a laugh, Grant helped her out of the chair. Didn’t she understand? He always won.
Chapter Two
With considerable pleasure, Emily Winters watched Ariana and her new attorney exit the building together. She felt like that legendary Samaritan performing the good deed for the day. Grant, with his take-charge attitude and legal genius, would look after sweet Ariana. If anyone could squeeze support out of that deadbeat fiancé, Grant could.
With a contented smile she headed for Carmella’s office. As vice president of Global Sales, Emily had plenty to do, but if Carmella wanted to see her, something important concerning their “secret project” must have developed.
“Have you read this?” Carmella asked as soon as Emily entered her office. Displaying the cover of a romance novel, she then pressed the book to her bosom. “This story is so romantic. Just like Matt and Sarah.”
“Everything did work out for the best with those two, didn’t it?” Regardless of Emily’s discomfort with the whole idea of matchmaking, once the brainy accountant noticed his sweet, innocent secretary there was no stopping the inevitable.
“Ah, if only the others were so easy.” Carmella lay aside the book and tilted her head, salt and pepper hair catching the gleam of light. “So, is Grant Lawson to be the next lucky bachelor?”
“Grant? Oh, you mean with Ariana?” Emily shook her head. “The idea never crossed my mind. When I heard Ariana crying in the bathroom and discovered the reason why, my heart broke for her.”
“So, this is not part of our plan to see another of your father’s bachelor employees joined in happy matrimony?”
Emily sighed. Ever since Carmella had come to her with the distressing news that her father wanted her to marry yet another of the firm’s bachelors, she’d been forced into the uncomfortable roll of matchmaker. If she didn’t find wives for Wintersoft’s eligible men, her father would publicly embarrass himself and everyone else by prodding the bachelors in her direction. He’d done that once already, and the resulting marriage and divorce had left Emily willing to do most anything, right down to prying into other people’s affairs, to avoid suffering that humiliation again. She knew her father well and once he got an idea in his head, he was like a dog on a bone. Anything she might say to try to change his mind was wasted breath, so she had no choice but to resort to playing the reluctant matchmaker.
“No, Carmella, I’m not setting Ariana and Grant up with each other. Ariana really needs Grant’s help.”
“And you really need Grant to find a wife.”
“Other than me.”
“Exactly.”
Carmella patted her hand. “Your father loves you very much, Emily. He only wants your happiness.”
“And ten or twelve grandchildren.”
Carmella laughed. “Would one or two be so bad?”
“Someday maybe, but not now. Until he realizes that I can run this company as good as any man, my career is my primary focus. I know my father loves me, and I adore him, too, but he has a blind spot where I’m concerned. As long as one male employee remains unattached, he’s a candidate for my hand in marriage.” Her father would see to that. “And on that note, how is the research going on the remaining bachelors?”
“Nothing at all on Jack Devon.” Two lines formed between Carmella’s eyebrows as she studied the computer screen. “He’s a rather mysterious creature.”
“What about the very British and ultrahandsome Brett Hamilton? Maybe we should research him next.”
“Whatever we do, we’d better hurry. How much longer can you keep your father believing that story about your new beau?”
Emily gnawed her lip, truly worried. If her father found out that her latest boyfriend was actually her dear and completely gay friend, Stephen, he’d be back in action, pressing his unmarried employees to pursue her. And she planned to make sure that never happened again.
Ariana followed Grant through the cool, dim belly of the building into the parking garage, her sensible flats echoing against the concrete. With legs twice as long as hers, Grant slowed his gait to accommodate her much slower pace. Given the cargo she carried, the gesture warmed her, though she imagined Grant Lawson always did the proper thing in any situation.
“Here we are.” He raised a key ring and pointed. Security system disengaged and locks snicked open on a gleaming bronze Lexus.
Ariana tried not to gape. She should have expected him to drive a fancy car, but she’d never ridden in one before. Neither her blue-collar roots, nor her current salary included such luxuries.
Grant proceeded her, opened the door, and gently settled her into the seat before pressing the door closed with a quiet click. Even if Benjy had remembered to open the door, he would have slammed her skirt in it. Or maybe her hand. And then groused about how women wanted to be liberated, but still expected a man to wait on them hand and foot. Yeah, right. As if Benjy had ever brought her so much as a glass of water.
Her brain caught on the thought. Grant, only a workplace acquaintance, had instinctively brought her a drink of water and offered her a ride home. He’d shown her more kindness and courtesy in the last half hour than Benjy had in over a year of dating. What an idiot she’d been.
Keenly aware of her pathetic taste in the opposite sex, Ariana slithered down into the seat. She’d beaten herself up enough for one day, and so, for the moment, she forced the thought away and wallowed in the luxury of Grant’s Lexus. Soft, luxurious ivory leather. Real walnut wood trim. And a dashboard with so many gadgets and computers, she’d almost swear the car could fly.
Grant slid into the driver’s seat, subtly mixing his expensive sandalwood scent with the smell of fine leather. The engine hummed to life at his touch and the glorious vehicle whispered out of the parking space.
As they pulled onto the crowded street, Grant slipped a pair of designer sunglasses into place, effectively covering his stunning blue eyes.
Though the seats were butter soft, Ariana squirmed to find a comfortable position. Having two babies in a space made for one didn’t leave a mom much room.
She rubbed a hand down one side, pushing someone’s foot out of the way as an upbeat country tune issued from the sound system. Alan Jackson sang about driving his first car.
“You’re a country music fan?”
“Um-hmm.” Grant maneuvered the car around an exhaust belching bus. “Why? Surprised?”
“Somehow you don’t seem the type.”
“I have fairly eclectic taste.” He motioned to a CD case. “Take a look. Choose what you like.”
She flipped through the stacks, finding every conceivable type of music. Classics, jazz, rock, country, Gaelic.
“This is quite a variety.”
“I aim to please.” He draped a wrist over the leather-clad steering wheel. A shaft of October sunlight reflected off his Rolex.
