Chapter 2
Casey
New Orleans, afternoon…
“Think about the Rabbit. That’s become the rare product that’s known by one word now.
Say the Rabbit and everyone knows it means the world’s best kind of vibrator,” I said, as Grant Abbot listened intently, his fingers steepled in thought.
He was focused—he was interested in what I brought to him.
“And I believe the same can be true of the LolaRing.”
We were seated in his office, the late afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across his sleek mahogany desk.
“I’ve often thought we’d make good partners,” he mused, his voice carrying that slow, deliberate Big Easy drawl that made everything he said sound like it belonged in a jazz club at midnight.
“Entice and Joy Delivered complement each other in ways few brands do. Silk, satin, and vibration—it’s a natural fit,” he mused.
I leaned forward. “Exactly. With your expertise in high-end lingerie and our commitment to innovative pleasure products, we can create a seamless experience for customers. The LolaRing is designed to be discreet, luxurious, and powerful. It belongs in Entice’s stores.”
He nodded thoughtfully, his expression considering. “I like how you think, Casey. And I appreciate your persistence.” Then he smiled. “Shall we sign now?”
I grinned, triumphant. “Let’s do it.”
Grant pulled up the digital contract on his tablet, the one I’d sent earlier just in case, reviewing the final details with a nod of approval.
“Everything looks perfect. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this,” he said.
I had. I’d prepared every last clause with precision, making sure this partnership would be a win for both of us.
With a quick swipe, Grant signed his name, then handed the device to me. I added my signature, the rush of victory warming my chest. The deal was sealed.
Grant leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he closed the tablet. “That calls for a celebration. There’s a bar not far from here—one of my favorites. Join me for a drink?”
I grinned. “How could I say no to that?”
A short while later, we stepped inside Velvet, where the atmosphere was bathed in low lighting, plush cranberry-red couches matching the name.
A mix of jazz and soft conversation floated through the air, blending with the scent of aged whiskey and expensive perfume.
It was a place for people who closed deals with a handshake and a well-crafted cocktail.
And, as I looked around at the couples, for dates.
I stole a glance at Grant. He’d suggested the bar.
Briefly, I wondered if that meant something.
But I quickly reminded myself this wasn’t a date—just a celebratory drink between two professionals.
Still, that didn’t stop the flicker of awareness I always felt around him.
A long-simmering attraction that I’d kept firmly under control.
He was only a few years older than my thirty-two, and ever since I’d met him at a conference a year ago, I’d let my mind wander from his crystal-blue eyes to his dark, close-cropped hair, to the way he wore a suit so damn well.
Not to mention that accent that would likely sound delicious if he spoke low and sexy in my ear.
He had an air of mystery about him, a sort of quiet confidence that made people lean in when he spoke.
But I had always pushed all those other thoughts of him into the far corners of my mind. This was a business drink, and I didn’t need to entertain my crush.
We sat down and ordered, then toasted to our deal. “To new partners,” he said.
“Finally,” I teased, a nod to how long I’d been chasing this.
Grant leaned back, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. “You really pursued this deal, Casey. I admire that.”
I took a sip of my French martini, letting the compliment settle. “When I want something, I go after it.”
That strategy had served me well, especially in the last few years.
As a woman in business, I knew full well I had to work that much harder.
When I wanted something, I went after it passionately, with everything I had.
It was ironic that the strategy had worked well at my company, but that approach hadn’t gone as swimmingly in my rather dismal personal life.
A string of bad luck in relationships trailed behind me.
It would be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating; I was the Sex Toy Princess who didn’t get any action beyond the battery-operated kind.
It wasn’t that I chose badly, or liked jerks.
But there were two issues working against me.
One, men didn’t ask me out that often, and when I did ask out a guy, he’d often admit my profession scared him.
“Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to approach a woman who sells sex toys?” one guy had said.
He hadn’t lasted long. The other issue was that I had a notorious habit of speaking my mind, and, it turned out, that didn’t always work for the guys I had dated.
Business was business. I had fought to get here.
When my brother Jack had stepped down as co-CEO to move to Paris with his fiancée recently, I’d taken over Joy Delivered, determined to prove that I could guide it on my own.
The company had always been my vision, but Jack had handled the finances and partnerships.
Now, I was the one making these deals, proving that I could take Joy Delivered to even greater success.
Like the deal with Grant.
His lips quirked as if he were lingering on my comment—when I want something I go after it—and for a moment, I wondered if he was going to say something playful. Instead, he simply nodded. “That much is clear. It’ll be great working together.”
I smiled, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. “I think so too. Shall we get started this week?”
He glanced at his watch. “I love your enthusiasm, but unfortunately, I’ll be traveling for most of the next month. I need to check in on our partners in Portugal and Sri Lanka, then I’ll be attending a trade show in Hong Kong.”
“That sounds like a packed schedule.”
“It is, but necessary. I want to personally oversee some of our new developments before we roll out the next line.” He took a sip, then gave me a thoughtful look. “But I have a feeling I’ll be thinking about you while I’m away. Shall we reconnect when I return?”
I swallowed and blinked. Grant had always been friendly, but this was the first time he’d expressed interest in spending time outside of business. My pulse kicked. Was he feeling the chemistry too? A woman could hope. And I sure hoped that my luck was changing.
“I’d like that,” I said, looking him straight in the eyes.
He smiled. “Excellent. Let’s make it a date in July.” He swirled his drink, his expression unreadable. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this goes.”
So much for just a business drink. This felt like a crush that was finally requited.
Sure, there was nothing overtly suggestive about his words, but the way he looked at me made my chest flutter.
He wasn’t asking me out on a date with a wink and a flourish.
He was simply stating an interest in seeing me.
But something about the way he phrased it, the way he let the suggestion hang in the air, reminded me of my ex’s parting words.
Scott had once told me I was too much. That I never let him decide anything, that I always had to be in control.
That I was intimidating—too ambitious, too confident, too certain of what I wanted.
He made it sound like a flaw, like the very things that made me successful in business were the reasons I would fail in relationships.
I’d tried to shake his words off, but they lingered, whispering that I wasn’t built for compromise, that I didn’t know how to bend.
So I made a game day decision—bend a little. In the direction Grant seemed to be heading. Go along with him since, well, that’s where I wanted to be too. “I think we do too,” I said.
“Good.” Grant swirled his drink, his gaze steady as a small smile tugged at his lips. He nodded to my drink. “Would you like another one?”
“Sure,” I said, and I was about to flag the server down, when Grant set a hand on my arm. “I’ll handle it.”
“Oh sure,” I said, a little thrown off but also appreciative.
When the server swung by, Grant placed the order, then thanked her. And once she left, he returned his focus to me. “And when it comes to July, don’t worry about that either. I’ll plan something perfect. You won’t have to think about a thing—just show up and enjoy.”
There was something deliberate about the way he said it, like he was used to setting the pace, to guiding things exactly where he wanted them to go. The confidence, the certainty—it was the kind of thing that could be intriguing or infuriating, depending on the context.
A flicker of heat rolled through me, but something about his words made me pause. I wasn’t used to letting someone else set the pace. I wasn’t used to letting someone else lead.
I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body. And I was going to have to figure out how to grow one fast.