was red and low and so sexy it took her breath away. It had a hard top that had been retracted.
She hesitated, feeling as if if she did it, if she actually stepped into that car something in her life was going to change irrevocably and forever.
Don’t do it.
Do it.
Don’t.
Do.
Do was winning. What was so great about her life that it couldn’t stand changing? She worked, she slept, she worked some more. She did an important job. She brought people joy. She made happy memories for them.
That’s what dedicated career women did: they got their sense of fulfillment from their work. That’s what women who didn’t want to be hurt anymore did.
Yesterday it had seemed like a perfectly acceptable life, she wailed a reminder to herself.
No, the day before yesterday. Before the ponies. Before him.
The door of the car whispered open. She could smell the heat of the engine, Italian leather and Rory’s cologne.
They were drugs that stole what was left of her resolve. Grace Day took one more step toward the car.
CHAPTER FOUR
“H ANG on,” Rory said as Grace moved by him to get in the car. She tried not to brush against him but the effort was lost when his hand went to her hair. He ran his palm along the side of her face, over her ear, until it rested on the delicate nape of her neck. With a gentle, firm tug he freed
Her whole prepared speech about how important and busy she was abandoned her.
This man had been her brother’s friend. He was here trying to do something nice for her. Probably to honor her brother.
She could not treat him like the enemy.
Not even to protect herself.
“I hear we’re going for a ride,” she said. She cast a warning glance at Beth who looked as if she was going to stand up from behind her desk and clap.
“I was hoping you could squeeze it in.”
He was offering her an out. It was her last chance to claim, yes, indeed, she was too busy. If she looked away from him, maybe her head would clear.
Maybe she would have a better chance of making the right and rational decision.
Her eyes moved beyond him, but unfortunately they drifted to the big picture window of her office that faced the front street. The car was parked at the curb, already attracting attention. Two teenage boys had their cell phones out and were taking turns taking pictures of each other posing with the car.
For as long as she could remember, Grace had carried a picture of a red Ferrari in her wallet. If you asked her why, she didn’t even know. It appealed to some part of her that was deeply secret.
She was not sure how she felt about this secret being exposed to Rory Adams. Her brother must have told him. That link, her brother, connected her to this man in ways she was not at all sure she could handle.
And she liked having a handle on her life!
Instead, Grace felt the terrible loss of control. And she felt an equally terrible temptation just to surrender. She fought it.
“We are going to discuss Warrior Down?” she asked, trying for a stern note, trying to recapture at least an illusion of control.
“Of course,” he said smoothly.
“All right. Beth clear my calendar for—” She looked inquiringly at him.
“A couple of hours?”
Impossible. But her control seemed to have abandoned her despite her attempt to fight for it. “All right.”
But in one last ditch effort to salvage something of all that time wasted in an effort to manipulate his impressions of her, Grace darted back into her office and grabbed the flowers, hugged them to her chest.
She plunked them down on Beth’s desk. “These need water,” she said, regally, and Beth, bless her heart, did not say But they just arrived.
She said, “Oh, yes, I noticed that. I’ll look after it right away.”
And before Rory could get a look at the water level in that crystal vase, Grace marched by him, waited for him to open the door for her, and then passed through it, and waited for him to open the door of the car.
The car was red and low and so sexy it took her breath away. It had a hard top that had been retracted.
She hesitated, feeling as if if she did it, if she actually stepped into that car something in her life was going to change irrevocably and forever.
Don’t do it.
Do it.
Don’t.
Do.
Do was winning. What was so great about her life that it couldn’t stand changing? She worked, she slept, she worked some more. She did an important job. She brought people joy. She made happy memories for them.
That’s what dedicated career women did: they got their sense of fulfillment from their work. That’s what women who didn’t want to be hurt anymore did.
Yesterday it had seemed like a perfectly acceptable life, she wailed a reminder to herself.
No, the day before yesterday. Before the ponies. Before him.
The door of the car whispered open. She could smell the heat of the engine, Italian leather and Rory’s cologne.
They were drugs that stole what was left of her resolve. Grace Day took one more step toward the car.
CHAPTER FOUR
“H ANG on,” Rory said as Grace moved by him to get in the car. She tried not to brush against him but the effort was lost when his hand went to her hair. He ran his palm along the side of her face, over her ear, until it rested on the delicate nape of her neck. With a gentle, firm tug he freed
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