On the cusp of my teen years. God.
There’d been nothing more important than my stained glass at the time. I vaguely remembered teaching a class, but so many kids came and went in the summer.
Some were just there on a week’s vacation with families, some were summer townies, and others were bussed in from surrounding towns as part of a program.
I’d stopped studying the faces and concentrated on my own work.
“Grace?”
“Hmm?” I looked up.
Blake stood in front of my desk. “I’ve been messaging you for twenty minutes.”
“What?” I looked down, and sure enough, there were half a dozen lines about the lunch meeting with Jack. “Sorry.”
“Are you ready?”
I pushed back my chair and opened my drawer. I took out my laptop and iPad, then transferred them to the Vera Bradley case I’d brought from home.
I had visions of me drop-kicking the tablet down the stairs every time I rushed behind Blake and Jack. Long-legged freaks always left me in the dust.
Case in point, right now.
Blake crossed the room and held open the door. Jack was already in the hall with him.
“Come on, short stuff,” Jack said through the open door.
I rolled my eyes and passed by Blake. He followed me, crowding me into the stairwell. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to cop a cheap feel. Unfortunately, it was just that my boss was always in a rush.
The fact that his wool slacks brushed against my butt was incidental.
Mostly.
I swallowed a smile as we filed into the seventh floor. Vi was already in the conference room. As head of security, she was often called in to help out on the technical end. Between her and Jack, we were usually covered.
Blake was numbers and ideas, Jack made sure we could do them.
And me…I was the one who kept Blake in line and deflected his matter-of-fact speech into a less formal, more friendly lingo. Thankfully, they didn’t need me to do much more than take notes and organize orders on this particular call.
Once business was done, we relaxed. Bags of food had been delivered at the end of the meeting and left on the table outside. I wasn’t overly hungry.
Jack and Blake were trading barbs that were on the edge of hostile. Violet enjoyed a good dig herself, and she was more than happy to help Blake decimate Jack in a round of sports smack-talk.
I picked at my food and eventually wandered out to the showroom. The gallery was set up for virtual and face-to-face tours, but this call hadn’t required that much hand-holding.
As usual, I was drawn to the huge clock. It was a cross between Back to the Future and Big Ben, but it was the individual copper lines of the face that interested me. Each slice of glass had been cut to create a design that used both the security portion—which was the opaque glass—and the flip side that could be seen through.
Striking and beautiful.
The hollow click of shoes made me turn. I didn’t really need to turn around. I knew Blake’s walk as well as my favorite song.
I lightly traced the secondhand marks along the roman numeral three. “When am I getting that box of broken glass from the warehouse?”
He crowded into my back. When I stiffened, he slipped his fingers under the back of my suit jacket. “They’re gone.”
“We still have cameras all over this damn building.”
“True. But the clock has always been a blind spot. The glass reflects too much light during the day. Created lens flares that drive Violet to drink. So she’s turned the camera to face the center of the room instead.”
“So, this is safe?”
He slipped around the front of my skirt and found the buttons of my blouse. “Depends on your version of safe,” he said and slipped two disks free.
I blew out a slow breath. “What kind of blind spot are we talking?”
He opened two more. My blouse gaped open, leaving me in only a camisole. My blouse was too sheer to wear a bra, so I’d gone with layers instead.
He cupped my breast with a groan. “You’ve been sitting across from me all day without a f*ck
ing bra on?”
“Maybe.”
He plucked at my nipple. “See how some of these pieces are pointing the wrong way?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
“The bay can see you. If someone really wanted to look close, there would be a hint of lace here.” He slipped his hand up along my breastbone and followed the scalloped edge of my camisole. “They could see me press you into the window.” His fingers coasted higher to wrap around my throat. “Can you stay still, Ms. Copeland?”
I swallowed against the light pressure. My panties were soaked.
He knew every kink I never knew I’d had.
“I can’t hear you, Ms. Copeland.” He jerked his belt with his other hand.
“Yes, Mr. Carson.”
He nipped my earlobe, tugging until there was a tiny spark of pain.
I groaned.
“Shh.”