Page 5 of Save Me the Trouble (Country Love Collection #12)

Chapter Three

Killian

S he was invigorating.

Grace Johnson.

For the whole of yesterday, my blood had hummed with ungrounded energy lingering from our conversation. I’d had plenty of things to distract myself—meetings, contract review, conference calls—but nothing quelled the curiosity that gnawed at my gut. Who was this woman?

She was intriguing. More so than the other curators they’d sent. More so than anyone I’d met in a long, long time.

The gall of the woman who didn’t cave at the slightest exertion of pressure because she was so desperate for my approval.

Who’d dared to ask me about what was in my private office after I’d stuck her in there without thinking.

And who so easily sparred with my barbs, not even blinking, let alone falling for the sarcastic, stereotypical answers I gave her.

She was intoxicating.

Her bright outfit and devil-may-care attitude ensnared me. For a long time, I wasn’t sure there was anything other than business running through my blood, but after only a few minutes in her presence, my veins pumped with something much hotter. Much hungrier.

It chewed away at me, needing to know more—wanting more—until the day ended and I could finally move into my study and begin to look into the woman whose blue eyes I couldn’t get off my mind.

And whose sharp tongue I couldn’t get out of my dreams, fantasizing about the damage it would do to my cock.

I shifted my stance wider and quickly adjusted myself just before the elevator doors opened.

Grace might intrigue me, but there was no way it would go beyond a fantasy.

The only truthful answer I’d given her—about how losing everything had shaped me—was truer than she’d ever know.

Like everyone else, she knew the story about the loss of my fortune, respect, and reputation, but few knew the other things it had cost me.

And while I might’ve recovered many things since that day, my ability to trust a woman with my heart wasn’t one of them.

No matter what my grandmother hoped.

I stepped out of the elevator, the polished floors reflecting the early morning sunlight and the emptiness of the office.

I was the last to leave and the first to arrive.

Always had been. Always would be. Even now, a decade after almost completely bankrupting this business, I still felt I owed it more than I could ever repay.

So, I worked harder—longer than anyone else.

“Perfect.”

I stopped at the word. Her word.

Grace was already here.

My feet launched me forward, eating up the rest of the hallway to my office, where she’d left the door ajar.

I stopped at the threshold, the sight of her wreaking havoc on my domain sent an unexpected jolt through me.

Grace sat amid a sea of equipment, her camera meticulously positioned in front of the dark leather couch I never sat on; she’d dragged it over by the windows so the Seattle skyline and the Space Needle would be visible in the background. Smart.

Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering in the early morning light as she rearranged some books that she’d taken from my bookcase and placed on an end table next to the couch.

Today, she had on a bright red top and a blue polka dot skirt. All color in my black and white corner. Not unlike my Chihuly chandeliers.

“You’re early.” I fought to keep my tone casual rather than clipped. It was better she didn’t know how easily she got under my skin…and how hotly she made it burn.

Grace stilled for a split second and then looked over her shoulder at me, a hint of a smile teasing her lips. “I like to be prepared.”

She turned back to her task, and I slid my hands into my pockets as I approached. “How did you get in here?”

She chuckled softly and tipped her head toward my desk, a box sitting on the corner. The unmistakable black-and-blue logo of Top Pot Doughnuts stared at me, and then I noticed the hint of sugar in the air.

“Donny was so grateful for the doughnuts. There’s extra if you want one.”

What I wanted was to have a small chat with the security guard who’d been swayed by sugar and her smile to swipe his keycard at the elevator to give her access to this floor.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

She shrugged and then stood, admiring her handiwork. Meanwhile, all I could do was admire her. The fit of her top as it clung to her chest. The flare of her skirt over her ass.

“I’m ready. Are you?” She lifted her chin ever so slightly as she asked, as though daring me to not be prepared.

“Of course,” I said and strode to the other side of my desk, depositing my briefcase on the chair, and then returning to the couch. “Where do you want me?”

Her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed slightly. Good. For all I admired her professionalism this morning, I still wanted to know there was a spark underneath it. That fire from yesterday I ached for to keep me warm.

“This corner.” She motioned for me to sit and realized too late she was in my way. She comically tried to sidestep around me, only to start to backpedal and trip over her own feet.

She let out a yelp just as I caught her arms and steadied her right up against me. Right where she’d tried to avoid being in the first place.

“That’s twice in two days, Miss Johnson,” I rumbled, losing my own cool at her proximity. She felt so soft and smelled like sugar. Fuck …I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so damn distracted by a woman. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

Her nostrils flared, and she stepped out of my hold, making her way to the chair she’d set up next to her camera.

“We couldn’t do this at my desk?” I said as I flicked open the button of my suit jacket and sat, doing my best to adjust my stiff cock without her noticing.

She shot me a glare as she fiddled with the camera buttons. “Do you want your future wife to think you’re looking for a prospective business arrangement or a real marriage?”

I started to open my mouth, but she cut me off.

“Don’t answer that.”

“So, first you demand my time to answer all of your questions, and now you’re telling me you don’t want answers?” I taunted, enjoying immensely the deepening color in her cheeks almost as much as the proverbial smoke coming from her ears.

“I do want answers, but only to the following questions,” she declared, smoothing her skirt and rolling her shoulders back.

I leaned back, feigning nonchalance. “Fire away.”

“First, I want you to introduce yourself to the camera. Not Killian Crown, CEO, but just Killian. That will be your warm-up.”

“I don’t need a warm-up.” I tugged at my cuffs, and she gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me.

“Then it will be my warm-up,” she said with a tight smile, poising her finger over the camera and then hitting record.

I held her eyes for long enough to make her start to worry and then turned my attention to the camera.

“Hello. My name is Killian Crown.”

She hardly hit the button before declaring, “No. Too stiff.”

“That was fine?—”

“You look like you have a stick up your ass.”

I gritted my teeth. “No, I don’t?—”

“Take off your jacket.”

I lifted a brow. “If that was what you wanted, you could’ve just asked nicely,” I taunted and stood, enjoying the frown that tugged on her full lips as I shrugged out of my jacket and laid it over the far arm of the couch.

“Okay, let’s try that again,” she said once I was seated, waiting for my nod to hit the button.

“Hello. I’m Killian Crown.”

“No,” she blurted out, not even pushing the button off this time before ruining the take. “You still look like you have a stick up your ass, and you kind of sound like it, too.”

I growled. “Well, then maybe that’s who I am. Maybe I do have a stick up my ass, and maybe I like it.” My mouth snapped shut. Not exactly what I was going for, but I couldn’t take it back now.

Her jaw went slack, and I felt a measure of victory until she came back at me with, “If that’s the case, I’m happy to include that information when we get to the question about sexual preferences, but I prefer to not have to explain that in the introduction.”

We had a two-second stare-down before I caved. “How would you like me to look and sound?”

“Relaxed. Natural. Not like you’re introducing the man about to take over the world.”

“I don’t”—my jaw flexed—“relax.”

Her lips firmed. “Today, you do.” She stood abruptly and came over to me. “Up,” she ordered.

As soon as I stood, she reached for my tie. “What are you doing?” I demanded, grabbing her wrists.

She didn’t back down. “Making you appear more approachable.”

“And if I’m not?” I rasped, feeling her tremble in my hold.

“Well, that’s a problem for a different…day.” She was going to say person.

I released her, channeling my focus to my lower half to keep my dick under control as she tugged off my tie and then reached for the top button of my collar.

I could’ve done it. I could’ve pushed her hands to the side and loosened my shirt around my neck.

But I didn’t want to. Foolishly, I wanted to feel the slight brush of her fingers on my skin.

The way they worked against my Adam’s apple to free the fabric.

I just wanted a little taste of the thing I could never have.

“Better,” she murmured, unable to hide the husk in her voice.

Her eyes lifted to mine, and there was no mistaking the catch in her breath.

“Grace…” Her name sounded like…the very thing I’d never afforded myself after my arguably fatal mistake.

“Okay, now to loosen you up,” she said and took several steps back, pretending to size me up even though I could see the way her heart raced on the side of her neck.

“Isn’t this enough?”

She choked on her attempt to not laugh. “Not even close.”

I rested my hands on my hips and widened my stance. Pretty soon she was going to realize it wasn’t a stick up my ass but a steel rod in the front of my pants that had me all tensed up.

“I agreed to answers, Miss Johnson. Not this song and dance?—”

“That’s it!”

I stilled at her exclamation.