The Designated Drivers' Club (20 page)

• • •

Grant spent the remainder of the day working on the schedule for their latest client’s tour. Hodge had entrusted him to do this one alone — a huge opportunity. Hodge was incredibly anal about these things so the confidence in his abilities was an ego booster. One Grant realized he needed after a few weeks of pent up frustrations surrounding Jenny. He wanted to get the tension out of his system. Only one way to do that.

He thought it’d be easy until lunch. The way she went after the guy in his presence made it evident that he overestimated where things were going with her. After all, they only kissed a few times. For him, that usually led to one of two things: sex, or the realization that the person wasn’t interesting or interested. Maybe his assumption of the former came in direct conflict with her thinking the latter? No, not likely. She had been as into it as he was. Hell, her hands were all over him. He remembered the feel of her thigh as he ran his hand under the black dress. Damn. His body tightened with the nagging urge to finish the exploration.

Grant shook his head and started making the calls to book spaces and equipment. He needed to forget Jenny and stay on track with work. There wasn’t time for sexual fantasies. He continued reminding himself for two more days. His temper grew.

Thursday night at 2
A.M.
he woke to the sound of his cell chanting at him on the stand by the bed. He pulled his hand to rub his eyes and looked at the clock. No one calls at this time of night. Probably a wrong number. On the fourth ring, he rolled to his stomach and lifted the phone to see the display. Hmmm. Jenny. He must still be asleep. He vaguely remembered thinking about her with her tongue sliding down his throat, then his chest. Another ring.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and said it again.

“Grant. Thank God you answered. Are you awake?”

“Yeah, sure. Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh, sorry about that. I tried everyone else I could but my other two drivers are on jobs, and none of my girlfriends are answering the phone. What are you doing right now?”

I was having some pretty intense dreams that involved you and my shower, then you and my couch, oh and don’t forget about the kitchen counter.
Grant stroked his hand over his face. “Not much. What’s up Jen?”

“I need your help.”

• • •

Less than an hour later, he was standing next to her wearing a crumpled T-shirt and shorts watching a tow truck pull away with her car. A flat tire and a flat spare.

“You know, between the two of us, we’re almost on a first name basis with the tow truck service here. In your business shouldn’t you be more conscious of the status of your tires and everything else? When’s the last time you had this car checked out?”

“I know. I know. I had it on my list to get tires and an oil change, but I just have been so focused on the loan and everything. I let it go too long. At least I was on my way home when it blew and didn’t have anyone in the car with me.”

“It probably would have been safer for you to have someone there.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But really bad for business.”

“So, you keep a to-do list? What else is on the list?”

“It’s on the dash, and it’s a mile long.” She waved a hand toward the car as it disappeared down the road. The wind swept a strand of dark hair from her face as she turned to him. He could smell her shampoo.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Are you?”

“I asked
you.
”

“Okay. Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll fix you something.”

“Oh, I thought you meant go eat somewhere.”

“Not much open other than gas stations. I don’t know about you but this late at night, everything you’ll find is left over from the day before and that doesn’t sound too great.” He held the door and motioned for her to get in the car.

“I don’t have any food at home. Haven’t been to the store in a while.”

When they were moving again, Grant said “I have a full fridge if you don’t mind stopping by my place first.”

She gave him a wary look.

“Just to eat, Jen. Unless you had something else on the brain? Not sure I’d feel comfortable with that right now considering the circumstances.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“What circumstances?”

“Well, you’re interested in Banker Boy for one thing … and I can’t kick you out after since you don’t have wheels, so it’d be pretty damn awkward, don’t you think?”

“Ah, your true nature rises up.”

Damn right about that.
He grinned. “But hey, if you’re curious, we could skip the food and go straight to your place.”

“Yeah, right. I’m not curious. And suddenly food sounds good — and safe.”

• • •

At his apartment, he liked her sitting on the counter, popping potato chips while he fired up a skillet. “How about fajitas?” He slathered spices on the chicken.

“Sounds great.” She threw another chip into her mouth. He noticed the crumbs on her shirt and smiled. He pulled out a package of pre-cut peppers and onions from the freezer and dropped some into the oil. The explosion of popping and fizzing caused him to lower the flame. He added the chicken a couple of minutes later. Once he’d poured some white wine and broth into the pan, he covered it and let it sizzle. The pile of crumbs on her belly had grown a bit.

“You’re mainlining chips.” He wiped the crumbs from her shirt into his palm. “Put out your tongue.” He held the chips over her head and waited. When Jenny closed her eyes and opened her mouth to receive the salty crumbs, an urge overtook and he dropped the crumbs on her face, dusting her in the shards. He couldn’t forestall the laughter that surged inside.

“Hey.” Jenny retaliated by dumping a handful of chips into his T-shirt and subsequently smashed them against his chest.

“Nice.” He laughed. “Real nice.” He pulled the shirt away from his skin. Crumbs spewed on the floor. “And itchy.” He pulled the shirt over his head and handed it to her.

“Go ahead, eat ’em. It’s obvious you have a potato chip addiction. I doubt you’ll want those to go to waste. I wouldn’t recommend eating the ones on the floor though. Bugsy’s ass was there a few days ago.”

“So I like chips. It could be worse, you know. I could be a chocoholic, or an alcoholic, or a shopaholic.”

“That’s a lot of holics.”

“As I see it, I’m pretty low maintenance compared to those types.”

“Low maintenance? For whom? You’re talking to a guy you just pulled out of bed in the middle of the night to help you with a flat tire.” Grant rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

She shrugged while concentrating on picking crumbs from his shirt and, yes, she ate them. Strange, though, she put her mouth right up to the cloth. The smell of garlic and onions filled the room as the spattering sound of the chicken browning served as their background music.

“You said you were awake. Oh, I forgot to tell you, my loan was approved!” she said.

“Good.” He wasn’t surprised. “Guess your lunch with Banker Boy proved successful in convincing him.”

“You say that like I tried to seduce him into giving me the money.”

She had finished with the T-shirt, dropped it on the counter, and returned to the chip bag.

Grant lifted the lid and turned the chicken over. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

“No — like that’s really gonna work anyway. Look, he didn’t even approve it. He doesn’t have the authority. I got a call later that day from a lady named Karen Cross. She said there was a mistake and that the loan wasn’t processed correctly. She’s taken over the account and will be my contact going forward. I’m supposed to get the check next week.”

Good.
Exactly what he had asked of Jeff. He didn’t make a habit of using Hodge’s influence for personal gain — hopefully Hodge wouldn’t find out this time. “So, how is Banker Boy? Have you seen him since then?”

She pointed the bag at him. “I don’t see that’s any of your business. He is kind of cute though, don’t you think?”

Grant shrugged. He stirred the chicken and put the lid back. “No grown man wants to be called ‘cute,’ and you’re not seriously asking me to answer that, are you? Jesus, Jen. You had your tongue down my throat less than a week ago. You really want me to give you my opinion of his potential date-ability? That’s kind of shitty.”

“I did not have my tongue down your throat … and, you had your hand up my skirt too, as I remember it. Besides, I seriously doubt you’re concerned about it. There’s a Christmas card taped to your wall that’s signed, ‘Love you always, Gracie,’ so you don’t seem starving for attention. It’s not like we have anything going on here.” She waved the bag from him to her.

Grant turned off the fire under the chicken and snatched the bag from her hand. There were less than half a dozen cards taped on his wall, mostly from business associates.

Interesting she noticed that particular one.

The loud paper crackling startled her as he crumpled the bag closed and tossed it into the pantry. He turned back and faced her with two paper plates in one hand and a bag of flour tortillas in the other. Should he explain? Obviously it bothered her so perhaps he should. “Gracie’s my sister,” he said as he measured her reaction. Nothing.

Grant put tortillas on plates, filled them with the chicken mix, added some cheese and pushed one into her hand. He liked that she noticed the card and maybe even that it bothered her.

“Smells good. Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He watched her take the first bite. A piece of cheese trailed the corner of her mouth and she flicked her tongue out to scoop it in. The simple action sent a surge of lust through him. He looked away and leaned against the counter.
Get a grip, dumbass.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” She motioned at the plate sitting untouched.

“I think I disagree with you, Jenny.”

“About what? Eating this stuff?”

“No, there
is
something going on here. I’m not really sure what the hell it is, but it’s definitely going on.”

Jenny looked at his stomach. “You have chips on your belly.”

Grant blinked twice and looked down as she laced her fingers out and brushed them across his naval just above the zipper on his shorts. It sent a shiver across him and he suddenly became very conscious that he was no longer wearing a shirt. He sucked in his breath and grabbed her wrist. Shit, that felt good. He closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder. He was tired. His mind clouded. Was this just a different version of the same dream he’d had the last two nights?

“Grant, you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, yeah.” He yawned. “How about you? Long day? Tired?” He glanced over her shoulder at the clock. It was blurred but he thought it said 4:37.

“A little. Let’s take this to the couch.” Jenny nodded at the food. She grabbed the two plates and headed to his new leather furniture.

It didn’t take much to entice him to follow since she’d moved out from underneath him, his only prop of stability. Just the thought of sitting for a minute sounded nice. He yawned again and sank into the cushions next to her. Damn, her leg felt nice against his.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Did you get enough to eat, Jen?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, it was great. You were great.” He thought that’s what she said and he smiled. He knew she liked it.

“You were too. Damn, you feel good. Okay. Yeah, touch me there,” he whispered. He thought she giggled. He wasn’t sure, then he was dreaming again and she was taking his pants off.
That was new.

Jenny drooled on slick, supple leather. She sucked in the wetness and licked her lips. The smell of leather was fabulous. She once had a leather jacket that her mother gave her as a birthday present. This was the same smell. Musky, strong, and so rich. She rubbed her cheek along it — along the smoothness of it. Then suddenly there was warmth against her hip. Against her leg. She turned over and light blasted her in the face, a blinding white glare. Pulling both hands over her eyes, she cupped her hands to block it out and groaned.

“Oh, sorry about that,” a voice murmured next to her. She heard the sound of curtains closing and when a comfortable darkness engulfed her, she slipped her eyes open to small slits. Grant.

“You’re awake.” She raised her hands in a long, luxurious stretch. “What time is it?”

“Eight.” He stroked a finger down the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled, remembering how he’d spoken in his dreams. Crazy, rambling words that were almost seductive. “It was late. You needed rest. I’m sorry I had to bother you. I know it makes it hard to get up and go to work after a long night like that.” She sat up.

“You want some coffee?” He placed a mug into her palm, no answer expected.

Jenny scooted further up and pulled the cover over her legs. After she laid him out on the couch earlier and covered him, she had slipped off her jeans and wrapped herself in the blanket from his bed. She wasn’t about to take over his bedroom so she draped her blanket-clad body across the loveseat positioned adjacent to the sofa he was on, and dozed.

The cover she’d thrown over him during the night had slipped and barely covered his torso and she had spent any number of minutes rehashing what he looked like below it. His hair ruffled up above his ear in a loosely tangled flip. She smiled and ran a hand over her own. “You passed out.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to staying out that late, and I haven’t slept too great lately.”

“I’m sorry. Give me a minute to get dressed. Do you have time to drop me by my apartment?”

“No.”

“Oh, uh, okay. I’ll call a cab.”

“No. You’ll go back to sleep. I called in and let Hodge know I’d be late. He’s okay with it. You need rest. Your friend Katy called earlier trying to find out if you were still stranded on the side of the road. I hope you don’t mind that I answered your phone. It was right next to my head and, well, she wasn’t going to give up. I was tired of being called a moron by your ring tone.”

“She probably was a little panicked.”

“Yes. She was.”