“This boss better be treating you well, or he and I will be having a chat,” Dad says with a stern face.
Damn my big mouth. I said too much earlier when we talked. He’s a smart man. He’s piecing it together.
“He’s a boss, Dad. A giant prick, but good at what he does.”
He nods and that seems to pacify him, throwing him off the scent of Grant Lancaster and me.
After dinner, my father returns to his office—as usual. I help my mother pack everything away in the kitchen, and she’s unusually quiet. She puts down the dish she’s holding and looks at me.
“You need to be careful with your boss,” she says.
“With my boss?” Not what I was expecting. At. All. “What do you mean?” I try to play dumb, but there’s no use. My cheeks burn.
“Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No, there’s nothing going on at all. Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. It’s another one of my feelings, I guess.”
“Well, this time you’re wrong. He’s just my boss, and I’m overly enthusiastic because I really enjoy what I’m doing. I mean, this is the first time I’m being consulted on things. I was worried I might end up sucking at it, which would’ve been awful. But I’m actually good at it. And yeah, he’s good-looking, but that’s just a fact. Nothing else. Plus, he’s married.”
“Just be careful, darling.”
“Mom, you honestly don’t have to worry. Thank you for caring. I know you only mean well. But you’re stressing for nothing. Anyway, I’m only going to be working there for a few more weeks. Then I’m out of there and I probably won’t ever see him again.”
She picks up a dirty glass and takes it over to the sink. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Nothing good can come from you falling for some hotshot businessman you work with, Bridget, especially a married one.”
She’s transferring her issues with Dad to me. He was a career-focused man who worked all the time and ended up in an affair that almost rocked my family. She’s worried I’m going down the same path.
“I won’t get hurt, Mom. I’m a big girl and I don’t have a family to worry about.”
She stiffens. “I wasn’t . . . I’m not—”
“Mom, stop. You don’t have to say anything.”
She drops her head. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair.” She frowns. “You just remind me so much of your dad. No two people were ever more alike, and I worry, is all.”
“Aren’t you happy with Dad, Mom?”
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize his faults. And we all have them, Bridget. You and your father are prideful people who wear your hearts on your sleeves. I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
I smile, walk to her, and pull her into a hug. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore, and I can tell it’s upset her. Right now I’ll ignore that she compared me to the worst of my father and just hug her.
With the grand opening of the hotel rapidly approaching, I’ve barely had time to breathe during the last few weeks. Long hours and early mornings monopolize my existence. Grant and I have fallen into a routine, but the aftermath of that day and almost having been caught still lurks in both of our minds. It’s evident in the way I catch him watching me. His hungry eyes promising me he’ll eat me whole if I get too close, so I keep my distance, heeding his unspoken warning. It wouldn’t be good for either one of us to get caught, and the reality is, once we start, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll want him in every way possible.
“What are you working on?” I ask as I pop into Grant’s office at half-past four.
“Actually, nothing. I got all my stuff done.”
“See. I told you. Pays to have a kickass assistant who does half the work,” I joke.
He stands, walking toward me. I take a step back, my earlier thoughts running amuck through my head. Don’t be weak.
“You’re right. I couldn’t do this without you.” His hand darts out, moving a piece of hair behind my ears. “You’re beautiful, Bridget.”
I’m holding my breath. His hand on me is too much. “Grant,” I croak. “We—you can’t touch me.”
He chuckles. “Is this affecting you, Bridget?”
I inhale, taking in his masculine scent. Mint and sandalwood do nothing to help calm my raging hormones.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” I don’t need to think about his question. I don’t want him to ever stop touching me.
He leans in, whispering into my ear. “You’re all I think about, Bridget. Your lips on mine, my hands all over you.”
An unauthorized moan escapes my lips.
“What you’re feeling, I feel too. Don’t ever question that,” he commands. “Right now, though, I have to step away.”
He does, leaving me cold and wanting . . . more.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want us to find ourselves in the position we were last time. I don’t give a fuck what people think or say about me, but it’s not fair to you. I won’t have anyone say anything about you, Bridget. Ever.”
“Thank you.” It’s all I can say. I don’t want to be the talk of the office and the fact he’s thought about that warms my heart. He cares.
“Listen, I’m taking a few big potential investors out. I want you to come.”
“Really? You’re inviting me to meet with investors?”
“Potential investors, but yes. I’d like you there with me.”
My mouth must drop open at his words because he chuckles.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Temp or not, you’re part of the team, and honestly, Bridget, I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you.”
My face begins to warm as if it’s on fire. My mother’s words come crashing down on me.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
He smirks. “Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my intern, and this is a good opportunity to learn, right?”
“What would people in the office say? I don’t want to cause problems.”
“I don’t give a fuck. This is my company, and I don’t need permission. You’ve earned this, Bridget.”
I chew on his words. How would Chelsea react to him taking a woman to dinner? Would she even care? Should I care what she thinks? The whole thing makes me uneasy.
“What would it look like to your wife?” My question comes out meek. I don’t want to sound like a prying woman, but after everything that’s happened between us, I think my asking is called for.
He stiffens at the mention of Chelsea. His eyes darken, and his face hardens. “Quite frankly, I care about her opinion least of all.”
“I’m sorry, Grant. I just had to ask. This whole situation is out of my comfort zone.”
His face softens. “Let’s not talk about Chelsea tonight. Let’s focus on work and enjoy ourselves. Can you do that?”
I nod.
“So, will you join me?”
I consider his offer. It would be great experience to sit in on a potential investor dinner, and if he doesn’t care, why should I? This is a learning experience, right? My answer is obvious. I’m not skipping. No way in hell. I want to learn and I want to be near him. God help me, but I do.
“Of course I’ll join you.”