Page 18 of A Vegas Crush Collection #3

the library

Devon

At a quarter to five, I get up from my desk and stretch.

I feel much better than I did earlier and am actually kind of hungry now.

I take a few minutes to finish up some work, then run a brush through my hair and retie my ponytail.

I put on some lip gloss and as soon as I put it back in my purse, Grant is at my office door, giving me a smile that nearly stops my heart.

“How was your day?” he asks.

I can hardly form words to answer; he’s so sexy in his dark suit and dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top. I manage to squeak out a tiny, “It was fine. Slow.”

“You feeling any better?”

“I am. Thank you. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can take a raincheck. I don’t want you getting sick or anything.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Grant answers. “I have, like, iron-strong immunity. People around me could be dropping like flies, but I just hardly ever get sick.” He knocks on the wooden doorjamb.

“Okay, then. Because I’m famished. What kind of food do you like?”

“I’m kind of a dude,” he answers. Or non-answers, I suppose.

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

With a chuckle, he tilts his head at me. “I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”

“Well, I know just the place, then. It’s usually not too busy at this early hour and the food is great. Total hidden gem in a town where restaurants are always flooded with tourists. Also, we’re going to talk about getting you a more adventurous nutritional plan.”

“Hey, you’re off the clock,” he says, a panty-dropping, lopsided smile nearly making me weak in the knees. His dimple. I forgot about that.

“Nope.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I am on the clock. You said this was a business dinner and that we’d talk about nutrition for the team. You’re part of the extended team, so…”

Another laugh, and then he nods at me. “Well, then, I am open to being schooled. Shall we?”

I take his proffered elbow, a sharp current shooting through me as I do, the hint of want growing inside me the closer I get to him.

It’s probably a good thing the restaurant I suggested for dinner is an easy walking distance from the offices.

Some fresh air and a brisk walk might help to clear away all the illegal thoughts running through my head whenever Grant Gerard is within smelling distance.

Of course, he smells amazing during our entire stroll over to the restaurant, fresh air and all, with his woodsy, spiced cologne or whatever delicious scent it is he wears with the power to whip my hormones into a lusty frenzy every damn time he’s near.

Is it going to be this much of a struggle controlling myself around him?

Good God. We’re just walking. And I’m feeling aroused already. I’m so screwed here.

We don’t say much during our walk. Strangely, the vibe between us doesn’t feel at all awkward—beyond my irrational desire to climb him like a tree. It’s a comfortable silence between us. I don’t ever remember feeling that way on a date before.

This is not a date, it’s a business dinner like Grant said.

“Here we are,” I tell him, pointing to the door of our destination.

“The Library, huh?” He holds the door and ushers me inside.

“Do you know it?”

“No, but it looks like we’ve just stepped inside an old-world library, so their name is on point.

” Grant takes charge of speaking to the hostess and getting us seated in a comfortable corner nook, shelves all around us filled with gorgeous leather-bound books that must be worth a fortune.

I always enjoy studying the titles of books on literally every topic whenever I’ve eaten here.

“If you’re a meat and potatoes guy, then I think you’ll find something you like here.”

“I know I will.” Something about the way he just said, I know I will, suggests he’s not talking about the food, even though he’s focusing on his menu. Without looking up, he says, “This looks perfect, Devon. Thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me.”

“Of c-course, I’m h-happy to.” I cringe inwardly. Why did I just stumble over my words like that? Idiot! I bury my face in my menu and read that shit like it’s the latest from George R. R. Martin hot off the presses.

After a moment, he casually asks if I’d like him to order some wine to go with our dinner.

“No, I don’t think that’s a great idea.” I feel heat start spreading up my neck.

When I look up from my menu, it’s to find him staring. Our eyes meet and hold for a beat or two. I swear, his hazel eyes darken as we study each other. The last time we drank together, well, things got crazy…

“Fair enough,” he says with the merest smile, shaking free of what I would guess is the same memory I’ve been replaying since he started working here.

After our orders are in, a steak for Grant, and roasted chicken for me, he asks how I work with the trainers and physical therapy teams to do my job.

“Well, I talk to Dale a lot. He’s the main strength trainer; did you meet him?”

A shake of the head.

“He’s goofy, and he’s been known to hit on all the single women who work for the Crush, but I think he’s a good trainer.”

My new sort-of boss cringes at this. “Do I need to worry about this guy hitting on his colleagues? My first HR visit?”

“No, he’s harmless. He flirts but he’s never crossed a line.”

There’s a thick silence between us that speaks volumes.

What happened between us is still so vivid for me, and by the way he looks at me, I think it must be for him.

I’m thankful when our salads arrive, giving us a minute to focus on something else.

Still, he did ask me a question, and I need to get back to the business part of our “business dinner.”

“I was saying that I work closely with Dale. Really, he’s the one I coordinate with.

He does a lot of group and individual strength training, but he’s also pretty open to collaboration.

He did some group stretching classes with Pam in PT.

He’s sent some of the team to my nutrition and cooking classes.

We talk often about guys who need a little more support in different areas. ”

Grant listens and asks questions about the players’ nutritional needs.

He’s attentive and inquisitive, which I appreciate.

He talks about the pragmatic side of things—we pay these guys a lot of money.

They need to be in top physical shape. He’s concerned that the second- and third-string guys aren’t getting as much attention as the top guys.

“I suppose that might be true, but they’re all different.

They’ve all been required to log some serious time in the gym and with me, but some of them value it more than others.

That goes for the big guys, too. They’re inconsistent, really.

I feel like there’s a point at which they come to it on their own, you know?

They realize they need to let off the partying throttle a bit, get more serious about their physicality.

They mature, grow up, and get serious. Some of these guys are teenagers still, or not far past it when they land at the NHL level, and not thinking much beyond what to have for dinner, let alone a whole nutritional plan. ”

“I do know about that,” Grant says. “I didn’t get serious about my body and how I treated it until I got tapped for the Olympic team. I thought I could live like a college student forever. Not true.”

This makes me smile. “Many of our guys view the experience as a fraternity, I think.”

“Well, that’s not a totally bad thing. I keep hearing over and over that the place is like a family.”

“It is, for some.”

“Not for you?”

“I enjoy it. I care about the players and my team of coworkers a great deal. But I try to keep work and life separate.”

“I get that. How did you end up working for the Crush? How long have you been here?”

“I’ve worked for the team for four years. Moved to Vegas for the job. Well, also to get as far away from my ex-husband as possible.”

“You were married?” Grant seems genuinely surprised.

“I was. He was a pro basketball player. Played in Miami and then New York. We met in college, got married right away, and stayed married four years.”

“What happened? Just too young?”

I raise a shoulder. “Maybe that. It was…tumultuous. It was better for my sanity to get out of the relationship and put as many miles between us as possible.”

Grant is nodding vigorously. “I feel that. I think I mentioned I was married too? Our divorce was final six months ago, but honestly, it was over long before that. And walking in on her, naked, with my good friend in our bed didn’t help.”

“Ugh,” I groan. I cannot believe anyone would cheat on Grant.

Not only is he such a nice guy, but he’s great-looking and spectacular in bed.

What was wrong with her to decide to cheat on him?

Although, perhaps I know the answer to that.

Shawn was remarkably selfish and often self-absorbed, so my bet is that Grant’s ex was also.

“My ex cheated, too, which was the final blow. Things were good and then they were terrible. And then they were good. And then they were terrible. It was emotional whiplash, all the time with him. I feel so much better and healthier now than I ever felt when I was with Shawn.”

“I get that. Things with Margot, my ex, were good for a long time. We tried having a baby and just couldn’t get pregnant.

We tried and tried, and it only created this wedge between us.

I really wanted a family, and she wasn’t as keen about it.

But, irony of all irony, she’s pregnant now.

It happened really fast for her in her new relationship.

In hindsight, it’s good it didn’t happen.

Sharing a child would be hard now since things ended. ”

I can tell he’s really disappointed about not having kids.

I can totally see Grant as a father. He’s funny and warm and smart.

He’d probably be a very hands-on dad. I don’t say any of that, of course.

I just say, “I agree, splitting is easier when there are no kids involved. It’s probably a blessing in disguise that it never happened for the two of you. ”

“Well, we’ve both been through the ringer, I suppose. But we survived. And I’m happy to get started somewhere new.”

I nod and focus on the last of my dinner for a moment, mulling a question I know I shouldn’t ask. Still, I can’t help myself. “So, have you dated much since your divorce?”

I want him to say no. I want to be the only one he’s been with, the only one who’s caught his attention. I know I shouldn’t care. I can’t have him anyway, not now that we work together. But still.

“No, not at all…well, except for meeting you that night.” He nails me with another golden stare touched with the remembrance of our wild time together, no doubt.

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, the butterflies fluttering inside my stomach.

“I’m not sure how it all works, honestly. I’ve been out of the game for a while.”

I nod. “I get that.”

“How about you?”

“Um, I date every once in a while, but no one has really made my toes curl since my divorce.” Until you. I don’t say that part, but it hangs in the air between us as our eyes meet. Again, a ghost of a smile tilts the corners of his mouth. Ugh, his gorgeous mouth.

He works his teeth over his bottom lip, and my nipples go hard, a chill running through me as I think about those teeth grazing against my skin. I know his thoughts have gone there, too, when his eyes darken again, and he adjusts his position in his chair.

“What we did together…” He trails off, his eyes never leaving mine.

“We can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” I suggest. Grant opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head, stopping him.

The words spill out of me like marbles from a bag, rolling across the table, hard to control.

“We didn’t know we’d be working together, and we didn’t do anything wrong.

But it can’t happen again, obviously. I mean, I know this must be so awkward for you, as the new GM, and I’m not here to make life difficult for you.

I get where you’re at with this job and I want you to be successful. I’m not expecting anything from you.”

Grant is the one shaking his head now—vigorously.

“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen, Devon.

I’ve thought about you every single day since.

I wanted to call, but it seemed pointless.

I figured you lived in, like, Ohio or something.

It never even occurred to me you lived here.

It felt like something that wouldn’t be able to work.

But I’ve thought about you. I don’t know what made me walk over and talk to you, but I’m so very glad I did.

I don’t regret a thing about meeting you that night. ”

I should not say it, but of course, I do. “I’ve thought about you every day, too.”

We stare some more at each other for a few long seconds, my toes definitely curling in my shoes as I push my knees together, futile in my attempt to dampen the wanton ache I feel between my legs. I can hardly breathe, looking at him.

“I don’t know what this is, Devon,” he says, nearly growling the words at me. “I want to explore it further, but it would have to be on the down-low. I hate that, but you understand why. For now, at least.”

“I do understand.” It comes out quiet, timid sounding even. I have to take a breath and let it out so that I can continue speaking. “I’m not into being someone’s secret, though. And please don’t forget, I have a job to protect, too.”

“You shouldn’t have to be someone’s secret,” he says, his fingers drumming wildly on the table.

There’s a nervous, animal energy around him now.

He looks like he would pounce if he thought it was safe to do so.

“You’re beautiful. Smart. Your body is perfection.

You deserve to be worshipped, openly, and I can’t…

I hate that it can’t be me. Because, Devon, I fucking want you. So badly.”

Oh God. God, I want him too.

The electricity between us is a steady current now. It was there on the night we spent together, for sure, but different. New. Exciting. Out of my comfort zone. Now? It’s pure, unadulterated lust.

I want him.

He wants me. “Because, Devon, I fucking want you.”

He’s off-limits, though.

I should thank him for dinner, ignoring the heat and ache between my legs.

I should wish him luck and remind him of the necessary boundaries.

I should walk away, returning to my quiet home.

I should do all of these things, but I can’t.

And then he answers for me by catching our server by the arm, his voice husky and determined as he says, “Check, please.”