Grace Anne

Chapter 1



Michael Cunningham parked his car in the lot and scowled at the building. He didn’t have time for this shit and he didn’t want to meet up with the owner of this building to settle something that should have been settled over three months ago. He pulled out his cell phone when it rang and answered with a bark of his name.

“I’m wondering if you ever look at your caller ID before you answer, or is it just me that gets such special treatment? I mean, if it helps, I will ground you until you see your way to be nice to your mother.” He heard her laugh as she continued. “Of course, I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less of the man who fired his own brother this morning.”

“He came running to you, did he? I don’t know what he expected me to do. He was having…he was doing something on company time that got him into trouble this time. And don’t even ask me to hire him back. I won’t do it, not this time.”

Michael had stepped off the elevator this morning to see his brother Thomas f*cking his secretary on her desk. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his brother had asked him if he wanted sloppy seconds when he was finished. He wasn’t going to tell his mom that, but he was reasonably sure she already knew.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want you to hire him back. You’ve done all you can for the idiot. Melody is probably going to file some sort of charges against us. I’m sure there is some rule about being f*cked by your boss on your own desk.”

Michael winced. “There is, but I don’t think she’s going to have much to use.” He took a breath before telling her the best part. “She told me that she was banging the guy in accounting too and one more on her list was fine by her.”

“Oh good heavens. Where do we get these people? I swear to you… Where are you now? That new man…Donald, said you’d left the site.”

He looked up at the building again. “I’m at the Washington building again. The last time I was here they told me the owner was out of town. They wouldn’t even tell me when he was coming back. I couldn’t even get the man who was prancing around taking pictures to tell me.”

“Prancing? Michael, do we need to send you to those sensitive classes again? Men do not prance.” She laughed again and he smiled. He loved his mom.

“Okay, not prancing, but he was having too much fun for me to believe he was working. What the hell are they supposed to be doing in there anyway? All we could find out were designs. Designs of what, is what I’d like to know.” He picked up the file on his passenger seat. “Some person by the name of G. A. Waite and he bought the building back ten years ago for a song. I want it and he’ll sell it to me or I’ll put him and his happy little workers out of business.”

He got out of his car and straightened his tie as his mother reminded him about the meeting he had at a luncheon. He didn’t give two figs for the meeting right now as he mentally assessed the building and the grounds surrounding it. He put his phone away and simply walked inside the door. The place was never locked up, as far as he knew, and he didn’t have any problems this time.

The place was in shambles. He supposed it wasn’t really as bad as he first thought, but a sort of chaotic mess. He hated things not in their place and this one, this large building, was a nightmare to him. The colors alone were enough to make a grown man sick—pinks and greens mixed with heavy doses of blue and black. There was an entire wall of prints that had no business being together no matter what the idea had been to paste them all together. He looked up when someone came toward him.

“You’re over an hour late. And what is that supposed to be you’re wearing?”

Michael looked down at his suit and tie.

“It’ll have to go. And that tie. Oh. My. God. Who dressed you? Your mother?”

Before he could make a comment on the clothes the woman had on, she was pulling him along behind her by his tie. He nearly stopped and made her explain. He nearly did, as a matter of fact, but he was suddenly speechless and his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth. Holy good Christ, he was in a porn movie.

There were perhaps five or six half dressed men and women everywhere; some of them were even wearing some sort of sparkles on their body and in their hair. And the bed…hell, is was big enough for all of them.

~~~

Gracie stood frowning at her assistant again. “I still don’t see why I have to model this. I hired you to find people to do this sort of thing. Besides, I have things to do this morning and it doesn’t involve me standing in front of a camera for eight hours straight.”

Becky snorted. “You probably look better in it than that stupid cow Marcie could ever hope to. So unless you have a hot date with a real person and not a toy, forget it. We need this shot today for the cover and you’re the one who designed it.”

Gracie wanted to point out that she was the boss and that she had designed all the outfits on all the covers and inside, but she bit her lip. Becky was right, the magazine had to be completed today or they’d be late in getting the Christmas catalogue out. She glanced over at the calendar. It was only May and she was worrying about a catalogue that was still five months from being sent out.

Looking in the mirror, she thought the design was simply beautiful. She turned to her right then left, looking at the way the color of the bra and panty set complemented her skin color. The pale of her skin against the dark blue of the material was better than she’d hoped for. Unless, of course, she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be the model, but the one behind the camera directing the shoot. She tried again to get someone else to do it and, of course, she was ignored. She wondered, not for the first time, when she’d lost control here. She smiled, knowing that she’d never really had it.

“The model we hired just showed up finally. And for the record, I told them to send him over in a t-shirt and jeans. Not that he doesn’t look scrumptious like he is, but I did tell them.” Margo picked up one of the other outfits that needed to be re-shot. “You know, if I weren’t in a semi-serious failing relationship, I’d have to try and get some of what that guy is hiding under that cool, ‘don’t f*cking touch me’ look. I mussed his tie just to see what he’d do.”

“He has on a tie? A suit…” Gracie looked at her assistant. “Tell him to lose the jacket if he has one and to roll up his sleeves. Leave the tie…wait.” Everyone froze. “What color is the tie?”

By the time she had the idea in her head nothing else mattered. She pulled her robe on and walked into the set. Christ, love a dub, he was scrumptious. And he looked pissed. She walked over to him and eyed him critically. Yes, she knew he was going to be perfect.

“Would you mind telling me why this…person is telling me I have to remove my jacket? I assure you that—”

“Don’t talk or I’ll make sure you’re not paid.” She fingered the tie and then looked up at him. “I really think you need to take off the jacket. I’m already behind schedule and you coming here late has put me more behind.” She wasn’t sure he was going to comply, not with the look of murder in his eye. “Now would be a good time to be a good boy and take the f*cking jacket off.”

“And if I do, what do you take off?”

She heard the tone. And she hated that her body reacted to it. When he started to unbutton his jacket and then remove it she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. When he laughed, she looked up at his face. “You think this is fun? Well, it’s not. I have ten hours to get this shot right and I won’t put up with your being snarky. This is a photo shoot where I’m the boss and you’re going to do as you’re told. Roll up the sleeves and do what I tell you or you’ll never work here again.”

She knew it was a good threat under normal circumstances, but this guy could probably get a job anywhere no matter what he did to f*ck up this one. He was just too good-looking, and sexy as hell. She stood there until he rolled first the left, then the right sleeve up without taking his eyes from her face. She never blinked an eye when she unbelted her robe.

“Gracie, there’s a call for you. It’s that ditzy sister…the one…f*ck, what’s her name? She wants to tell you something,” Becky said from across the room. “Jazzie, the author. That’s it.”

“Tell her I’ll call her back tonight. Unless it’s a matter of life or death.” Becky said that it wasn’t and that she could call Jazzie tonight.

She heard his breath catch when she tossed off the robe. She stood before him in her panties and bra, if that was what you could call a tiny scrap of lace over her nipples and less over her mound. And it was almost an exact match to his tie. She stepped toward him and he reached for her. She put her hand up to stop him.

“You aren’t in charge here, big boy. See the camera over there? That’s Arnold Malone holding it up. Arnold is going to shoot more pictures than I can count and you’re going to stand here like a good model and let him. Understand?”

“Model? I’m not—”

“Okay, so you’re something else. Whatever. Stand there and put your hands where he or I tells you and shut up. Get it?”

He glared, but nodded.

“Good. See the mock ups over there against the wall?”

Again, he nodded.

“That’s what I need to redo. The one where we’re supposed to be turned on by what I’m wearing.” She turned her back to him and waited until he put his hand on her belly just above the panties line and his other hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her back. The moment he touched her she knew this wasn’t going to work. Before she could pull away he tightened his arms around her.

“Easy, princess. This is supposed to be a sensual shot, remember? Relax.” His mouth brushed over the column of her neck before he nipped at her skin. “You taste like warm sunshine and smell like an apple pie.”

“You’re not supposed to do that,” she told him breathlessly. “You’re supposed to be…” She lost her train of thought when he ran his tongue along her spine. “We aren’t making a porn movie.”

“Hummm,” he hummed as he nipped her again. “Maybe we should be. A woman like you, soft and warm, should be making lots of money doing stuff like this.”

She tried to think. And some part of her mind registered that Arnold was saying something, though for the life of her she couldn’t understand what. When her model turned her in his arms, spread his hand over her lower back, and his little finger nudged under the elastic of the panties, she took his tie and yanked his mouth to hers.

The kiss should have been chaste. It should have been a brushing of mouths together. It should have meant nothing. But holy moly, this man could kiss. His tongue speared deep into her mouth and slid along her own. He was hot, heavenly, and oh so delicious. She wrapped the tie tighter in her hand and held on, no longer concerned with the shot, but being consumed by this man. When he lifted her leg and wrapped it over his hip, she moaned and pressed into him. His deep growl had her p-ssy flood with desire and need. When he broke off the kiss, she whimpered.

“We’re not alone. And I have to meet someone,” he told her as he bit her earlobe. “Tell me where I can find G. A. Waite and I can finish up with him and we can take up where we left off.”

“G. A?” She felt disorientated and dizzy. That’s when she started to hear the things around her. “I don’t…why?”

With another quick nip to her mouth he rocked into. “Because I want to f*ck you. But I need to get this Waite person to sell me his f*cking building first.”

She took a step back, then another. She was reaching for the robe that Becky was holding out for her when she realized who he was. “Michael Cunningham of Cunningham and Cunningham, I presume?”

“Yes.” He looked around the room before looking back at her. “And you would be?”

“Grace Anne Waite of G. A. Waite, as in Gracie Anne Designs. And I told you before, Mr. Cunningham, I’m not selling my building.” She looked over at the people who seemed to have been frozen in place. “Get him out of my building and burn the shots. We won’t be able to use them. I’m sure he’ll sue just to get what he wants.”

“Now, see here. I need this—”

“I don’t give a good f*ck what you need. Get out.” She turned her back to him and started toward her office. She’d been humiliated and hurt, but there was no way in hell she’d let him see it.

“This isn’t finished, Miss. Waite. I get what I want and your little design business isn’t going to stand in my way,” he shouted as Mark ushered him to the door. He continued to shout at her then there was silence.

Michael Cunningham was her worst nightmare and the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and tasted for that matter. She stepped behind the curtain to change back into her street clothes when she heard her door open.

“Go away,” she told whoever it was. “I’m not going to come out until you leave the room.”

“Good, then you can’t get away. Want to tell me why I have to burn the best pictures I’ve ever shot and the best ones to come out of this building since…well, since forever?”

She closed her eyes and wanted to scream at her friend Arnold to let it go. But she knew him well enough to know that he’d stay there until she gave in or the next issue was due. She pulled her shirt over her head and stepped out. He was sitting on the small loveseat. She glared at him as he held up his camera.

“They can’t possibly be the best pictures you’ve ever taken. You’re much too professional to use what could only amount to pornography pictures taken in less than five minutes.” She sat at her desk and pulled the first thing she could reach to her. Unfortunately, it was the front cover mockup of the catalogue they were shooting.

“It was twenty minutes and they aren’t porn. They are going to sell you more underwear than anything else you come up with. Christ, the room was practically on fire with you two. I’ve never seen you react that way…” He stopped talking when she glared.

“Forget it. He’ll never let us use them no matter how good they are, and—”

He cut her off when he stood up and came to her desk with his computer. “They aren’t good, Gracie, they’re magnificent. Let me show you.” She sat back and let him set up on her desk. “I thought at first I’d get some shots to tease you with. I thought the man was just too pretty and, yeah, too handsome to do anything more than sell him instead of your clothing line. Then he touched you and you…well, look. He’s looking at you like he wants to have you for Christmas dinner and then maybe a little bit into the New Year too.”

There were perhaps sixty pictures on his screen. They were too small for her to make out what they were like this, so he clicked on the first one and it blew up to full screen. She was standing in front of Cunningham and they were looking at each other like sworn enemies rather than what Arnold had said. Before she could comment, he started talking again.

“I knew there was going to be chemistry, I just didn’t know what sort. As you can see, the two of you look like kids in a play yard ready to throw down the gauntlet.” He clicked ahead a few more pictures to one where he is licking her neck. “Then he got into it. Or better yet, he got into you. Christ, look at that face. You look sexy and wanton. Like you could let him take you right then and there.”

She flushed knowing that she had wanted him to. She had wanted Michael so badly that she’d forgotten that they were in a room full of people, full of her employees, and that this man was trying to kick her out of the building she’d worked very hard to get.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s a dead end. Call the agency tomorrow and get someone else. And that guy that was supposed to be here today, never use him again and put the word out. I don’t want him f*cking up another shoot.”

Arnold left her office and she sat there for several minutes thinking about what had just happened. She had been staring at the note on her desk to call her sister for a few minutes more when she picked up the phone. Jazzie answered on the first ring.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she screamed in the phone when she answered.