Made in America (7 page)

“This isn’t Panera Bread.”

“Yeah, well, should’ve thought of that at 11:30, otherwise I’d still be waiting in line to get your food. Besides, why have a stuffy old turkey sandwich, when you can have this bad boy tantalizing your tastebuds.” I take a huge bite of the Big Mac. Lettuce and sauce plops down into the container and I roll my eyes back as I chew. “Mmm, heaven,” I mumble.

Grant looks on in horror. “You don’t actually like that, do you?”

“Have you never had a Big Mac before?”

He shakes his head. “No, actually. I haven’t.”

My eyes go wide with shock. Who the hell has never eaten a Big Mac? Oh, right. People like Grant.

Dropping my burger, I shove his forward, urging him to try it. He sighs, giving in to his hunger and opening the box to reveal a sloppy mess of carbs. He hesitantly picks it up, trying to be as polite as possible, but Big Macs aren’t meant to be eaten politely. They’re meant to be stuffed in your face hole and consumed in three gigantic bites.

I laugh as he takes his first nibble. His eyes are shut tight as he chews and I can tell his brain is trying to process what his taste buds are experiencing.

“Not bad, right?”

“Not good, either,” he says, refusing to admit he might actually like the food. “You know,” he adds, wiping his fingers on a napkin, “I don’t normally allow people in here when I eat.”

I look around the office and back at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

“Do you?” he asks.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you going to apologize for being rude to me earlier?”

“Depends,” he grins.

“On what?”

“Are you going to apologize for bringing me this horrendous offering called lunch.”

“You first,” I wink, watching him pick up his burger.

“Shit,” he shouts, suddenly jumping back from the desk, but not before a glob of sauce drips down his shirt.

I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while, and as I sit here giggling my skirt off, Grant stares daggers through me in the nicest way possible. My laughter quickly fades though, as he untucks his tail and starts to unbutton himself.

Oh.

Oh my.

“Um, what are you doing?” I ask.

“I can’t very well walk around the office with this on me all day, can I?”

Now fully unbuttoned, his dress shirt hangs open to reveal a chiseled set of absI wasn’t expecting to see. A thin line of hair trails down from his navel, disappearing into his pants, and when he removes the shirt completely, I notice the pronounced V-cut of his lower abs, and then my eyes trail up his hard body, landing mesmerized on the tanned pectoral muscles of his smooth chest.

I uncross and recross my legs. Christ, it feels like there’s a fire in my crotch that no amount of friction can satiate.

“Like what you see?” he purrs.

It takes me a moment to register Grant said anything at all, but when I do, I shake off my fascination with his body and meet his sultry gaze. “Very much,” I smile, echoing his words from this morning.

He goes over to the wardrobe and pulls out a fresh shirt, and I’m disappointed when the silky material hides my view of his muscular back and shoulders.

God damn, what a physique. I could have fun with that, for sure.

After buttoning up and tucking in, he returns to the desk, sitting down with his half-eaten hamburger forgotten about for the time being. He laces his fingers together with purpose and says, “Now, where were we? Oh, right. I’m sorry I was rude to you, Raven. I was hungry and that whole thing with Alan pushed me over the edge. I had no right to take it out on you. You’ve been doing a stellar job this morning so far.”

I lift my chin, beaming proudly at him. “Thanks,” I chirp. “That means a lot. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle it, but so far, so good. Aside from jerk face showing up, this day’s been a whirlwind, but in the best way possible.”

“Yes, well, Alan won’t be showing up again like that, trust me.”

“By the way, thanks for sticking up for me like that.”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“I don’t know what I expected, to be honest with you.”

He smirks, and leans forward to take another bite of his Big Mac. “You know, if we’re being honest then I have to admit I didn’t expect that, either. When I saw him standing there I just…saw red.”

I blush slightly, turning my head in the hopes that he doesn’t notice. “Aww,” I mask, “you feel protective of me.”

“I do,” he agrees.

“Why? I mean, we barely know one another.”

“I know enough.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“What do you know when you look at me?”

I brace myself for an inappropriate sexual comment, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, Grant surprises me.

“I know you’re confused about your life. You have no idea what you want or where you’re going, but you’re okay with that for the moment. I know you like to pretend you’re carefree and full of life, and maybe a part of you is, but that other part is terrified someone might come along and see the real you. The you who’s afraid and insecure living far away from your security blanket across the pond, in a city that could eat you alive at any second, but at the same time is determined to prove everyone wrong. I know when I look at you, Raven, I see a woman who has depth to her, and isn’t the materialistic, shallow sort I’m used to dealing with. You’re a complicated woman. That’s what I know.”

Silence cloaks us both when he finishes speaking. I can’t even hear myself breathing, because I’m not. As much as I hate to admit it, Grant just sucked the air out of my lungs by reading me like an open book, and like his display of masculinity earlier with Alan, it’s sort of terrifying. Yet at the same time I’m amazed because no man before him has ever been able to do that. No one’s ever been able to just look at me and tell me what’s inside. They’re too busy ogling what’s on the outside to notice.

But all this time while he’s been doing just that, he’s also been looking inward, and as I stare back at him with wide eyed wonder, I can’t help but feel like this sexual spark that’s been simmering between us just exploded into something more.

Something I don’t know if I’m ready for, let alone want. Not with someone like him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You look a little flustered.”

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m fine.”

“I hope that wasn’t too forward.”

“No,” I say quietly. “It wasn’t.”

“You’re turn,” he says.

Catching my breath, I collapse back in my seat. “I don’t know what I see when I look at you. Not anymore. I thought I did. I thought you were just some rich, oversexed jerk. The type to throw a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants. I thought for sure this day was going to be horrendous and you’d make me earn every last cent of my salary by being a complete ass to me, but as it turns out, this day has been pretty amazing, and you along with it. You’ve completely surprised me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that because usually I’m pretty good at reading people, but with you it’s totally different.”

Grant sits quietly, pondering my words for a moment. He probably thinks me a crazy person after spewing all that, but honesty is the best policy, right? He’s being honest enough with me, so the least I can do is return the favor.

“Too forward?” I ask.

Grant shakes his head. “I meant it was your turn to apologize, Raven. For lunch.”

“Oh. Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

Okay, now I’m flustered, and completely embarrassed for making an ass out of myself, assuming he meant one thing when he meant another. Of course he wanted an apology for lunch. That’s how this whole exchange started, and now I’m left holding the bag, metaphorically, and literally as I start to gather up the trash so I can get out of here and back to my desk as quickly as possible before any more word vomit can spew forth from my big mouth.

It’s while I’m so intently focused on this task that Grant rises from his seat and comes around the desk. His hand falls over mine, and he’s dangerously close. So close I can feel his hot breath just inches away from my neck as he leans over. With every fiber of my being I try not to tremble at his touch. It feels as if every defensive shield I’ve raised has just fallen, and he could come storming in at any minute.

“Hey,” he whispers.

I pause, unable to look at him for a moment. When I gather enough courage, I tilt my head and stare into his deep brown eyes, searching for some sort of sense in all this. Why did he have to write what he did on that receipt? Why did I post it online and demand a personal apology that led to this very moment? What’s the purpose? I don’t believe in coincidence, or fate. I believe everything in our lives happens for a reason, but all this?

I just don’t know.

He reaches forward with a finger, delicately tracing my lip. When he pulls away, there’s a glob of McSauce on it that he sucks into his mouth. There’s a devilishly sexy grin creeping up his cheeks and all of a sudden, he’s back.

The slick talking, sex-joke-making, incredibly handsome Grant Huffman I’ve come to adore in the short amount of time we’ve known one another. Which is crazy because it hasn’t been that long at all. A day and a half? When you put it like that it sounds like some kind of crazy instal-love you read about in those cheesy romance novels I make fun of Frankie for reading, but I can’t deny there’s something going on between Grant and me. Something that goes beyond the physical.

It’s certainly not love, but it is
something
, and that confuses me because I’m not that girl. The girl who falls for guys on the spot, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous they are.

Fuck, what is this man doing to me?

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod reassuringly, asking, “How do I taste?”

Grant sucks in a sharp breath of air and takes a shuddering step back. “Like a cheap hamburger,” he jokes.

I laugh, releasing my pent up tension, and finish gathering the remainder of our lunch.

By the time I’m back at my desk, it’s already past one, and before I can sit and contemplate what just happened, the phone starts ringing and I’m lost in work, too busy to think about anything else until five o’clock hits and I clock out on what was undoubtedly the most interesting first day I’ve ever had on a job.

- 8 -

Grant

It’s past seven when I look at the time, and Raven is long gone with a business account credit card to get herself some new clothes for work. I sit at my desk, staring over spreadsheets and account charts on my computer, finding myself unable to concentrate on anything else except wondering how she’s making out.

Her first day on the job was certainly lively, to put it mildly.

Setting aside all that crap with Danziger, her and I had an interesting lunch date, and I have the gut rot to prove it. After eating that hamburger, I’ve done nothing but gobble Rolaids like candy.

And she wonders why I don’t eat that crap.

Glancing at my cell phone, I know I should probably just leave her be, but the temptation to text her is too strong, so I pick it up and swipe open the phone, clicking over to the messenger app. Her number is already programmed in. That’s nothing special, I have all my employees programmed into my phone, yet somehow it is special. She’s special, and I’m beginning to realize that more and more with each passing minute.

GRANT: How are you doing?

I send the text and wait. Stare at the phone for a while with anticipation until I see that she’s typing.

RAVEN: Who is this?

GRANT: It’s your boss. You know, the one whose money you’re currently spending.

RAVEN: Sorry, I didn’t have your number before now. Hang on, I’ll program you in.

I pause, giving her the time she needs. I get a kick out of how blunt she is with people. I can’t imagine what her reaction to Alan would have been had it not been her first day at a new job. I know she was holding back for my sake. If she saw him on the street, I get the sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t have been sitting so quietly while he ogled her fun bags.

RAVEN: Okay, I’m back. You’re all plugged in, Huffy.

GRANT: Mr. Huffman, to you.

RAVEN: Sorry, we’re not at work. I get to call you whatever I want.

I laugh, and type:
What are you wearing?

A few moments pass before she types. When she finishes, I notice there’s an incoming image to go along with the text. It’s too small to make out, so I click to enlarge, and when I do I’m smacked in the face with a photo of her in a change room somewhere, completely naked save for her black bra, and a black skirt she’s trying on.

Jesus Christ. My cock twitches at the sight of her tits, instantly growing hard. I reach down and grip it tight, trying to contain it within the confines of my trousers, but all that does is send a surge of pressure through my balls I know I’m going to have to release as soon as I get home.

Maybe sooner.

I close the image and read her text.

RAVEN: What do you think of this?

I know she’s referring to the skirt, but I type:
I think those are just fine.

RAVEN: LOL. I mean the skirt, you perv. Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s breasts before?

GRANT: Of course, just none so…ample.

RAVEN: I guess those high society women are pretty flat, eh?

GRANT: You have no idea, and I do like that skirt. Where are you?

RAVEN: Barney’s. It’s $995, should I get it?

I don’t bat an eyelash. At this point, I’d let her buy the goddamn Statue of Liberty with my money.
Yes
, I text.

RAVEN: Really? I wasn’t being serious. I’m just having a bit of fun.