Chapter 10
Present Day
Thank god for this phone call. Tensions were high—too high—and I need to remember why this needs to be nothing more than a dinner between colleagues. It was too easy to fall into old habits and get lost in Grant.
“Taylor, are you listening to me?” my assistant’s annoyed voice interrupts my rogue inner diatribe.
Clearing my throat, I step deeper into Grant’s living room. “Sorry, Allie. What were you saying?”
“Where are you?” Her inquisitive tone puts me on edge. I love my assistant, but she sees too much sometimes.
I look back at Grant on the patio, trying to decide how much information to divulge. Part of me wants to keep this a secret, protective of any time I get to spend with Grant for reasons I don’t have any desire to delve into at the moment. “I’m at dinner.”
“Oh, okay. Well the brand deal with Cameron is on the fritz. We need you in LA to handle it.”
Shit, that’s one of the biggest brand deals we’ve worked on for one of our athletes. I thought it was all a done deal which is why it didn’t matter if I was in Nashville for an extended period of time this visit.
“Fuck, okay.” I sigh, already thinking through the logistics and making a plan.
“I’m with Grant now, so I’ll talk to him about heading back for a few days.
The press conference today was a success, so Mary’s team should be okay with the next steps.
We’re lining up the horse patrol night, so I’d like to be back for that, but I can help remotely if needed. ”
“Rewind. You’re at dinner with Grant?” she shouts, excitedly.
“Yes.” I hiss as if he can hear her. So much for keeping this a secret. I pinch the bridge of my nose at my stupidity.
“Eeep,” she squeals, and I have to pull my phone away from my ear at the high pitch of her voice. “Oh my god, tell me everything.”
“Allie, you’re fangirling.”
“Of course, I’m fangirling. Have you seen the man?”
Yes, I’ve seen him. When I saw his slutty little chain under his dress shirt, I almost jumped him.
Seeing the gold against his tan skin and the smattering of chest hair was almost my undoing.
Why must this man be so damn attractive?
He was hot as hell when he was in his twenties, but Grant at almost forty?
It should be a crime against humanity how sinfully delicious he is.
Gone were the days of him in a T-shirt and jeans.
In their place was a suited Adonis that had me begging to say “yes, sir.” I needed to stop that train immediately.
It could not leave the station. Once it did, I had no hope of returning back to safe ground.
“He was on the forty under forty list multiple times and has been named one of the sexiest men alive. I know you saw that cover. I saw it on your desk one day.”
Ugh, I did. It was three years ago after the fated phone call asking to borrow the Long Caye house while Ivory was trapped in Belize.
As if the universe knew I was already down from hearing his voice for the first time in five years, they put him in fucking People Magazine as one of the sexiest men alive and the most eligible bachelors.
They must not have done much digging because marriage certificates are public records and there’s no divorce on file.
“He’s just a guy,” I say, trying to convince myself just as much as I am her.
“Sure. A very hot, very rich, very suckable guy.”
“Allie Marie!” I choke.
“Oh come on, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Plus, you’ve been working closely with him now that you’re consulting on the Bennett scandal.”
“We’re not working that closely together.”
“Yeah? Then why are you having dinner with him?”
Because I’m helpless when it comes to him.
“He wanted to celebrate the press conference. How can I say no to a client dinner?”
“Easy. Same way you always do.”
Damnit. She’s got me there. I’ve had several clients make advances over the years and ask for dinners, drinks, vacations. If it felt like a date, I turned it down. I wouldn’t allow for the appearance of impropriety in my career.
“Shut up.” I grumble as she laughs on the other line. “Call a meeting for tomorrow. I’ll be there by the morning. We’ll salvage the deal and go from there.”
“You got it, boss.”
Hanging up the phone, I venture down the hallway in search of the bathroom so I can freshen up and stop thinking about how hot my husband is before going back out there and telling him I need to leave.
The powder room in the hallway is hidden behind a pocket door that seamlessly matches the wall.
I’d have missed it if it weren’t partially cracked open.
Inside, I take in the sleek lines and modern black chrome finishes.
It’s masculine without being over the top.
Turning on the faucet, I wet one of the towels and run it along the back of my neck to cool myself off.
This brand deal is a huge one for my client.
It cannot fall through because I’ve been preoccupied in Nashville.
I didn’t come this far with my company to get derailed here, and despite how much I’ve enjoyed consulting with the Troubadours, I get the feeling I have some tough choices ahead for what’s next in my career.
Walking back out onto the gorgeous patio, I can’t help but wonder how Grant may factor into that move when I see him standing along the edge with his back to me.
His palms are resting on top of the brick wall along the perimeter, looking out over the horizon.
With the sun sinking behind the buildings and casting the sky in a kaleidoscope of pink and orange, he’s slightly shadowed.
Unable to resist, I snap a picture of him on my phone. The King and his new Kingdom.
“Sorry about that.” He turns his head towards me when I step up beside him. Picking up the martini glass where it sits beside his hand on the ledge, I remove the olives and chug the contents in one gulp.
He watches as I use my teeth to remove an olive from the pick, sliding his hands in his pockets. I don’t miss the way he subtly adjusts himself and I smirk at the knowledge I still affect him like that.
He clears his throat, dragging his eyes away from my lips. “No problem. I get it.”
“I have to go back to L.A,” I sigh, not missing the way Grant’s shoulders droop at my announcement.
He recovers quickly, crosses to the table, and pulls out a chair at the small bistro table set up off to the side.
The top of the table is adorned with a white tablecloth and a host of covered plates that must have been set up when I was in the bathroom because I didn’t notice them before.
I must’ve been gone longer than I realized.
When I make no move to sit down, Grant says, “Come eat first. It’s too late for anything to get done tonight and you need food first.”
“Well, it does smell good. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm, and as his smile breaks free, I thank my lucky stars for my ability to recover quickly despite the runaway thoughts in my head.
“What are we eating?” I ask, eyeing the plates.
I’ve ordered room service from the hotel before and eaten at the two restaurants on property.
Everything I’ve tasted has been amazing.
The chefs he hired are remarkable, so whatever it is under those covers is bound to be delicious. My mouth is already watering.
“The special tonight happened to be one of your favorites.” He lifts the cloche covering the plate and reveals a steaming bowl of lobster mac and cheese.
I clap my hands excitedly. “This is the best night ever.”
“Because of the food or the company.”
“The food, obviously.” Peering up at him, I notice the slight downturn of his lips and decide to throw him a bone. “The company’s not so bad either.”
He picks up the bottle of white wine chilling in a silver bucket beside the table and pours me a glass. I relish in the act of him serving me instead of having a staff member stay and cater to us. In so many ways, he’s still the Grant I knew.
“To you,” he holds his glass up.
“Me?” I press a hand to my chest and stare at him with wide eyes.
“Yes,” he says, holding my gaze intently. “Without you, I doubt the press conference would have been as successful as it was today. I know you have other clients and obligations, but it means a lot that you stepped in and helped us out.” The sincerity in his tone has me squirming in my chair.
“You are one of those clients,” I say, trying to deflect the compliment.
“Don’t do that. You’ve been invaluable to Mary and her team as we’ve navigated how to rehabilitate Chase and the organization’s image in the community.”
“Well, you’re welcome. I’m just sorry I have to go back to LA right now.”
“Me too.” He offers me a sad smile and I hate the way it makes me feel unsure about leaving.
“I should be back in time for the game we’re hosting the horse patrol unit for. It’s just,” I pause, then sigh, tracing a finger around the rim of my wine glass. “This brand deal I’ve been working on for one of my clients is in trouble and we need this collab.”
Grant places his hand over mine on the table and my skin tingles at the contact.
“Tay, your business is important too. I love having you here and helping with the team, but if you need to focus on your own clients, I can call someone in from Stella, or Mary can handle it. The bulk of the work is done now, right?”
“I think so. We’ve worked with Toddler Tom and Ben on the schedule for Chase’s community service in Nashville and on the road.
Gabby said he already went to the community center in town before we even did the press conference, so I have no concerns about him following through with the promises made today.
Mary is in touch with the police department and we’ve solidified the date.
Now, we just have to advertise it like any other event at the ballpark. ”
“Then take a deep breath and enjoy your pasta. I’ll text the pilot and you can take the plane after dinner.”