“Grant—”
“Doesn’t matter now,” he said, cutting her off. “They’ve managed just fine without me. My younger brother and sister are running the farm these days.”
Charli could tell he wanted to close the subject, but it took all she could not to press more. His guilt was so palpable it was like cigarette smoke filling the cab of the truck—acrid and invasive. She stared out the window, watching the sun sink below the horizon and the city lights come into view in the distance. “Are you going to the wedding?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He groaned. “Are you always this relentless, freckles?”
“Yes,” she said without apology.
He put the blinker on and merged onto the interstate. “Because I don’t go home.”
The stark statement was like a door slamming shut and locking. You’re not welcome here, Ms. Beaumonde. She sighed and leaned against the seat, closing her eyes. It was going to be a long few miles before they made it to their destination.
After leaving the truck with a valet, Grant took Charli’s elbow and gathered her close to his side. Somehow even in a tailored suit, he smelled like the country air. She had the urge to burrow against him and absorb his scent.
He nodded to a path that looped around the side of the events hall. “Looks like the party is out back. They like to have everything in the gardens when it’s warm enough.”
She nodded, her nerves starting to creep in. “Okay.”
“I want you to relax and have a good time, but try to focus on the things we’re working on. Pretend this is a dry run for your upcoming audition.” He ran his fingers along her spine, sending chill bumps through her. “Be polite. But don’t be afraid to talk or be yourself. You’re a smart woman with a lot to say. Charm these stuffy bastards.”
She laughed. “I’ll do my best. Though it feels a little awkward posing as your date just so we can train.”
He turned her toward him, cupping her shoulders and pinning her with his gaze. “Listen to me. You’re not posing as anything. And you’re not here as my submissive. You’re my date—my smoking-hot, makes-me-hard-just-looking-at-her date. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side tonight.”
Her neck went warm, and she glanced over at another couple strolling a few feet away, hoping they couldn’t overhear what Grant was saying.
“You walk into this party knowing that you look fantastic, that you’re going to make my colleagues wish they were me, and that I’m probably not going to be the only one imagining you in just those boots.”
She bit her lip, heat gathering much, much lower than her face now. Her panties went damp against her skin. “Yes, sir.”
She put her hand to her mouth, surprised the response had rolled off her tongue so instinctively.
His eyes went almost black in the moonlight, and he smiled. “Oh, darlin’, now you’ve really got me tempted to take you back to the truck and forget this whole plan.” His arms slid from her shoulders down along her arms. “But I’m a man of my word, so let’s get moving before my baser instincts veto my nobler ones.”
She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to quell the surge of need rising in her. How was it that with a few simple words, this man could turn her sideways? She had every intention of telling Grant tonight that things were getting too intense, that they needed to back off. But right now, she was having an exceptionally hard time accepting that he’d never touch her that way again, never command her, that she would never visit that blissful place of surrender he’d brought her to.
Grant’s hand closed around hers, and he turned them toward the path. “Come on, Charlotte. Let’s go play nice.”
Grant could barely concentrate on the conversations as he circulated around the gardens, introducing Charli and making small talk with friends and colleagues. He’d offered her a stiff drink when they’d first come in to help soften her nerves, and since then, she’d become downright effervescent. The girl could speak on almost any topic. Talking sports was her obvious favorite, but she was well schooled on current events, politics, and the city. The people he introduced her to seemed captivated and kept giving Grant approving looks. He’d even gotten a shoulder pat from the stodgy, retired CEO of a local restaurant chain and a whispered, “That one’s a keeper, son.”
The only time Charli had faltered was when a senator’s wife asked her who had designed her dress. After a moment’s hesitation, Charli had smiled and said she had no idea, that it was a gift and that she was fashion-challenged. The woman had laughed and confessed she’d found her own outfit at a consignment store.
As the night went on, Grant became more and more perplexed as to why Charli was having any issues at her job. Sure, he could tell that she was a little more deliberate in the heeled boots, a little more aware of the way her dress moved when she sat. But other than that, he didn’t see any of the awkward tomboy image she was so worried she had. He’d been training her on a few things but knew that he hadn’t provided some metamorphosis.
So why had she gotten passed over for that job? Did she panic on camera and lose the girl-next-door charm that seemed to glow from her tonight? Were her bosses unable to see the potential beneath her oversized clothes and clean-scrubbed face? Surely her company had makeup and wardrobe people. They had to see that Charli could be gussied up. No one on television wakes up looking like they do on camera.
Charli turned and smiled at him when the couple they’d been chatting with excused themselves. “You’re going for the strong and silent image tonight, cowboy?”
He drained the last of his wine and set it on a nearby table. “Sorry, freckles. I thought I’d let you take center stage tonight. You’re far more charming than I am.”
She snorted. “Yeah and pigs have wings. All this chatting is exhausting, though.”
“Come on. Break time.” He grabbed her hand and tugged. He needed a respite from the crowd as well. People milled around them as they weaved their way through the linen-covered tables that dotted the lawn and the strings of sparkle lights that had been draped from tree to tree swung gently above them, lighting their path.