Corporate Fire: Corporate Romance Book 1 (7 page)

He stepped over to the bed and laid her down with her broken right leg on the inside of the bed. He propped up the pillows behind her, brushing her cheek with his. Her lips sought out his, but the kiss was far too short for what she wanted.

He pulled back and said, “Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the Vicodin that's allowing you to overlook things, but I don't want you to regret anything.”

She shook her head. “I'm not going to regret you helping me, kissing you in the hall, you being on my bed--”

“You say that now, but I'm worried about tomorrow and the next day. I'm playing the long game here. I don't want a moment of passion now to ruin our future.”

Grace couldn't help but hold his face in her hands and pull him in for another kiss.

But he broke it off with a laugh and said, “I'm not feeding you lines. I really don't want to screw this up. Believe me, this is requiring an extreme amount of restraint on my part.”

He stood up, walked to the foot of her bed and bent down. She heard the ice jostling. When he stood up, he put it on her wrapped leg. “I have a room here too, so I think I'll go shower and order us room service. Can I come back in a couple hours?”

Grace wanted him to stay but was sure he'd like a break from her craziness. “Yeah, keep the key so I don't have to get up.”

“What do you like to eat? I'm sure there's a menu here somewhere.” He opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out a laminated sheet of paper and handed it to her.

Grace couldn't focus enough to read it. “Do they have a pasta dish? Something with a cream sauce sounds good.”

He took the menu and glanced over it. “Fettuccini Alfredo?”

She nodded. He was damn gorgeous.

“Can I get you more ice?”

“This is still good, and I'm gonna take a shower too.”

He frowned at her.

“I'll be fine. I'll take a bath if it makes you feel better.”

“If I said I'd rather be here when you did that, you might misconstrue my words and think I was trying to take advantage of you, but I just don't want you to fall.”

“I never thought I'd be telling a man this, but you need to quit worrying.”

He hesitated. It appeared that he might sit down next to her again, but he didn't. “I'll see you in a couple hours.”

When he left, Grace's sigh filled the room like a fan turning on. What the hell was going on? He was model handsome, funny and caring—he just didn't seem like the type of person who'd fire people for a living. She wanted him more than any man she'd ever been with, and he was the only man who'd tried to keep things moving slowly. Maybe that was part of the attraction.

8| Dinner

Grace ended up taking a washcloth bath at the sink and then spent what felt like forever staring at the contents of her suitcase. In her state of mind, putting underwear on seemed like too much work: the bandage around her leg and foot was pretty thick. But she always wore underwear with a matching bra—how could she even consider going without?

A little bit of pain had made its way past the medicine, but mostly she felt exhausted. Screw it. She'd go without bra and underwear and just put on the blue cocktail dress she'd brought for the night. It was chiffon like last night's dress had been. Maybe she liked the material so much because it was flowing and romantic—how she wanted to be—not stiff and unyielding like she was. The skirt covered her thighs when she was sitting up in bed. She did her hair and make-up as best she could, but she just wanted to take a nap.

She sat in bed over the covers, leaned back on the propped up pillows and fell asleep.

She slept without dreams.

A hand on her waist and the backs of fingers brushing her cheek drew her into a foggy sort of consciousness. She opened her eyes to Royce gazing back at her with an expression she'd never seen on a man before. If her thoughts were clearer she might've described it as tenderness or sincerity, but those didn't really cover all the emotions.

In her haziness all that registered was that this man made her happy, while others made her cringe. She turned her head so that her cheek pressed into his fingers. “You came back.”

His fingers straightened, allowing her cheek to settle into his palm. “I promised you dinner, remember? I'm sorry I woke you. It's just that you look like a beautiful flower, and it was hard to keep my hands to myself.”

“Mmmm, I don't mind at all, but it'd be better if you kissed me again.”

He leaned in closer. His hand at her waist heated her through the material of her dress. His breath caressed her cheek. “I'm trying not to break your rules. We haven't had three dates yet. Tonight is only our first.”

“Well,” she said, barely above a whisper, “we could count the night at the bar when you sent me all those sweet notes as our first date, this morning at breakfast as our second date and the ski race as our third date.”

He breathed in deeply and leaned in even more. “I don't think so. They were unplanned, and the first one ended with you slapping me, the second one ended with you telling me to leave you alone and the third one ended with you breaking your leg. Dinner tonight will be our first date, and I hope a thousand times better than those.”

“You realize you're forcing me to break my own rule again then.”

She lifted her head up off the pillow, just enough to kiss him. Her fingers wrapped around his neck to pull him down, but he pressed into her on his own and pushed her head back against the pillow. His hand slipped between her and the bed and slid up her back.

His kiss was no longer chaste but lustful. Their lips parted, and he sought out her tongue to mingle with his. Her whole body flushed with new emotions. It was a little like the euphoria the medicine had given her earlier, but better, more fulfilling.

The ardor of his kiss fueled her desire for him. At one point she thought he'd end the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him to keep him with her and was rewarded with renewed vigor from him. His hand left her face and slipped down her shoulder and arm, ending with his thumb right by her breast and close to her nipple. His thumb rubbed up and down her arm, catching her breast with the tip. She loved the tease, the anticipation of not knowing when or if he would press into her nipple.

A knock sounded at the door.

A voice called in, “Room service.”

Royce kept kissing her but slowed the pace until their lips closed together. He lifted his chest off of her, and whispered, “It's probably a good thing room service arrived just now.”

She held her breath, unable to respond. She didn't know whether she was glad or not. A part of her was ready to make the sex at the bar last night look tame. Another part of her wanted to retreat and slow things down.

“Room Service.”

“Coming,” said Royce, standing up. He picked up a book that had been on the bed behind him and handed it to her.

“Suduko! How'd you know I love these?”

“It was either that or a shirt that said Denver.”

She grinned and said, “Good choice.”

He took the bag of water off her leg and set it on the dresser. When he finally opened the door, a white-coated waiter rolled in a cart holding plates, a basket, glasses with ice cubes and a two liter bottle of Coke. Royce moved the laptop bag, programming books and cell phones from the table and placed them on the nightstand.

As the waiter set everything on the table, uncovering the plates of pasta and revealing a basket full of breadsticks, Grace laughed and said, “Coke? Exactly what was in your file on me?”

“I just figured wine was out for tonight. Programmers on TV always drink orange soda, but you seem a bit more sophisticated than that.”

As Royce tipped the waiter, she admired his casual grey suit. The collar of his black shirt was open enough to show a black undershirt below. Good thing she'd chosen to dress up for him. She'd feel pretty off balance right now if she'd worn yoga pants and a cami.

Once the waiter left, Royce held out his hand to her. She grabbed it and stood up, wincing in pain.

Royce asked, “Should I get more ice now? I meant to ask the waiter, but I forgot.”

“That's okay. Maybe after dinner you could get some for me. Do you know when I can take more pain medication?” She had no idea how long it'd been.

Thankfully, Royce was on top of it. He looked at his watch and said, “One more hour.”

He helped her hop over to the table. She didn’t want to break contact with him, but she sat and let go of his hand.

Royce poured them the Coke and held his glass up to toast. “To our first date.”

Grace clinked her glass against his and said, “Thank you.”

They ate in silence, Grace a bundle of sudden nerves, having no idea what to say. It wasn't as if she'd never dated, but her brain seemed fuzzy. She really wanted to ask him why he fired people for a living, but she didn't want to talk about something so unpleasant. Finally she realized she needed to even out the relationship a bit since he'd listened to her answers to all those embarrassing questions in the doctor's office.

Royce had started making small talk while she tried to make sense of her blurry thoughts, and when he paused she blurted out, “So I'm assuming you don't have a girlfriend. When was the last time you had sex, and were you tested for HIV?”

Royce coughed but managed to swallow his food instead of spitting it out. “Where did that come from?”

“Well, you know I haven't had sex in forever, and I'm not pregnant. I think you owe me a little info here.”

“Going in the examination room with you was your idea, not mine.” Royce sounded put out, but he grinned.

“Hey, I was in shock, and I'd just been sexually harassed by the medic.”

Royce put his fork down and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. I haven't had sex in six months, and I'm HIV clear.”

Grace's eyebrows shot up her forehead.

“What's that look?”

“I don't know. I guess I just thought you had a different woman in every town.”

“I think I should be insulted, but I'll let it pass. I don't have all your rules, but I like my relationships serious.”

Grace gazed into his eyes, her emotions for him intensifying with each word he said.

Royce cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I was surprised to see programming books on the table. Do you have private contracts?”

Grace blushed. She hadn't told anyone about her app project. She took a bite of the pasta so she could avoid the question a little longer. When she'd swallowed she said, “That's just something I do for fun. It's not a contract or anything.”

“You program for fun?”

“Well, yeah. Would you ask a professional musician if she enjoyed playing her instrument?”

Royce laughed and said, “I guess not, but I never equate musicians and programmers.”

Grace shrugged, feeling a tiny bit of annoyance rising, and said, “I love what I do.”

“So what's the project?”

Grace lifted her nose. “I don't know if I want to tell you.”

“In that case maybe I won't share dessert.”

Grace gave a mock gasp. “You'd keep dessert from a wounded skier? That's just cruel.” At that moment the pain in her leg suddenly increased, and she let out a moan.

“You okay? You should probably get your leg back up, and I should get you more ice.”

“I can finish dinner, and maybe we can have dessert in bed—I mean… that didn't come out right.”

Royce grinned. “Sounds just right to me. I should've mentioned earlier that the way you're dressed takes my breath away.”

“Really?” This man was going to make her crazy.

He took her hand and pulled it to his lips—so soft and warm. “You're a conundrum, Grace.”

“How so?”

“You're vital and strong—you would've won the race if you hadn't hit that deep patch of powder, but you have this vulnerable side too with all your rules. Have you been badly hurt in the past?”

Grace lowered her eyes and withdrew her hand. His question took her back to her parents standing over her as a child yelling at her about the spilled milk or the dirt on the floor or the book on the table. She picked at her food without answering Royce. He was getting too close. She didn't talk about these things—ever.

After a pause Royce said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just want to understand you better so you're not uncomfortable around me.”

“I'm too comfortable around you is the problem.” She put her fork down, and her words tumbled over each other. She didn't mean to tell the whole story, but it spilled out on its own.

“I'm a bit, well maybe a lot, OCD. I like things exact. My parents are very strict. I can't tell them I was laid off. I just—can't. Some of the OCD was probably how I was born, but some of it I think was living with them. I wasn't allowed to leave anything out of place or make mistakes. But I was so worried I'd do the wrong thing that I'd overdo everything. If I put a book away, I couldn't leave the bookshelf until I'd alphabetized everything on it. If I cleaned up after breakfast, I'd refuse to leave for school until I'd scrubbed the kitchen floor three times. They medicated me, but it made me stupid and life uninteresting, so I swore I'd get over it on my own. And I did, but I have all these weird idiosyncrasies left that I can't get rid of.”

She'd kept her eyes lowered the whole time she talked, but now she stared straight at him. He appeared stunned and didn't speak. The silence was worse than anything. It was only a few seconds, but to her it seemed like a few minutes. She'd really blown it. She clutched the napkin in her lap. Tears brimmed at her eyelids. “You don't need to sit there trying to think of an excuse to leave. I know I'm a wack job. You can just go, and I'll understand.”

9| Dessert

In an instant Royce jumped up, swooped her up in his arms and held her to his chest. Her leg ached even more because it was pressed against his arm, but she was too distraught to notice. “Hey, it's okay now,” he whispered. “I'm not leaving you. You didn't have to count the pasta on your plate before you ate it, so I think we're good.”