By the time Grant had unlocked himself and raced outside, she was already gone.
The team assembled in the conference room to hear the day’s stats. Her earpiece hooked securely over her ear, Arianna paced and gave a list of orders for the Rosebud Account. They were going after Victoria’s Secret and it was going to be a war. One she intended on winning.
Her gaze swept the room. Six people, four men, two women, sat waiting for instruction. It had taken a while to bond, but after the last three weeks of late nights and weekends, she felt as if they were almost a second family.
As creative director, she was in charge of the entire account for the Superbowl ad. They’d just secured a killer supermodel for the shoots, an edgy new Hip Hop artist for the music, targeting the twenty-something woman who wanted to rock her man’s world.
This was no Playtex woman and Arianna was committed one hundred percent to the project. Her job pretty much depended on it. She loved that her team was completely dedicated also, and their ability to hustle showed in the work.
A beep sounded in her ear and she pushed the button. “Yes?”
“You have someone waiting in your office.”
She blew out an impatient breath. “Kathy, I’m in a meeting, no time. Who is it?” The receptionist paused. “He wouldn’t give a name. Just said it was urgent and he’d wait in your office. I think it’s personal.”
Her heart paused, then continued beating. Of course, it wouldn’t be him. Arianna squashed the thought like a creepy spider and cursed her unconscious. Damnit, she had something good going on here. She’d walked away with her head held high and a broken heart, but she was healing. Except at night, when he invaded her dreams like a blood sucking vampire.
At least she had the daytime under her strict control. Until something stupid like this came up.
An unknown visitor, and suddenly images of chick flick movies and airport “I love you's” rummaged through her head.
“Fine, I’ll be there in minute.” She clicked off. “Guys, let’s take a break, I have someone in my office.” She threw out some orders and marched down the hall, nodding to some of the other employees as she made her way through the building.
She loved Chicago. The fast pace was close to New York, and the creative energy of the satellite firm was off the charts. Her conference calls with her boss were positive. The buzz on the business street confirmed she was good at her job and began to earn the respect of the upper executives. She nodded to her secretary as she opened the door to her office. She closed it behind her.
And came face to face with Grant.
God, he looked good. He stood in the corner of the room, looking over her photos and ads displayed on the wall. Lean legs clad in tight, worn jeans. A white button down shirt, left open at the neck, rolled up at the sleeves, displayed sinewy, muscled arms made rock solid by doing over a hundred pushups per day. Her gaze greedily swept his length, settling on his face. His hair was tied back in a long ponytail. His features always struck her as too hard to be classically attractive, but the harnessed masculine energy reflected in the gleam of onxy eyes, and sculpted mouth threw handsome right in the trash basket.
He turned and looked at her, seemingly relaxed and at ease. The last night they’d spent together flashed through her mind. Raw sex and intimacy for long hours. The images would never leave her. She didn’t think another man could ever wipe the last vestige of him coming inside of her, finally free of his control and belonging completely to her.
Yet she had left. It had been too late.
Arianna kept her voice neutral and prayed for strength. “To say this is a surprise is an understatement. Hello, Grant. Welcome to Chicago.”
His gaze probed hers, then shifted to sweep over her face and body in a sensual caress, as if she still belonged to him. “Hello, Arianna. You look wonderful.” She shrugged. Her designer charcoal suit was conservatively cut for business, but he seemed more interested in the swell of her breasts and the glimpse of her legs clad in high heels.
The same heels she had worn that night.
“Thank you. What can I do for you?”
He ignored the question and took a seat, relaxing back in the leather chair as if they had all the time in the world for a chat. “How do you like Chicago?” She clamped down on her impatience and swore she could play the game as well as he.
“Love it. Fast paced environment and a great creative team.”
“So, you’re happy.”
She forced a smile. “Yes, I’m happy.”
“I’m glad.”