Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
When the coffee came out, I knew it was time for me to make my exit. Three thirty would roll around soon enough. I scanned the room for Grant, figuring I’d wave goodbye, but he was engrossed in a conversation with a group of men who all looked old enough to be his dad. I weighed the right business etiquette—did I go over and interrupt him to say goodnight, or simply leave? Undecided, I picked up my purse and said my goodbyes at my own table. When I was done, I looked back at where Grant had been talking, but he was no longer there.
I figured fate had decided how to handle things for me.
Though when I turned from my table, I crashed directly into a hard body.
I backed up. “Sorry. Oh…it’s you.”
“You sound disappointed. Would you have preferred to walk into someone else?”
I laughed. “No. I was going to come over and say goodnight, but then you disappeared.”
“I guess I beat you to it. I’ll walk with you. I was just heading out myself.”
He hadn’t looked like he was getting ready to leave a few minutes ago. Nevertheless, Grant put his hand on the small of my back and escorted me out of the ballroom.
Outside, I took out my phone.
“Did you drive?” he asked.
“No. I Ubered so I could have a glass of wine.”
“I have a car. I’ll drop you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
A minute later, a stretch limo pulled around. Apparently, him having a car meant a chauffeured one. The uniformed driver got out and went to open the back door, but Grant waved him off and opened it for me instead.
“Thank you.”
I slid across the backseat to make room for Grant. The rear of the limo was spacious enough to hold ten people. Yet when he climbed in and joined me, it suddenly felt very small. I was hyperaware of his thigh brushing against mine.
As we started to move, I looked forward, but sensed Grant’s eyes on me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“You were staring at me.”
He looked back and forth between my eyes. “What’s your address?”
For some crazy reason, I debated giving it to him.
Grant must have seen the conflict written on my face and chuckled. “The driver needs it to take you home, Ireland. I wasn’t inviting myself over.”
“Oh, right. Of course.”
Feeling like an idiot, I spouted off my address. Grant leaned forward and relayed it to the driver. When he settled back into his seat, his leg now firmly pressed against mine.
“Tell me something about you, Ireland Saint James.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything.”
“Okay…” I thought about it. “I’ve had four promotions within Lexington Industries over the last nine years.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I arched a brow. “You’ve looked me up.”
“How else would I have decided to give you your job back?”
I shifted in my seat to face him. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you something about me you don’t know, if you promise to answer a question for me honestly.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
It’s not easy to come up with a little-known fun fact about yourself when you’re under pressure, but I did my best. “I can do a backflip from standing still.”
Grant smiled. “Interesting.”
“Thank you. My turn. Did you decide to hire me back because of what I looked like?”
“Truth?”
“That would be nice, yes.”
I watched the wheels in his head turn. “If I say yes, that could be sexist and inappropriate based on our work relationship.”
I leaned over to him and lowered my voice. “It’ll be our little secret.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “I decided to hire you back because you have balls and don’t put up with shit from people like Bickman. I respect that.”
“Oh. Okay.” As screwed up as it was, my shoulders slumped a bit.
Grant leaned in to me and whispered, “The fact that you’re gorgeous is just a bonus.”
If I were a peacock, my feathers would have fanned. I smiled. “Thank you. My turn. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
I liked that he seemed to actually give it some thought, when he could’ve rattled off some business accomplishment. Instead he said, “I’m one of three children. We were all adopted from different families after being foster children.”
“Oh, wow. That’s really personal. I feel like I owe you more than a backflip now.”
Grant’s eyes dropped to my lips before returning to meet my gaze. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.”
There were a million things I could’ve shared—that I have a scar on my torso from a bicycle accident when I was seven, that I sleep with the light on because I don’t like to be alone in the dark… Hell, I could have shared my bra size. Yet I had to go and share the most screwed-up thing about me.
“My father is in prison for killing my mother.”