Chapter One
Every morning, he arrived. Every morning Grace told herself she didn’t deliberately come to work early and position herself at her assistant’s workstation just so she could watch him stride through the hall, the track lights illuminating him like a runway model. He—Antonio Romero, with his sleek black hair, hazel brown eyes and buff body that no suit could disguise. Not that she was obsessed or anything. Of course not.
And, she thought, it’s perfectly natural that Antonio should arrive. After all, he was an associate attorney in this law firm, just like her. It would be odd if he didn’t come to work. His arrival certainly didn’t constitute an event. Nevertheless, here she stood, pretending to proofread a letter, her eyes darting to the hall with alarming frequency so as not to miss his entrance.
“Here he comes,” Larry Carson announced, sauntering over to the grouping of workstation pods at the center of the office. “Hold on to your panties, ladies. We wouldn’t want them to fly off and into his path.”
Then Antonio appeared. So sublime. His lips, nose, hair, eyes, smile. They all played a starring role in her fantasies.
“Romero the Romeo.” Larry’s lips curled in a sneer.
One of the secretaries tittered behind her hand. At Grace’s quelling glare, she coughed and turned her attention back to her keyboard and computer screen.
“Shush it, Larry,” Grace said, turning to her colleague.
“Why shouldn’t I tell the truth?” he asked. “It’s sickening how you all fawn over him.”
“Jealousy doesn’t become you,” Grace admonished. Of course nothing did become Larry, in Grace’s opinion. He could have been attractive, but the combination of kiss-ass smarminess toward the higher-ups and the obnoxiously condescending comments he made to everyone else made him an ugly little troll. “Don’t take your total lack of female admirers out on Antonio.”
“Defending your buddy?” Larry asked with a snide arch to his brows. “Typical, Baker. But why?” Then he lifted a finger and placed it to the side of his lips. “I know. You two are buds with benefits…if you know what I mean.” He chuckled.
Buds, but not with any extras. She and Antonio were strictly on a no-benefits basis. There had been that one time… But he didn’t seem to remember it, and she didn’t want to.
“But sex is all it will ever be, Baker. You won’t get a commitment out of the Romeo.” He sidled up to Grace and touched a finger to her wrist, giving it a suggestive caress. “Why don’t you try passing your favors around to someone who would appreciate them? Someone like me.”
Grace jerked her hand away and stepped back. “As an associate with this firm, you should know the laws on sexual harassment,” she said. “And if you make one more innuendo about Antonio or any further suggestive comments to me, I’ll make a report to HR about you creating a hostile workplace, and then where will your partnership aspirations be, eh?”
Larry glared at her, turned on his heel and headed into his office, which, unfortunately, was right next to hers. “Bitch,” he muttered, and then slammed the door closed behind him.
Of course, Larry seemed to be a favorite with the senior partner. Grace would probably be the one fired if she made a complaint. While Larry got great high-profile, second-chair placements, she was the dumping ground for every non-paying client and stinking pustule of a case. Antonio also scored great cases, but then he deserved success. A brilliant mind coupled with great courtroom technique set him apart from the rest. That was just the way of it.
When he spotted Grace, Antonio’s stride slowed and he smiled. Grace waved hello, but then turned and rushed back into her office. She didn’t feel up to a friendly conversation with him this morning when the sparring with Larry had brought to the surface all the longings she had tried so hard to suppress.
When she got to her desk, she took a few moments to get her feelings under control before she signed on to email. Unfortunately, the object of her lascivious thoughts had sent her a message. It read—Round 22 of chicken joke wars is declared. Finnegan’s @ 7 p.m. Loser buys the beer. Antonio. Grace smiled at his silliness. Making up their own chicken jokes was a running thing between them. Hitting reply, she typed in—You’re on. But then her finger hovered on the mouse above the send button. She loved hanging with Antonio, but lately the pain had begun to outweigh the pleasure. Grace wasn’t feeling very strong. After a few seconds of indecision, she hit delete.
* * * * *
A brief knock sounded on Grace’s office door. Without waiting for an invitation, the door swung open and a dark head came around the edge of the frame.