Authors: Addison Fox
“Grier, I wasn’t joking last night. I did babysit him and change his diapers.”
Grier couldn’t hold back a grin. “It does have the whole Padmé-Anakin vibe to it. Maybe he’ll turn into the Dark Lord of Indigo and you guys can have twins you shuttle off to the ends of the earth who then grow up to save the universe. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“You really are sick and twisted; you know that?”
“One of my finer points. But consider the positives. He is young and healthy and in his prime. It’d be a fun romp before the dark side of the force overtook him.”
Avery’s phone buzzed where she’d laid it on the counter and she picked it up, still laughing. “Mick. Hey.”
Grier tried to stamp out the quick interest that flashed down her spine like heat lightning, but finally gave up. Even the man’s name did things to her.
Why was she fighting it so hard?
As Avery agreed to something and hung up, Grier couldn’t quite shake the image of lids and pots and how very well-suited she and Mick were.
Everything just
fit
when they were together. Like nothing else she’d ever known. It was comfortable spending time with him, even though she was wickedly
uncomfortable
the moment she got within a few feet of the man. Which made about as much sense as how Chooch and Hooch managed to fill five large shoe boxes with a year’s worth of receipts, but it didn’t make it any less true.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Mick’s got a visitor out at the airfield he’s bringing over. The guy apparently tried calling a few times this morning and didn’t get through and Mick offered to call and give me a heads-up.”
“Oh. That’s nice of him.”
“I think it was an excuse.”
“For what?”
“I think he’s curious how your tax session went.”
“Did you tell him the force has been sucking all life out of the vicinity and he should stay as far from its tractor beam as possible?”
Avery threw her half-torn napkin across the table. “You really need your head examined.”
“I know.” Grier picked up the napkin and laid it
on the table. “Listen. I don’t want to shortchange what we were talking about. Are you really upset about what Jack said?”
“Not upset, exactly. I just don’t want to let life pass me by—you know. And a lot of days I feel like it is.”
“Yeah, I know.”
And she did, Grier acknowledged to herself. That subtle feeling that something was missing, like a kaleidoscope without one of its colors. You couldn’t quite tell it wasn’t there until someone pointed it out, but once they did, it was all you noticed.
“I’m thinking about going to Ireland.”
The rapid change in discussion had Grier leaning forward. “Ireland? What are you going to do there?”
“There’s this exchange program I looked into. I could go to Ireland and work in a town’s B and B and someone would come here and trade places with me for the same amount of time. It’d be short—only about three months. And then I could stay over there and travel a bit before I came home.”
The enthusiasm that marked Avery’s voice was unmistakable and Grier was caught up immediately in the excitement. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“It’s a change of pace and sort of scary to think about doing it all by myself, but it’s also scary to think about not doing it—you know?”
“It’s inspired, Avery. In fact, I really have only one question.”
“What’s that?”
“What are you waiting for?”
* * *
Mick shot a sideways glance at the suit he’d flown up from Anchorage on his morning run. The guy had been a model passenger—quiet, composed and not airsick—but something had struck Mick as off.
For starters, he couldn’t help but wonder what the guy was doing here. Italian loafers and expensive suits didn’t exactly scream Indigo, Alaska. Add to it the man’s reluctance to engage in any sort of conversation beyond whether the Seahawks had a decent shot in the play-offs and something rang Mick’s bells.
The Indigo Blue loomed ahead of them and Mick pulled into the parking lot. They had gotten that snowfall the night before and he wasn’t surprised to see Susan already had the parking lot cleared and ready for guests. “I called ahead. The Indigo Blue has your reservation and is ready for you.”
“Great.”
Mick found a spot and pulled in, cutting the engine.
“I can take it from here,” the guy said, and Mick realized he’d forgotten his name. He wasn’t sure why he even wondered about it as Maggie had likely broadcast it across town by now. It’d only be a matter of hours before the town’s curious would be partaking in a happy-hour cocktail at the Indigo Blue to speculate on who the new visitor was.
“I’ve got a few things to take care of inside, so I’ll give you a hand.” Mick rounded the back of his SUV and dragged the designer luggage from the trunk.
Again, something tickled along the back of his neck, but Mick couldn’t quite lay claim to what it was. He set
the suitcase down next to the truck and the guy grabbed it with a muttered thank-you.
With a shrug, Mick followed him in. His passenger had been officially delivered and wasn’t his problem any longer.
The light melody of women’s voices floated toward him as Avery and Grier materialized from the hallway that extended off the lobby. Without conscious thought, his gaze zeroed in on Grier. Today she wore a bright blue cashmere sweater, which he knew would be baby-soft to his touch, over a pair of black slacks. The look was professional without sticking out as too fussy, unlike the suit he’d flown up here.
She fit in, he realized, as his gaze drank her in.
And more to the point, she fit with him.
Mick moved forward, curious to see if he could get her to share lunch with him. The itch that had ridden the back of his neck grew stronger and the moment expanded as if in slow motion.
The suit he’d driven up—
Jason
, that was his name—moved into his line of vision, walking right up to Grier and wrapping her in his arms.
Grier wrapped her arms around him in turn and her voice was crystal clear. “Jason.”
“J
ason.” Grier realized where her arms were and tried to pull away without looking too obvious. “What are you doing here?”
Jason gave one last squeeze before letting her go and smiled, if his strained expression could really be called that. “I’ve come to get you.”
“I’m sorry?” Grier dropped her hands and tried to suck in air without being too obvious.
What the
hell
was Jason doing here? In the middle of Alaska? How had he found her?
As her gaze alighted on Mick’s and Avery’s twin looks of puzzlement, Grier put on her most patent society-girl smile.
The one that screamed she could conquer any social awkwardness.
The one that could level a social climber in one fell swoop.
The one that she prayed would convey to Mick that she was really, really sorry and would explain everything the moment they were alone.
“Get you?” Mick asked softly.
Before Jason could answer, Grier forced the
introductions. “This is Jason Shriver. Jason,” she said, extending a hand toward Mick and Avery, “you know Mick as he flew you up. And Avery Marks is the manager of the hotel.”
She didn’t miss the wealth of questions in Avery’s gaze, but she also knew her friend was too much of a professional to do anything about it now. “Jason, I’ve got your reservation over here. Let’s get you settled in.”
Jason ignored the offer as he finally clued in to the male competition that filled the lobby with testosterone-laden awkwardness. “Yes, back. I’ve come to get Grier to bring her back home to New York.”
Mick’s voice was quiet. Commanding. “And why would she want to leave?”
“We’ve got some unfinished business to fix. If you’ll excuse us.”
Grier saw the light of battle hit Mick’s eyes and she quickly cut in. “Actually, Jason, this is my home for the next several weeks. I’m sorry if you came all this way instead of just making a simple phone call to ask me what I wanted, but I’m staying put.”
“Can we at least talk?”
“Why don’t you get checked in and I’ll come find you later. I’ve actually got a client commitment this afternoon.”
“Client?”
Grier knew the stab of enjoyment she got at his puzzled expression was small and terrifically petty and she’d be damned if she’d spend one moment feeling bad about it. “Yes, I’m doing some tax returns while I’m here.”
“Isn’t it a bit early?”
“It’s never too early to prepare properly. I’ll see you down here later. Say four? At the bar?”
“That’s fine. I need to catch up on some e-mails, anyway. The Glazer-Brown project has kicked into high gear.”
She nodded and wanted to scream in frustration. Of course he had e-mails to catch up on. And of course he’d have to mention the high-profile project she’d been assigned to before.
“Then I’ll see you later.” Turning toward Mick, she added, “Do you have a few minutes?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Mick focused all his concentration on the seemingly random piles of paper that covered the conference room table from one end to the other to avoid the driving desire to punch something.
Hard.
“Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll explain.”
“I think I can figure it out for myself.”
“No, you only think you can. Sit.” As if catching herself, Grier added, “Please.”
He took a seat at the head of the table and folded his hands over his stomach. “I’m all ears.”
“First, I have absolutely no idea why he’s here. Although I suspect my mother had something to do with it.”
Mick didn’t miss the way her hands fisted at her sides on the word “mother” and felt his stomach muscles relax ever so slightly.
She’d been blindsided and while he didn’t appreciate
what
she’d been blindsided with, he couldn’t mistake the stark look that covered her beautiful features and had her shoulders as stiff as the ice over a frozen lake in winter.
She was mad. And a little hurt, judging by the slight quaver that tinged the edges of her voice.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me who Jason is.”
“My ex-fiancé.”
Whatever he’d expected, that wasn’t it. “I didn’t realize you’d ever had one of those.”
Her strained laughter was tinny to his ears. “You mean that little tidbit hasn’t managed to make its way around town?”
“No. Nor have you bothered to share it with me.”
“I haven’t shared it with a lot of people actually. The reasons why we are no longer engaged fall squarely into the camp of trite and embarrassing with a side of mortification.”
“How so?”
Grier began to pace the edge of the table, running her hands lightly over the tops of the leather chairs. “I caught him getting a blow job. At the office. From our temp receptionist.”
“You could have stopped at ‘blow job.’”
She stopped behind one of the chairs and stared at him, her gaze the color of storm clouds. “You’re right on that one.”
“So? What came next?”
“I broke off our engagement. Which caused
my esteemed firm, headed by my now no-longer future father-in-law, to sack me.”
“You could probably argue that one if you’d wanted to. Legally.”
Grier took the seat next to him at the corner of the table and pushed a pile of paper out of her way. “That’s the funny part. I haven’t really wanted to.”
“Oh?”
“Exactly. The same week that happened, I got the news about my father. And suddenly whatever drama I was dealing with in New York seemed to pale in comparison.”
“Or Jonas provided a convenient excuse to run away.”
Those storm clouds flashed over and lightning sparked in her words. “Do you really think that?”
“It makes a funny sort of sense. You ran away from a problem at home to come up here. And all I’ve seen since you’ve been here is you running away from me.”
“That is so unfair.”
Mick unfolded his hands and stood. “But true. Add to it I’ve touched every single inch of your body and I didn’t even know you had a fiancé and I’d say I’m spot on the mark, Grier.”
“Ex-fiancé.”
“Recent ex. And the timing doesn’t make my point any less true.”
“Mick—”
“Look. I’ve made my intentions more than clear. I want you. Despite today’s surprise, I actually find I want you even more than before, and it’s not to show
up that little toady out in the lobby. Or not much,” he added. “But it’s your turn, Grier.”
“My turn for what?”
“Your turn to decide what you want. To decide you’re done with running and ready to take on something real. I think you’ve got the guts for it, but I don’t get the feeling you agree.”
She leaped out of the seat she’d just taken. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me.”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond—refused to give her a moment’s breathing room—but instead, he leaned in and took. With barely leashed ferocity, he captured her lips with his and channeled his own fury into the only thing that made sense between them.
Need—uncontrolled and dangerous—rose up between them as their lips met and clashed, gave and took with a desperate fervor. He refused to be gentle or slow things down as he fought to show her what she did to him.
What they did to each other.
Her tongue swept through his mouth, momentarily giving her the upper hand as her fingers kneaded his shoulders. Soft moans echoed from her throat, but he swallowed each and every one of them, absolutely greedy to take every bit she’d give him and more.
Harsh and demanding, he fought to regain control; knew he had it when her head fell back against his palm as she allowed him to take and plunder. Mindless, he drank from her lips, drawing a response that
fired his blood and answered the only question he really cared to ask.
His hands itched to move lower—to cup the swell of her breasts or the wet heat at the apex of her thighs—and it was that knowledge that pulled him back.
Her small body quivered under his hands, her lips wet from his mouth. A passion-filled haze rode her eyes, turning them glassy. He had chased the storm clouds away, but that was no longer enough. He wanted more from her.