Made in America (12 page)

We both look at the muted TV. The talking heads are saying something while a blurry photo of Raven in my arms hangs in the background. God, I can’t imagine what she must be thinking if she’s seeing this. They’re all but calling her street trash, when in reality she’s a goddamn diamond.

She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves better.

We both do.

I turn to Alan and say, “Yes, because of her. If Raven’s going to be working for me now as my assistant, then I can’t have you anywhere near her. You’re nothing but a distraction, and that’s not good for business.”

“Oh, but a tattooed slut is, right?”

I lash out, grab him by the lapel, and yank him close. The shock of the maneuver causes him to spill his vodka all over my carpet, but it’s a small price to pay just to see the look of sheer terror and surprise on his face.

“Watch your mouth, Alan,” I rage. “Raven isn’t a slut. She’s got far more class than any of the fucking bimbos you take home with you, and believe me when I say you better choose your next words carefully, because we’re six floors up and that’d be a hell of a fall, and trust me when I say I have the money, and the means, to make whatever happens look like nothing more than a simple accident.”

He glances over his shoulder at the window, and then back to me. I can feel him trembling and that’s good. I want him to tremble. I want him to quake with fear and know he’s never to disrespect Raven ever again, or else there will be consequences.

“Oh…okay,” he quivers. “Whatever you say.”

“Good.” I toss him to the couch and just glare at him.

He looks at the spilled glass and shakes his head. Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit, he pulls out an envelope and drops it on the table.

“What’s that?” I ask.

He swallows—hard—still catching his breath. Then he looks up at me and says, “It’s my resignation. I figured you were too far gone, so I had it drawn up just in case. Five years, down the toilet, Grant, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

“You’re quitting?”

He nods. “Effective immediately.”

I stare at him. He’s a bastard, no doubt, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a trickle of remorse. No one in my company has shown more guts and determination when it comes to the business side of things. Alan makes smart investments, and once clients have been hooked, lined, and sinkered, he does a good job keeping them happy on, and off, the books. He’s a valuable asset, has been a confidant these last five years when I’ve had absolutely no one else to talk to, and despite his outlandish behavior at the most inappropriate moments, he’s my friend.

And I’m going to miss him.

“Fine,” I nod. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

He stands defiantly. Opens his mouth like he’s going to say something—probably about Raven—but thinks better of it. Instead, he shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, letting out an exhausted sigh and stepping past me toward the door.

“You know, I was hoping you’d see common sense, Grant. She’s a woman, nothing more. Just another pretty face, and when you’re done with her you’ll move on to the next, only guess what? I won’t be there this time. You’ll be all on your own with no one to talk to, no one to get drunk with, and no one to shove a stripper onto your lap.”

I move toward him, balling my fingers up into fists. Alan takes another, fearful step back, and holds up his hands.

“Just think about what you’re doing, okay? You and me, we make a hell of a team. I know I can be a little abrasive from time to time, but when it counts, I always hit the target. Always. Through thick and thin, Grant, it’s always just been you and me. And now? Now what is it?”

His chest heaves up and down and there are red rings of sorrow around his eyes. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s truly sad, or if it’s from his liquid breakfast. Either way, it doesn’t matter. His words have fallen on deaf ears because the only thing that matters is her.

“Now,” I whisper. “Now it’s me and Raven.”

He nods haphazardly before shaking his head and reaching for the door handle.

“Fine,” he scolds, gathering up the last remnants of his courage before he leaves. “Fine, have it your way. Just do me one favor, okay?”

He opens the door as I say, “What?”

Alan looks back at me one last time and growls, “Before you get in too deep with this girl, just be sure to tell her you’re still married.”

- 14 -

Raven

Despite not hearing from Grant for the remainder of the day on Sunday, I step through the copper-rimmed revolving doors of the Huffman Building on Monday morning with a spring in my step, carrying a tray with two coffees nuzzled into it. My heels click across the marble floor as I take out my security pass and swipe it with a smile, nodding politely to the guard on duty, who tips his hat to me.

“Miss Young,” he says.

“Good morning, Bruce. Have a fancy weekend?”

“Not as good as you from the looks of it,” he winks.

I giggle, step through the metal detectors, and proceed to the lifts, pushing the button and waiting patiently for one to descend.

Thinking pleasantly of Grant and his delectable lips, I can’t help but brush my fingertips along my own, remembering the softness of his against them. It sends a flutter of butterflies swirling around my stomach because for a moment I wonder if things are going to be weird when I get up to my desk, but no. They can’t be. Not with him.

The lift opens and I step aboard, shaking off the obscene feeling because there’s no reason for it. Grant stayed with me all night. Took me home to protect me and make sure I was safe. He obviously cares enough to do something like that, and if I’m being honest, for things to get weird between us now would be stupid. After the incessant flirting over texts, the skin shots, the looks we give one another—no, if things were going to be weird, they would’ve been weird way before that kiss.

Tapping my foot, an anxious feeling replaces the butterflies, filling me with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. What did he mean when he said
we’ll start fresh?
Was it just a throw away remark before leaving, or does he actually have something in mind? Knowing him, it’s probably a bit of both, but I still can’t help but wonder what I’m going to be walking in to.

Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. The lift ascends without stopping and before I know it, the doors open and I make my way to my desk a little before eight in the morning. Grant’s door is closed and the blinds are drawn, accompanied by an eerie silence as I notice for the first time I’m the only one on the floor. No senior executives, no junior executives, no other assistants. Just the quiet hum of the central air pushing through the ventilation system.

What the hell’s going on? Am I about to be punked?

Taking a tentative step forward, I tap gently on his door. “Grant? Mr. Huffman? You in there?”

Nothing.

It’s possible he isn’t in yet, but that would be unheard of. He’s always the first one in the building, and on most days the last one to leave. To break that routine would be uncharacteristic, and while things between us have been just that as of late for him, I can’t see Grant shattering his work schedule for anything. Even me.

I knock louder this time, opening the door a crack to peek inside his office. “Grant?”

On his desk are a slew of papers spilling out of wide-open folders, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Following the trail, my eyes go from his desk, to the floor—where more papers lay scattered about—and finally they land on him. He’s sitting cross-legged off to one side of the room, his head down and a pair of earbuds trailing to an iPod next to him. His slacks are wrinkled, his dress shirt is unbuttoned with the ends hanging bunched in his lap, and he hasn’t shaven or combed his hair.

I stand, staring at this mad display. His laptop is open in front of him and Grant’s tapping the keys with purpose, mumbling along to the music filling his ears as he works. It’s uncanny seeing him like this. I mean, I knew he worked hard, but this? This is true, unadulterated passion, and when he looks up to see me watching him, his eyes flood with delightful recognition, and it’s all I can do to keep from ripping his clothes off because just the simple act of watching him work has turned me on so fucking much.

“Hey,” he says, jumping to his feet, completely forgetting about the iPod. The earbuds tug at him and the device swings aimlessly around his thighs before he scrambles to remove them, spinning around to untangle himself from the cord. “Hey,” Grant repeats, dashing over to grab one of the coffees. “You read my mind.”

Staring wide-eyed at him, I don’t know what to say when he pecks me on the cheek and stands broad chested, taking some serious caffeine into his system with a few, long gulps.

“Ah, just what the doctor ordered.”

“Have you been here all night?” I ask.

He looks at his watch. “A little over 29 hours, actually.”

“Jesus, Grant,” I step past him and place the tray on a chair, snatching my coffee from it. “What’s going on? And why is no one else here?”

“I sent them all home. I can do that since, you know, I’m the boss. Everyone’s working remotely today.”

“Everyone except you.”

He nods. “I need the space. No distractions. I want you to clear whatever’s on my calendar until Thursday. No calls. No meetings. Nothing.”

I sip my coffee, eyebrows raised over the cup as I wait for an explanation. Instead, he sighs and takes a look around his disheveled office.

“We have a lot of work to do.”

I step over a stack of folders and clutch his arm. My touch sends awareness through him, waking him from his work coma to really look at me for the first time since I came in. “Hey,” I whisper. “What’s going on?”

He lets out an exhausted sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. “McCreedy moved his meeting up to Wednesday.”

“McCreedy? Isn’t that the account you and Alan were hoping to land?”

“Yeah, only now it’s just me and you.”

I cock my head to one side, furrowing my brow. There’s a twinge of sorrow displayed on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Alan resigned.”

A quick breath escapes me. I know there’s still a lot of work to be done to nail McCreedy down, but the thought of never having to run into Alan Danziger again floods my system with so much relief it’s damn near palpable.

Grant takes notice, grinning. “I thought you’d like that.”

I clear my throat. I shouldn’t be taking pleasure from what is obviously an extremely stressful situation for him, but I can’t help it.

“He wanted me to make a choice, Raven, and I made it.”

Grant steps around me and goes across the room to lean his ass against the desk, knocking over a stack of papers. He ignores the blunder, staring at me instead. Staring
into
me.

“That phone call I got yesterday morning? That was about him. He was at my condo, waiting for me. McCreedy called him on Saturday night while I was at your little shindig. Said he wanted to move the meeting up. Alan wanted to come back to work so we could be prepared, but I knew that would put you and us in an awkward position.”

Us
. His phrasing isn’t lost on me, and it’s not lost on him, either.

“Us,” he repeats with a smirk and a shake of his head. “I can’t even believe I’m saying that. It’s crazy, but in the short time I’ve known you, you’ve come to mean more to me than Alan ever has, Raven. It was an easy decision, really. So Alan tendered his resignation and from there I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I whisper, dropping my coffee and crossing the room with quickening strides.

Stunned, Grant says nothing as I wrap my hand around and grip the nape of his neck, drawing him into me. Our lips connect, only there’s nothing sweet about our kiss this time. It’s fueled by the desire that’s been building deep within my core since I met this man.

Drawing breath, Grant’s own desires come to the forefront. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him, and he soon takes over as my body buzzes while pressed against his. His mouth, his tongue, all of it glides over mine while I whimper and tremble beneath his touch, running fingers through his hair that so desperately need to grasp on to something before I collapse to the ground.

“I want you,” he moans, sliding his hands down to my ass. He squeezes tight and my nipples become two rock solid nubs. I can feel his hardness pressed against my stomach. Feel just how much his words mean as he presses me closer still, rolling his hips to try and relieve the pressure. “I want all of you, Raven. I want to taste you, I want to fuck you, I want to make you come.”

“Grant,” I gasp, eagerly tasting him. Sucking on his tongue. “Grant,” I moan again as he squeezes me harder. “We can’t.”

“Please,” he begs, his hands continuing to explore my body. Sliding around and up, cupping my breasts. His lips glide down the shell of my ear, over my lobe and to my neck. Every part of me wants to keep going. My pussy’s on fire for him and his filthy mouth, begging to be touched and licked.

But not like this, and not now.

“No,” I whisper, managing to move him an inch. I place my hands on his solid chest and push, leaning him back against his desk. Looking into his eyes, I can see the passion in them—the hunger—and I want nothing more than to get to my knees and please him, but it would be too much, too soon. “We can’t,” I repeat.

He lets out a desperate sigh and nods. His fingers find my hair, tucking stray strands back behind my ear as he smiles and says, “Alan should have resigned a week ago, huh?”

I laugh into Grant’s Adam’s apple and breathe in his manly scent. “You have no idea,” I giggle seductively.

He rests his chin on my head and caresses my shoulders in a tender display of affection. A display that tells me he knows how to be intimate at just the right moments, though deep inside I know he’s a caged animal waiting to be released.

And I hold the key.

“I’m not very good at this,” he says.

“I think you’re doing just fine,” I smile, resting my cheek against him.