Unbound (20 page)

Jonathan makes an involuntary hand gesture. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Alexander notices and changes the subject.

“I spoke to Sarah this morning,” he explains and a smile appears on his face. “She says she’s taking the earlier flight after all.”

Oh, I think. Jonathan’s sister is on her way back from Rome then.

“But I can’t drive to the airport right now,” Jonathan says, annoyed. The change of plan clearly surprises him. “I’ve got some more appointments this morning. And we wanted to discuss something too.”

“She says you don’t have to pick her up. Your father will take care of it,” Alexander replies.

Jonathan makes a face. He doesn’t seem to like that at all. “
I
wanted to do that.”

Alexander shrugs his shoulders. “Me too. But she said she’ll be in touch later, and will meet us then.”

“Us?” Jonathan smiles for the first time since he appeared in the doorway and suddenly seems more relaxed. “Since when are you allowed to tag along when I meet up with my little sister? And why couldn’t she tell me all this herself?”

Alexander grins. “I called her and she was in a hurry because she wanted to catch the plane, so she asked me to let you know. And I’ll be at the meeting whether you like it or not,” he declares and goes back into his office, after giving me one more friendly smile.

“You’re a hopeless case,” Jonathan shouts after him, before turning round again. When he sees me, his smile disappears. He says something to Catherine Shepard, but my heart is beating so loudly that I can’t understand it properly. It must have been an instruction, though, because she gets up and goes toward the elevator, though not till she’s examined me condescendingly once more.

But I don’t have time to think about her further because now Jonathan is giving me his full attention.

“Grace?” It’s a Jonathan-style demand, not a request but, as always, an order to come with him. I follow him on wobbly legs. He’s standing further inside the doorway as I approach him, observing me attentively. I see that his gaze is caught by my newly cut hair and then strays to the neckline of my dress, where his eyes rest on my breasts for a long moment. My breath falters and the tips of my breasts stand upright, pressing against the thin material. When he lifts his head again and looks me in the eye, I can feel the blood spreading from my neck into my cheeks—and it has nothing to do with embarrassment.

My hands are shaking when I reach him and I scrunch them into fists, pressing my fingernails into my palms so I’m not tempted to touch him. Which I really want to. He just has that effect on me. Jonathan steps aside, letting me enter his office, and closes the door. But he doesn’t go straight to his desk, as I was expecting, but stands still, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me in that way that makes me grow even warmer.

His muscles are visible beneath the fabric of the dark gray shirt he’s wearing today and his hair, which is lying thickly over his forehead, looks even blacker than usual by contrast with the unusual gray color. But it’s his eyes that attract my gaze, as if by magic. There’s something flickering in them, which I now know how to interpret: it’s desire.

Breathe, Grace, I think, staring at him because I just can’t help myself. My brain seems to have just been waiting for this moment in order to replay the images of our morning together in his house—in the kitchen and in his bed. The tension between us in the air is clearly palpable and for a moment, I don’t know what to do. “Your hair looks different.” His deep voice sounds surprised. I touch the ends uneasily. “Yes. I …was at the hairdresser’s.”

“It suits you,” he says, and I’m so relieved, I smile at him.

What did Hope say? Just let it happen. I wish I were as easy-going as she is. But I’m not, because I’m already in this whole thing way too deep. I’ve never felt anything for a man even remotely similar to what I feel for Jonathan. And I’ve never in my life been so uncertain about how to behave. I want to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. I’m pretty sure I’d better not, although I can’t think of an alternative.

I know one thing, though: if he sends me away now after all, it will take me a really long time to get over it.

I’m suddenly afraid that really is what he wants to say to me—that he’s changed his mind and wants to end my internship after all_so I search for something to ask him, to fill the silence between us …and decide on what I can still remember from a few minutes ago.

“So …your sister is coming back from Rome today?”

He seems surprised by the question. He nods. “That’s why I haven’t accepted any appointments for this afternoon. Only to discover that Sarah is arriving early and letting my father pick her up.” His annoyance is obvious.

“You could pick her up with him, together,” I say and regret it immediately, when he gives me a ferocious look.

That’s obviously not possible. I remember Alexander’s remark that Jonathan always reacts with extreme hostility when it’s about his father. And I ask myself once more why that is—and whether I’ll ever find out the reason.

A jolt passes through his body, as if he had to force himself to move again. He crosses the room with long steps till he reaches his desk. I follow him, putting my bag down on the table in front of the couch on the way, because I assume that it will be my workstation for today. When I reach his desk, however, Jonathan doesn’t sit down himself, indicating his chair with his hand instead. I’m obviously supposed to sit down in his seat.

When I reluctantly sink down onto the big chair, he places a hand on a pile of papers. “Those are the files on the Hackney project,” he explains. “I would like you to draw up a new cost report so we can compare the extent of the budget overruns. I will need a diagram of the costs, as well as a prognosis of future developments.” He stops and raises his eyebrows. “Do you think you can manage that?”

I nod, speechless for a moment. Up till now, I’ve only been allowed to accompany him to appointments, without taking any part in discussions whatsoever. I wrote a report now and again and, of course, we discussed the projects afterwards, when we were alone together. But I’ve never been allowed to really take an active role, so although this task could be seen as the next logical step, it’s actually a tremendous opportunity. I just don’t know how I should interpret it right now. Am I being allowed to do this because we’ve become closer and he suddenly trusts me more? Or does he somehow want to keep me busy because he doesn’t know how to deal with me now?

Whatever the reason, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to show him what I’m professionally capable of, under any circumstances—so I nod.

“Of course I can manage that,” I declare.

“Good. You can work here.” He bends over me to click on a spreadsheet program on his laptop and I can smell his cologne, which raises my heart rate noticeably. But he withdraws almost immediately and moves to the door. “I’m going to talk to Alex for a moment. I’ll be right back.”

I watch him go then I start dealing with the figures and, since I’m already very familiar with the Hackney building project, it doesn’t take me long to find the relevant data. I begin to sketch the diagram, but I can’t really concentrate and it takes me longer than expected. But Jonathan’s conversation seems to drag on for a long time, so I’m finished anyway by the time he returns, after much longer than an hour.

He bends over my chair again, examining the results on the monitor. My heart is beating faster again because he’s so close to me.

“Good work,” he says. “That’s exactly how I envisaged it.”

“Thanks.”

Our eyes meet and for a moment the world stands still. I drown in those wonderful blue eyes, noticing their dark sprinkles, which you can only make out if you get this close, and asking myself why this all has to be so complicated. If it were up to me, it would be really simple.

“Don’t look at me like that, Grace,” Jonathan says, and his voice sounds sombre. Like a warning. “You’d better not be wishing what you’re wishing right now.”

“How do you know what I’m wishing?” I ask, surprised.

The corners of his mouth lift to reveal the shamelessly attractive tooth with the missing corner.

“Because it’s easy to tell. But I already told you. It was an exception and we shouldn’t repeat it.”

“OK.” I inhale deeply and go on staring at him, not knowing what to say in reply. I don’t want to beg him if it’s pointless. But I can’t deny what he’s insinuating. Because there really is nothing I long for more fervently than for him to make another exception. At least once more. “And if I wish it anyway?” “Grace, you are …” He pushes himself off from the desk and goes around it, as if he urgently needs to put some distance between us, and then examines me from the other side of the desk for a long time. There’s anger in his eyes but also a kind of helplessness which astonishes and moves me. Because, for the very first time, the self-assured Jonathan Huntington looks insecure.

Then he lets out a sigh that sounds more like a groan and shakes his head. “This isn’t what I had planned,” he says, more to himself than me. My ears prick up.

“Planned?” What’s he talking about?

He balls his hands up into fists and remains silent for so long that I think he’s not going to answer me at all. When he finally does, there’s a new hardness in his eyes.

“I’ve already made more than one exception for you, Grace, and I shouldn’t have. Right from the start. It was …a mistake. But I just wasn’t prepared for the effect you have on me.”

My heart is beating faster, from excitement and arousal. “Me neither,” I say. “I mean, I wouldn’t have thought you would …have this effect on me.”

He laughs aloud, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Grace, you shouldn’t tell me what effect I have on you, you should take your opportunity and leave.” He looks as if he’s about to clench his teeth. “Go back to the investment department, to Annie French, do your internship there, the way it was planned from the beginning and remember our company fondly when you’re back in Chicago.”

His words hurt me. He’s not serious, is he? I look at him in shock.

“Because if you stay here and look at me like that again,” he continues and his gaze smoulders and begin to burn, “then you’ll get what you want. But you need to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

My heart is beating wildly, suddenly full of hope again. I sustain his gaze.

“What am I getting myself into then?”

“For the fact that it’s just an affair, nothing else. And even that’s a concession. I don’t belong to you and I don’t expect you to belong to me. We’ll just have sex. A lot of sex. For as long as we’re both having fun.” He fixes me with a penetrating gaze. “I’m no Prince Charming, Grace, and there’s no ‘happily ever after’ with me. If you’re expecting something like that, you’re going to get hurt—but it won’t be my concern.”

“And what makes you think I’m expecting that?”

He comes back and bends over the desk, placing his hands on it. Our faces are very close.

“Because you’re young and inexperienced, that’s why. Because you look at me with your big green eyes and just assume that everything is the way you’d like it to be.” He gives a slightly wry smile and breathes out heavily. This time it definitely sounds like a sigh. “Which is probably exactly why I have such difficulty resisting you.”

I breathe in his wonderful masculine scent, now so familiar to me, feeling intoxicated by the fact that I, nondescript little Grace Lawson, suddenly have so much power over the unbelievably attractive Jonathan Huntington that he’s prepared to break his rules for me. To break them again. Perhaps very often. The muscles in my lower body contract expectantly at the thought.

And he’s completely right, I think, without taking my eyes off him. I’m young and inexperienced—and totally in love with him. And I definitely want more than sex from him. I want him—I want to get to know him, I want to find out everything about him. I want to find out why this wonderful, charismatic, sometimes crazily arrogant but always unbelievably attractive man won’t let anyone get close to him. And I really, really don’t want to have lost all chance to get close to him myself.

So I beam at him happily, even though my heart is agitated and beating a little anxiously. “Then don’t,” I say. “Don’t resist me.”

He looks at me quizzically, as if he were looking for something in my eyes. Then he sighs and I’m not sure if he sounds tortured or relieved. “All right, then. We’ll extend the scope of the duties associated with the internship a little from today,” he says, and an expectant shiver runs down my spine as he presses the intercom button.

“Catherine, cancel the meeting with the department heads. And the follow-up discussion. I’ve got things to do here.”

As he says it, his eyes are resting on me and I can scarcely breathe when I realize that he’s serious. We’re going to have sex again. Right away.

Before I can say anything, Jonathan goes around the desk and takes my hands. He pulls me up and pushes me backwards till I feel the cold glass wall at my back. Then he pushes me against it, with my arms up. Then he lets his hands slide down over my body.

“I’ve got a great deal of work to do here, in fact,” he whispers, with a promising sparkle in his eyes.

“Jonathan,” I say breathlessly, as he bends forward and I feel his lips on my neck and then the tip of his tongue following a hot trail down to my collarbone, while his hands hold my breasts. “We can’t do it here. Your secretary could come in at any moment.”

“Do you want it or don’t you, Grace?” he asks, continuing to kiss my neck and massage my breasts. Both things feel so good and arousing that I stand there in front of the glass with my arms raised and don’t put up a struggle.

“I want it,” I breath. “But should we really do it here? Isn’t that—unusual?”

He lifts his head and laughs. “No more unusual than my kitchen table or the counter.” His voice is dusky with longing and seems to stroke me like a caress. “Besides, I’ve been picturing it, ever since I saw you in that dress earlier. And I’ve already thought about it a number of times.”