“Had a lot on my mind.”

“You should have been sleeping like a baby last night,” I tell him, teasing. “You worked a miracle yesterday.”

“We worked a miracle,” he murmurs, looking me over.

He studies my bust again. He did it when I was walking to his car from the hotel and I’m pretty sure I felt his eyes on my ass when we were boarding the Maverick. The Maverick is what he named his jet.

“I guess I can’t blame you either. I was up working late. I wanted to be sure everything was on board. I want the contracts ready for them to sign before they can even bat an eyelash.”

“So you’re trying to trap them?” He quirks a brow, meeting my eyes.

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Not at all. More like… let them know they’re making the right choice with us. No one can put up a better deal. If anyone tries to cut it as close as we did they’ll be losing more than they put out.”

He watches me for a moment, and I think I’ve said something wrong, that is until a subtle smile steals his lips.

“You’re really good at this, you know?” he says. “Really good. Maybe too good. I think I can vouch by saying that you may be a bit better than your brother at this whole stock thing.”

“Of course I am. I wanted to do this more than Scott. I pretty much showed him the ins and outs of this business. Scott just looks at it as easy money and with my help he gets it. Believe it or not, but I watched my father work more than he thought I did. I listened to his calls, figured out how he handled himself and his business. He never took big leaps—never gave a promise he couldn’t keep. I believe in trust and loyalty… another reason I told Scott to contact you. You are very trustworthy.”

“Is that what you think?”

“I’ve heard nothing but great things.” I press my lips to form a smile.

He pulls off the same expression, watching me for several seconds before returning his attention to his laptop screen.

My smile transforms into a grin as I pick up my contract papers again.

“If there’s one thing you should be sure of when it comes to me, Miss Clark, it’s that I do keep my word. My word is my bond. If I make a promise, I am guaranteed to keep it.”

“Is that so?”

He nods, brown eyes hard now. Serious.

“Luckily, Mr. Boyd, I don’t have a hard time believing it.”

SIX

Griffin

The meeting with Quarter went surprisingly well. They had many questions—questions I already had the answers to—but there was no need to answer them because my associate was truly spectacular.

Angelina stepped into the conference room without fear, the only female sitting at the round oak table full of older men, and answering every question with common courtesy.

She was far from impatient, and when it came down to handing the contracts out, the men were eager to jot their signatures down.

She is incredible.

She knows the job and she knows it all too well.

She’s a great asset.

Smart. Witty. Kind.

She knows how to make a person feel welcome.

I laugh inside, thinking I may be in a little competition here.

“That was something, huh?” she asks as we step into the elevator. I press the button for the lobby, nodding and tossing a quick wave at Bob at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, that was something.” The doors close gradually.

“They trust us. I don’t think it would have gone so well with Neil here.”

“Probably not,” I laugh.

When we hit the lobby, I walk towards the double doors, checking my cellphone on the way. I have a call from my father-in-law again. Damn it. What in the hell does he want?

“Shit,” I hear Angelina hiss. I stop my walk, glancing over my shoulder to look at her. She’s staring ahead at the exit.

“Angelina, what is it?” I ask.

She bobs her head forward. “Got an umbrella?”

I turn forward, brows drawn together. When I see it’s pouring cats and dogs outside, I shake my head and press my lips.

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes the velvety night sky. The word shit is right.

“Damn.” I take a look around the lobby. A woman is at the front desk, clicking away at her keyboard. Walking towards Angelina, I murmur, “Wait here,” before going towards the desk.

The woman sees me coming and straightens up immediately. She tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear, her cheeks blazing more and more with each step I take.

With a suave smile, I lean over the desk, tilting my head as I ask, “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra umbrella, would you?”

“Not from around here?” she asks, but I already know she knows. “You can’t be because people saw this storm coming from miles away. We need the rain around here.”

“I heard about the drought.” I look her over. She’s dressed so simply. A blue dress beneath a grey cardigan, flats instead of heels. Her red hair is like straw, face smothered in freckles.

“Well, it’s just your luck, sir. We have a lost and found bin right in that back room. We’re technically not supposed to just hand the lost stuff away, the moral policy and all, but I’m pretty sure I saw your ‘missing’ umbrella back there.”

“Could you be a doll and check for me?” I ask, playing along with her.

She grins. “Sure.

She takes off, dashing for the backroom while fiddling with her keys at the lock.

I lean an elbow on the counter and look towards Angelina. She’s shaking her head, a soft smile on her lips. Can she hear the game I’m spinning?

I drop my head and laugh. This will be fun to discuss later.

It doesn’t take more than thirty seconds for the redhead to pop back up behind the desk with a large black umbrella in hand. She gives it to me, purposely brushing her hand across mine. “There you go. Make sure you stay dry. Personally, I hate getting wet.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I note. “For me, the wetter, the better.” I throw a wink her way and thank her for the umbrella, watching a blush creep from her neck to her face. Turning and walking towards Angelina, I dangle the umbrella and ask, “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yep, Mr. Player.”

Chuckling, I walk towards the glass doors. Unstrapping the umbrella, I shoot it open and allow Angelina to get under before I do.

There is a cab already waiting, one we called in advance.

Sticking close to Angelina, my hand casually tight around her middle to save her from the rain, we dash across the sidewalk together, listening to the heavy sound of water pelting down on the umbrella.

I swing the back door open and Angelina ducks in, sliding across the backseat. I follow suit, sitting down before closing the umbrella and dropping it on the floor of the cab.

When the door slams shut behind me, the driver asks, “Where to?”

“Torrey Pines airport please.” I hope the flight is still on. My pilot hasn’t called it off yet.

The driver looks back with a frown. “Private airport? I don’t think any planes will be taking flight tonight, sir.”

I frown ahead.

“Look around, “Angelina says. I glance at her. “This is a bad storm, Griffin. Really bad.” Just as she says that, lightning strikes the sky and she gives me a wary smile.

I return my attention to the driver and he nods, giving me a complacent shrug. “I can take you to the airport but you will probably be sitting there all night until the bad weather passes.”

“No, no,” I blow a breath, head shaking. “Just… take us to the nearest hotel.”

“The Roundhouse is beautiful. It has a southern feel to it, but I love it. Great food too. And a pretty nice bar.” Angelina winks in my direction.

“How far?” I ask the driver.

“From here, I’d say about twenty minutes. Add five more with the rain and traffic.”