Teasing The Boss (9 page)

He’d kept his mouth shut, but once he noticed her tripping over her feet and laughing exceptionally loud at Andre’s less funny jokes, he’d arranged their private moment on the balcony.

He made a mental note to send Jason a thank-you basket, or some other way to show his appreciation of the balcony time.

“Why don’t we head back in? Andre will be wondering where we are by now,” he offered, reminding her of the real life waiting inside.

Grace nodded. “That’s probably a good id—”

The balcony door opened again and Simon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “This is private.”

“Dean?” asked Grace.

Simon twisted around and grimaced at the man who approached them. “Andre was looking for you,” he said with a smile. “You must be Simon. Dean Carey. Nice to meet you.”

Dean gave Simon a firm handshake and Simon looked the man over. He was probably early to mid-thirties, and he wasn’t dressed for clubbing or partying. His black T-shirt and worn jeans had seen better days, and he had the dusting of stubble of a man who didn’t care about his appearance. “Nice to meet you, Dean. How do you and Grace know each other?”

Grace moved to stand closer to Dean. “We work together.”

“I’m her carpenter,” said Dean with a crooked grin.

“Please.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Dean is my carpenter, electrician, architect, and overall mastermind.”

Simon glanced between the two, sensing the deep friendship between them, and, for reasons he couldn’t quite pin down, the realization of how close they were pissed him off. “I thought you and Andre were the masterminds.”

“Trust me. If I could afford Dean full-time, I’d hire him in a second. But I take whatever help I can get in the meantime.” She smiled up at Dean, and Simon clenched his fists.

“So you’re an
expensive
handyman?” he asked.

Dean’s smile stayed firmly in place, but his eyes darkened enough to let Simon know he caught the bite in the question. “Money’s tight. My sister is starting college in a few years, and I’m trying to save as much as possible.”

Fuck. Now Simon liked the bastard and that somehow made him hate Dean more. “I think Grace and I were about to leave.” He wished he could go back to five minutes ago when he had Grace moaning on top of him.

They collectively moved back to the door, but Grace still stayed close to Dean. “I really can’t stay late.”

Simon wrapped his hand around Grace’s arm and pulled her back to him as gently as possible.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

He leaned in close. “For the duration we’re in public, at least pretend you like me.” Even he couldn’t deny the jealousy that dripped off the words. But he wasn’t going to apologize for the order. It was for her own good anyway.

She seemed to understand that too, as her agitated expression softened. “Right.” She pulled free from his grasp and put an arm around his waist. “Better?” Her bright eyes turned to his, and he tried to determine whether she was mocking him or actually asking his opinion.

“Better,” he said with a forced grin, and the laughter in her eyes answered his previous question.

Dean stared at them with narrowed eyes. He could be a serious problem. A man who needed money was always unpredictable, but Grace seemed to trust him. Simon filed it away in his list of things to deal with tomorrow.

For now, his sole focus was to make sure Grace stayed reasonably sober and avoided cursing him out in public.

“Okay then. I’ve got a full day tomorrow, so let’s soak in all the fun we can tonight, boys!” With that, she pulled Simon forward and back into the crowded bar and booming music.

Simon rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. Five a.m. Who the hell was up and running around at five in the damn morning?

He pushed the covers down. He didn’t drink more than two glasses of whiskey and they’d gotten back to the cottage by eleven thirty, but even on his more strenuous workdays, he didn’t go to client sites until eight or later.

Groaning, he stood up and padded to the door. He debated pulling on a T-shirt, but decided against it. He worked his ass off to get a chest he could show off. Might as well make sure the woman he wanted to sleep with got a good view.

Regret coursed through him as he realized there was a full house.

Grace, who was hunched over her notebook on the dining room table, looked to him as though he was some alien intruder who needed to get the hell off her property.

“Morning,” he mumbled as he crossed over to the coffee maker. His progress was impeded by the two dogs that ran to greet him. “What the hell?” he muttered as he stumbled around them and leaned on the counter.

Princess was her normal, cheerful self, but now she was joined by a massive tank of a dog. Simon couldn’t even think of what breeds made the beast, but he had to weigh well over a hundred pounds.

“Don’t mind Rigby,” said Grace. “He’s friendly.”

Simon rubbed his temples with one hand and set the other one down for Rigby to smell. “Hey there, fella,” he whispered. He hoped the dog liked what he smelled.

“Sorry if I woke you,” said Grace in a tone that implied exactly how not sorry she was. “We have a full day. Tee off for the golf tournament is in three hours, so we have to be at the club as soon as possible to get things together. Rigby is Dean’s dog, and he’s staying here for the day, so he and Princess can keep each other company.”

Simon poured the coffee grounds and water into the coffee maker, not even trying to consider why no one else who was already up and running around at five a.m. had bothered to make coffee. “It’s a busy day then.”

She snorted. “Golf tournament all day. Reception in the evening. I have three different caterers helping out between the day and evening events, three different shifts of wait staff, and a thousand other vendors. Do me a favor. For today, pretend I don’t exist.”

He started to say some witty retort, but was speechless when he finally got a good look at her outfit. She wore a formfitting black dress, the hem low enough to be decent, but high enough to show off her creamy, toned legs. The neckline was a deep v, which also toed the line between indecent and demure. But besides the dress, she was still firmly in preparation mode. Her hair was thrown up in a careless ponytail, and she wore a simple pair of tennis shoes. “You’re going to the country club in that?”

She let out a sigh and set a hand on her hip. “Don’t give me that. This is a fantastic dress that I look great in and is stretchy enough to feel like a nightgown. The shoes are staying on as long as I can keep them.”

He held up his hands. “Just wondering. I’ll stay out of your hair. I promise.”

She nodded and pushed some stray hairs out of her face. “The invitation I left on the counter has the schedule for the day. Since you don’t golf, I’d recommend getting there around five for the cocktail hour and hors d’oeuvres.”

The machine finally started to spit out the coffee he was craving and he let out a sigh of relief. “I assume the food’s going to be good?” He hid his grin behind his now full mug of coffee.

“It’s going to be the best fucking meal of your life, and if you complain about one tiny thing to Sarah or anyone else at the party who isn’t me, Andre, or Dean, I will make you pay. I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.”

He snorted, the bitter drink already livening his mood. “I don’t know. I’m rather picky. I hope there’s not oregano in anything. Hate that stuff.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re not funny. Don’t try to do funny.”

He raised a brow. “I’ve been told I’m hilarious.”

“You were lied to,” she muttered as she packed her notebook into her computer bag. She pulled a duffel off the sofa and her purse from the table before she turned back to look at him. “Please come, though. Sarah is really hoping to show you off.”

He set the drink down and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t want to show me off?”

Grace’s face paled at the question. A bolt of relief shot through him. She’d almost convinced him that she’d forgotten all about their few minutes on the balcony. “I’m going to be too busy to show much of anything,” she murmured.

Satisfied that she hadn’t written him off, he put her out of her misery. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll show up, play nice, and stay the hell out of your way.”

She bit at her bottom lip and he focused on the wall behind her, trying his hardest not to stare. “I’m sorry.” She actually sounded sincere this time. “I’m a bit stressed about today and have a lot on my mind.”

He considered her for a few seconds. She’d been snippy, but it was nowhere near rude. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” she asserted. “I’m also sorry about last night. I should’ve stopped it and I didn’t and I don’t want to lead—”

“Shut up, Grace.”

Her eyes shot to his. “What?”

Simon padded over to where she stood and towered over her. “Last night was fantastic, and I don’t want to hear a fucking apology come out of your mouth.”

A soft blush crept up her cheeks and he had to beat back the urge to take her face between his hands and repeat last night all over. “If you don’t want to do it again, that’s one thing. But don’t lie to my face and tell me you’re sorry. Now go and show all of the Hamptons exactly why you’re the best at what you do. I’ll be good today. Promise.”

She took a deep swallow and he stared at the muscle that moved in her neck. The neck he’d had his mouth on just hours ago. He should’ve marked her. The thought came out of nowhere. He couldn’t remember whether he’d ever given a woman a hickey in his life. Why would he start now?

“Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it.” She gave him a quick smile before she slipped out the door. He glanced out the window and saw that Dean’s pickup truck waited in front of the cottage.

He turned back to find Rigby and Princess staring up at him. Sighing, he took another drink of his coffee. It was going to be a long day.

Grace took a seat at one of the empty tables and pulled off her Bluetooth. Her aching feet got their first taste of relief in eight hours and she let out a deep breath. Another year, another Summer Blowout in the books.

Her eyes scanned the room at the remaining guests. Women had their shoes off, and the men had their ties loosened and the top buttons of their shirts undone. This was her favorite time of a party. All the formalities faded away, and old and new friends were able to really get to know one another.

So much of her job was full of thinly veiled intentions and double meanings. When all the acts dropped and it was just people getting together, that was when she really felt accomplished.

A familiar redhead caught her eye and for the first time that evening, she allowed herself to stare. Simon had been fantastic. He’d stayed out of her way, and the guests had adored him. She’d had at least five strangers pull her aside to thank her for bringing him. A few others had inquired about what her services had entailed and taken business cards.

She didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to leave a trail of money wherever he went.

Unlike the other men in the room, his shirt was still buttoned to the very top, and his jacket somehow managed to look fresh and crisp even though he’d been in it for most of the day.

He looked strong and handsome and sure of himself, and she probably looked like a hot mess at this point.

“He is amazing, isn’t he?” asked a familiar, masculine voice.

Grace stiffened and turned to see Mark slide into the chair next to hers. She swallowed back her nerves and smiled. “Mark! I’m so happy to see you.”

“Are you?” He smirked. “It seemed like you’d moved on.” He glanced over to Simon, and she followed his gaze.

Simon was still talking to the same group of businessmen as before. Had he seen that Mark was talking to her yet? They’d never discussed what she was supposed to do if Mark approached her.

“I didn’t realize that meant I couldn’t enjoy your company.” She turned her body to face his. If Simon needed something from Mark, it would be best for her to stay friendly. “How have you been?”

He shrugged. “Okay, I suppose. This place is so boring when you’re not here.”

She let out a laugh. “That’s because I’m only here when there’s a big party.”

“That’s probably right.” A waitress walked by, and he held up a hand. “Did you want a cranberry vodka?” he asked Grace.

“You know I don’t drink on the job,” she reminded him.

“Worth a try,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye as he turned to the waitress. “Another Scotch on the rocks please.”

Grace studied him. He was the polar opposite to Simon. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, and his shirt was undone halfway down. His dark hair fell carelessly around his clean-shaven face, and he always seemed to say exactly what came to mind. Simon, on the other hand, kept his words as controlled as his short hair.

“So you like Simon?” She rested her chin in her hand.

Mark took another look behind him and then back to Grace. “I suppose. I heard he’s a genius at making people money, but I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve worked together?” Simon mentioned a plan with Mark had fallen through, but she didn’t know the specifics.

“He almost bagged me Donald Hunt as a client, but the rich old coot bailed at the last minute. It was…strange.”

She kept her face blank, but she knew when she was being led on. She followed his lead, curious to hear where he was going with it. “What was strange about it?”

“Well, I have no idea what spooked him. I mean, my track record speaks for itself and I’d already made Hunt a decent return on the test investment I did for him. Something, or someone, must’ve said something.”

Donald Hunt was one of the richest men in the city. Grace could only imagine what a blow it would’ve been to lose that big of a fish. “And you think it was Simon who warned him away? Why would he do that?” She leaned in closer and tried her best to look captivated.

“I’m still trying to figure that out. One minute he’s calling me up out of the blue to help me; the next minute, the biggest client of my career is running scared. And now he’s with you. It’s just strange.”