Unbuttoning the CEO (3 page)

W
ith a resigned sigh, Gracie stared at her watch and waited for Nic to arrive. A month ago, he’d walked into LTN and knocked Gracie on her butt. Since then, she’d tried to right herself, but she’d failed. She wished she didn’t look forward to the sight of him so much, but she knew that wish wasn’t going to come true.

He was a regular presence, contributing five to ten hours a week on average, and she looked forward to every minute he spent at LTN. He approached his work with good cheer, and he never complained about the sentence the court had imposed on him.

Nic was a wizard with computers, and the male students loved him. He’d developed an easy camaraderie with them, and despite his obvious computer expertise, he didn’t talk down to them. One student in particular, Jason, bonded with Nic like he was the older brother Jason had always wanted.

He’d also developed a humorous rapport with a trio of elderly clients who’d dubbed themselves the “Gray Ladies.” They took their identity as a unit seriously, and as a unified force they reveled in making Nic uncomfortable whenever possible. He deflected their banter by pretending he couldn’t hear their comments, but his flushed face and small smile revealed that he’d heard every word. Even though she couldn’t see them from where she stood¸ Gracie knew the Gray Ladies were waiting for him with as much anticipation as she was.

She pressed her face against the glass door and surveyed the sidewalk as far as her vision would allow. Behind her, the steady thump of Willa’s cane alerted her that she wasn’t alone.

“What are you standing there for, girl?” Willa asked.

The petite, dark-skinned woman had one hand on her waist and another on her cane. The least feisty of the Gray Ladies was a handful, which meant the other two were a grenade and dynamite rolled into one.

Gracie moved from the front door. “Oh, I’m waiting on a delivery from UPS. I thought it would be here by now.”

“Right,” Willa said. She eyed Gracie like a cat studying its next meal. “I’m on to you, sweetie. I know you’re waiting on that fine hunk of man who’s been gracing us with his presence these past few weeks. Get ahold of yourself.”

Gracie fiddled with the collar of her blouse. “What hunk of a man? Nic?”

Willa wasn’t buying it. “Yes, Nic.”

“Don’t be silly, Willa. Nic and I are just friends.”

“And that’s relevant because?”

“Because it’s a fact.”

Willa turned and began walking to the computer room. “Just because you’re friends doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.”

Gracie ignored the comment and followed Willa’s progress, wanting to make sure the older woman didn’t slip on her way to the room. Willa’s heart was strong, but her body was frail. At times, she joked that all her strength was centered in her heart and her mouth, and her heart would stop beating before her mouth ran out of words.

As Gracie pushed back Willa’s chair, Ms. Rubio slapped her hand on the table to get Gracie’s attention. “Where’s my man?” she asked.

Gracie laughed. “Do you mean Nic? He isn’t yours, you know.”

Ms. Rubio sucked her teeth, sticking her fists in front of her face. “I’ll fight you for him.”

“Now, now, ladies,” said Calliope Brill, the final member of the trio. “Show some decorum, please. Real women don’t fight over men. We fight
with
men, so we can get to the makeup session.”

Gracie imagined Calliope had been a siren in her earlier ears, because she still had the ability to make the senior gentlemen swoon. She guessed Calliope’s hair had been blond once. Today, her strands were a lustrous mix of white and gray.

If Marilyn Monroe had lived to Calliope’s age, she would have looked like Calliope. One of LTN’s gentlemen clients, Mr. Crandon, certainly thought she was the equivalent of a blond bombshell. In fact, he never actually used LTN’s computers. He just sat in front of one and stared at her.

“I was reading last night on my e-reader, bless that thing’s heart,” Calliope said. “And I was finishing a steamy novel where the heroine got into a fight with some tramp over a man, and I thought, ‘
Time’s a wastin’, young lady. Get back to the man . . . that’s where the fun is. Scratch him like a cat.
’”

Gracie burst out laughing, releasing a snort that sounded like a car had backfired. And that’s when Nic walked into the room.

She sobered quickly, and then she enjoyed the flare of awareness in his green eyes when his gaze landed on her. She wasn’t oblivious. She was sure he found her attractive, but he didn’t do anything to indicate he intended to move beyond a heated gaze.

“Well, well,” Willa said. “If it isn’t Superman.” With mischief in her eyes, Willa leaned toward Ms. Rubio. “Able to drop ladies’ unmentionables in a single bound.”

Nic’s face turned red. Willa was
not
an accomplished whisperer.

“Come here, young man,” Calliope said. “A few of my e-reader books mention ‘golden showers,’ and I’m having trouble finding out what it means. I want to know what I’m missing.”

Nic crossed the room and whispered in Calliope’s ear. As she listened, her eyes widened and she frowned. Then she pushed him away. “Well, that’s just disgusting. You young people are disturbed. Sex is simple. It’s a lock and a key—insert and turn, insert and turn, and then insert and turn again until the door opens. There’s no need for all those bells and whistles—and nastiness.”

Nic scratched behind his ear. “I didn’t say I engage in that activity. I’m just telling you what it means.”

Gracie covered her face. It was time to get out of here. “I’ll leave you to your work,” she said. Then she scurried out of the room.

Two hours later, Nic appeared at her office door.

“All done for the evening?” she asked.

He remained near the doorway. “Yes, the Gray Ladies are long gone, and Jason is packing up his stuff. He’s a good kid. Knows a lot about computers. I imagine he’d be even more knowledgeable if he had a computer of his own.”

“His parents work hard, but they can’t afford to purchase a computer for him. He has access to one at school, but he doesn’t have one for homework, and it would take him hours to get access to one at the library.”

“Yeah. I never thought about it that way. Computers are ubiquitous in my world. I take having access to one for granted.”

“Sounds like this community service is having a positive impact on you already.”

Nic shifted from side to side. “So, uh . . . are you heading out for the night?”

“Soon. I worked through lunch, though, so I’m going to grab something to eat first.”

“Could I join you?”

Gracie stared at him. It was a simple question that held no sexual overtones whatsoever. And yet . . . Whenever Nic uttered any word unrelated to computers, Gracie absorbed it as an overture. Her wishful thinking continually defeated her common sense.

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll have to come back to gather my papers for the evening, but we could go to the diner on the corner. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great to me.”

Nic stretched, giving Gracie a glimpse of the taut stomach hidden beneath his sweater. She didn’t see much, but there had to be a six-pack under there. In fact, she was sure of it. At the mere thought, her heart raced. She needed yoga—desperately—because she was anything but calm when Nic was in the vicinity.

Jumping to her feet, Gracie grabbed the jacket draped over her chair and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Let’s go, then.”

She walked ahead of Nic through the dark hall leading to LTN’s front door. The air surrounding them pulsed with restless energy and echoed the jumpiness coursing through her. She didn’t understand her reaction to his presence, but she couldn’t deny it, either. His footsteps summoned thoughts of the muscles in his powerful thighs. His steady breathing conjured images of his mouth against her ear. Dammit. She was too young for hot flashes, wasn’t she?

Lost in her thoughts, she’d almost reached the front door when she remembered the alarm. Stopping abruptly at the security panel a few feet from the door, Gracie reached out to set the alarm. The unexpected move caused Nic’s chest to slam into her back. His arms circled her waist to steady her. Gracie stilled, unwilling to move away for a moment. She couldn’t be blamed for appreciating his touch, could she?

“Oh, gosh,” she said. “Sorry. I need to set the alarm.”

Nic inhaled deeply and released her. “Sure.”

He shifted out of her way and Gracie set the alarm. When she motioned for him to precede her out the door, he did so without looking at her.

The diner was deserted on this pleasant day in mid-September. Now that the worst of the sweltering heat of August had passed, most Washingtonians were enjoying dinner
al fresco
. Gracie wanted something quick and gluttonous, though, and the diner served the best chocolate milkshake she’d ever tasted. Her craving for one would not be denied.

As they claimed a booth, a waitress in a crisp black-and-white uniform waved to them from behind the long counter. “Be right there, folks,” she called.

The cherry red laminate crackled as they settled into their seats. The booth was fitted with a retro jukebox that promised tunes from the sixties, seventies, and eighties for just a quarter a pop.

Seconds later, their waitress, a middle-aged woman with a shock of red hair, handed them their menus. “Good evening, folks. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

Gracie didn’t have to think about it. “A chocolate milkshake, please.”

“Good choice,” the waitress said as she handed them their menus. A blush spread across the woman’s cheeks as her gaze swept over Nic.
I know the feeling, sister.
The waitress snuck a glance at Gracie and inclined her head in Nic’s direction. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same and a glass of water.” He perused the menu and set it aside. “What’s good here?” he asked Gracie.

“In truth, I come for the milkshakes. But you can’t order a milkshake without also ordering a cheeseburger. That’s Diner 101, right?”

“I like your way of thinking,” Nic said. “I’ll have whatever she’s having, please.”

So Gracie ordered for them both.

“You got it,” the waitress said. “Be right back with your milkshakes.”

“Care to make a selection?” Gracie asked as she pointed to the jukebox.

“I’ll spring for the selection, but you should make it,” he said as he reached into his pocket. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy answer. ‘At Last’ by Etta James.”

“Excellent choice.”

“Three-three-four-two,” Gracie said.

Nic’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Definitely a favorite, I see.” He punched in the numbers.

After a pause, the music began, and Etta James’s voice filled the booth. Gracie’s face warmed when she listened to the words. They were beautiful. But maybe this wasn’t the right song to play in a small booth with a man she didn’t know very well. One she was clearly attracted to. Would he think she was fantasizing about him? Oh, God, he probably did. She wanted to dive under the table to hide her embarrassment.

Nic simply watched her. The ghost of a smile hinted at his amusement, but then his face fell, and Gracie wondered where his thoughts had led him.

The waitress, with two milkshakes in hand, hovered near their table. When the music stopped, she placed the milkshakes on the table. “Your burgers will be right out. First date, folks?”

Gracie wanted to die. Right then. No funeral. No eulogy. Just a quick, painless death and an express ticket to a beautifully decorated urn. Gracie tried to laugh it off, but she jabbered instead. “Oh, no, no, no. We’re just friends. We work together. Well, not for long. He’s helping me. Yeah, no.” She grabbed her shake and scooped some of it with a spoon, hoping for a few seconds to recover.

Realizing her mistake, the waitress rushed off.

Nic smiled, and then his voice filled the painfully awkward void. “I’ve been wondering about something you told me last week.”

Gracie struggled to suck the thick milkshake through the straw. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You mentioned your father. Something about him expecting you to come back to New York.”

Gracie rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. Well, my father’s a proponent of
machismo
. In his mind, women are meant to take care of the home. Men are meant to provide for their families. Women are ruled by their passions. Men are ruled by pragmatism. He doesn’t applaud my professional aspirations. To him, they’re a waste. I should have been married years ago. And I should be raising his grandbabies by now.”

Nic swirled his straw through the milkshake. “That must be tough. Trying to establish yourself, knowing he doesn’t approve.”

Gracie shrugged. It
was
tough. But she’d never complained about her father’s mind-set to anyone other than her mother and her sister. Loyalty prevented her from sharing this aspect of her family dynamic to others. Nic, however, seemed genuinely curious. And his expression held no trace of judgment.

“I’m used to it,” she said after a beat. “Anyway, my mother always rolled her eyes—behind my father’s back, of course—and he’d never interfere with my career choices.”

“How’d you pay for college?” Nic didn’t give her a chance to respond before backtracking. “Sorry. That was way too personal.”

Gracie shook her head. “No, no. I don’t mind. My sister, Karen, and I received scholarships. The rest we paid through student loans. Lots and lots of student loans. And despite his bluster, my dad helped when he could. He’s not an ogre. Just a tad old-fashioned.”

“My guess is he’s secretly proud of you. I don’t know any man who wouldn’t be. You’ve accomplished a lot in a short time.”

Gracie basked in his admiration. A compliment about her looks?
No, thank you.
A compliment about her accomplishments?
Yes, please.
“My father’s right about a few things, though. I want a simple life. A job I love. Two or three kids. And I’d love to come home to a husband who’d cook for me. Someday.”

Nic frowned, and Gracie again wished to dive under the table. What the hell was wrong with her? “Oh, gosh,” she sputtered. “Listen to me. I’m talking way too much.” Her face burned from the embarrassment.
Abort, abort, abort
, she told herself. “So, I know you mentioned you grew up in Pennsylvania. Siblings?”