Cole’s Redemption (23 page)

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

Tears pricked her eyes, a testament to how frightened she’d been. She hadn’t cried
in years, since she’d finally learned to swallow being a disappointment to her mother.

Her rescuer urged her back onto the sidewalk, under a streetlamp. Then he turned to
speak but stopped, mouth hanging open. “Anna! I mean, Miss Claire,” he corrected himself.
“My God, I can’t believe it’s you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I— Mr. James,” she stammered in surprise. “Yes, I think so.”

As if to reassure himself, he stepped close and took her hands in his, rubbing them
as though to ward off a chill. Then he turned her a bit and inspected her from every
angle.

She gave a watery laugh. “Really, I’m fine.” Except for the nausea, which threatened
to upset her dinner.

“You don’t look fine,” he replied, eyeing her with a concerned frown. “Just to be
sure, I’m going to walk you the rest of the way home.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

He shook his head. “I insist. Which way?”

“No, I mean it’s really not necessary because I live there.” She pointed to the building
on the corner.

“You’re kidding! That’s where I live, too.” He smiled. “Then it’s definitely no trouble
at all to see you safely to your door.”

“I don’t—”

“Please? For my peace of mind?”

He looked so handsome, so worried, that she had to smile back. “Fine. That would be
nice. Thanks.”

“First, though, we should file a report. I should’ve thought right away of calling
the police.”

She considered that, then blew out a breath. “I think that’ll be a waste of time.
I’m not hurt and he didn’t take anything. I didn’t even get a look at him, so my input
isn’t going to help much.”

“Are you sure? They can at least have it on record.”

“No. Really, I just want to get home.”

He hesitated, then relented. “I can understand that. Come on.”

Tucking her hand in his arm, he escorted her the rest of the way to their building
and inside. As they crossed the spacious lobby, she briefly wondered how a lowly prep
chef could afford to live in a neighborhood like this, where the apartments were so
expensive. Then she remembered that he’d been a hotshot attorney of some kind, so
that made sense. He’d probably socked away plenty before changing careers.

As they stepped into the elevator, his finger hovered over the number panel. “Which
floor?”

“Six.”

He smiled again, a blinding slash of white that made her knees a little weak. “What
do you know?”

“You, too?” She blinked at him.

“Yep. I’m curious, though. How is it that the boss lady missed the fact that I live
in her building, on the same floor?”

She shrugged. “I make it a point to memorize names and faces because I like my employees
to feel as if they matter to me—and they do. But my manager, Jeff Wilson, does all
of the hiring paperwork and tax forms, and he collects the employee information sheets
we keep on file. If I need to know specific information about one of you, I can look
it up.”

“I met Mr. Wilson, but I don’t see him around much,” he mused. “He doesn’t take a
very active role on the floor.”

“Because that’s not what I hired him to do. He does most of the paperwork, ads, and
marketing.”

“So you can be among the people, which is what you enjoy most.”

“Yes.”

“And yet . . .” The elevator arrived at their floor, and they got off.

She stopped and faced him. “What?”

“I don’t know if I should say.” His gaze settled on hers, assessing.

“You can speak freely. You
did
just save my life.” She grinned in encouragement.

He relaxed some. “It’s just that you seem very reserved most of the time. Aloof. It’s
interesting to hear you say that you enjoy being around your staff and guests when
you don’t really show it.”

She stared at him in surprise. “I don’t? But . . . I speak to people all day. I ask
them how they’re doing, if their meals are excellent, what they’re celebrating. Things
like that.”

“What about the staff?”

“What about them?” She started to feel defensive. “I ask them if they need anything,
what I can do to help them. I inquire about any incidents that may have occurred,
how the kitchen has been running, check on the special reservations to make sure the
staff is prepared.”

“Yes, you do. You’re a good boss,” he allowed.

“Why, thank you,” she said dryly, giving him a droll look. “I’m so glad you approve.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “But when was the last time you actually
talked
to any of them?”

“What the hell do you mean? I just told you I talk all day!”

“When’s the last time you asked one of them anything personal?”

“Personal?” She was at a complete loss. “Like what?”

“Jesus.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then dropped his hand and regarded her
in part amusement, part exasperation. “You know Brandon the waiter?”

“Brandon Gates. Of course I do.”

“Right. But did you know his pet iguana died yesterday?”

Obviously one of them had been dropped on their head. And it wasn’t
her
.

“So? As long as Ethan didn’t serve it in the soup, what does that have to do with
me?”

The bastard actually laughed. An honest-to-God laugh that made his eyes crinkle and
her toes curl. Made her insides warm in the most pleasant way.

“Christ, you’re so uptight, you squeak when you walk.”

“What?” She gaped at him. “Listen, Mr. James—”

“I saved your life, as you pointed out,” he murmured, moving closer. Reaching out,
he gently touched her face with the rough pads of his fingers. “I believe we’ve moved
on to first names, Anna.”

Her breath caught in her chest, her nerves dancing at his touch. The hunger in his
eyes, his nearness torched all of her arguments to dust. At five-eight she wasn’t
a short woman, but the top of her head barely reached his chin. That was a secret
thrill of hers—a big, tall man surrounding her. Pressing her down, covering her lips
with his.

He was so close, their mouths almost met. Then he stepped back, and it took her a
moment to adjust. To realize he wasn’t going to kiss her after all. Flushing, she
attempted to cover her embarrassment by fishing in her purse for the keys to her apartment.
Finding them, she gave him a smile she didn’t feel.

“Well, Gray, I should get home.”

She turned and started down the hallway and he kept pace beside her, apparently not
ready to relinquish his role as her protector. Suddenly her ordered world had been
unbalanced, not just by the attack but by Gray’s nearness, and she wondered if that’s
what he intended.

At her door, she unlocked it and faced him. “Thank you for saving me. I can’t imagine
what might’ve happened if you hadn’t been walking home right behind me.”

The idea made her feel sick again.

“I’m glad I was there.” A shadow passed over his face and was gone. “Let me come in?
You’ve had a shock and I want to see you settled before I leave.”

Settled. That would be the very last thing she would feel if she allowed him inside;
of that, there was no doubt. Some force that obliterated reason and good sense had
her opening the door anyway, stepping aside to welcome him to her home.

“Nice place,” he commented.

“I imagine it’s the same as yours.”

“Just the floor plan.” Looking around, he appeared impressed. “I definitely don’t
have your sense of style.”

“I can’t claim much credit, except for the colors. I picked those and then hired a
decorator.”

“I like the browns with the deep red accents. It fits you.”

Curious, she studied him as she set her purse on the bar. “How so?”

“The browns are subtle, understated, and strong. Alone, they might be boring to the
eye, and then bam! The red is exciting. Just like those flashes of your true personality
when you let them out, as you did in the hallway a few minutes ago.”

“Seriously?” A laugh escaped before she could help it. “You are so full of shit.”

“And like now,” he said, looking smug. “
Miss Claire
would never have said that, but
Anna
sure did. I obviously know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or frightened by the armchair psychoanalysis.”

“Flattered. What else?” Gesturing toward the couch, he ordered, “Sit down. What do
you want to drink? Wine? Something stronger?”

Bemused, she did as he said—for the moment. “Isn’t that my line? This
is
my apartment.”

“You can offer one to me some other time.” He disappeared into the kitchen and began
to rummage around as his voice drifted to her. “You know, sometime when you haven’t
been attacked by a mugger.”

The image caused her to shiver, and she unwillingly began to relive the encounter.
“I’ll just have some water. Get whatever you want for yourself.”

In moments he was back, the sofa dipping as he sat beside her and twisted the tops
off two bottles, handing her one. “I don’t often drink this late at night. Gives me
insomnia.”

“Hmm.” There was something odd about that man in the alley.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked in concern.

“He talked too much.”

“What?”

“The mugger.” Anna lifted her gaze to see Gray studying her, brows furrowed. “He was
all talk. He never did much except push me around and scare me. Isn’t that weird?”

Gray leaned forward. “What else?”

“He smelled nice, like he had on his best cologne. And . . .”

“And?”

She gasped. “The man wasn’t armed! He didn’t have anything in his hands.”

“Are you sure? Could be that it happened so fast, you missed a small knife or something
in his grasp.”

“No, I’m positive. The mugger wasn’t armed, he spoke articulately, and he smelled
nice. Something is off about the whole thing.”

“That is strange,” he said thoughtfully. “You should be more careful from now on.
In fact, I’ll be walking you home for a while. Just in case.”

In case the man returned. Fear overrode the inner whispering that it was smart to
keep a distance from this sexy man, no matter how much she wanted him. “All right.”

Their eyes met and a strange flutter of butterfly wings took off in her stomach. Gray
was looking at her as though she was the answer to every question he had, and it was
wonderful. Confusing. Arousing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said with reverence, touching her face with the pads of
his fingers.

“I don’t remember the last time anyone told me that.”

“You deserve to hear that every single day, because it’s true.”

“Thank you.” Drawn to him, she reached up and traced his lips with one finger. “You’re
a very handsome man yourself.”

“I wasn’t fishing.”

“I didn’t think you were.” She paused. “Why me?”

His face registered surprise. “Why am I interested in you?”

“Yes.”

“Besides your beauty, you’re smart, successful. Kind. I think you need to unwind a
lot, and I want to help you do that.”

God, he smelled good. Woodsy and manly, and it made her body ache to be touched. Completed.
“Then help me, Gray.”

For a few moments he didn’t speak. His hand covered hers and he waited, giving her
time to voice an objection. When it didn’t come, he leaned over and closed the distance
between them. Brought their lips together, parted hers with his tongue.

His kiss was liquid fire. Slowly, he licked her mouth, his sensual exploration sparking
an electrical storm throughout her body. All thoughts of why it was a bad idea to
see an employee blew to dust. Pushing into him, she sought more. Needed more from
this man. It had been far too long since she’d come alive this way.

All too soon, the kiss was over and Gray moved back. Confused, she tried to pull herself
together.

“Will you be okay tonight?”

Only if you stay.
But of course she wouldn’t say the words.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile. “Go on, get some rest. You’re on the late
shift again tomorrow.”

Rising, he looked down at her. He didn’t seem eager to go—more like resigned that
it was for the best. And it was.

“Give me your cell phone.”

“Why?”

“So I can program my number in for you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Fishing around in her purse, she found the device and handed it over.

He punched a long series of buttons; then he handed it back. “Here you go. Call me
if you need anything at all, Anna.”

Her name on his lips, the intensity of his gaze made her feel like a wounded antelope
in the sights of a lion. The thing was, she didn’t want to escape.

“I will.”

With that promise extracted, he gave her a wicked half smile and walked out the door,
shutting it softly behind him. Following him, she looked up and then stood gazing
at the colors in her living room, trying to see them—and herself—through his eyes.

Brown for steadiness and strength, red for excitement. Being alive.

Somehow, it seemed he’d taken all of the red with him when he left.

•   •   •

Grayson closed the door behind him and stood in the middle of his sparsely furnished
apartment, frustration and guilt riding him hard.

As he’d started getting to know Anna Claire over the past few weeks, he’d slowly come
to realize she was nothing like he’d first assumed. He’d thought she was too straitlaced
and wondered why she hadn’t snapped like a brittle twig. Maybe a little stuck-up,
too. But she wasn’t.

She was driven, determined, smart, and sexy. Kind to her employees and patrons, yet
aloof to the former, perhaps because she was their boss. The woman was complicated,
and yet he felt he was coming to understand what made her tick. She needed to have
some fun, enjoy life a little.

He intended to help her along in that area.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. “You took a hell of a risk,” he growled
as he opened the door. “Don’t you ever use your brain?”