“Sure I do!” I rejoined.“I haven’t had the time lately, but I used to rack up some major hours on Call of Duty.”
“Well, I don’t know that one too well,” Grant said sheepishly. Then he grinned, and leapt up to pull open the drawer below the TV.“But I have an advance review copy ofthis—” he flourished Death Squad, the game that all the online chatter had been hyping for months—“if you’re interested.”
I didn’t have to think twice.“Hells yes. That is, if you don’t mind getting your ass handed to you.” I narrowed my eyes.
That grin got so much wider. I liked it much better than his smirk. Made him look…younger. More vulnerable. More open.
“Your wish is my command,” he said, and I settled down for something that definitely wasn’t in my job description.
? ? ?
“Boom! Victory.” I leaned back into the couch and laughed, tossing my controller onto a cushion. Grant had been a tougher player than I thought he’d be, but I’d still managed to best him with six out of ten wins.
Grant tossed down his controller too, then grabbed the wine bottle and emptied the last of its dregs.“I admire a competitivespirit.”
“Hope you don’t mind,” I snarked.“Hey! Save some of that for me!”
“Too late,” he said with a devilish grin.“And I’ve never believed in women toning down their skills to make themselves more palatable to men. When you pretend diamonds are glass, they end up in the hands of those who cannot appreciate them.”
“Well, I gottasay, I appreciate it,”I said.“And it’s no fun when guys let me win either, so thanks. You have a pretty competitive spirit too.”
He gave me a puzzled look.“You say that like it surprises you.”
“Well…” Maybe it was the warm glow of the wine, or maybe I was feeling magnanimous in victory, but I found myself oddly reluctant to hurt his feelings.“A little bit. Yeah. You already have so much. You don’t seem like you have anything left you want to pursue. Or would need to.”
He reached over and took my hand.
“I assure you,” he murmured,“that is hardly the case.”
I was suddenly very, very aware that we were sitting with our thighs almost touching. His hand in mine. The warmth of his hand, and his body so close, and the wine…
“I’m talking about the company, of course,” he added.
“Of course,” I echoed, pulling my hand back and feeling like an idiot. Yeah. Of course. Obviously. The company.
“I don’t want to lose it,” he said.“I want to make it greater than it’s ever been. My grandfather—God, he saved my life when I was a kid. My own parents were like ghosts, but he taught me everything I know. He was my world.” He choked slightly on the last words, and for a second I thought he was going to cry.
“I’m sorry,” I said.“I’d no idea.”
Then he swallowed, and with an effort, pulled his voice back under his control.“He left me something amazing when he died, and I want to honor that by making it even better. I want to break it out of all the tired old structures that don’t work anymore and really see it fly.” He gestured with his hand, as if he could fling the company into that bright future through sheer force of will. His eyes glowed with passion. “God, Lacey, we could do so much good. Not just directly, with the media content we bring, but with the charity projects that intersect with our goals. He would—” His gaze went far away for a moment.“He would have liked that.”
He looked away, embarrassed, maybe, about revealing something real. I cast around for something that would get us on lighter ground, let him save face. He deserved that much.
“So you don’t mind the kitten hair?” I asked, gently teasing.
“Hardly,” he said with a smile.“It’s a small price to pay for finally feeling like the company is moving in the right direction. It’s not that I don’t know where I want it to go, I just…” He shrugged.“People. They’re difficult. I don’t really understand how to make them see my vision. Incite them to action. But you do.”
“If you feel this way, then why do you…” I struggled to think of a diplomatic way to say‘piss it down the drain.’ “Behave so, well, irresponsibly all—some of the time?” I watched his face, ready to cut off if I pushed too far.“I mean, gambling? How do you square that with your vision?”
“I gamble with my own money, not the company’s,” Grant pointed out.“Or on the company’s time. And business doesn’t just take place within the office, Lacey; remember Carlo Montoni? He won a handful of change from me at the poker table, and the very next weekend he invested twenty million in our Jacksonville venture.”
“I guess I never thought of that before.” I remembered that deal. It had been just what we needed to pull out of a slump and finish the financial quarter successfully. Without that money? We’d have been up shit creek without a paddle.
“I’m sorry,” I said, blushing.
“What for?”
It was hard to look in his eyes now.“All the stuff I said to you. The stuff I’ve been saying. I’ve just been shooting off my mouth like a total bitch and…I didn’t know you actually cared.”
“No reason you would.” His voice was soft as satin and deep as the sea, sexy, intimate. His fingertips brushed my chin, turning it upwards until I was drowning in his eyes.“It’s a bad habit, I’m afraid…when you don’t want to be hurt, you learn to pretend to care about nothing at all.”
His finger traced the line of my chin and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. My skin tingled where he was touching it, and he leaned in, his eyes soft yet intent, his lips slightly parted— I jerked away.“I have to leave,” I said, standing quickly. This couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let this happen. Not with my boss. No matter how much I—“Thankyouforalovelyevening,” I rushed, barely leaving any spaces between the words as I made my way to the door.
He stood.“Lacey, wait—”