Page 7 of Grant’s Heat

Finally, I ripped myself free of her allure long enough to reply, “I can appreciate that.” After thinking about it more, I nodded. “Yeah, I think my days would be a lot easier if people just said what they meant.”

“See? I’m smarter than people think I am.”

Now she did laugh, though she averted her gaze from my probing one.

“Do you think people don’t find you intelligent?”

“Grant. Be serious.”

I intentionally said nothing. Not a damn thing. I wanted Rio to give up and look at me, but she busied herself with her lunch like it was her job. And she was going to be the best damn empanada eater there ever was, by golly.

“Blaze,” I finally uttered.

“What?” She verbally stomped on the final consonant.

“Look at me.”

I purposely used that voice this time. Concluded it with a quiet, dangerous pause that left no room for confusion—or discussion. The combination accomplished its purpose. She snapped her head back up. Within seconds, she’d also locked her curious stare to mine.

“You are smarter than most of the overeducated jackasses I deal with on any given day. That’s a fact, plain and simple. You’re clever, creative, and witty. And Jesus, you’re smart. No…you’re wise. Like an old owl.”

And here came her little slap back—in the form of a biting giggle. “An old owl, huh? Now don’t you know how to flatter a girl?”

I quirked up one side of my lips. “Ah, she mocks. But did you know owls have superpowered hearing and were the Greeks’ symbol of victory in battle?”

She ticked a finger in the air. “And swallow their prey whole.”

“Well, there is that…” I only paused to insert half a laugh before pushing on. “The point is, whoever made you feel less than any of those things doesn’t deserve the power you’re giving him.”

She dropped the last bite of her food into the plastic basket, swallowing so hard I could see her throat work to move the food down.

“Grant. Stop.” She quickly shot to her feet. “And stop calling me Blaze,” she mumbled while she shuffled her lunch trash together onto the red plastic tray and reached for mine, but I shot my hand out and grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Sit down.”

And fuck if she didn’t drop right back down to the concrete bench next to me—almost making me wish I’d resisted my instigating move. Almost. I couldn’t bring myself to full remorse when so much of my body was cheering me on for it. But damn, I’d pay the price for it later. Fuck it, my clamoring muscles and roaring bloodstream were paying the price now. If only the woman knew how her reaction called to a side of me she knew nothing about…

Yet.

No. Bad Grant. Married woman.

Maybe if I kept repeating it to myself, it would sink in. This little firestarter was off-limits. A complete no-fly zone. No matter how hot she made me burn inside, no matter how my temperature rose from just being beside her—like sitting too close to a campfire right after someone stoked the logs.

So, despite how Rio Gibson’s body called to the dominant nature of mine, I had to behave. But there was just no way I could miss how her chest was rapidly rising and falling and her jaw kept ticking with involuntary pulses.

“I’m not finished yet.”

I said it—dictated it—with quiet purpose. I took a long drink from my water bottle. And I never let go of her wrist. I couldn’t will my own body to do the right thing and release her. Not yet.

“There’s nothing left on your plate.”

“Did you have enough? Are you still hungry?” I asked instead of addressing her comment.

She moved to pull her hand from my grip, and I let her. “Yes, thank you. I…I have to go, Grant.” She pushed down another heavy gulp, destroying any believability in her determined tone. Still, she added, “Traffic’s probably already picked up. If I don’t get on my way…”

You can stay with me.

Screw the fact that I didn’t yet have a place close by. I had a dozen downtown hotels already on speed dial in my phone. With any other woman also stored in that phone, those words and my panty-dissolving grin would have ensured my night was already cinched.