was the money, Lanie had decided. The reason she hadn’t already quit.
Thanks to Teagan’s creativity with her CV, and her ability so far to fudge her way through the job, she was earning almost twice what she had at the swim school. And she needed the money so she could move out of her mother’s place as soon as possible—before she and Sienna returned from Europe, preferably.
That was the only reason she was here. Nothing to do with that morning on the beach.
Lanie nodded tightly. ‘I’ve got a car waiting for us.’ She gestured with her spare hand in its direction, and to the driver idling illegally in the clearway. Grayson opened his mouth, but Lanie jumped in before he could get a word out. ‘The laptop, projector and business specs are on the back seat.’
In response his eyebrows rose, just slightly. ‘Good,’ he said.
Again Lanie bit her lip. How about a thank-you, huh?
She pivoted on her heel and strode towards the car.
Remember the money. Remember the money. Remember the—
The toe of her shoe caught on something and Lanie stumbled. But before she had much time to register that the grey pavers of the footpath were rapidly becoming closer her descent was suddenly halted.
Grayson’s arm was strong and solid and warm around her waist. In an effortless movement he pulled her upwards and towards him, so she was pressed against his impeccably suited body.
She tilted her chin to look up at him.
He caught her gaze—really caught it—and for a moment Lanie was completely speechless.
His eyes weren’t just grey—they were flecked with blue. And with his face now arranged in concern, not hard with tension, he was somehow—impossibly—even more handsome.
Of course she already knew he was gorgeous. To pretend otherwise would be ridiculous. And, frustratingly, beautiful people didn’t become less beautiful simply by their unlikeable behaviour.
Less attractive, though. They did become less attractive. He’d proved that, that day on the beach. And each day since then.
But right now Grayson did not seem unattractive. Right now, with the subtle scent of his aftershave and the warmth of his arm and body confusing her, he was anything but.
The side of her body he touched...no everywhere he touched, reacted to him. Electricity flooded through her.
‘You okay?’
Because it was all she could manage, she simply nodded mutely.
He took a step away from her and amazingly she had the presence of mind not to follow him. She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders back, and rebalanced on her own two feet.
She realised she was gripping her coffee cup hard enough to slightly crumple the cardboard, and made herself loosen her grip.
Then he smiled. It was a subtle expression—far from broad—but it was the first Grayson Manning smile she’d witnessed.
Once again her ability to form words evaporated.
He covered the short distance to the car and opened the door for her.
She slipped past him, not catching his gaze. With every moment she was increasingly aware that she really needed to pull herself together.
If she was going to keep working for Grayson she needed to erase completely from her subconscious even the smallest skerrick of romantic daydreams involving her boss.
Obviously the agency would not approve.
Secondly she—Lanie—did not approve. She might not have extensive experience in the corporate world, but even she knew getting involved with your boss was...well, pretty dumb.
And thirdly, Grayson was not about to be overcome by lust when it came to Lanie Smith.
Lanie’s lips quirked up at the idea of Grayson arriving at her front door to take her out to dinner. It was laughable.
She settled into the soft leather of the back seat as Grayson closed her door, and moments later he was sliding into the car from the opposite side.
Lanie took a good long gulp of her coffee, hoping that the addition of caffeine would help get her brain back to speed.
She fully expected Grayson to flip open his laptop as the car pulled way, or to make another one of his seemingly endless phone calls. But instead he turned towards her.
He cleared his throat, the sound unexpected and awkward in the quiet vehicle.
‘Thank you for the coffee,’ he said gruffly.
Lanie shot a look in his direction, not immediately sure she’d heard him correctly.
But his expression was genuine. Not quite contrite—that wouldn’t be Grayson Manning—but still...
‘Not a problem, Grayson.’
He nodded, then glanced away through his darkly tinted window at the passing traffic.
Without looking at her, he spoke again.
‘You can call me Gray.’
* * *
The beach was near deserted the following morning. Gray’s bare feet smacked rhythmically against the wet sand, his progress only occasionally punctuated with a splash when the waves stretched across his path.
Luther was well ahead of Gray, having abandoned his ball to begin enthusiastically digging a hole to China. Beyond Luther rocky fingers of coastline stretched into the ocean, and distant cranes for hoisting shipping containers formed blurry silhouettes against the sky.
It was cool—it was only July after all—and all but the most dedicated swimmers had abandoned the beach on such a dull and overcast day.
But today Gray needed to run.
Maybe he’d hoped the bite of the frigid air in his lungs would help. Or, more likely, it was that heavy ache in his legs that he craved.
Because out here he was in control. He could run as far as he wanted—further even than his body wanted to go.
And Gray liked being in control. He was used to it. Expected it.
He was in control of everything he did in both his business and his private life. He knew what he was doing and could plan with absolute confidence how things were going to work out.
By Gray’s reckoning, his father’s retirement should be no more than a blip on Manning’s radar—after all, it had been many years since Gordon Manning had spearheaded a project. For the past five years Gray had been Manning’s CEO in all but name. So Gordon’s retirement was nothing more than a formality. Nothing would change except he’d eventually have to repurpose his dad’s offices.
That was how it was supposed to be happening.
It
