Page 17 of Grant’s Heat

“Morning!” she shouted before following me inside and waiting while I disengaged the security system. Then, like every morning, we set to work like drones in a beehive. There was too much to be done for operating at any other pace, and Hannah and I were a well-oiled machine.

Sometimes, that wasn’t the case with Abbigail and me. I adored my sister-in-law, but Abbi and I often had conflicting ideas about how things should be done. We butted heads because we could. Since Hannah worked for me, she did what I asked her to do, with incredible skill and efficiency. She wasn’t afraid to share her ideas or ask questions, but she knew when to back off if she sensed I was holding firm on something.

The lunch orders were finished and loaded in the van earlier than usual. By the time I navigated through the crisscrossing streets of downtown, traffic was still light. Even parking was easy at the first few stops in the financial district. I could count on one hand how often that had been the case.

While riding the elevator to the top floor of the Shark Enterprises building, I had a swarm of butterflies in my stomach—especially when noticing Grant’s name was on the meal recipient list that day and Sebastian’s wasn’t. It was then that I remembered Abbi had an appointment with her obstetrician and figured her guy must be accompanying her to the doctor’s office. He was very insistent on being at every single checkup, ultrasound scan, and lab poke she had.

She called him doting. I called him a control freak.

Tomato. Tomahto.

As the lift climbed, those thoughts made my mind wander—and my heart sink. What would it be like to finally have a baby growing inside my body? I wondered what kind of husband Sean would be to his pregnant wife. Would he still be so preoccupied with work? The ding of the elevator doors opening made me jump. Shit. I hadn’t even noticed the car coming to a halt, I’d been so lost in my thoughts. I was driving myself crazy. I needed to reconnect with my husband in a big way.

If he’d just come home before I passed out every night.

But this bullshit had to stop. Sean didn’t even know what I’d been putting myself through. I’d just kept faking a smile and insisting I understood—all while he was trying to earn more money so we could finally start a family. The dream we’d shared for nearly six years.

Six long years.

Maybe this was the madness I’d read about on the online support groups. Women repeatedly talked about the emotional turmoil their infertility problems caused in their marriages. I scoffed at them, of course. Nonsense like that wouldn’t touch Sean and me. We were deeply connected, different from every other couple. They weren’t strong like we were.

Right now, I felt anything but strong—or connected. To anyone.

But that wasn’t true. I did feel connected. To at least one person.

And right now, fueled by my frustration, I power walked from the elevator to his office. But I was so preoccupied with my own recrimination, I nearly mowed the man himself down with the lunch cart just outside his door.

“Easy there, Blaze.”

I snapped my stare up, directly locking my gaze with Grant Twombley’s intense blue one. That damn deep, sexy timbre of his was like verbal crack, vibrating through my system and coming to rest right at the apex of my thighs. Like a deer on a dark country road, I stared as though the man were an oncoming eighteen-wheeler. I stood frozen in the position he found me—rendered immobile by the intensity of his light.

Finally—Jesus…finally—I said something. “Uh, hey.” And ever so cleverly, too!

He grinned, probably knowing the exact sort of electrical storm he was causing inside my body. The tumult was likely written all over my face, spilling out the details of every circuit he’d shorted in my nerves and every synapse he’d fried in my mind.

“What’s going on with you today?” he asked, as calm as if the air around him wasn’t crackling with fresh energy.

I tilted my head, wondering if a churchlike glow was about to appear around his head, filled with stained-glass glory. Though no way would he be the angel in the scene. Did devils get stained-glass glory too?

“Rio?” He copied my tilt, looking at me as if a slightly different angle would give him a better clue. “Hey. What is it?”

Silly man. If only he knew he was both the affliction and the cure.

“Nothing!” I said too quickly. Probably a bit pissy too.

“Okay. If you say so.” He took a step back, giving me some much-needed breathing room, and then turned to reach for the doorknob to his office. “Would you mind terribly?”

For a long second, I simply stared at him.

He just stared back.

I gave in to an open fume. The rage felt easier than continuing to deal with—which was basically having to deny—this unexplained, unfair thing that existed between us.

“Mind what, exactly?” I bit out.

“Bringing my lunch into my office, please.” He finished with that cocky grin, keeping it pinned in place until I huffed and put all my weight behind the cart to get the thing moving again on the thicker piled carpet.

I passed by him and he didn’t bother moving out of my way, so our bodies rubbed against one another in the narrow space of the doorway. Because of our drastic height difference, my face was level with his firm torso, and I could smell the expensive cologne he wore combined with the crisp cotton of his dress shirt. The little white buttons had pearly striations throughout, like the veins in a marble slab.