Corporate Fire: Corporate Romance Book 1 (5 page)

“Do you want to sit down while we wait?” he asked.

She didn't want to sit in the snow, but it was embarrassing leaning on him. Her body was too pleased with his. “I could sit down, and you could go ski. No sense wasting the rest of the afternoon on me.”

“And leave you alone with Eric? No way. I figure we'll cross the finish line together, and I can bring you room service tonight.”

Dinner together in her room was too much. She never let men inside her apartment. She couldn't let him think he was making progress. But instead of shutting him down entirely, she said, “Before you leave?”

He tilted her face up to his. She had to hop on her good foot to adjust, and her knee buckled when she looked into his eyes—sincere and pleading. He held her up and said, “Your CFO was the one who let you go. I'm just the one who said the words. That company may have been good for you in the past, but you've outgrown them. Let me help you move on. I'm really good at it.”

“If you're really good at helping people move on, why aren't you a headhunter or a life coach?”

He scrunched his eyebrows together as if he'd never considered that possibility. Before he answered, someone skied up to them and yelled, “You're fucking kidding me, right?”

Grace was so surprised by Doug's approach that she dropped Royce's arm and then ended up wrapping both her arms around his waist before she fell over. His arms looped around her as if he was protecting her.

Doug continued to yell, “You're throwing yourself at the ax man? You're the coldest bitch I've ever known.”

Grace opened her mouth to yell back, but Royce let go of her with one arm and shoved Doug. “Leave her the fuck alone. I've seen her tell you twice that she doesn't want you around.”

Doug was struck speechless as he slid backwards on his skis. The only thing he could muster was a lame, “Just wait till everyone hears about this.” Then he turned around and skied away, to Grace's relief.

She relaxed her arms around Royce, embarrassed that she
had
practically thrown herself at him, but he didn't relax his arm. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

“You okay?”

A snowmobile roared up to them, and she was saved from answering. Eric held out an arm for her, and she reluctantly took it, still keeping him at a distance. Royce strapped her skis and poles onto the snowmobile.

As Eric helped her lay down on the stretcher behind the snowmobile, he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I enjoyed you watching last night.”

Grace's eyes widened. The contact of his lips had been too much, especially after the incident with Doug. Her throat tightened, and she wasn't sure she could breathe. Eric sat in the snowmobile, and she saw Royce glaring at him. Royce said, “I guess you'll win the race after all. I'll meet you--” They roared away before he'd finished.

Grace tensed all over. She wanted Royce with her, not this guy. Eric had the wrong idea about her. Even so, she wasn't acting like herself. She hated Royce, but he could touch her without giving her a minor heart attack. It was all too confusing, especially now that her leg was throbbing with pain. Maybe that first attraction to him before he'd fired her had been stronger than she'd thought.

The ride over to the clinic jolted agony into her leg. She thought she might scream before they stopped. At least the clinic was connected to the hotel.

She couldn't stop thinking about Royce helping her. What was his deal? Maybe he was just trying to assuage his career guilt by being so nice to her; it no longer seemed like a conquest game. But maybe he was just really good at the game—he played both bad cop and good cop.

She squirmed. He'd seemed genuinely concerned for her. When would she see him again? He'd said something about meeting, but she hadn't heard the last part.

The snowmobile stopped. Eric stood up and came around to unstrap her. He said, “You were alone last night. Did your boyfriend get in this morning?”

“He's not my boyfriend,” said Grace. Stupid. She should've lied. Trying to avoid anything too awkward she said, “Do you give ski lessons too, or is this your main job?”

“This is it. I'll go get a wheelchair for you.”

“I think I can walk--”

“Forget it. You could barely stand.”

He disappeared inside before she could protest further. Her leg ached, and she thought of all her problems—no job, no friends now that she'd completely ignored Jill for twenty-four hours, and no ability to even walk. She just wanted to—oh God. She had no way of getting home.

Hyperventilation set in. She knew lightheadedness would soon follow.

“Here we are,” said Eric, stepping out the clinic door, pushing a wheelchair. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No. I can't breathe right, and my leg hurts...it hurts a lot.”

“It's okay. I'll help you in, and the doctor will be right with you.” He took her hand, but it reminded her of his lips on her ear. She breathed harder, and her anxiety soared. He pulled her up and into the wheelchair and said, “There you go. You know, Carrie thought you were hot too. She was hoping to see you later tonight.”

“Carrie? What?” The pitch of her voice rose to glass shattering range.

“The woman I was with last night.”

She couldn't handle this. She gripped the arms of her wheelchair until her veins popped out on her arms.

“I never did that before. How about you? Do you just like to watch, or are you an exhibitionist too?” He chatted like this was an everyday conversation as he wheeled her up a ramp and into the clinic.

Dizziness overtook her. She must've looked pale because he said, “Hang on. You're going into shock. I'll get you a blanket.” He ran through a door and came back with a fuzzy blanket that he wrapped around her shoulders. He moved a lever on the wheelchair to prop her leg up and asked, “Where does it hurt?”

She pointed to her shin, and he removed her ski boot and put an ice pack on top of it as he sat down in a chair next to her. He leaned in and said, “I'm glad I ran into you. But you might be in too much pain for what I had in mind tonight.”

“What?” she squeaked out.

“I thought we could meet later at the bar, and--” Instead of finishing his sentence, he kissed her.

Grace lost it and slapped him. “What are you doing? I have rules. I have to go on a date with you three times before you can kiss me and ten point five times before we can have sex. And I'm not a voyeur or an exhibitionist. I couldn't help but watch last night, for Christ's sake. You were fucking her right at the bar.”

“Everything okay?” Royce stepped through the doorway.

Grace's muscles relaxed. She hadn't expected him to show up here. But even in the momentary reprieve of his appearance, she kept ranting. “I don't want him kissing me--”

“I'm sorry,” said Eric, standing and holding up his hands. “There was a misunderstanding. She was going into shock--”

“So you thought kissing her would help?” interrupted Royce. He stepped toward Eric, his words edged with fury.

“If you had been there last night, you wouldn't think it’s so weird.”

Royce grabbed Eric by his red coat. He clipped each word as he spoke. “I was there last night, and she was not the one sitting on your lap.”

Eric jerked out of Royce's grasp and said, “I'm sorry. I'll go tell the doctor you're ready.” He ran through a door, and, Grace suspected, out a back door. Royce sat down next to her, his demeanor relaxed. He smiled and held out his hand. She took it without thought, but she was sure she looked like a trapped animal.

He squeezed her hand and said, “It's okay. You're going to be okay.”

“I have dating rules. He was trying to break them. He didn't understand.”

“Why don't you tell me about them so I don't break them?”

Grace's breathing evened out—what a contrast to Doug. “I still hate you,” she said, but she held his hand tighter and tighter.

6| Meds

Grace leaned back in the wheelchair and closed her eyes. She seemed unable to let go of Royce's hand, but she was equally unable to answer his question. The rules were ridiculous, but she couldn't help them. At this moment he might think she was a little nutty due to the fall and the come-on from Eric, not to mention the job loss. But when he heard the rules, he might think she was flat out crazy.

His other hand rested on top of hers so that he held her hand with both of his. His palm warmed her, and the smoothness of his skin soothed her. He said, “Hey, can you talk, or are you in complete shock? I don't mind barging through the door to tell them you need to be seen now.”

She opened her eyes and said, “Please don't leave me.” Why, why, why was she behaving this way? She kept on talking, explaining her actions more to herself than to him. “My leg really hurts. What if it’s broken? How will I find a job then? What about insurance? Oh shit, did I lose my insurance yesterday?”

Before she went into full-blown hyperventilation again, he lifted one hand to brush her cheek and rest on the side of her neck. Warmth from his hand flowed through her—more help than the blanket.

He said, “Your insurance is covered for the next three months, so you're fine there. As far as the job goes, you needed time off anyway. When was the last time you took a vacation?”

His thumb caressed her cheek, distracting her from answering. But then the question made her think about something aside from her predicament. She hadn't been on vacation since Jill had convinced her to go to Vegas with some other friends for a long weekend. “Two years,” she said.

His thumb stilled, and he lowered his chin. “That's too long. At least this will force you to take a break.” One side of his mouth curved up in a half smile.

She lowered her gaze and reached up to his hand on her neck. She thought she'd pull it away, but she just wrapped her fingers around his instead. Ironic how his knowledge of her job situation was beneficial at the moment and helping ease her out of shock.

She might've held his hand forever, but the nurse came in.

She said, “Sounds like somebody had a bad fall. Let's get you back.” The nurse was an older woman in crimson scrubs.

Royce pulled away and tried to let go of her hand on the wheel chair arm. Grace gripped his tighter, panicked he'd leave. “Are you going?”

His eyebrows drew together, and he looked confused. Why shouldn't he be? Just last night she'd slapped him. He said, “I, uh, thought you'd want to go in alone. But of course I'll stay if you want.”

“Please?” She needed someone with her to keep her calm, and he was doing a damn good job of that.

“Sure.”

She let go of his hand then so the nurse could wheel her back to the patient room.

Inside, he sat next to her.

She kept quiet as the nurse took her temperature and blood pressure, thinking her numbers were most likely off the charts. But the nurse didn't say anything when she wrote them down.

And then the questions began.

The first ones about her leg she answered easily. And no, she wasn't on any medications.

But then the nurse asked, “Are you pregnant?”

She'd hurt her leg not her uterus. She wasn't pregnant, but Royce was right there. What if the nurse asked her even more personal questions next? She should've sent Royce away when she had the chance.

The nurse turned to Royce, who shrugged. To Grace's surprise he blushed before he said, “Honey, the doctor needs to know if you're pregnant so she can prescribe the right painkiller.”

Honey? He made it sound like they were married or even had some sort of history together beyond, ‘I'm sorry to tell you, you've been let go.’

Grace shook her head, still unable to answer the question. The pain was bad, but she could take it. “No medication. I'm fine without it. Really.”

Royce slipped his hand into hers and said, “Grace, I really think you could use some painkillers. Your leg has got to be killing you, you're in shock, and, let's face it, yesterday was shit. I'd take as much as they let me.”

Her bad experiences with prescription drugs when her parents had tried to medicate her OCD made her insistent. “I don't like drugs. They mess with me.”

Royce expelled a long breath. He must be exasperated with her. “You drink alcohol. Think of these as super-powered cosmopolitans.”

His logic stunned her and then actually made her giggle. She loosened up enough to say, “I'm not pregnant.”

The answer didn't seem to satisfy the nurse who said, “Are you sure? Even if you use protection there's still a chance. When was your last period?”

No way. She was not asking that question.

Royce shifted uncomfortably next to her.

The torture needed to end. She rushed out the words, “I haven't had sex in forever. So I really truly know I'm not pregnant. And please don't ask me when the last time I had sex was because I only just met this man yesterday.”

She heard Royce choke or cough like he was trying not to laugh.

The nurse raised her eyebrows and said, “I'll get you a strong painkiller. It'll help with the shock too.”

Grace didn't think her discomfort could grow worse until the nurse left the room. To avoid a long silence she said, “I'm so sorry I asked you to stay. I had no idea she'd ask me some of those questions. Please go ski more, or if it’s too late go back to the bar.” She hung her head and mumbled out, “Find another woman to send notes to.”

The thought of him flirting with another woman made her heart drop. Maybe it was the way he'd chased off Doug and Eric, or the way he calmed her with the touch of his hand when all other men made her cringe, but she'd forgotten her hatred.

He put his hand on her cheek and forced her to face him. When she kept her eyes lowered he said, “Hey.”

She looked up. Sincerity mixed with concern gazed back at her. He said, “I think tomorrow you're going to be embarrassed and not want to see me again, and I'm going to have to start all over gaining your confidence. So tomorrow could you please remember that I'm happier holding your hand in a doctor's office than I've been in a very long time.”