Then Came You
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Damn, the man himself has to appear and ruin a perfectly fine fantasy. He looks like the Terminator in Tom Ford. I can assure you that he didn’t dress so well before I met him. He didn’t even use chopsticks.
“Oh, hold up, please!” Just before the elevator doors close, Serena Gleason, one of my colleagues at Kendall, joins us inside. She flashes a grin. “Aubrey, heard you got your ass handed to you by—Grant! Didn’t see you there.” Unlikely, given that the man is about as impossible to miss as a redwood.
“Serena, how you doin’?” Grant’s syrup drenches the entire car and he leans in to buss her cheek. “A little birdie told me some lucky guy’s scooped you right up. Congratulations.”
Serena flashes her hand, showing off a rock the size of a planet. She’s marrying her hunky personal trainer. “Thanks, he is lucky.” Sighing for a couple of seconds at the sight of her ring, she raises her gaze and frowns at me. “What happened to your arm?”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“She won’t say,” Grant offers. “I’m thinking maybe a tryout for the Hawks.”
My eye roll is epic.
“Oh, there’s a story here.” Serena narrows her eyes in suspicion. I’ll be a source of gossip, visits from senior partners, and hopefully a tray of cupcakes by five.
The elevator reaches the lobby—finally—and we all step out and stand around awkwardly like we need to discuss our next moves. Sushi or Italian, friends?
Serena divides a look between the two of us. “Should I play referee? Or maybe something else?”
I shut that nonsense down immediately. “I’ll walk back to the office with you, Rena.”
“Got a minute, Bean?”
Again, with that Bean business. I can’t. Not now.
Serena mouths “Bean” at me. I want to thump her and stuff that rock on her finger in an uncomfortable place.
Instead, I say sweetly, “No—I need to get back. I’ve got a client’s financials to investigate, remember?”
“Been thinkin’ on your dilemma,” Grant says, his voice ridiculously lazy and sexy.
“Thanksgiving, traveling with the beast, heading into the Lion’s Den.”
I shoot a look of not here at him, but Serena has already sniffed blood. “The Lion’s Den? Color me intrigued!”
He looks amused. “Think you’d prefer we discuss this in private.”
“Discuss what? How you tried to bypass discovery in Judge Jamieson’s court like a first year associate?”
“Nah. Me driving you to Boston for Thanksgiving so you can pretend to your grandmother that we’re still married.”
I gasp, which sets off a chain of unfortunate events. Slightly panicked, I move closer to Grant instead of farther away, inhale how good he smells, become light-headed with the pleasure of it, then step back. I look like a dancing fool and Serena definitely notices, her eyes going wide with wonder at my smoothness.
“Rena, I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah, you will, girl.” Serena toddles off to get the rumor mill grinding at the office.
I shoot stabby eyes at Grant. “Nice going, idiot.”
“No problem. Let’s get coffee in the food court. Won’t take long to sort out the details.”
What details? This isn’t happening. Yet I turn, trancelike, toward the escalator.
I know he’s watching my ass with those dark blue eyes of his. I’m not much taller than five four and I need heels to strike fear and envy. But I’ve always had a very well-proportioned behind that looks good in pencil skirts and Grant has always been an ass-man.
Like the recent reawakening of my long-dormant sexuality, the sway of my hips as I walk ahead of my ex-husband fills me with power. I know it’s ridiculous to feel this way because of a male gaze, but I can’t help it. It’s his gaze that fuels me.
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