Chapter four

GRACE CHAMBERS

“Grace, are you listening to me?” Jameson asks, snapping me out of my lusty haze.

I feel the heat rise in my cheeks and offer a repentant smile.

“You seem distracted,” he assesses as his head tilts to take in my features.

“I apologize,” I sigh. “It won’t happen again. What were you saying?”

“Anything in particular on your mind?” he asks, ignoring my question and trying to sidetrack the conversation.

His grin tells me he knows I’m distracted by him.

Who can blame me? The man embodies sex effortlessly.

“You were saying? About your account?” I refocus my attention on the present situation and call on my professionalism.

We talk a few minutes more regarding his account and I refer him to an analyst at the credit union to follow up our conversation.

Business concluded, he leans back in his chair making himself rather comfortable for someone who should be heading out the door.

I bite down on my bottom lip, anticipating his next words.

My actions have drawn his attention to my lips because he won’t look away, even once he starts speaking.

“How was your weekend, Grace?”

“Uneventful,” I reply, but I don’t follow up to ask about his.

Not that he cares. He continues the conversation, at last tearing his gaze away from my lips.

“Mine was pretty dull, too,” he says mildly before his gaze darkens. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you though.”

I shift in my seat at his confession. A rush of embarrassment fills me at how responsive I am to this man. The vibrator on my nightstand had received the workout of its life over the weekend. Yet, my thirst still isn’t quenched.

“Did you dream about me, Grace?”

A startled gasp parts my lips as he looks on seemingly pleased with how easily he riles me.

“Of course not!” I sputter indignantly but the denial fools neither of us.

“You’re a horrible liar,” he teases without malice. “But it’s cute. You’re cute.”

I want to swoon at his assessment of me, but I know better. He’s probably baited countless women in the same way. It would do me well to remember that.

“What does a woman like you do for fun?” he continues his disarming line of questioning.

His relaxed posture in my guest chair is in stark contrast to my tightly wound nerves.

I decide to join in on his banter, hoping it will help me relax. If only a little bit.

“Why? What do you plan to do with that information?” I ask a few questions of my own.

“You’re a feisty one. I like it,” he says with an enchanting smile.

Before I can respond to his latest remarks, my stomach rumbles embarrassingly.

“Have you eaten, Grace?” he asks and I swear concern enters his tone.

“No,” I admit uncomfortable with this level of attention. The flirting was fine but now he actually sounds like he cares about my well-being.

Not possible, I remind myself.

“I’m sorry I made you work through lunch,” he says sincerely. The concern in his gaze is too much for me to process.

I wave away his concern, knowing that my face is probably crimson from all the attention.

“Let me make it up to you. Have lunch with me. I’m headed to grab a bite myself and I would love some company.”

His offer is more than tempting but I shake my head anyway.

“It’s fine, Jameson. I still have a ton of work to complete before I leave tonight. I’ll be fine,” I say assuredly.

“Work will be here when you get back, Grace. You shouldn’t be skipping meals,” he scolds unconvinced.

“I’ll have a big dinner. The workday is almost over, no need to leave now,” I reason.

He doesn’t look pleased with my answer, but thankfully decides to let it go. I suddenly miss the playful side he revealed earlier. It is a lot less intense than the man currently sitting across from me.

“Whatever you say,” he concedes, pushing himself to his feet. “Thanks for agreeing to see me at the last minute. You’re a lifesaver.”

I feel small as he towers over me so I stand to erase some of his advantage.

“It was my pleasure,” I say dutifully and the damp state of my panties taunts me with just how true those words are.

“Take care of yourself,” he says as an easy smile reclaims his lips. I breathe in relief at the welcome sight.

“I can walk you out,” I offer, not ready for our time to end.

But he declines with a firm shake of his head.

“Save your energy for work, gorgeous. I’ll see myself out.”

I watch helplessly as he walks to my door and turns the knob.

Before he leaves, he throws a teasing dare over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget to dream of me tonight.”

I fall back into my chair and sigh like a contented high school girl. There is no doubt in my mind that he’ll be the star of my dreams tonight and many nights to come.

Staring blankly at my computer screen I know there’s no way I will get any work done at the moment.

I reach up to touch my flushed cheeks and wonder how frazzled I must appear to others. Luckily, no one is in the vicinity of my office at the moment.

Retrieving my compact mirror, I flip it open and examine my face. My full, round cheeks are rosy just as I imagined. Focusing on my eyes, I notice even my pupils are dilated.

The effect this man has on me is unacceptable.

Trying to regain my composure, I run my manicured fingers through my auburn tresses, situating them on one side to flow over my right shoulder.

I’ve decided to get back to work when I receive a call from reception, telling me that I have a delivery waiting for me in the lobby.

Confused, I walk to the front of the credit union and see a guy outfitted in a uniform from the deli across the street.

“This is for you, Ms. Chambers,” the lanky teenager says extending a paper bag in my direction.

“Wait, let me get you some cash for a tip—”

“Don’t worry about it, miss. It’s already been taken care of.” He turns and leaves the building.

Back in my office, I retrieve my phone from my desk’s surface and type out a speedy message to Jameson.

Again, you didn’t have to do this.

Thanks for lunch.

He doesn’t keep me waiting long for a reply.

It’s my pleasure, Grace.

Then a thought crosses my mind.

I wasn’t aware that the deli delivered.

In fact, I know they don’t. In the year that I’ve worked here, I’ve always had to go pick up my orders.

Some would say I’m very convincing.

Entertained by his cheeky response, I type out another message.

I’m impressed, Mr. Wilcox.

I dig into the bag and start assessing the goods. My phone vibrates again and this time warmth flashes through me as I read it.

You said yourself I was thorough, Ms. Chambers.

I want to make sure I surpass all your expectations.

I turn my phone over and, in the name of productivity, I vow to ignore his texts for the remainder of the day.