When I’m with one of my superiors, I’ll remember that and watch my tongue.
A burst of laughter escaped my mouth. She was ferocious. And too damn sexy when she was angry.
I stared at the closed door, completely impressed. She’d slammed it so hard, the wall shook.
For a little thing, she was strong—and unknowingly, she pushed my buttons.
What was it about that woman that made me react the way I did? I had spent all afternoon worried—about her. I didn’t worry about anyone except myself.
It shouldn’t matter if she was claustrophobic. Despite what I said, it didn’t affect my life. If we had a meeting and she chose to take the stairs, as long as she was on time, I shouldn’t care.
Except I did.
Instead of working, I spent the hours googling claustrophobia. I called an acquaintance who was a therapist and picked his brain. Spoke to my doctor. I took notes and tried to find a way to help.
For an articling student. One who hadn’t asked for my help, nor seemed to want it. A woman who would be out of my life in a few months and I would probably never see again. It—she—shouldn’t matter that much to me. But she did.
I had no idea why. All I knew was when I felt Grace’s sudden shift in the elevator and I glanced over and saw the sheer panic on her face, something in me snapped. She was struggling to hide her turmoil, but her ashen skin and the way she had shrunken in on herself deflated the anger that had been burning inside me and replaced it with an intense need to help her. One of the things I found so attractive about Grace was her self-assured confidence. She wasn’t arrogant or egotistical but sure of herself and forthright. I admired that greatly. The woman in the elevator was terrified and trying desperately to keep herself under control. I was certain if she gripped the rail any tighter, it would bend under the force. When I shifted closer, the way she had allowed me to comfort her pleased me. The need I had to comfort her shocked me. She let me hold her, lead her to my car. I had kissed her forehead, the act of tenderness unexpected but so natural when it came to her. I had held her hand in the car, the feel of her warm palm resting within mine too good to pull away. None of it was appropriate behavior as her boss, but I found I didn’t give a damn about that.
She had fascinated me the first day I met her. Her beautiful hair, vibrant, warm blue eyes that shone with intelligence. Her outward poise. Small in stature, she projected a much larger image, her presence demanding attention. It wasn’t only for her beauty. She had a lovely speaking voice, soft and feminine, but she utilized it well. She was smart and articulate, and I enjoyed talking to her. She wasn’t given to gestures, instead only using her hands occasionally to emphasize her point. My normal questions when interviewing a law student went out the window. I wanted to know more about Grace VanRyan. What made her tick. It had taken all of my control to stop myself from asking too much and returning to the business at hand—namely her employment with the firm. After she left, I had cursed myself for my lack of control and decided it was a momentary lapse that wouldn’t happen again. She was an articling student, therefore, an employee of the law firm, which had a strict nonfraternization policy. Add in the fact that at thirty-eight, I was ten years older than she was. And her boss.
It had been a blip.
Except, as soon as she walked in on her first day, my world shifted once again, and she was in my orbit.
And I had no idea how to stop it. How to curb the reactions and feelings she brought forth in me.
The way I responded to finding her in the library late on a Friday night, studying, shocked me. The need to ensure she got home safely was paramount. The smart thing would have been to put her in a cab and carry on with my life. Instead, I drove her home, took her to dinner, and thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with her until the subject turned personal and serious. Her look of incredulous disbelief when I expressed my thoughts on life had made me surprisingly uncomfortable. Her earnest protests about real love and friendship were heartfelt, although I knew them to be untrue in my life. I hadn’t lied when I told her I was glad her world was different from mine. She deserved the best. The moment in the car stayed in my memory. How the subtle scent of her filled the interior of the vehicle. How right it felt having her beside me. How desperately I wanted to feel her mouth underneath mine. To kiss her. Taste her. It went against everything in me. I was her boss. Older than she was. More experienced. When the moment was broken, I was grateful we hadn’t crossed that line. That I hadn’t let one moment of weakness ruin my life.