Chapter Three
Monday Morning Blues
The light filtering through the windows in my bedroom made me groan and roll over. A heavy arm across my body moved with me and with it memories of last night came back to me in full force.
Grant Morgan.
Shit, what was I thinking, acting like a fool in front of him? I practically begged him to pay attention to me with the way I was dancing for him. He’s my boss for heaven’s sake. It couldn’t have been more inappropriate. It was like something had come over me, and I couldn’t control my impulses. Last night, he succeeded in knocking me off balance. It’s a wonder I didn’t fall to his feet and start worshiping him after how wanton I felt.
Since Grant left me feeling bereft at his departure, I took all my pent up lust out on Matt. Not that he was complaining. He practically dragged me out of the club to many hoots and hollers from the girls whom we left behind. I even caught a mischievous glint in Maya’s eyes as I lost sight of them through the crowd.
We made out heavily, like horny teenagers, in the cab the whole way back to my apartment. Stumbling up the stairs to the second floor, our mouths and hands fought for supremacy. If it weren’t for my neighbors, we probably would have done the deed right there on the stairs.
Once the door to my apartment was open, we fell to the floor and immediately began ripping each other’s clothes off. It was hot and raw. I couldn’t remember the last time sex was so passionate for me.
No foreplay necessary, Matt was able to take me immediately. Of course, dancing for Grant and watching him watch me was more than enough to make me wet and aching. For hours, my body hummed thanks to him and his forbidden looks. And when I came with Matt, oh my… my vagina spasmed remembering the deliciousness of it.
Guilt immediately swamped me as I remembered why I came so hard. It was because I imagined it was Grant pounding into me, filling me. That it was Grant moaning my name as he ran his tongue up my neck.
Slowly sliding out of bed, I grabbed an old ratty t-shirt of my dad’s out of my drawer and slipped it on. I walked out to the bathroom to take care of business. After washing up and brushing my teeth, I started a pot of coffee and headed back to my room. Standing in the doorway, I looked over at Matt lying in my bed. In sleep, he looked so much like the boy next door – cute and sexy and safe. I wonder if I would have been so affected by Grant if I felt more for Matt. I loved him as a friend, but nothing more.
Matt and I met at NYU during our last year there and have been friends ever since. We first hooked up almost a year ago, after a drunken night when my father’s death haunted me. Matt was there to make me feel better. He made me laugh when all I could do was cry. He was a great friend that night. And when he kissed me, I couldn’t bring myself to back away. I needed to feel that connection to someone I cared about. I wanted to feel more. The sex was good, and it broke a really long dry spell I was having. From there our friendship grew, and the sex continued. Neither of us ever asked for more. We might randomly do non-sexual things together or talk on the phone occasionally, but otherwise, our activities were limited to the bedroom or in the case of last night, the floor.
I stood in the window, completing my morning routine, and watched the streets of New York bustle with activity. It was one of my favorite things to do. I could sit for hours and people watch. I liked to imagine what each person was like and where they were heading. My favorite place to people watch was on the subway. Like when I was riding on the train and a girl stepped on with a wrapped birthday present. What kind of party was she heading to? Was it a low-key affair with family or friends sitting around a table eating and drinking? Or was it a raging party filled with alcohol and lowered inhibitions?
“Why don’t you come join me in bed?” Matt’s sleep roughened voice floated across the room.
“In a minute,” I mumbled distractedly and continued to look out the window.
A few minutes later I turned towards the bed when I heard the sheets rustling. Matt sat up against the headboard, looking at me expectantly and a little apprehensively.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him, concerned with the look on his face.
“I was offered a position in Chicago.”
“That’s good. Right? You’ve been talking about wanting to transfer to Chicago,” I murmured, unsure of where the conversation was going. It would suck losing Matt to Chicago, but the software development company he worked for was expanding out there, and if it was a good opportunity, then I was happy for him.
His head nodded, and his fingers pushed around the edge of the sheet. “It is. The problem is there’s this girl who lives here in New York and she kind of stole my heart.”
My stomach dropped at that declaration and the endearing look on his face. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. We were friends. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that. It changed everything between us.
“Matt…” I started, but he stopped me by walking to me and putting his finger on my lips. He seemed completely comfortable with his nudity during this conversation, but I wasn’t, so I tossed him his pants and took a step back.
“Alright then. Judging by your reaction, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that isn’t what you wanted to hear.” He shook his head and stepped into his pants, before putting on his shirt. I took another step back, officially freaked out at the way this was going.
“Elizabeth, honey, please look at me.” I forced my eyes to him. “I’m sorry if this comes as a shock to you, but how could you not know how I felt? All of our friends are aware. Maya even encouraged me to ask you to go with me. We’ve been together for a year now. I haven’t slept with anyone else. You haven’t slept with anyone else. We enjoy spending time together. Shit, I even took you to meet my parents when they came into town last month. How could you be so oblivious? I mean… You. Met. My. Parents.” He punctuated each word trying to drive home his point. I could tell he was losing his easy-going mood when I kept shaking my head in denial.
“Well this sucks,” he said with a sad hint to his voice.
He quickly put on his socks and shoes. When he started to head for my bedroom door, I shook myself from my stupor. I couldn’t let him go like this.
“Wait. Matt, I’m sorry. You took me by surprise. Friends do stuff like that. Friends spend time together and meet each other’s families sometimes. You never said you wanted more. I thought we were on the same page,” I implored with him, not wanting to lose a friend, but knowing at the same time that it was inevitable.
His eyes searched my face, and I knew I lost him when he said, “Not even the same book, E. Not even the same damn book.”
I watched in dismay as he walked out of my room and towards the door. Before walking out the door, he turned back to face me and delivered the final blow. “I leave in four weeks. I think we should take a break for now. I’m going to be really busy with getting my affairs in order here and what not. If you should change your mind, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you around.”
?????
Monday morning blues. That is exactly what I was stricken with. It had been two days since Matt walked out of my apartment, and I didn’t feel any better about letting him go now than I did before. But what could I do? I refused to give him false promises and there was no way I was moving to Chicago. My business was here. My life was here. Even if I wanted to try to make a go of it with Matt, we’d be doomed for failure thanks to geography.
My phone rang, the sound of Lorde’s “Royals” ringing out. Not very professional to have a song for a ringtone, but I was obsessed with the tune. This gave me my fix on a regular basis.
“Hello, this is Elizabeth,” I answered with as much cheer in my voice as I could muster up at the moment.
“Ms. Ward, this is Madison Litchfield, Mr. Morgan’s assistant. He seems to have forgotten a very important file on the desk in his office at home. I was hoping since this is one of your scheduled days that you could bring it to me. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t ask, but I have a doctor’s appointment this morning that I have already rescheduled several times.”
“Of course. What time does he need it by?”
“No later than eleven, if that isn’t a bother. If it is, just let me know and I’ll reschedule my appointment… again.” If I wasn’t mistaken, she emphasized the word again. Likely to make me feel magnanimous enough to do her the favor.
“It’s no bother. My schedule is lighter today than most. I’ll be sure to have it there before eleven. Good luck at your appointment, Ms. Litchfield.”
“Thank you again, Ms. Ward. You know where we are located, correct?”
After verifying which offices were Grant’s and which file I was looking for, I hung up my phone and mentally cringed at the possibility that I might run into him today. Sure, it would be nice to finally meet my client, but I had a feeling most of my correspondence would be with his assistant anyway. Hopefully I wouldn’t even need to interact with him. He was a busy man and as long as his assistant was there, there was no reason for us to see each other.
?????
The offices for Caldwell Pierce–Attorneys at Law were lush. No expense was spared when decorating the space. The rich woods, the exotic furnishings and decor were breathtaking. I felt like I stepped into big money… big, big money. Far bigger than I was accustomed to dealing with.
I clutched the folder closer to my chest and stopped in front of the main receptionist who seemed to cover the whole office.
“May I help you?” She took me in and apparently found me lacking, based on the look on her face. I mentally went through my outfit, not understanding why she would be so snide. I was wearing cream wide-legged slacks, a pale pink blouse that was fitted and had small poofy sleeves, and pale pink sling back pumps. The top few buttons of the shirt were undone, and I layered a bunch of delicate silver necklaces to take away from the now plunging neckline. I thought I looked professional and sexy damn it.
“Yes, I’m here to drop this off for Mr. Morgan,” I replied to her and attempted to be sincere with my kindness, but my smile felt fake and my voice came out slightly snippy.
“Is he expecting you?” Somehow she was able to look down her nose at me, even though I was standing above her. Wow.
“Ms. Litchfield requested I drop this off.” I held up the folder. “I can just leave it with her.”
“She isn’t here right now. I’ll have to ring Mr. Morgan.” She reached for the phone, and my heart rate kicked up a notch. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to give the folder to his assistant.
I felt like screaming “No” and yanking the phone from her hands. If I didn’t think it would cause a scene, I probably would have.
“Really, that isn’t necessary. I could just leave the file with you.” I knew I was grasping for straws. Everyone knew the receptionist would never want to be in charge of a partner’s important documents.
“It will just be a moment.” Thankfully, she ignored my outburst, but I still cringed hearing her speak into the phone. I couldn’t even make out what she was saying. A strange buzzing sound was in my ears, and I avidly had to fight off my instinct to run and hide.
“What was your name, ma’am?” The girl behind the desk asked with her hand over the phone receiver.
God, I hated being called ma’am. Did I really look that old? This bitch was now my new enemy.
“Elizabeth Ward.”
She repeated it back to him, and her face blanched at whatever he replied with. My earlier feelings of running were now reinforced. It didn’t seem as if Grant liked the fact that I was here, if her expression was anything to go off of.
“Yes, Sir.” She hung up the phone and her eyes slowly lifted to mine. Her face was now contrite. “I’m sorry, Ms. Ward, for keeping you so long. Mr. Morgan is waiting for you in his office. It’s the last door on the right.”
Bemused at the change in her demeanor, I walked slowly down the hall wanting to prolong the inevitable. Maybe Grant was angry because he had to wait for his file. That could be the only real reason. It couldn’t have anything to do with me. The man didn’t even know me and with any luck, he wouldn’t recognize me from the club either. The chances were slim that he’d realize it was me, so I wasn’t sure why I was even that concerned. It was silly really. I was nobody in the life and times of Grant Morgan.
When I reached the partially open door, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
“Come in,” was barked out in a deep, rich voice that coated my skin like the finest silk.
I pushed the door open further and timidly stepped into the room. My stomach was a bundle of nerves, and I felt my body sweating in places that were very unladylike.
The room was bright. The wall opposite the door was made up of large windows with dark, wood shelving below it. Different items and pictures graced the shelves along with a scattering of books. On the farthest wall was a wet bar and a doorway to what appeared to be a bathroom. On the opposite wall there was a large, masculine wood desk. His office screamed “man”. There was no denying this was his space. I itched to take in all the personal things in this room, to find out more about the man who occupied it. There was more character here than there was in his whole condo.
Grant was standing behind the desk in a three-piece suit, minus the jacket. A quick glance showed me it was draped over one of the chairs in front of the desk. His hair was perfectly coiffed, showcasing a slight wave and begging for your fingers to run through it. His crisp, light blue dress shirt was accentuated by a navy blue vest and dress slacks. His blue and gold striped tie matched perfectly to the gold buttons on his vest. The suit was clearly tailored and fit him like a glove.
He was utterly f*ckable. There was no other way to describe him. Unless you were within a ten foot radius of the man himself, you would never truly know what that statement meant. It had to have been created just to describe him.
“Ms. Ward. It took you long enough to get here. I presume you have the file I need.”
Breaking myself out of my stupor, I rushed to his desk as he rounded it. As I handed the folder to him, our fingers brushed. Instinctively, I tried to pull away from the charge I got from his touch, but his hand engulfed mine, and I found my body swaying closer to him. The folder dropped between us, and papers flew everywhere. I vaguely registered that though, because my breathing was fast and my heart was racing as I looked up into his face. Being in the position to touch Grant Morgan could very well make a nun question her celibacy. His scent was utterly masculine. His cologne was both citrusy and woodsy, and I found myself wanting to sniff him.
I could see something working behind his eyes, but I wasn’t sure what it was. It was a penetrating look, and it scared the crap out of me, so I decided I probably didn’t want to know what it meant.
My face flushed with embarrassment at the situation, and I ducked my head, hoping to hide my riotous emotions. I had no way to explain why he made me feel the way he did. I didn’t even recognize myself when I was around him.
Without any warning, Grant set me away from him and bent down to pick up the fallen papers. I dropped to my hands and knees and started scrambling to help, completely flustered that I was so clumsy.
“I am so, so sorry, Mr. Morgan,” I mumbled as I moved quickly on the floor.
Grant cleared his throat, and I looked over my shoulder to see him now standing and clearly staring at my behind. His eyes were heated and his voice was rough when he said, “Please get up off the floor, Ms. Ward.”
I jumped up as quickly as I could and smoothed my hands down my pants. “Yes of course. I’m truly sorry.”
It was as if I was a child being scolded by a parent or a teacher.
Grant rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth over his bottom lip as he studied me, and I tried not to squirm. Something about him was just so intense, and to be honest, a little scary. He was an enigma to me… Hot, yet cold. Sexy as hell, yet completely intimidating.
“So, we finally meet. I must say, you are more impressive face to face,” he surprised me by saying.
What the hell was that all about? Was he complimenting me? No, it had to have been a sarcastic jab at my less than stellar delivery of his case files.
“Tell me, Ms. Ward. Are you enjoying working for me so far? It’s been what now? A week? Two?”
“A week, Sir,” I croaked out of my parched throat. This just kept getting better and better.
Grant walked over to the wet bar and poured some water into a glass for me, before returning and handing the much needed liquid to me.
“Ah, yes. So, are you enjoying yourself?” He watched closely as I drank the cold water and licked the stray moisture from my lips.
I sat in one of the chairs across from his desk and set my glass on the desk in front of me. How the hell did I answer that? I’d barely done anything for him yet. It wasn’t like he was really challenging me like some of my clients. If anything, it was an easy transition taking him on. Ms. Litchfield gave pretty damn clear and concise instructions on what he needed done. And what did it matter if I enjoyed working for him? Shouldn’t I be concerned with whether or not he was pleased with my work so far?
“Yes, Sir. But the uh… better question would be… um… are you happy with me?” When I said that, his eyes flared and his gaze grew more acute.
“Oh yes. I’m very pleased with you so far. So tell me. Do you frequent the White Rabbit often?”
I just about fell out of my chair when he asked me that. He did recognize me and now I felt like a total ass. How could I have let myself act so loose and inappropriately?
“No, Sir. Not very often. I was visiting with some friends. Were you there the other night?” In an attempt to regain my composure, I chose to play dumb about seeing him there. Maybe he would think it was all a misunderstanding. He was far enough away where I could still pretend I didn’t recognize him. We were in a club, damn it. There were people all over the place, dancing in and out of my line of sight. It was a real possibility.
“Oh, I was there Ms. Ward. And you very well know it.” He sat in his chair behind the desk and leaned back, clearly amused that he backed me into a corner with no choice but to acknowledge my behavior.
“Hmmm… perhaps you do look familiar.”
I sat, shocked when he tipped his head back and laughed. The sound was beautiful. Damn.
“Yes, perhaps I do. So, Ms. Ward…”
“Elizabeth,” I interrupted him and prayed he was going to put me out of my misery and change the subject.
“Elizabeth,” he conceded. “I noticed you were friends with Valentina Leokov. Are you close with her?”
When he mentioned Nik’s wife, Tina, I was surprised. It was as if we were playing twenty questions, and I wasn’t enjoying it. What did he care if we were close? I needed to shut this down.
“I suppose we are. I’m not sure that has anything to do with–” I couldn’t finish my thought before he cut me off.
“I’m just trying to get to know you, Ms. Ward. Elizabeth.” He added my first name after my censured look.
“Whereas I appreciate you wanting to know more about me, that doesn’t really change our professional relationship. As I told Ms. Litchfield, I am prepared to take on any tasks you might need. Laundry, dry cleaning, running errands, planning events, and whatever else you see fit. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a full day and had to rearrange my schedule so that I could deliver your work to you.”
I stood and extended my hand, the picture of professionalism. Grant took my hand and raised it to his mouth. His sensuous, full lips grazing the skin there and causing my whole body to break out in goosebumps.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you, Elizabeth. I look forward to seeing you again. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Spinning from how quickly he dismissed me, I walked on numb legs down the hall and out to the elevator. That man was confusing as hell.