I stared at the man seated beside me, my mind slowly turning over the names of his men. Holden, Hunter, Sawyer, Welles, Kier. Hot names, no doubt fitting a legion of hot, veritable badasses under his command. I’d known, of course, that Graham ran a successful operation. I’d seen him in action, gun in hand. Hell, I’d even been to his offices, seen the sleek Gravewatch reception area and prime views from his cushy conference room. But it was something rather different to witness him barking orders, issuing tasks, steering the fates of a whole company with what seemed like ease and skill.
“Consider it handled. I’ll get right on it, sir,” Brianne assured him, her voice even warmer and breathier over the line. “Do you require any assistance with this new priority issue you’re dealing with?”
We came to a stop at a red light. Graham’s eyes moved to me. They were glittering with sudden, unexpected heat. “No. This is a one-man job.”
I gulped.
What the hell did that mean?
“Will require all my focus for the rest of the day,” he continued, still staring at me. “Probably all night.”
My stomach pitched nervously.
Um…
Graham’s gaze slid down my body, which was still engulfed in the large leather jacket but, as he looked at me, I felt like he could see straight through it to the fitted spandex running outfit I had on underneath. It took all my effort not to squirm in my seat.
“My hands,” he informed Brianne, his eyes moving back to mine. “Will definitely be full.”
My stomach dropped straight out the floor of the Bronco.
The car behind us beeped as the light changed over from red to green. Graham tore his attention from me and fixed it back where it belonged, on the road. My heart was pounding hard, pulse roaring between my ears as we began to drive again.
When Brianne spoke, I jumped. I’d been in such a momentary daze, I’d forgotten she was still on the line.
“Understood, sir. But if you need anything else —anything— I’m at your full disposal.”
Anything, Brianne?I thought scathingly.Really? Anything at all? Like, perhaps, a blow job at his desk? A quickie on the conference room table? A tutorial on the creative uses of his handcuff collection?
I gritted my teeth, annoyed at myself. I’d never been jealous in my life over a man. I was not a jealous person. I didn’tdojealous. The way I saw it, if a man’s eyes — or hands, or other parts — began to wander, the best course of action was to let him keep on wandering, straight out of your life.
Even when I’d been cheated on by ex-boyfriends, I’d hardly batted an eye, let alone allowed the notorious green-eyed monster to rear her ugly head. And yet… here I was. Positivelygreenas I contemplated a million unhinged, irrational scenarios between Graham and his employee.
I needed to get a grip.
“Appreciate it,” Graham thanked her professionally.
Watching from the corner of my eye, I saw his thumb moving toward the disconnect button.
“Goodbye, sir,” Brianne breathed into her receiver.
“Bye, Brianne!” I couldn’t help myself from chirping, my voice falsely bright. “Have asuperday!”
Graham punched a button to disconnect the call. I felt his eyes slide to my face and, after hauling in a deep breath, I forced myself to glance over at him. He looked like he was attempting to swallow down a laugh, his lips fighting a twitch.
“What?” I snapped, heat rising to my cheeks.
“I didn’t say a word,” he murmured, turning back to the steering wheel. But he didn’t need to say a word — the quick, irrepressible grin he flashed said it all.
Hellfire.
My fingernails bit into the palms of my hands as I faced the windshield. I didn’t ask where we were going — honestly, I was just happy it wasn’t an interrogation room at the local precinct — and wasn’t altogether surprised when Graham turned onto Pickering Wharf. When we passed by the front of his building, I (barely) resisted the urge to crane my neck to see if I could spot Brianne sitting at her desk, no doubt doodlingMrs. Brianne Graveson her notepad.
He pulled around the back, hit the button on his visor to open the garage door, and parked in the empty bay. The motorcycle and SUV were both missing from their spots. I’d barely removed my seatbelt, but Graham was out of the Bronco, rounding the hood, yanking open my door. He grabbed my hand and dragged me out, ignoring my soft screech of alarm as my sneakers collided with the concrete. For once, I was thankful I wasn’t in heels.
Biting my lip to keep my commentary contained, I watched him punch in the code to unlock the door, then allowed him to drag me up the stairs to his loft. It was just as I remembered, all warm camel and soft leather, art and books, high beamed ceilings and exposed brick walls.
Graham led me straight into the kitchen area, dropping my hand so he could shove me — yes,shoveme — up onto a stool. I glared at him as he walked around to the opposite side of the kitchen island, so there were several feet of butcher block between us. But as soon as I saw his intense expression, my glare slipped right off my face and I found myself grateful for the distance.